Murder at the Feast of Rejoicing lm-3 Page 10

"Then I'll stay here."

  Desperation crawled on scorpion's legs up Meren's spine, and he leaned toward the king. "If the golden one cares nothing for his safety, I beg him to consider mine. If you come to harm, Ay and General Horemheb will blame me."

  He met the king's searching gaze without flinching. Tutankhamun was headstrong, but he wasn't callous. If Meren was found responsible for allowing the king to be harmed, his life would be forfeit.

  "I don't want you hurt, Meren."

  "Thy majesty is kind."

  Pharaoh gave him a sidelong glance. "After all, you've promised to take me on a raid as soon as you're back in Memphis."

  "A neat trap, majesty."

  "I learned from you."

  "A raid, then. Bandits or nomads, whichever occurs when I return."

  "I'll be leaving as soon as the men can ready the ship." Meren bowed to the king. "The divine one is as wise as he is strong. I will wait to see pharaoh embark."

  Chapter 9

  Kysen hurried toward the front gate, feeling as if he was wading through steaming honey. He'd gotten less sleep last night than his father.

  "I'll have you disciplined, you son of a tavern woman!"

  Hepu shook his walking stick at an impassive charioteer. The guard stood, feet apart, a spear planted in the ground, its tip tilted in Hepu's direction.

  "Uncle, what's wrong?"

  Hepu rounded on him, puffed out his chest, and squawked. "You! You're the one who dared to keep us here. What right have you to treat me like an unruly child? My wife and I wish to go home. Tell your minions to get out of my way at once."

  "I'm sorry, Uncle, but I must ask you to stay awhile. Anhai's death is most mysterious, and we must discover the truth about it before anyone leaves."

  Hepu turned carnelian, moved closer to Kysen, and growled out his words. "You-you, with your polluted commoner's blood-dare hinder me in any path I wish to take? Get out of my way, and don't address me in that familiar way."

  "Guard your tongue," Kysen snapped.

  "Meren was always wayward. Never would do his duty the right way. What man refuses to remarry and won't even keep concubines? And shames the family by adopting such as you!"

  Kysen had spent too many years under his father's tutelage to reveal the humiliation and rage he felt. Using his hard-learned courtier's manners and warrior's composure, he merely sighed and took a step backward while glancing at the charioteer. The man banged his spe?. r into the packed earth with a loud crack. At once, two more of his kind appeared from outside the wall to stand on either side of Hepu. Hepu was a large man, a fact he'd always used to intimidate his wife and his sons when they were small. But Hepu had never been a warrior. The sight of three spears hefted expertly finished him.

  Hepu brandished his walking stick at Kysen. "Miserable cur! You'll regret this." He stalked back to the main house.

  Kysen considered that it was almost worth enduring Hepu's insults to see him all puffed up like a pigeon and as red as a virgin at a feast of Hathor, goddess of love. Hepu and his wife had always resented Kysen. Which was why he'd enjoyed sending guards to the small house next door where they and Sennefer and Anhai had been staying along with Bentanta.

  "An unfortunate exchange, my son." Meren walked through the gateway, and Kysen fell in step beside him.

  "You heard?" Kysen said. "Hepu is a pompous old hyena."

  "And you're a lion cub amusing himself by playing with him. Is he the first to try to leave? That's interesting."

  "But it may mean nothing, as you're so fond of pointing out. I examined Anhai's room and found naught out of the ordinary. Neither she nor Sennefer have any papyrus with a missing corner."

  "It was only a possibility. I'm probably being overly particular. Has Nebamun examined Anhai?"

  "Yes, and he agreed with what you said. No marks of violence, no signs of poison or of magic."

  Shaking his head, Meren said, "I was hoping he would find something I had overlooked. Come, it's time we spoke to Sennefer."

  Sennefer was sitting in one of Sit-Hathor's chairs, a small table laden with food before him. A flagon of wine sat near his hand, which held a full cup. He glared at them as they entered, ripped a piece of bread off a loaf with his teeth, and chomped on it.

  "You look as if you wish the bread were my leg," Meren said. "I see you've recovered from your grief at Anhai's death already."

