Free Khu: A Tale of Ancient Egypt by Jocelyn Murray Page B

disparage the other’s good name. He would sometimes plant evidence to falsely accuse his rival of stealing, and to defame his good character. But nothing had come of it until recently, when the innocent man was found in possession of an amulet hidden in his shop. That amulet belonged to a temple priest. This was a serious crime, for while thieves were not tolerated, and their crimes were met with harsh consequences, stealing from the temple or from one of the temple priests was especially disdained as an egregious offence. 
    Both men stood with their faces tight and jaws set. It was impossible to tell who was guilty or innocent by looking at them, as both pointed their fingers to each other in accusation.
    “For years he has been stealing from my family, Lord King,” the first spoke with his head bowed in humility as he stood before the king who was seated on a throne on top of a raised platform.
    Two advisors waited at either side of Mentuhotep, watching the events with the corners of their mouths turned down. Four temple priests were also in attendance, including the man from whom the amulet had been stolen. This case had been tried by priests earlier, but they had not been able to reach a decision on their own, even after praying to the gods for help in their deliberations. And so the villagers had petitioned to take their case before the king, where Mentuhotep would have the final say and judgment on the matter. But no one knew what to make of the testimony. It was one man’s word against another.
    “Year s?” the king asked.
    “Yes, Lord King.”
    “That is not true!” the second man spoke emphatically. “He lies!”
    “Quiet!” one of the advisors yelled. “Do not speak unless spoken to.”
    “You will have your turn to speak,” the other advisor said.
    Mentuhotep frowned. He leaned back in his chair and raised an arm to rest his chin on the back of his fisted hand as he thought. “And why have you not complained before this?” he asked the first man.
    “I have, Sire, but I did not have proof.”
    The second man scowled at that. He shook his head and closed his eyes in a grave attempt to keep silent and wait his turn. He tried to steady the beating of his heart.
    The first man was perspiring noticeably, and kept wiping his beaded brow, and then his clammy hands on his kilt, yet it was not that warm. A pleasant breeze carried the scent of roses, narcissus and myrtle flowers blooming in the surrounding gardens beyond the courtyard.
     
     
    Tem had been watching in silence from the back of the room with Khu by her side. She had already known of Khu’s gift of discernment from comments he would make, or simply from the way he would look at someone. And although she had tried to convince Mentuhotep before of Khu’s gift, the king had not believed her. He had dutifully listened with the measured tolerance of a lion putting up with the annoying antics of a cub.
    The young Khu stood by his mother’s side and observed both men enter the courtyard and present their testimony. But even before either had spoken, he knew who was guilty. He could see into their hearts as clearly as if they had been carrying them in the palms of their hands and presenting them to the king for all to see.
    Khu tugged at his mother’s arm and she looked at him. Without saying anything, Khu lifted his chin in the slightest gesture toward the first man presenting his testimony. He was the guilty one.
    Tem nodded to her child, and then whispered something to a nearby guard who went to Mentuhotep’s side and relayed the message.
    Mentuhotep frowned , and the corners of his mouth fell. How could the child possibly know who was guilty? The king wanted evidence of some kind before passing judgment. He prided himself on being a good and just ruler, following the ethical principles of maat which sought truth, morality, justice and order. He could not simply take the word of a child. Grave consequences would follow, and he had to make