The Assassins of Isis Read Online Free PDF Page A

veteran’s face. Impuki did not like Mafdet. Impuki was a physician, a great healer. He prided himself on the fact that he could recognise a killer when he met one. In fact he secretly categorised people with the names of animals, birds and reptiles. The temple girls were beautiful moorhens; the priests were geese. The physicians? Well, some of them reminded Impuki of mastiffs or monkeys. But Mafdet? Impuki thought of him as a scorpion.
    Mafdet was a dangerous man, a former soldier who had fought with the redoubtable General Suten out in the Red Lands, and had been given this post as Captain of the Temple Guard because of his friends in high places. He now sprawled insolently in a low-backed chair, his linen robe slightly stained. He had taken off his ornamental leather
breastplate and war kilt, whilst his sword belt had been unhooked and slung on the floor beside him, and he sat, legs apart, tapping one sandalled foot against the tiled floor, as if impatient and resentful at being summoned here. Instead of staring at the High Priest, or adopting a more reverential pose, Mafdet enjoyed ignoring him. He stared up at the heavy-beamed roof or glanced across at the writing desk piled high with papyri and writing implements as well as the cups and phials Impuki used in the study of medicine.
    â€˜I’m sorry to call you here, Captain.’
    â€˜With all due respect, my lord, I don’t think you are.’ Mafdet turned his head and stared directly at the priest.
    â€˜I beg your pardon?’ Impuki leaned his elbows on the table, joining his hands to conceal the anger in his face.
    â€˜You don’t like me, my lord,’ Mafdet said. His accent was harsh, lacking the soft culture of Thebes. He liked to emphasise that he came from the north, from the town of Henes, in the Delta, where life was not as comfortable and easy as it was in Thebes. ‘My lord,’ he repeated, wiping the sweat from his face with one hand and drying it on his robe, ‘you don’t like me, and now you hold me responsible.’
    â€˜And why don’t I like you?’ Impuki asked, intrigued at the captain’s insistence on having this conversation.
    â€˜You don’t like me, my lord, because I am a soldier, I come from the north, my manners are rough and I like my food and drink. I have as much experience of life as you do. I have served Pharaoh and her father most loyally. I have held positions of authority. I was an officer in the retinue of Lord Rahimere, once Grand Vizier of Egypt.’ Mafdet could have bitten his tongue. Rahimere had died in disgrace, and it was best not to mention him. ‘I was recommended to this post by the Commander-in-Chief General Omendap,’ he added hastily. ‘I am a good captain of the guard; nothing disturbs the peace in the Temple of Isis.’
    â€˜I don’t like you,’ Impuki lost his temper, allowing his
tongue to run away with him, ‘because …’ He paused, fighting for breath. ‘I think you like killing, Mafdet.’
    The soldier snorted, shook his head and glared at the High Priest from under his eyebrows.
    â€˜And that’s another thing I don’t like about you,’ Impuki added. ‘The way you stare at me. As for keeping the peace in the temple …’
    Mafdet picked up his war belt and eased the sword in and out of its scabbard, a threatening gesture not lost on Impuki.
    â€˜I don’t like you, Mafdet,’ the High Priest decided to return to his confrontation, ‘because I think you like killing. You are a bully, you swagger around, you drink and eat like a pig!’
    â€˜Do I do my job?’ the soldier asked. ‘Where have I failed? Is there any disturbance, do trespassers scale the walls? Are temple treasures stolen? Are the pilgrims and worshippers not carefully marshalled and controlled?’
    â€˜The hesets.’ Impuki spat the words out. ‘Four of our temple girls have disappeared,