Death Comes as End - Agatha Christie [9]
Renisenb dropped her flowers and ran out with the others. They all hastened towards the mooring place on the River bank. Yahmose and Sobek were already there in a little crowd of villagers, fishermen and farm labourers, all calling out excitedly and pointing.
Yes, there was the barge with its great square sail coming fast up the river with the North wind bellying out the sail. Close behind it was the kitchen barge crowded with men and women. Presently Renisenb could make out her father sitting holding a lotus flower and with him someone whom she took to be a singer.
The cries on the bank redoubled, Imhotep waved a welcoming hand, the sailors were heaving and pulling on the halyards. There were cries of ‘Welcome to the master,’ calls upon the Gods, and thanks for his safe return, and a few moments later Imhotep came ashore, greeting his family and answering the loud salutations that etiquette demanded.
‘Praise be to Sobek, the child of Neith, who has brought you safely on the water!’ ‘Praise be to Ptah, south of the Memphite wall, who brings you to us! Thanks be to Ré who illumines the Two Lands!’
Renisenb pressed forward, intoxicated with the general excitement.
Imhotep drew himself up importantly and suddenly Renisenb thought: ‘But he is a small man. I thought of him as much bigger than that.’
A feeling that was almost dismay passed over her.
Had her father shrunk? Or was her own memory at fault? She thought of him as rather a splendid being, tyrannical, often fussy, exhorting everybody right and left, and sometimes provoking her to quiet inward laughter, but nevertheless a personage. But this small, stout, elderly man, looking so full of his own importance and yet somehow failing to impress–what was wrong with her? What were these disloyal thoughts that came into her head?
Imhotep, having finished the sonorous and ceremonial phrases, had arrived at the stage of more personal greetings. He embraced his sons.
‘Ah, my good Yahmose, all smiles, you have been diligent in my absence, I am sure…And Sobek, my handsome son, still given to merriness of heart, I see. And here is Ipy–my dearest Ipy–let me look at you–stand away–so. Grown bigger, more of a man, how it rejoices my heart to hold you again! And Renisenb–my dear daughter–once more in the home. Satipy, Kait, my no less dear daughters…And Henet–my faithful Henet–’
Henet was kneeling, embracing his knees, and ostentatiously wiping tears of joy from her eyes.
‘It is good to see you, Henet–you are well–happy? As devoted as ever–that is pleasant to the heart…
‘And my excellent Hori, so clever with his accounts and his pen! All has prospered? I am sure it has.’
Then, the greetings finished and the surrounding murmur dying down, Imhotep raised his hand for silence and spoke out loud and clear.
‘My sons and daughters–friends. I have a piece of news for you. For many years, as you all know, I have been a lonely man in one respect. My wife (your mother, Yahmose and Sobek) and my sister (your mother, Ipy) have both gone to Osiris many years ago. So to you, Satipy and Kait, I bring a new sister to share your home. Behold, this is my concubine, Nofret, whom you shall love for my sake. She has come with me from Memphis in the North and will dwell here with you when I go away again.’
As he spoke he drew forward a woman by the hand. She stood there beside him, her head flung back, her eyes narrowed, young, arrogant and beautiful.
Renisenb thought, with a shock of surprise: ‘But she’s quite