by N. L. Holmes
Hani should have cautioned her to silence, but he no longer had the stomach for playing the role of king’s man. He would do the job his superiors assigned him, but if anyone asked his opinion, he suspected he would tell him bluntly.
“I have to go back to Akhet-aten to report to Aper-el. He wasn’t there or in Men-nefer when I first got home from the north.”
“Not tonight, surely...”
He smiled to reassure her, his eyes bathing lovingly in the soft brown pools of her own, conscious suddenly of her beauty, her warmth, her fragrance. “No. Not tonight.”
His thoughts were interrupted by a conversation in the vestibule. Maya’s voice was saying, “Is the master of the house home at last, A’a?”
“I’m here,” Hani called out. Nub-nefer shook her head as if to dash water from her eyes and dabbed at her flushed cheeks. She set a smile upon her face as if happiness were a cosmetic.
Maya came striding into the salon, beaming. He saw their strained faces, and his own smile faltered. “Am I interrupting? I can come back, Lord Hani. I just wanted to tell you what I discovered...”
“Come in, Maya, dear.” Nub-nefer held out her arms and went to welcome him at the doorway.
Hani said with a tight smile, “It was Aha who defaced the tomb.”
Maya stared from one to the other, aghast. “Lord Bes, have mercy!” His bugging eyes proclaimed his shock and horror. That was the look Hani had hoped to see upon the face of his firstborn. “My... my condolences. I... how could he do such a thing?”
“A question that has crossed our minds, too, Maya.” Nub-nefer drew him to a stool. She smiled bleakly. “We... have only four children now, if you follow me.”
Suddenly, Hani remembered Aha’s angry words: “The Aten actually cares about his children.” Did the boy think his own parents didn’t care about him? Is this what my being away from home all the time has done to my firstborn? He fought down a searing stab of guilt.
Maya gaped at them, his eyebrows twisted with compassion. Then his face grew fierce. “What’s gotten into these people? Have they no shame?”
“It seems not.” Nub-nefer glanced at her husband then back at Maya. “Whenever you and Sat-hut-haru would like to marry, it would be our pleasure to welcome you to the family.”
Maya’s expression was all at once radiant with hope, his eyes alight, his smile beaming. “Oh, my lady, I count the hours. I was just waiting till I found a little house so she wouldn’t have to live behind my mother’s workshop.”
“We can help you there, Maya,” Hani assured him, forcing a smile. He hoped that the burden of being the new Aha wouldn’t crush the boy. Perhaps he needed to say a discreet word to Nub-nefer. Pa-kiki was, after all, their heir now. “More of this later, though. You have a report for me, you say?”
Nub-nefer made her excuses, and the two men drew their stools together. Hani pushed aside all painful thoughts and listened appreciatively as his secretary described his discussion with the royal chamberlain’s deputy. “Well done, my boy. It seems our suspect is one of the most important people in the kingdom.” Hani chuckled dryly. He thought of Yanakh-amu’s long-ago advice not to get up the nose of anyone powerful. “My suspicions still incline toward Yapakh-addi. His knife was missing from its scabbard, after all, and while the same could be true of everyone else’s as well—except Ptah-mes’s—that would seem to be a mighty unusual coincidence.”
Maya’s face suddenly fell, his gaze darting uneasily to the side. “My lord, I have to admit to you something dreadful. I lost the murder weapon. But let me tell you why.” He hastily undertook to regale Hani with the history of his near drowning.
Hani’s hair was prickling on the back of his neck by the time Maya concluded in triumph. To the younger man, this was all still a great adventure, but Hani couldn’t help seeing it more grimly. He muttered, “Someone is out to stop our investigation, even at the price of murder.”
⸎
Hani understood why so many of the bureaucracy had abandoned their pleasant homes in Waset and Men-nefer to take up residence in the bleak neighborhoods of the new capital. Even by the fastest boat, with oarsman bending their backs to the point of exhaustion, it was half a week’s trip from Waset.
The vizier of the Lower Kingdom, Lord Aper-el, received Hani almost as soon as he and Maya arrived in Akhet-aten. Hani left Maya in the reception room of the Hall of Royal Correspondence and entered to find Aper-el and Ptah-mes both awaiting him. “My lords,” he greeted them with a deep bow. Ptah-mes looked composed and immaculate, his features a blank.