  Washing down the bread with a swig of wine, Sennefer wiped his mouth. "A man doesn't weep and wail like a woman. You know that."

  "Yes, I know that," Meren said as he drew a chair near Sennefer's and sat down. He glanced at Kysen, who nodded imperceptibly.

  "A terrible misfortune, nonetheless," Kysen said. He noticed that the wine flagon was half empty.

  "We were having a disagreement, but that doesn't mean I'm not sorrowful, Kysen. We were married a long time."

  Kysen placed a hand on the back of Sennefer's chair and filched a piece of date loaf from the tray. "But that was soon to end, was it not?"

  "Gossip. You should know better than to listen to it. Anhai said she wanted a divorce, and she wanted to take my best land with her, it's true." Sennefer shrugged. "I wouldn't give her the land, and she wasn't leaving without it."

  Sennefer moved the table aside and stretched his legs out in front of him. "You don't know women like I do, either of you. Anhai was jealous, and she was trying to punish me and get my attention at the same time. They're all alike. They cling to you and demand your undivided and total affection. Anhai had this strange notion that I should limit myself to her alone."

  "And we all know you'd find that prospect unappetizing," Kysen said, "when there are so many other men's wives and concubines to raid."

  Smiling, Sennefer said, "Why are we talking about the past? I want to know why you stuck me in your chambers and put that fool Zar to watch me like some criminal."

  "You weren't yourself," Meren said. "I could see Anhai's death was a terrible shock to you, and I worried about you."

  "She was my wife, Meren. Of course I'm upset. If

  Bentanta hadn't brought me some of her magical pomegranate wine, I'd be most distraught right now. Have you found out what happened to her?"

  "Not yet. I've ordered my physician to examine her. Can you think of any reason why someone would want Anhai dead?"

  "No." Sennefer dipped his hands in a bowl of water and wiped them on a cloth. "Oh, Anhai was headstrong for a woman, I know. She was grasping and annoyed people, but not so much that they'd want to kill her. I don't understand what happened. Last night she seemed well. Too well. You saw how she behaved with Ra. And when everyone started to leave, I went searching for her and couldn't find her. Then I realized I hadn't seen her since before Hepu stopped torturing everyone with his Instruction."

  Kysen said smoothly, "She was missing from the feast? And you said nothing of her disappearance so late at night?"

  "Would you bruit your wife's absence when the last person she was seen with was Ra?" Sennefer asked.

  Kysen glanced at his father, but Meren didn't react to this news and continued to study his cousin with deceptive concern and sympathy. If he were the object of that kind of attention from Lord Meren, Kysen would be as uneasy as a gazelle at a watering hole. "She was with Ra?" Kysen asked as he leaned down to strain beer into an empty cup. "But you just said Anhai was jealous of you. Why would she risk scandal and disgrace with Ra if she coveted you?"

  Sennefer hesitated, hardly blinking. "To make me jealous. Anhai liked to return blow for blow. Everyone knows that. Women like Anhai want you totally for themselves. I can't count the number who've shown their claws over me. That's when I tire of them. So many times I've seen a pretty woman, one with perfection of body and a delicate ka, turn into an underworld demon once she inhabits your bed."

  "Who are these women?" Kysen asked. "I never seem to find them."

  "Nor I," Meren said.

  "Neither of you knows how to attract them as I do." Sennefer smirked at them.
/>   "Do you know," Kysen said, "considering your habits, one would think you the more likely person to be killed and stuffed in a granary."

  Sennefer only smiled at him.

  Kysen smiled back and asked gently, "So why would someone want to harm your wife?"

  "I don't know, unless…"

  Kysen waited. Meren had taught him not to jump into silences. Patience and silence often forced people to talk when questions wouldn't. Sennefer was rubbing his forehead. He seemed to succumb to a spasm of grief before going on.

  "I don't know of anyone who hated Anhai enough to kill her unless…" He glanced at Meren, then stared at the leg of the table, which had been carved in the shape of an elongated duck's neck and head. "Unless she decided she had no further use for Ra and dismissed him You know Ra, Meren. He holds grudges, and he's hot bellied when aroused. I didn't want to say anything."

  Meren raised his gaze to Sennefer's. "But you have, haven't you?"

