City of the Dead Read Online Free PDF Page B

barley fields and the pens of cattle and goats kept outside the wall. The stone wall, about my height, enclosed the village, and I entered through the main gate on the south side. Even from inside the wall, the pyramid overlooked all we did, waiting to be made whole. More than ten thousand men lived in this village which had been called Hotep-Khufu—“Khufu is satisfied.”
    By Horus, it is I who will be satisfied. But not today. Today, disorder had been brought to my village, and I would root it out.
    It took me some time to walk to the top of the village, where the wealthier homes of the project administrators, including Mentu’s, lay in the cool shadow of the north wall. The streets filled slowly as the town awoke. Old men took their places on benches outside their homes, and children ran past, with shouts and jeers as their games of tipcats began. A stick fell at my feet, and a child yelled to me to toss it back. I flung it at the boy, still young enough to run naked in the street, and he shouted his thanks and used his own stick to knock it skyward toward his friend.
    Serenity had fled from Mentu’s house, however. Here, no one sat outside and no children played. Instead, the sounds of a family in mourning washed over the street. I stood outside the door and braced myself for the ordeal, then passed under the lintel.
    I had been here many times, just two nights ago when my friend and I had passed the evening in conversation and wine. I took the central passage through the house, until I reached the four-pillared hall where Mentu had entertained guests. Beyond this room lay the open courtyard with its shaded colonnade and squatty palm trees.
    My entrance drew attention, and the wailing increased. I bowed my head to Hasina, Mentu’s wife, where she sat on the ground. My presence seemed to cause her fresh grief, as though the sight of her husband’s friend made his absence more bitter.
    Mentu’s children huddled around their mother, some too young to understand their loss, some old enough to feel anger at the gods. A brazier burned hotly at the side of the courtyard, incense for gods who did not seem to care.
    “Hasina,” I said. “I grieve with you in the loss of Mentu.”
    She squinted at me from where she sat. She was a heavy woman, and her kohl-smeared cheeks quivered, her eyes accusing. “He cared nothing for his own life, only this pyramid you are building together!”
    “He cared for you, Hasina. And the children—”
    “Then why did he stay out, night after night? Nothing but work! It is not safe out there in the darkness. You should not have allowed—”
    “Mentu made his own choices, Hasina.”
    She shifted her ponderous weight and struggled to her feet. I took a step backward. The children cleared a path as she lurched toward me. “How could you let this happen, Hemiuni?” Her fists pounded my chest, yet I remained still under the blows, feeling they were justified. Her children pulled her away, but she dugher fingers into my arm. “Who did this?” she cried. “Who took him from us?”
    “I came to ask you the same, Hasina. Who had reason to harm Mentu? He was not a man to make enemies.”
    “No.” Her sobs echoed against the courtyard walls. “No, everyone loved him. You loved him. He loved you.”
    I smiled, a narrow-lipped smile that held my emotions in check.
    “You should not have insisted he accompany you home, Hemi.”
    “I did not even know he walked the desert. When I saw him last, he was safe here at home. We said good night, and I returned to the royal estate.”
    She swiped at her eyes. “No, he came to me in my chamber and said that you requested he walk with you to your home.” Her voice sharpened. “You know he could never deny you anything.”
    I frowned. “I went home alone, Hasina.”
    “When I did not see him the next morning, I thought he had left early for the work site.” She broke out in a fresh round of wailing, and I pried her fingers from my arm.
    “I