Bird in a Snare

by N. L. Holmes

  “I told you, Hani, that’s all I know. I like you, my boy. You’re a good man. If I knew any more, I’d tell you. I like you, after all.” Rib-addi’s voice grew tremulous, as if he had been hurt by Hani’s implications.

  “Why are the Mitannians involved? Were they protecting him? Or were they threatening him?”

  “Maybe...” said Rib-addi, his voice trailing vaguely.

  “Maybe what?”

  “Protecting or threatening. This is only a guess, because I don’t know, son.”

  Maya wanted to shake the old fox by the shoulders. He couldn’t be as ignorant as he pretended. Whoever gave him his information wouldn’t simply have said, “Abdi-ashirta didn’t pay off the Mitannians—I have no idea why.” Maya glanced at Hani, but his face was impassive.

  The emissary heaved a sigh and rose to his feet. “My thanks, my lord. I’ll speak to Yapakh-addi in the next few days and then consider a judgment.”

  Rib-addi murmured sadly, “He’s hated me for years.”

  ⸎

  They departed overland for Ullaza—to the north, but not as far north as Simurru. The heat had continued unbroken, but Hani knew from experience that the fall storms could start in at any time. It was, after all, well into autumn. At home, the Inundation would be finished. He pictured the massive waves of green and then red that swelled the Great River every year, bringing fresh soil and sweetly rotting vegetable matter to the flooded fields along the banks. Farmers would have secured their sluices and watched with joy as the water rose and rose, filling ditches and canals. The wading birds would have glutted themselves on the frogs trapped in the rich alluvium bestowed upon them by the Lord Hapy, benevolent god of the flood. In all the years of traveling for the king, Hani had never so longed for home.

  Even Maya’s enthusiasm had begun to tarnish. And at the sight of Ullaza, it more or less fell to the ground like a ripe plum, Hani saw with amusement and pity. Ullaza was a garrison town, little more than an army camp with a few craftsmen to service it. Hani wondered what might have brought Lord Yapakh-addi to the godforsaken place. Perhaps he was on a mission for the Living Haru, which would certainly complicate Hani’s job.

  As the king’s emissary, Hani was hosted by the local commandant, Har-ba-ef. The latter was a stringy middle-aged man who seemed to want nothing more than to be elsewhere. “Did you find out anything about Pa-wer’s death?” he asked with the avidity for news of a man who’d moldered too long in a remote outpost.

  “I’m afraid I have no answer yet, my lord,” Hani replied reluctantly. “I was hoping you might know something that could help the investigation.”

  Har-ba-ef scratched his wigless gray-streaked hair. Military discipline seemed pretty relaxed on the far frontier, Hani observed.

  “You’re an army man yourself, so you’ll understand without being shocked when I say this. Pa-wer was well liked by his men and by the other officers,” Har-ba-ef said. “It certainly wasn’t likely to be anyone with an internal grudge.”

  “It will all come out eventually, Commander. Oh, tomorrow we have our meeting with Lord Yapakh-addi.”

  Har-ba-ef seemed to have taken a shine to Hani. At the name of Yapakh-addi, he pulled a droll face and wagged a hand dismissively, all of which was strictly outside of protocol. But Hani was keen to have his views on the man he was about to interview, so instead of registering disapproval, he laughed and said confidentially, “Not very popular, I presume?”

  “We’ve offered him to the Hittites, but they won’t take him,” Har-ba-ef joked. “Said they’d rather have one of our white donkeys!”

  The two men laughed complicitly, Hani thinking that this fellow really needed to be disciplined.

  ⸎

  The next morning, Hani and Maya met with the unpopular friend of Neb-ma’at-ra, Lord Yapakh-addi. He was seated at a table in an office that was clearly the commandant’s. That must explain at least part of Har-ba-ef’s dislike, thought Hani wryly.

  The rest of it was explained by the man’s disagreeable manner. He was squat as a toad and vast of belly, with thick, scowling black brows and a bent, pendulous nose that overhung his dark-smudged chins. That didn’t prevent him from dressing in expensive finery, the shebyu collars prominent around a neck too short and thick to wear them well. He eyed Hani and his secretary coldly.

  “What is it you want, man? I’m busy,” he said in a rumbling baritone.

  “I’m the royal adjudicator of the disagreement between you and Rib-addi of Kebni, my lord.”