  "Only because you both pressed me."

  "It's important that we find out when Anhai was last seen alive," Kysen said, thinking it best to interrupt; his father was eyeing Sennefer as if he were a pile of dung. "You say she had vanished before Hepu finished reading his Instruction. We'll see if we can't find someone who saw her later than that."

  "And you went to bed after the feast and remained there?" Meren asked. "Without knowing where your own wife was?"

  "Don't play the royal inquiry agent with me, Meren."

  "I'm only curious."

  "You do want to know what happened to her, don't you?" Kysen asked. "Unless you're the one who caused her death."

  "I didn't, and you know it," Sennefer said as he stood up. "And now, cousins, I'm going to my own room, if I've satisfied your suspicious curiosity. As I understand things, all we know is that my wife died, and then someone put her in the granary. A strange thing to do, but not necessarily a sign of murder. Am I not right?"

  "Perhaps," Kysen said.

  "I'm going to arrange for Anhai to be taken to Abydos to the Place of Anubis there," Sennefer said. "I've much to arrange before she's taken to her house of eternity." He turned to go, but paused beside Kysen. "And if I were you, adopted cousin, I'd refrain from casting suspicions on the innocent. You don't even know what killed Anhai, much less if it was murder."

  Kysen watched him leave. "Do you believe him?"

  "I'm not sure."

  "Do you know what I think?" he asked, taking Sennefer's chair. "I think he doesn't seem to have cared enough about Anhai to murder her. But he's likely to get himself killed if he isn't careful about women. Has he always been such an ass?"

  "No," Meren said, thinking of the past. "When they were small, he and his brother lived in terror of Hepu. You know how big Hepu is. Well, to a child, he seemed a horrifying giant. And Sennefer was little for his age. Hepu would come at him roaring with such violence, and poor Sennefer would cringe and whimper. I remember how Hepu would beat him, and beat Djet too. There was no need to hit them so hard. We were less than eight when he beat Sennefer and Djet with a staff so hard that they bled. He would call them stupid, worthless, other things, and Nebetta never tried to protect them."

  "Stop," Kysen said faintly.

  Meren put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. It reminds you of your father."

  "I didn't know."

  "If I'd been older, I would have taken that staff from Hepu and beat him worse than he beat my cousins. I wanted to."

  Kysen was hardly listening. He was fighting off memories of his own blood father, blurred visions of fists coming at him, of being thrown across rooms. "Can we speak of something else? The past is dead."

  "Very well," Meren said gently. "Reia and the men can question the servants and slaves about Anhai, but you and I will have to speak to the family."

  "I haven't much hope. They're not afraid of you or me. To them we're only Meren and Kysen, not the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh. This won't be the usual inquiry."

  "Gods, I'd rather question a dozen princes and spies than try to get Aunt Cherit to answer me."

  A knock interrupted them, and Zar opened the door to allow Bener into the room. She hurried over to them and stood between their chairs.

  "I've been looking for you, Father. I've heard about Anhai. Did she really drink poison standing on top of a granary and fall into it?"

  Meren groaned. "The rumors have already started. No, Bener, she didn't drink poison and dive into the granary. At least, I don't think that's what happened. Now run along."

  "I want to help, Father. Are you going to conduct one of your inquiries? I want to see how it's done."

  Kysen almost gasped. "Bener, you're mad." Women didn't hold government office, much less insert themselves into murder inquiries.

  "But I'm curious."

  "No," Meren said. "Now run along, I'm going to bathe, and then I've much work to do. We'll play a game of senet tonight."

  "Senet is boring. I always beat you, Father." When Meren only gave her a stern glare, she sighed and adopted a look of mock regret that alerted Kysen. "As you wish, Father. I suppose I'll just have to resume my studies under the steward, with Nu."

  "You will not," Meren and Kysen said together.

  "Then I'll just have to help Aunt Idut with the household. She's in such a state because of Anhai's death. It is a shame though," Bener said with a sly glance at her father. "I was looking forward to telling you all about the argument Bentanta had with Anhai at the feast. Ah, well, counting stores and learning the uses of herbs is more urgent, I suppose."

  Kysen grabbed Bener by her shift as she tried to walk out of the room. She turned around and grinned at him.

