“She must, or she wouldn’t have refused to answer my questions. I subjected her to a formal inquiry, and she threw it back in my face. She’s hiding something, Ky, and I’m going to find out what it is. If she doesn’t give in tomorrow morning, I’ll—curse it—I don’t want to do what I’m going to have to do.”
“Don’t worry. If you tried to frighten her, you succeeded. You’re good at it.” Kysen glanced around the courtyard. “It’s growing dark. Time to eat. And I’m going to get some sleep before I have to go to the haunted temple.”
“At least we’ve been successful there,” Meren said.
“And what of Ra?”
“I’m going to Green Palm tomorrow morning and talk to those tavern women myself. Then I’ll confront Bentanta.”
“Which of them do you think did it?” Kysen asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Would you rather find Bentanta guilty?”
Meren’s head jerked in his direction. His eyes widened, and Kysen heard a sharp intake of breath.
“Of course,” Meren said. “Of course, I’d rather it was her than my brother, no matter how irritating he is.”
“It’s just that you seem uncertain.”
Meren fixed him with a forbidding stare. “I’m uncertain about who has committed this evil, and I’m worried about the danger to the rest of us.”
“Of course,” Kysen said. “Shall I have the cook send food to your chamber? I don’t think you want to eat in the hall with Idut.”
After the evening meal, Kysen left Meren to deal with a pile of correspondence and went upstairs to the office. He was going over the results of questioning the servants and slaves when Iry arrived, escorting Wah. The man had been an ubiquitous presence at Baht. He hovered over Idut dispensing sympathy, compliments, and gifts. He listened to Great-Aunt Cherit’s numerous stories of people long dead, nodding and feigning interest. He had tried to gain interviews with Meren, even tried to waylay him during Sennefer’s fatal illness. Meren had remarked with venom that if Wah tried to leave as Ra and Hepu had, he might be tempted to let him go.
Now Wah trotted into the office, eager as a hound, his ever-present basket of dates in one hand, the other wiping runny kohl from his eye. Kysen offered him a stool and took Meren’s chair. He had to force himself to do this, for his impulse would be to take the stool. But Meren wouldn’t have approved. His rank as a royal inquiry agent demanded that he present an air of authority. Iry settled himself nearby to take notes.
Wah gave the charioteer an apprehensive look before folding his long frame to fit on the stool. “Such terrible happenings, dear Kysen. I’ve tried to comfort your aunt and the Lady Cherit. They need me, since you and your father are so busy trying to find the evil one responsible for these deaths. Poor Anhai and Sennefer. Have you found out who it is? I hear the Lady Bentanta is confined to her chamber, as is Nakht—um, Ra, that is.”
“The charioteer Reia tells me you agreed with reports that during Hepu’s Instruction at the feast Bentanta left with Anhai.”
“Yes,” Wah said as he popped a date in his mouth. “I saw them quarrel. Quite a few people did. And later they left together, which I thought odd considering how little tolerance they seemed to have for each other. Forgive me, but I don’t understand why the Lady Bentanta was here at all. I know Idut said she was visiting Sennefer and Anhai when the invitation arrived for the feast.”
This was why Meren disliked Wah. The man probed and pried and busied himself in affairs that didn’t concern him, and he wouldn’t stop talking. Kysen found himself trying to strangle the arms of his chair and grinding his teeth.
“Did you see Anhai at all after Hepu finished his Instruction?”
“No, but I saw Sennefer.” Wah laughed. “I remember being able to spot him no matter how thick the crowd because he had a fresh unguent cone on, and it was lopsided. It was a wonder it didn’t fall off before it melted.”
“And this was after Hepu had finished?”
“Oh, yes. Sennefer was talking to one of Antefoker’s daughters. The poor girl was blushing and hiding her face behind a fly whisk. I never did understand how Sennefer escaped being garroted by some irate father or abused husband.”
“Do you know of anyone like that who might have wanted Sennefer dead?”
“I hear there were many,” Wah said, giving Kysen a curious glance. “But I thought Sennefer died of poison wine, Lady Bentanta’s pomegranate wine.”