Aper-el, in long ceremonial kilt and round wig, his face like an icy-eyed raptor, greeted the emissary with a nod. “Ptah-mes has shared your report with me, Hani. To update you in your turn, I inform you that the Hittites have taken Nuhasshe and Niya. This puts Ugarit in a very dangerous position. They’re more likely than not to switch their allegiance from the distant suzerain to the lord of the army that sits outside their gate.”
“No doubt, my lord. What’s our official position on this situation?”
“At this point, it consists of waiting and watching,” Aper-el said. “As expected, Aziru has taken Simurru yet again. So far, he seems disinclined to let go of it, but he has repeated his request to be recognized as its king and a vassal to the Two Lands. A hostile A’amu south of Ugarit would just about put an end to that temptingly rich target.”
Hani shot a quick uncomprehending look at Ptah-mes, who lowered his eyes. “What about Pa-khuru and his troops, my lord?” the emissary asked. “Were they not successful in ejecting the hapiru from Ullaza and Simurru?”
Aper-el expelled a tense breath from his nose. “They were not. Pa-khuru was killed under rather shadowy circumstances.”
Hani thought sorrowfully of the enthusiastic young officer who had accompanied him to Kebni and Urusalim and later crossed paths with him as he departed. “Then Rib-addi is left holding the northern border alone again?”
“That seems to be the case. He’s bombarding us with letters, as is his habit. He says he’s a bird in a snare, with enemies on every side. He thinks his neighbors in Siduna and Arwada and elsewhere are out to get him, and he doesn’t trust his brother.”
A flush of indignation rose up Hani’s cheeks. The poor old man was caught among enemies. Where was the help he could reasonably expect from his suzerain? Hani managed to say neutrally, “He’s right about Ili-rapikh. His loyalty to us and to his brother is dubious. He wants to let A’amu go, and so does Rib-addi’s heir. Lord Hotep, the commissioner before Pa-khuru, stripped the garrisons at Simurru and Ullaza to provide himself an escort home. If Rib-addi says he needs troops, he’s right.”
“I’m sending you to Simurru again, Hani. Go in full diplomatic pomp. Try to talk sense with Aziru, and if he refuses to listen, we wash our hands of him.”
“With all due respect, Lord Aper-el, I have talked to him. He made very clear that if we don’t honor his request, he’ll consider going over to Kheta Land.”
Aper-el looked annoyed at Hani’s insistence. His nasal voice was sharp as he said, “Go again. Talk to him again.”
Hani felt a kind of desperation coming over him. It seemed clear that Aper-el wasn’t listening, or if he were, his answers had been formulated beforehand and would not be altered.
“My lord, you should be aware that Aziru has some kind of relationship with Temesheq. Perhaps the hapiru have some informal control over it. If Simurru goes to the Hittite side, Temesheq may very well go, too. This would be—”
“Go, Hani. Talk.” The vizier’s pale face was granite hard.
“And what new thing may I offer him in exchange for his retreat, my lord? Why don’t we just admit him as a vassal?”
“By the Aten, Hani, do you plan to carry out orders or not?” Aper-el’s voice rose sharply. He took a step forward, his fists clenched, his nostrils white.
Hani bowed, his hand over his mouth, his newfound spirit of rebellion swallowed back down in prudence. “Whatever my lord c
ommands.”
“It’s not my command, by the Dazzling Disk. It’s the king’s. You do deign to obey the king, I trust?”
For the most part, Hani thought mutinously. He murmured, “I am his servant.”
“Then you’re dismissed.” Aper-el turned away with such brusqueness that his long kilt lashed up a momentary breeze, and he departed by the doorway into his inner office. Ptah-mes took a few steps toward Hani then turned and followed his superior, his patrician face devoid of expression.
Hani backed from the empty office. Once he found himself in the reception room, he rose and stared at the door, not sure what to think of the mutual display of temper he had just provoked. He had perhaps ended his career.
Maya’s voice at his back said, “Is everything all right, Lord Hani?”
Hani had forgotten that the secretary was waiting for him in the outer hall. He turned. “I think so,” he said reflectively. “We’re headed for Simurru again.” He was amused to hear Maya’s groan. “You don’t have to come, you know. You and Sat-hut-haru can concentrate on setting up a household and starting a family.”