  Yapakh-addi brightened somewhat. “Finally. The bastard owes me an ungodly sum—debens and debens of gold—and refuses to pay me back. I’ve been forced to garnish his property to recoup my losses. He’s a disgrace.”

  “According to Rib-addi,” Hani said, gesturing to Maya, who spread a papyrus on the table, “he has repaid everything. This is a copy we made of the entry in his books. They show that the debt is paid in full.”

  Yapakh-addi, his scowl deepening, grabbed the scroll with a meaty hand and spun it around to face him. He looked up, eyes blazing. “But this is only the first loan which is repaid. That happened years ago. It says nothing of all the others.”

  “There are others?” Hani inquired, a heavy void opening up within him at the thought that he might have to challenge Yapakh-addi. Someone was lying, and he had no way of knowing who.

  “I should say. This was only the first of a whole series the manipulative bastard got out of me. It’s been going on for five years.”

  Hani didn’t know what to say. He was treading on quicksand with this man who was a personal friend of the king. He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Do you have written records of all these loans, my lord?”

  “Of course! I pride myself on my meticulous records,” huffed Yapakh-addi. “But I don’t carry them around with me. They’re in Waset.”

  “Do I have your permission to examine them, then? Maya here can write up a letter of dispensation to show your bookkeepers, and perhaps you would be so kind as to sign it.”

  The grandee rolled his eyes as if put upon by the request, but he grumbled, “Of course. I have nothing to hide.” They waited silently for a minute while Maya scribbled on a small piece of broken pottery, and Yapakh-addi scrawled his name at the bottom with an irate flourish.

  “I thank you.” Hani smiled, imperturbable. “Now, may I ask you what these transactions were for?”

  But Yapakh-addi bridled. “I lent him gold—what else? I’m a good son of Gubla—Kebni—and when its king asks me for a loan, I comply. I’ve done well for myself, and it seemed like a way to show my benevolence toward my homeland. I never expected my generosity to be so abused, I’ll tell you.”

  “I can imagine. Do you visit Kebni often, my lord?”

  “Hardly ever. Especially not now. I’d be tempted to strangle that senile little wretch that calls himself the king. His brother is a decent fellow at least.”

  “Is it Ili-rapikh you actually did business with, then?” Hani asked, his heart suddenly accelerating. An idea was forming in his mind.

  “Yes, the vizier. Nothing unusual about that, is there?”

  “Not at all.” But Hani had a strong suspicion he knew what was going on. He thanked Lord Yapakh-addi for his time, and he and Maya made their way from the commandant’s headquarters toward the rude little house where their own chamber was located.

  “There’s a lying jackal if I ever saw one,” snorted Maya.

  “Little as I like him, I’m not so sure he’s lying,” Hani said.

  Maya turned to him, his eyes round. “You think Rib-addi is the one lying?”

  “No. I think he’s telling the truth too... as he knows it.”

  “So...?”

  They entered their austere quarters. After the brightness of the exterior, the darkness of the ill-lit room almost swallowed Hani’s sight. The soldier on guard closed the door behind them, and they were enveloped by the moldy smell the straw pallets and bed linens exhaled.

  “So, maybe our
friend Ili-rapikh is the one lying. I have a suspicion he’s been taking out ‘loans’ from Yapakh-addi in his brother’s name and not repaying them, leaving Rib-addi to get in trouble.”

  Maya continued to stare as he laid his scribal implements on the one wobbly table. “But why?”

  Hani shrugged and sank to a stool. “It’s just a feeling at this point, Maya. Ili-rapikh seems to have been the one to conduct the exchanges. Rib-addi is only aware of the first one, which is the only one recorded in his archives. We won’t know for sure till we see Yapakh-addi’s books, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Ili-rapikh has designs on the throne. He tells Yapakh-addi that the king needs gold. He’s the vizier, after all; why would the man doubt him? And Yapakh-addi pays him, but the gold never goes to the royal treasury. Eventually, Yapakh-addi has to reclaim his loan by force out of Rib-addi’s property. Through this little scheme, Ili-rapikh gets richer and richer while his brother loses land, people, horses, and major parts of his economy. They’re like two children on either end of a teeterboard—one goes up as the other goes down.”

  “Makes me glad I never had a brother,” sniffed Maya in disgust, hoisting himself onto the other stool.