“And your servants at the guest house say you retired from the feast along with Nebetta and Hepu, before Sennefer.”
“Am I under suspicion?” Wah drew himself up, but failed in his attempt at dignity; in his position on the stool, his knees stuck up nearly to his ears.
“I’m merely making a thorough inquiry,” Kysen said.
“Well then, I retired after thanking Idut and your father for an enjoyable feast, and I slept through the night. You may ask my servant.”
“I have,” Kysen said. “And I’ve made other inquiries. You were with my aunt for most of the feast, and you even remained in the hall listening to Hepu’s entire Instruction.”
“I found it most rewarding. Your uncle is a man of high character and honor.”
“You think so?”
Wah bit into another date and contemplated the remaining half fruit in his fingers. “I’ve tried to speak with your father several times without success, my boy. I’m worried about your aunt and your sisters. It might be safer for them if I took them to Memphis until you’ve solved this crime.”
“You?”
“After all, I’m Idut’s proposed husband. It’s my duty to look after her, and as a future member of the family, I’m concerned for the well-being of my little nieces.”
Kysen had no intention of letting this date-munching place-seeker get his hands on his sisters. “I thank you, Wah. I’ll put your suggestion to my father. In the meantime you’ll continue to lend your support to Aunt Idut by remaining with us.”
“Of course. My, you’ve been busy making so many inquiries. I had no idea you’d checked my every movement at the feast.”
“Not just you, but yes, we have. We know that you rose late after the feast, after Anhai’s body was found, and that you spent the morning lending comfort to the family. I also know that you didn’t speak with Sennefer until everyone went to the garden to eat. He fell sick while you were nearby, on the couch.”
“You’re surpassing thorough.” Wah set his date basket down on the floor. “So you already know that I didn’t come near poor Sennefer.”
“But did you see anyone go near Sennefer’s wine cup when he was in the garden?”
“Oh, I suppose most of the family went near it, but only Bentanta remained close to him long. But what of Ra? I hear he claims to have been asleep most of the day.”
Kysen rose, causing Wah to do the same. “My thanks for your help, Wah.”
“It was my duty, especially since I’m soon to be a member of the family. Soon I’ll be your father’s brother and your uncle. Be certain I’ll do everything I can to protect the family. In the future I hope to be of great service. Would you like a date?”
“No, thank you.”
“You will speak to your father about my taking Idut and your sisters away?”
Kysen ushered Wah out of the room. “As soon as possible. A pleasant evening to you.” He closed the door before the man finished speaking.
“Iry, I don’t know when I’ve felt my time more wasted than when talking with that fool.”
“Yes, lord, but at least the task is done.”
“Get some rest. We’ll leave after everyone’s asleep.”
Kysen took the record of Wah’s interview from the charioteer. Iry left while he was placing it in a document case along with the dozens of others made during the course of their inquiries. There was a basket of ostraca, pottery shards on which the men took notes. He picked up one that recorded the statements of a kitchen worker, then tossed it back into the basket.
Because of the two deaths, he hadn’t mentioned the situation at the haunted temple to his father. Some of the guards reported that Nento was growing more and more agitated. The long hours in the dark spent listening to the wind and the calls of hyenas were wearing down his courage. He jumped at the slightest sound. He refused to remain in the temple alone with his royal charges, insisting upon at least two guards for company.
The men had assured Kysen that Nento was alarmed about nothing. The only sounds that broke the silence around the temple were those of jackals, hyenas, lizards, and Nento’s cries of alarm. The only movement was that of the wind. Kysen was going to talk to Nento tonight and tell him he was welcome to return to Baht. It would be amusing to see the man try to decide which was more dangerous, the haunted temple or a country house in which two people had been murdered.
Chapter 14
Indigo darkness surrounded Meren in the garden at Baht. Although it was several hours after sunset, the sun’s heat remained to envelop him in a stifling cocoon. His bare skin stuck to his chair, and no amount of fanning brought relief. He alone sat beside the reflection pool and watched the moonlight play over the still surface of the water and illumine the lotus flowers floating nearby. Still dismayed at his fight with Ra, he had sought privacy here after dining in his chamber. The recently healed wounds Tanefer had given him ached and stung with renewed intensity. It had been difficult to conceal his pain from Ra and the others.