“Oh no, my lord. I can’t abandon you. It’s my duty.” The little man looked scandalized at the suggestion.
But Hani posed to himself the question he’d asked indirectly of Aha. Is there no limit to duty? Is one bound to carry out a bad command?
The two men left the waiting hall and made their way across the sun-blistered courtyard. Other white-clad figures hustled back and forth, almost too bright to look at. He and Maya had reached the outer gate when a voice at Hani’s back made him turn.
“Hani.” Lord Ptah-mes was approaching them rapidly, somehow looking as cool and impeccable as if he were sitting idle in a pleasant breeze. His eyes were fixed on the path before him. “See me in my office,” he murmured without turning his head and strode past them on his long legs.
Hani stopped to let the high commissioner gain a lead. Then he resumed his progress at a strolling pace, Maya at his heels. Hani was tempted to cast a surreptitious glance around him before he entered the building where Ptah-mes’s office lay, but he dismissed the instinct as melodramatic.
Ptah-mes met them at the door of his outer office and silently beckoned Hani into his inner chamber, closing the door carefully after him. Ptah-mes stood while a twitch of smile caught at the corners of his mouth, then he said in a serious voice, “Be careful, my friend. I see you’ve reached the point where you can take no more incompetence, but you must guard your words nonetheless.”
Hani shook his head in exasperation. “Forgive me, my lord, but these are exactly the same vague, toothless orders he gave me last time. I don’t know why they even bother to send me. I have no powers. I don’t even know what the king expects me to accomplish. Aziru has already replied to all these points and made it clear that his next move is to hitch his cart to the Hittites. What good is endless rehashing of the same facts?”
“Do not talk back to an angry superior. Let him have his way,” Ptah-mes quoted. He pursed his lips with suppressed amusement.
Hani’s jaw dropped in surprise to hear his own words in the high commissioner’s mouth.
“Yes, I’ve read your aphorisms. You wouldn’t believe how fast a manuscript makes the rounds.” Ptah-mes seemed suddenly more alive, more like his normal self, than Hani had seen him since the old king had become Osir. Hani laughed, and Ptah-mes, to his astonishment, joined in, throwing an arm around Hani’s shoulders. Then, sobered, the high commissioner said, “We must try to survive with our consciences intact. Here is the part of your mandate that was left unspoken—bring Aziru back to Kemet.”
Unspoken? It’s almost the opposite of what Aper-el said. Did Ptah-mes argue with the vizier and win? “As a prisoner, my lord?”
“No. The king wants to meet him in person. Consider him an honored guest. But don’t let him beg off. By ‘diplomatic pomp,’ Aper-el meant an escort sufficient to compel Aziru’s cooperation.”
Hani pondered this then asked, “What about Rib-addi? Does he get no soldiers at all? He’s all we have now on the northern border, especially if Ugarit falls. Isn’t the king afraid he’ll go over to the enemy someday as well? We’ve treated him shamefully.”
“He won’t abandon us. We have his three younger sons as hostages.”
Hani emitted a cynical snort. “Rib-addi said they were here where they were safe from Aziru. But who protects them from us?”
“Indeed,” said Ptah-mes lightly, “who protects us from us?”
CHAPTER 12
The sailing season was over on the Great Green, so the two scribes had to undertake their journey by land. En route to Kharu, Hani and Maya stopped in Azzati to connect with their official escort. Hani informed the commissioner of Djahy, Yanakh-amu—now back in his accustomed residence—of Aper-el’s vague orders and of the mandate to bring Aziru back for the king’s inspection.
“This is long overdue,” Yanakh-amu said with a nod. “Decapitating the hapiru will tell us more about their leadership structure than all the questions we might put to Aziru. It will be interesting to see who rises to the top in their chief’s absence. So you can boil down your mandate to this, Hani: try to get Aziru to let go of Simurru, and failing that, bring him back to Kemet. Or rather, bring him back in any case.”
“What about Rib-addi, my lord?”
“Ah, yes,” said Yanakh-amu as if he’d just remembered something. He met Hani’s eyes with a sober stare. “I meant to tell you. Our friend Rib-addi is in Beruta, along with his heir. His brother has overthrown him.”