  “They’re not all like that. But you heard Rib-addi—the brothers of kings are a dangerous breed. And then there’s Yapakh-addi. Who is he, anyway?” Hani murmured pensively. “He’s a Kebnite, it seems. Why was he brought up at our court unless he was a prince?”

  Maya stared at his employer, his mouth ajar. “You think he’s related to the royal family? He certainly doesn’t resemble the others, if that’s true.”

  Hani laughed and clutched at his head. “Iy! This has become a nest of snakes, as Lord Ptah-mes called the hapiru. Fortunately, all I have to do is determine who owes whom what, not their blood relationship.”

  “Maybe Lord Yanakh-amu knows Yapakh-addi’s background.”

  “No doubt. Or Lord Ptah-mes. He knows everything about everybody.” Hani flattened his palms down on the table with a slap of finality. “Enough of this wild-eyed speculation for now. Let’s look at what we have to do next to finish our business and go home.”

  “Take dictation, Maya.” Hani began to think aloud, his brow wrinkled with the intensity of his reflection. “We can’t solve this case until we look at Yapakh-addi’s records in Waset. So what else must we do before we leave? Regarding the murder of Abdi-ashirta... the majority of testimony leads to an Egyptian. Our Sun himself suspected that someone in his court wasn’t happy with the policy toward Abdi-ashirta.” Hani fixed his secretary with a probing stare. “Might they have gone so far as to remove the hapiru leader?”

  “But then, they still have Aziru, my lord. Is he any better?” Maya pushed back his wig and scratched his scalp dubiously.

  “Who knows?” Hani sighed. “Aziru didn’t seem to think there was anyone in his camp who was likely to have done it. He would have been the sole one with a motive. Our only real clue is the knife. And there we dead end.”

  Hani pulled himself to his feet and began to walk slowly back and forth as far as the tiny room would permit. “As for Pa-wer’s murder... I’m not sure how to pursue the possibility of Aziru’s guilt. He denied it. It would have been easy enough to plant a false clue with the bodyguard, but how could the perpetrators be sure he’d live to tell their tale? We hit a dead end there, too.”

  Maya said hopefully, “Maybe there’s nothing else we can do here.”

  “I’m not convinced of that. But I can’t think what else there might be. It’s just a feeling...” And the gods knew he wanted there to be nothing else for them to accomplish in the north.

  ⸎

  The next morning, the weather had changed completely. The unseasonable mildness of the past few weeks had been swept out with a chill sea wind, ridden by an indigo storm front, boiling and surging as if the clouds were spoiling for a fight. A flock of gulls came gusting along inland at twice their usual speed, buoyed on the racing air.

  The month of Peret. Here come the fall rains a month late. Our inundations are long past at home, Hani thought as he stood in the door of their little residence soon after arising. The morning was cold enough to raise the hair on his arms and legs.

  He was preparing to return to the room to change into a long-sleeved shirt and perhaps knot a shawl over his shoulders when someone hailed him from the road. “Lord Hani. Wait.”

  Har-ba-ef’s aide-de-camp came striding toward him. Hani saw with a frisson of horror that he had a mourning scarf tied around his wig. It had finally happened, then. The inevitable moment had come to Kemet.

  “The king?” Hani cried, suspended for a moment between fear and the hope that he had jumped to the wrong conclusion.

  “Yes, alas, my lord. A courier just reached us. Lord Yapakh-addi has already left for Waset.”

  Hani knelt and scraped up a handful of dust, which he threw over his head with a prayer. “Maya,” he shouted into the room. He turned to the soldier. “Is Har-ba-ef in his office?”

  “Yes, my lord,” the aide replied as the two men started off down the street with long strides.

  Hani heard Maya running after them, his little steps pounding. “What is it, Lord Hani? Is something wrong?” Then he, too, saw the scarf and murmured, “Oh. Oh no.”

  The aide led Hani and Maya to Har-ba-ef’s office at the quick march. Har-ba-ef was dressed in full this time, his gray hair covered by a wig in a disciplined way, a curved khopesh sword at his waist. His mobile face was serious. “Lord Hani. I see you’ve received the news. Our Two Lands are orphaned. Neb-ma’at-ra has flown into the West.” He extended a white scarf to Hani, who bound it around his head.

  Hani’s thoughts were sorrowful but also anxious. He found it uncommonly hard to breathe. Now was the moment when all those things Amen-em-hut and Nub-nefer feared would take place, if such was the permission of the gods. “I suppose the diplomatic corps has been recalled for the funeral.” He looked up at the commandant.