  "A girl with an intelligent heart is a curse," Kysen snapped.

  Meren reached out, pulled up a stool next to him, and pointed at it. "Sit down and curb your impudence."

  "She doesn't know anything" Kysen said. "She's only pretending."

  Bener punched his thigh as she sat down. "Don't be a fool. No one would be stupid enough to do that to Father."

  "Tell me what you know, my child."

  Calmly arranging herself on the stool, Bener said, "You remember how Anhai and Bentanta quarreled at the feast? They didn't notice that I was nearby." At Meren's skeptical look, she tossed her head. "It may have been that I was looking at the flowers in that arrangement Aunt Idut had me design."

  "You mean the one that was taller than I am?" Kysen asked. "The one behind which a squad of soldiers could hide? The one near the couch Bentanta was sitting on?"

  "Yes, that's the one. I happened to decide to admire it when Anhai came over and sat beside Bentanta." Bener paused expectantly, only to resume when neither Kysen nor Meren urged her to continue. "Bentanta was angry. I could see the ire in her face, Father. Do you know what she said to Anhai? She said, 'It didn't work. He laughed at me, and when I tried to convince him, he got the idea that I was enamored of him, the fool.' Then Anhai said, 'You'll have to try harder.' "

  "How interesting," Meren said without surprise. "Do you know who 'he' was?"

  "No," Bener said. "But then Bentanta said, 'It's useless, as I told you it would be, so you'll just have to find another way. Now I've done what you said to do. Give it back.' " Bener gave Kysen a look of satisfaction and relish. "Anhai refused, and that was when Bentanta flew into a rage and left the room."

  "Thank you, daughter. Now go help your aunt Idut."

  "Father! Is this my reward? I want to know what has happened, and I want to help you."

  "Your duties lie elsewhere."

  Kysen's gaze went from Meren's stern visage to Bener's determined one. As he watched he could see Bener's disappointment vanish and knew that she'd come to some decision on her own, one that would get her into trouble.

  "Father, perhaps Bener could help."

  "You make a jest," Meren said. He shot Kysen a glance filled with warning. "I don't want Bener involved in an inquiry. There could be danger."

  "But she could be our eyes and ears among the women."<
br />
  They used women informants in their inquiries for pharaoh. At this moment there were several among the queen's household in Memphis.

  "And if there is a murderer among the women?" Meren asked. None of them spoke Bentanta's name.

  Bener scooted closer to her father. "Then I'm going to be in her company whether I'm trying to help you or not, and so is Isis; so is Idut. What if this is murder, and the guilty one is a woman? You'd better let me help you so we can catch her quickly. Poor Aunt Idut and Isis might be in danger."

  "The gods have cursed me with an interfering daughter," Meren said. "You're only to listen, and use that clever wit of yours. Don't go off alone with anyone, especially Bentanta."

  Bener jumped up and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be careful, Father."

  Kysen remained silent until Bener left.

  "Don't rail at me, Father. Bener was going to pry and meddle with or without your consent. I saw it in her face. At least now we might be able to control her."

  "I don't understand it," Meren said. "In but a few months she's become headstrong and much too clever. And too curious. My only comfort is that she'll be too busy spying to seek the company of that young colt Nu."

  "True. Then shall we pay a visit to Lady Bentanta?"

  "Yes." Meren drummed his fingers on his thigh. "Last night she was quite adroit in telling me only part of the truth. I'll have to find out what it was she wanted back from Anhai."

  "A document, perhaps?"

  "It could be," Meren said. "But Bentanta isn't a fool or easily intimidated. I can't imagine her falling for any entrapment of Anhai's making."

  A knock announced the entrance of Zar. "My lord, the Lord Nakht has been seen in a skiff nearing the dock."

  Meren rose. "You see how Reia is progressing among the servants. I'll be back."

  Kysen hid a smile when Zar looked as if he'd suddenly acquired an aching belly.

  "The lord will wish to go to the docks in his red-and-gold sandals. I have a robe and the belt with the gold and red jasper beads in readiness."

  "Not now," Meren said as he crossed the threshold.

  "The lord has forgotten his walking stick. Again."