The servants had to turn sideways to bring the chest between the tables.
Osiris lifted his cup out of their way. One corner passed close enough for him to touch. Dark wood shone beneath its ornament, and the polished lid caught a long wavering reflection from the lamps.
“Careful,” he said. “You will have us all on the floor admiring it.”
Seth heard him. From the far end of the room, his brother smiled.
Osiris had come home from his journeys. Beyond Egypt he had won people with speech and music, as he had taught his own people to cultivate the ground. Here there was no need to persuade anyone of anything. Grain from the fields had become bread upon the tables. Familiar voices rose around him. His brother was giving a feast.
The bearers lowered the chest into the cleared space.
“Who is it for?” someone asked.
Seth laid his palm on the lid.
“That remains to be seen.”
He opened it. Inside, the wood was smooth and empty. Several guests rose to look; Osiris stayed where he was, watching their shoulders crowd together.
“I will give it,” Seth said, “to the man it fits.”
“Fits how?”
“Lie down. If there is no room to spare, it is yours.”
A man beside the chest put his cup into a neighbour’s hands. He stepped over the rim and lowered himself inside, gathering his robe beneath him. His heels struck the end before his head could rest.
“Bend your knees,” somebody called.
“Then it does not fit,” said Seth.
The man climbed out to laughter.
Another tried. He was too short. Seth bent over him, holding two fingers apart above the empty space beyond his head, and shook his head with exaggerated regret. The man raised both arms, asking the company to judge whether so little ought to matter.
It mattered to Seth.
He helped the guest out, then waited while the next came forward.
Osiris set down his cup. There was a pleasure in watching an ordinary foolish game run its course. He had spent so long among people who listened carefully whenever he spoke. Now he could laugh with men who were laughing at one another.
Queen Aso sat among the company. Around her, the guests leaned towards the chest, their faces warm with lamplight. Osiris did not know how many of them had promised themselves to Seth. Seventy-two conspirators shared the feast with him, and the queen had joined their design.
Seth had measured his brother in secret.
Every trial had already been decided.
“Osiris,” he said at last. “You have not tried.”
The king rose.
He walked into the space the others had left and looked down into the chest. The inside was beautifully finished. He ran a hand along the edge before stepping over it.
“If it fits,” he said, “you must not regret your promise.”
“I shall keep it.”
Osiris sat, then stretched out his legs. There was room for them. He lowered his shoulders and let his head come to rest.
His heels touched the wood.
Above him Seth’s face disappeared.
The lid struck shut.
Osiris flung up his hands. For an instant the wood lifted against his palms; then weight came down upon it, many bodies pressing together. His elbows bent. The lid settled back into place.
“Seth!”
A hammer answered.
He turned one shoulder, trying to bring his strength beneath the seam. The space that had fitted him so perfectly would not let him move. Another blow rang through the wood beside his ear.
He called again. There was no laughter now.
Outside, the conspirators worked quickly. Nails fixed the lid. Molten lead closed the seams. The lamps went on burning over the abandoned cups while men lifted what they had helped to seal.
The chest tilted.
Osiris felt himself carried. The blows had stopped, but footsteps jarred through the floor beneath him. He pressed his mouth towards the place where the lid met the side and drew what air he could.
Down at the river, the men took the chest between them and swung it out.
Water struck the wood with a hollow sound. The chest rocked, dipped at one end, then came level in the current. Hands pushed it clear of the bank.
It passed the last light on the landing.
The river bore it on towards the Tanitic Mouth, where fresh water opened into the sea. Behind it, the empty landing grew still. No boat followed.