  “That’s so, my lord. You have about six weeks to get back, assuming the courier who brought us the news moved fast.”

  “And we can’t sail,” Hani said, thinking out loud. He looked around at Maya, who stood as if petrified at his elbow. “We’ll all have to submit our resignations to the new king immediately, then he will reappoint us—or not, according to his will.” In fact, Hani had no more experience of the death of a monarch than Maya. He’d been little more than a toddler when Neb-ma’at-ra had come to the throne, himself a child. But Hani knew the rules.

  Maya nodded silently, swallowing hard.

  Hani turned to Har-ba-ef. “What’s the fastest route to get home?”

  “The Way of Haru, my lord. The coastal road. I can give you an escort at least part of the way. You’ll no doubt join up with others heeding the recall as you move south.”

  “Very well. Thank you for your hospitality, Commandant. We’ll leave immediately, if your men can get ready.”

  Har-ba-ef tipped his head graciously. “It’s been a pleasure.”

  The two scribes left in haste, heading back to their quarters at a pace that left Maya nearly trotting. His face was so wrenched with concern that Hani wanted to console him, but he wasn’t sure how. He himself felt tight and unable to settle, as if holding his breath until some storm broke over his head. He looked up at the bruised sky with its galloping clouds and saw that a real storm was ready to empty itself upon them. It was going to be a miserable journey home if this kept up.

  Hani called together the rest of his staff and gave them the sad news then told them to pack up immediately and be ready to leave. He and Maya entered their room and began to collect everything. “Seal it up in leathers,” he instructed the secretary. “I don’t want all your notes dissolved in the rain.”

  They worked in silent alacrity, side by side. At last, Maya asked in a small voice, “Is there a chance the new king won’t reconfirm us in our posts, Lord Hani?”

  Poor lad. His career is just beginning. Hani said with a preoccupied
smile, “I think it’s a formality. Just so everyone understands that we hold our rank at the king’s good pleasure.”

  They fell silent once more. By the time they had completed their packing, the other scribes and servants were waiting by the door, unusually quiet. In the distance, a knot of soldiers had gathered, armed and dressed for the suddenly wintry chill, their cloaks flapping about their bare legs. The garrison grooms had prepared the oxcarts for their supplies, but most of the party would have to walk the entire way to Kemet. Hani wondered how they would ever get there in time for the funeral.

  ⸎

  By the time Maya and the retainers of Lord Hani reached Siduna, they’d begun to share the road with other parties of diplomats returning from inland posts. They linked up with the commissioner Yanakh-amu, who’d been on a trip to Temesheq when the news reached him. He rode in a litter while all his staff were settled on mule-drawn wagons, and they were prepared to make good time. Naturally, the commissioner of Djahy, a Fan Bearer, had to be present at the royal obsequies.

  Hani said goodbye to the soldiers from Ullaza and settled into a wagon. Yanakh-amu left his litter and took a seat next to Hani on the bench of the wagon so they could talk, while Maya sat behind them in the bed of the vehicle. He watched the broad back of Hani and the neat little one of Yanakh-amu swaying to the rhythm of the mules’ steps, both men wrapped in fringed cloaks of thick, loopy linen.

  “How is your adjudication of Rib-addi’s suit going, Hani?” Yanakh-amu asked as they jounced along. He was sniffing constantly as if he had a cold.

  Mercifully, the carriage had a rounded tent of oiled hemp cloth over it that kept the passengers and diplomatic pouches dry. The day was drizzly, although the blast of frigid air that had struck them at Ullaza grew milder the farther south they traveled. It was still miserable. Maya felt as if the chill would never leave his bones, though at least his fingertips had ceased to look blue.

  But the ice that coated his soul caused him the most discomfort. Day after day, he gnawed on the fear that King Nefer-khepru-ra would rescind his commission. Then what? Back to the goldsmith’s workshop, to keep his mother’s books? He would rather die than see all his dreams jerked out from under him. He longed to ask Hani—yet again—how likely it was for the new king to fire them all, but the emissary was so preoccupied that Maya bit his tongue. Hani wasn’t usually a man to hole up in silence for very long at a time, but he was definitely distracted these days. And that fed Maya’s fears. Of course, the renewal of commission was usually a formality. But these were not usual times. Perhaps Hani was just trying to avoid giving an answer that would be unsettling.