Death Comes As the End by Agatha Christie

Author:Agatha Christie
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 1945-11-10T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

FIRST MONTH OF SUMMER 25TH DAY

With the return of the members of the family from the Nomarch’s court, the deed of association duly ratified, a general spirit of hilarity was felt. The exception was undoubtedly Ipy who had, at the last moment, been excluded from participation on the ground of his extreme youth. He was sullen in consequence and purposefully absented himself from the house.

Imhotep, in excellent spirits, called for a pitcher of wine to be brought out on to the porch where it was placed in the big wine stand.

‘You shall drink, my son,’ he declared, clapping Yahmose on the shoulder. ‘Forget for the moment your sorrow in bereavement. Let us think only of the good days that are to come.’

Imhotep, Yahmose, Sobek and Hori drank the toast. Then word was brought that an ox had been stolen, and all four men went hurriedly off to investigate the matter.

When Yahmose re-entered the courtyard, an hour later, he was tired and hot. He went to where the wine jar still stood in the stand. He dipped a bronze cup into it and sat down on the porch, gently sipping the wine. A little later Sobek came striding in and exclaimed with pleasure.

‘Ha,’ he said. ‘Now for more wine! Let us drink to our future which is at last well assured. Undoubtedly this is a joyful day for us, Yahmose!’

Yahmose agreed.

‘Yes, indeed. It will make life easier in every way.’

‘You are always so moderate in your feelings, Yahmose.’

Sobek laughed as he spoke and dipping a cup in the wine, he tossed it off, smacking his lips as he put it down.

‘Let us see now whether my father will be as much of a stick in the mud as ever, or whether I shall be able to convert him to up-to-date methods.’

‘I should go slowly if I were you,’ Yahmose counselled. ‘You are always so hotheaded.’

Sobek smiled at his brother affectionately. He was in high good humour.

‘Old slow-and-sure,’ he said, scoffingly.

Yahmose smiled, not at all put out.

‘It is the best way in the end. Besides, my father has been very good to us. We must do nothing to cause him worry.’

Sobek looked at him curiously.

‘You are really fond of our father? You are an affectionate creature, Yahmose! Now I–I care for nobody–for nobody, that is, but Sobek, long life to him!’

He took another draught of wine.

‘Be careful,’ Yahmose said warningly. ‘You have eaten little today. Sometimes, then, when one drinks wine–’

He broke off with a sudden contortion of the lips.

‘What is the matter, Yahmose?’

‘Nothing–a sudden pain–I, it is nothing…’

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.

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