He and his brother hadn’t fought as children. Ra had been too young, and once he was old enough, Meren had been sent to the royal court to be reared among princes and the children of high nobles. To Meren, Ra had been a babe, an endearing child in need of protection. But as the years passed Meren had grown more and more confused and angry at the difference in the way his father had treated them. For him there could be no mistakes, no gradual progress in learning. He was expected to learn the skills of a scribe or those of a soldier at once, with no help.
For Ra, life had been different. Ra was young, Meren was told. Ra hadn’t been given the gift of as clever a heart as Meren’s. Ra was unique, his parents had said; his talents had to be nurtured, encouraged, aided.
Once, long ago, before he’d been sent to the royal nursery, his father had given him his first bow. He had shown Meren how to string the tiny replica of a man’s instrument—once. Meren tried to bend the bow as his father had. It snapped in his small hands. Meren was surprised and brokenhearted at the destruction of this prize of manhood, but his father had erupted in rage. He still remembered the bewildered shame he’d felt as Amosis bellowed at him in front of the household.
Years later Ra had broken his first bow, and his second, and had lost his third. Each loss had been met with tolerance. Ra was so strong. No wonder the bow broke. Ra was so busy and popular with his friends. It was understandable that a bow could be misplaced. There was always an excuse.
Now Ra lived on excuses, and Meren was afraid his brother would never understand that the world wouldn’t conform itself to his desires. He was afraid that Ra had so misunderstood the world that he’d committed murder with the notion that there would be yet another convenient excuse to save him from the consequences.
“You sent for me, lord.”
“What?” Meren dragged his gaze from the silver spray of light on the water. “Oh, Nebamun, yes. You’ve examined the querns and grindstones? What do you think?”
“Lord, anyone hit with a stone roller would be bloodied.”
“I know that, but is there some other way to kill a person with it?”
“I know not, lord.”
“And there’s still no sign of any tekau poison about the estate?”
“No, lord. I think the evil one must have used it all in that jar of pomegranate wine.” Nebamun cleared his throat. “You asked who might have knowledge of the use of the tekau plant, my lord. A physician would, for it can be used in small amounts to induce sleep or visions, or relieve pain, but it is a dangerous thing. Otherwise, perhaps someone who was interested in gardens and plants might know of it; a mistress of a household, for example.”
“But there’s none in this garden.”
“No, lord.”
“So someone brought it with him. You may go,” Meren said as he rose and walked to the edge of the pool. Kneeling, he touched the petal of a rose lotus. A frog croaked and hopped into the water, splashing his hand.
“This is madness,” he said to himself. “Stop worrying about Ra and think of what you’ve discovered.”
Anhai. She had been killed some time on the night of the feast after Hepu began his Instruction, in some mysterious way, and then dumped into the granary. But putting her in the granary must have been an awkward business. Yet her clothing and wig had been neatly arranged. Why repair her appearance after she’d been killed?
“And there’s that scrap of papyrus,” he muttered.
Had the killer searched Anhai for a piece of papyrus and then rearranged her clothing? Since finding the scrap, he suspected it might have something to do with the woman’s death, but a search of the house had yielded no papers that would have been worth a murder. Of course, the evil one might have destroyed it, or still be carrying it. Did he dare search his own family and Wah? He might have to. Still, he might be chasing a phantom. The scrap might mean nothing.
And who had reason to kill Anhai? Bentanta, and possibly Ra. Meren was skeptical that Antefoker or Wah would kill over debts, and he knew his sister wasn’t a murderer. Besides, Ra and Bentanta had both been involved with Anhai, and both had been in a position to kill her the night of the feast.
What was worse, they also had a reason to kill Sennefer. Anhai might have shared her damaging knowledge of Bentanta with her husband, thus provoking Bentanta to kill him. Ra might have killed Sennefer out of jealousy over Anhai, or out of revenge if he suspected Sennefer of killing her.
