Death Comes as End - Agatha Christie [43]
But he raised a hand to wipe his forehead which was suddenly bedewed with moisture.
‘You do not look well.’
‘I was quite all right just now.’
‘So long as nobody has poisoned the wine.’ Sobek laughed at his own words and stretched out his arm towards the jar. Then, in the very act, his arm stiffened, his body bent forward in a sudden spasm of agony…
‘Yahmose,’ he gasped. ‘Yahmose…I–too…’
Yahmose, slipping forward, was bent double. A half stifled cry came from him.
Sobek was now contorted with pain. He raised his voice.
‘Help. Send for a physician–a physician…’
Henet came running out of the house.
‘You called? What was it that you said? What is it?’
Her alarmed cries brought others.
The two brothers were both groaning with pain.
Yahmose said faintly:
‘The wine–poison–send for a physician…’
Henet uttered a shrill cry:
‘More misfortune. In truth this house is accursed. Quick! Hurry! Send to the Temple for the Divine Father Mersu who is a skilled physician of great experience.’
II
Imhotep paced up and down the central hall of the hosue. His fine linen robe was soiled and limp, he had neither bathed nor changed. His face was drawn with worry and fear.
From the back of the house came a low sound of keening and weeping–the women’s contribution to the catastrophe that had overrun the household–Henet’s voice led the mourners.
From a room at the side, the voice of the physician and priest Mersu was heard raised as he strove over the inert body of Yahmose. Renisenb, stealing quietly out of the women’s quarters into the central hall, was drawn by the sound. Her feet took her to the open doorway and she paused there, feeling a healing balm in the sonorous words that the Priest was reciting.
‘Oh Isis, great of magic, loose thou me, release thou me from all things bad, evil and red, from the stroke of a God, from the stroke of a Goddess, from dead man or dead woman, from a male foe, or a female foe who may oppose himself to me…’
A faint sigh came fluttering from Yahmose’s lips.
In her heart Renisenb joined in the prayer.
‘Oh Isis–oh great Isis–save him–save my brother Yahmose–Thou who art great of magic…’
Thoughts passed confusedly through her mind, raised there by the words of the incantation.
‘From all things bad, evil and red…That is what has been the matter with us here in this house–yes, red thoughts, angry thoughts–the anger of a dead woman.’
She spoke within the confines of her thoughts, directly addressing the person in her mind.
‘I was not Yahmose who harmed you, Nofret–and though Satipy was his wife, you cannot hold him responsible for her actions–he never had any control over her–no one had. Satipy who harmed you is dead. Is that not enough? Sobek is dead–Sobek who only spoke against you, yet never actually harmed you. Oh Isis, do not let Yahmose also die–save him from the vengeful hatred of Nofret.’
Imhotep, pacing distractedly up and down, looked up and saw his daughter and his face relaxed with affection.
‘Come here, Renisenb, dear child.’
She ran to him and he put his arms around her.
‘Oh, father, what do they say?’
Imhotep said heavily: ‘They say that in Yahmose’s case there is hope. Sobek–you know?’
‘Yes, yes. Have you not heard us wailing?’
‘He died at dawn,’ said Imhotep. ‘Sobek, my strong, handsome son.’ His voice faltered and broke.
‘Oh it is wicked, cruel–could nothing be done?’
‘All was done that could be. Potions forcing him to vomit. Administration of the juice of potent herbs. Sacred amulets were applied and mighty incantations spoken. All was of no avail. Mersu is a skilled physician. If he could not save my son–then it was the will of the Gods that he should not be saved.’
The priest physician’s voice rose in a final high chant and he came out from the chamber, wiping the perspiration from his forehead.
‘Well?’ Imhotep accosted him eagerly.
The physician said gravely: ‘By the favour of Isis your son will live. He is weak, but the crisis of the poison has passed. The evil influence is on the wane.’
He went on, slightly altering his tone to a more everyday intonation.