An Imminent Visit
"I find that incredibly hard to believe. There has to be some sort of misunderstanding."
"No misunderstanding. It's the truth."
“Dead?”
“Yeah, dead.”
“49?”
“Yeah, 49.”
“So, he lived to a fair old age then?” Grudgingly admired Zemti.
“Better than most. Better than most,” Tejibi agreed. On hearing of his work-mate’s demise, Zemti suddenly sat up from his prone position on his old, well worn, workbench.
Tejibi still lay flat on his back on his own bench with eyes serenely closed. He looked like he was dead too.
“What killed him Tej” Zemti feigned disinterest as he tried to keep the excitement out of his voice. He slowly lay back down on his bench and closed his eyes again. He was just resting them, of course. Now he could focus better on this important news that he, as head of the village, would probably need to act upon sometime soon.
Eventually Tejibi responded in his usual laconic way. “His new wife! It was his wedding day yesterday, like. And with her being young, like…and virile, like… his heart just… gave out, like. I’m not surprised though. What do you expect? Marrying your sister’s 14-year-old daughter, like.”
Zemti was genuinely sorry his colleague had painted his last fresco. He was now short one extremely skilled artist. Not everyone could mix to his exact consistency. It was an acquired skill to mix the paints to exactly the right shade without the use of any measuring device. Generations of this particular genius had just come to an end. How could there be a replacement? Zemti would have to deal with that situation at a later date. Right now he needed to know all the juicy details. “She was a young buck then?” Encouraged Zemti.
“Sure was. Bit of a goer, by all accounts. And it isn’t as if ‘yer man’ was collecting them. She was his first,” Tejibi nodded knowingly. Body language was lost on Zemti as they were both still lying prone, eyes closed, on their prospective workbenches. Siesta time tended to last from just after clocking on time ‘till just before knocking off time, not counting stopping for a couple of quick brews.
“Silly bugger,” exclaimed Zemti, as he let out a loud fart. Too many dates for breakfast again. Never mind, better out than in. That’s what his old dad always said, and Zemti tended to agree with him.
In the short silence that followed, whilst they both tried to ignore the encroaching smell. Even though Tejibi thought it worthy of comment, he said nothing.
Careful listening, which neither of the shirkers were capable of, would have alerted them to the far-off ringing of a lone bell in the distance. Nobody ever rang the bell in the square unless some news of great importance was to be bestowed on the village. The realization of this somehow seemed to pass Zemti and Tejibi by.
“He asked for it sure enough,” was Tejibi’s considered opinion regarding the ex-genius.
Zemti philosophized. “If a person is fortunate enough to reach our advanced stage in life, and beyond, by sidestepping all life’s attempts to kill him, he is bloody foolish to tempt fate like that. Well I think he is.”
If Zemti hadn’t started to think about his stomach again, and the best way to stay away from work for as long as possible, he might have realized how lucky he was in comparison to his fellow man.
“Do you think we should put in an appearance at the site sometime soon?” said Tejibi, breaking Zemti’s day-dream.
“What? Now?”
“Pharaoh’s tomb won’t build itself.”
Zemti was starting to feel a little panic stricken. “Maybe tomorrow, eh?”
“Why is it nobody can work independently around here? Why does everybody always need a kick up the arse?”
“Not everybody shows such a lack of commitment y’know,” said Zemti feeling slightly hurt, “There are those who pull their weight.”
“Yeah? Like who?”
After failing to bring anybody immediately to mind Zemti conceded, “I suppose you’re right. We’ll get out that schedule again tomorrow, eh? See if we can implement a new program. We’ll stick to it this time.” Tejibi pulled his ‘you’re the boss’ face. He obviously didn’t believe a word his superior had said. If Zemti wanted to fool himself that was alright with Tejibi.
“Get the kettle on Tej, there’s a good lad.” Zemti needed to change the subject quickly in case Tejibi wanted to discuss it in any more depth.
Pulling himself from his bench to do the necessary Tejibi suddenly brightened up. “Did you hear about Izzy?”
“What’s she done this time?” Zemti wasn’t going to be surprised by anything he heard about that woman.
“Well, Izzy’s cat somehow got the mange. And as Old Iaret is our only healer and Wise Woman, Izzy took the creature to one of her surgeries. Old Iaret gave the cat a potion. Killed it stone dead.”
“Never?”
“You know how Izzy doted on that cat,” said Tejibi as if he doted on it too.
“I prefer a dog myself,” Zemti said,
“Me too. A dog’s got personality,” agreed Tejibi.
“Personality goes a long way.”
“Anyway, Izzy is organizing a boycott of Old Iaret’s practice. She tried to get me to sign up to it yesterday.” Tejibi gasped sounding horrified. “I haven’t been near the place for about twenty years. The last time was when I had the pox. That was a painful experience.”
“Won’t work.” Zemti reckoned, “There’s nowhere else to go.”
“That’s what I said. But you know Izzy.”
The peace was disturbed by a light tap on the door followed by the immediate entrance of Imhotep, one of Zemti’s twin son’s. Zemti and Tejibi got to their feet in a mild state of curiosity.
“Pater? Mr T?” Imhotep acknowledged his elders and supposed betters with a slight nod. “I say, you’ll never guess?” Imhotep didn’t really want to be the bearer of bad news. “There has been a proclamation in The Square. Pharaoh is to visit to inspect his tomb and to assess his funerary arrangements for his afterlife. The show will take place first thing tomorrow morning,” said Imhotep in his best ‘told you so’ voice.
The look of shock and horror on Zemti’s face exactly mirrored that of Tejibi’s. The contrast from a short time earlier could not have been more complete.