Meren groaned and pressed his palms against his closed eyes. What a miserable choice of guilty ones. And Bentanta appeared the most likely, since it was her wine that killed Sennefer. But Ra could have stolen into the house from outside and poisoned it. So, too, could the other inhabitants of the house—Wah, Nebetta, and Hepu. His parents wouldn’t have killed Sennefer, and Wah had no reason to do it.
“Damnation,” Meren muttered. “I’m making no progress at all. I should have brought my juggling balls. Think, you fool. Go back to the beginning—no—to the feast.”
He cast his thoughts back, trying to remember if anyone had acted strangely. Idut had dragged him to the reception room to greet the guests. Aunt Cherit had been annoyed with him for refusing to accede to the family’s plans for his future. The Antefokers had arrived. Antefoker had been determined to corner Anhai about her cheating him in trade.
Then he remembered Sennefer coming in with Anhai and Bentanta. And at once husband and wife had begun slashing at each other with their tongues. Only Wah’s appearance saved everyone from witnessing a fight. There had been talk of the days at Horizon of Aten when both Anhai and Wah had served Nefertiti. But Wah had made even discussion of the fabulous Nefertiti tedious.
Until Ra had arrived. Meren swerved away from considering the ugly reunion with his brother and the annoying discovery that Ra had linked himself with his cousin’s wife. His next memory was of being cornered by Wah, succeeded by that quarrel between Bentanta and Anhai. Why hadn’t Sennefer stopped it? He’d been nearby, reclining on a chair and footstool, touching his slightly melted unguent cone and sniffing his fingers. Yet he’d done nothing to stop his wife and her supposed friend from quarreling at so important a celebration as Meren’s feast of rejoicing.
After the fight and his unsuccessful attempt to make Bentanta confide in him, Meren had been waylaid by Antefoker, then rescued by Kysen, only to be forced to listen to Hepu’s Instruction. During this ordeal he remembered seeing Sennefer, Nebetta, Idut, and Wah, but not Ra or Bentanta. However, he’d been distracted by Isis’s conversation with Ra’s dissolute friends.
&nb
sp; He leaned over the pool and spoke to the black reflection of his body. “It’s no use. I see nothing that points the way. No signs of guilt, no marks or traces to lead me to the evil one.”
And he was beginning to suspect Anhai had been killed by magic. How else could she have been dispatched without any trace of violence or poison? Yet a search of the house and grounds had revealed no signs of the use of magic—no replicas of Anhai, no collection of the dead woman’s hair or nails, no evidence of ritual burning of sacrifices. However, if someone had performed magic while in the midst of some household ritual, at the shrine, for example, such behavior might go unnoticed.
No, that didn’t make sense. If someone was using magic, he wouldn’t need to dump Anhai in a granary. The magic could have been worked while the murderer was at the feast among those he could call upon as witnesses to his innocence.
Several loud cracks and a yelp, then another, interrupted his musings. The door to the garden banged opened, and Idut marched in, holding an ivory fan. Behind her the two men guarding his privacy bent over, one rubbing his head, the other his shin. Idut descended upon him, shaking the fan in his face.
“No more of this skulking and hiding, Meren. I want to know what’s happening. What demon possesses you? How could you take a dagger to Ra?”
“Me! I’m not the one who—”
“Never mind,” Idut said. She slapped the fan against her palm. “Not only have you accused your own brother of murder, but Kysen has accused my poor Wah. Wah, of all men, isn’t a murderer. He’s gentle and sweet, and, and…”
“And a sycophant and a place-seeker.”
“He doesn’t need to seek a place. He was steward to Queen Nefertiti. And how can you make Ra and Bentanta prisoners in their rooms? They’ve done nothing.”
Meren looked at the pool, wishing he could dive into its black waters. “Idut, I’m trying to solve two murders, and I need to be alone.”
“Nebetta blames you.”
Turning to stare at his sister, Meren said, “Me? What have I done?”
“I don’t know. She says you’re responsible for both her sons’ deaths. She says if Sennefer and Anhai hadn’t come to the feast, both of them would be alive.”
Murder at the Feast of Rejoicing Page 15