“Ili-rapikh? That’s not good for our interests. He isn’t very friendly to Kemet. If we’re not careful, he’ll take Kebni over to the Hittites.” Ili-rapikh... Somewhere in Hani’s mind, a thought started clicking like a water hen on her nest.
“I don’t doubt it for a moment.” Yanakh-amu looked down briefly, then he looked up again and said in a quieter voice, “Which would you rather have in Simurru—Aziru or Ili-rapikh?”
Hani, not sure where this was leading, said cautiously, “I’m not sure either one is very appealing, my lord. Neither is a friend of Kemet. And now that the Hittites have jumped into the game, it isn’t likely to end well for us. A’amu is almost certainly lost. We were better off with Abdi-ashirta.”
Yanakh-amu rose and stretched then wandered to the window, where he stood leaning against the frame, his eyebrows knit. Hani—rising, too, out of respect—noted the glitter of gold at his hip. “What makes you say that?”
“He was loyal in his way. Aziru is an opportunist. He wants to be a vassal, as did his father, but Aziru doesn’t much care whose. If he continues to control Simurru and Ullaza, we’ll lose A’amu. He won’t listen to me for a moment,” Hani said baldly. And we’ll lose Kebni as well.
Yanakh-amu nodded, his boyish face pensive. “We’ve miscalculated.”
Silence descended over the two men. Yanakh-amu’s expression was troubled. His eyes followed Hani as if willing him to hear some unspoken message. But it was the commissioner’s last spoken words that echoed in Hani’s head. Miscalculated. Somewhere I have miscalculated. What is it I have done wrong? The mention of Ili-rapikh...
Hani finally said, “What of Yapakh-addi, my lord?”
“What about him?”
“What role does he play in all this?”
Yanakh-amu drifted to his chair and sat back down, and Hani followed suit. “Why do you think he plays a role? He’s back in the Two Lands anyway.”
Hani reminded his superior about the loans from Yapakh-addi to the king of Kebni—loans Hani suspected had been made to Ili-rapikh personally although in his brother’s name. “You remember, I told you that I thought Ili-rapikh was cheating his brother, but Yapakh-addi still deserved to be recompensed.”
“Yes...”
“What if Yapakh-addi knew about the falsity of the loans? What if he was in on Ili-rapikh’s scheme?”
Yanakh-amu stared at Hani. “What would he get out of it?”
> “He would end up owning half of Kebni—land, horses, slaves, armaments. What rich man doesn’t want to be richer still? Besides”—Hani found the idea more attractive as he spoke it aloud—“it would put the king of Kebni, whoever that should be, in his power. He has virtually ruined Rib-addi, and I assumed it was just a personal desire for revenge. But maybe Yapakh-addi has political ambitions.”
“The throne of Kebni, you mean?”
Hani shrugged and raised his eyebrows. “He’s a member of a disenfranchised branch of the royal family.”
Yanakh-amu was silent, his eyes wide, considering.
Hani said, “Maybe the murder of Abdi-ashirta was related. Maybe Yapakh-addi thought he would have a better chance of getting Aziru out of his hair than Abdi-ashirta—although the motive of revenge is more likely. But that doesn’t mean it couldn’t have been both.”
“I don’t want to chill your deductive flow, Hani, but Yapakh-addi has scarcely been back to Kebni since his youth. It seems unlikely he’d have enough support in the city for such a move.”
“Then maybe Ili-rapikh is his cat’s paw.” Hani saw the commissioner’s mouth quirk skeptically and added, “Assuming any of this is fact.” He smiled wryly, conscious all at once of how far-fetched his ideas must sound without any supporting evidence. But what was he doing in Ullaza, where I met him, if he hardly ever comes back to Kharu?
“It’s certainly something to consider,” mused Yanakh-amu. Hani was grateful he didn’t dismiss the theory out of hand. “I know you to be a serious and perceptive man, Hani, and I don’t want to make light of this. Besides, I realize you’re just sounding out your ideas. If you can bring me proof, I’ll take it to the king.” He stood up again and smiled, his brown eyes crinkling. “But for now, you have your mandate. Stay in touch, and I’ll see you again in a few months with Aziru in tow.”
Hani murmured, “I think I’ll pay a visit to Rib-addi en route. See how he’s doing.”
Yanakh-amu’s smile deepened into warmth. “You’re tenderhearted, my friend. But do it. I’ll see to it any mail that comes for you is forwarded.”