Bird in a Snare

by N. L. Holmes

  “He also said that Yapakh-addi has been paying off some of our officials. Pa-hem-nedjer and Hotep, for example.”

  Yanakh-amu gave a bark of dark laughter. “The dogs. I’ll see to it the king is made aware of this. But I don’t know if we’ll get any action, Hani. Yapakh-addi has managed to ingratiate himself with Nefer-khepru-ra, just as the bastard did with the late king. I’m sure I don’t perceive the source of his charm, but there you have it.”

  Hani licked his lips and jumped in. “He said Yapakh-addi was paying off Tutu—Nakht-pa-aten—as well. And... and you, my lord.” He looked at his superior closely, watching for any sign of guilt in his reaction.

  Yanakh-amu’s face grew somber, as if a cloud had sailed past and veiled it with a shadow. His wide eyes returned Hani’s gaze frankly. “That’s true.” Hani’s heart dropped into his stomach with disappointment. But the commissioner added quickly, “It’s not what you think, though.”

  Yanakh-amu stood up, his lip between his teeth as if he were debating something with himself. He walked to the window and looked out then returned to his chair and leaned on the back with his forearms. “I don’t owe you an explanation, Hani, but since you’re investigating, you’re sure to come upon something sooner or later, and I prefer—for reasons of vanity, perhaps—to tell you myself. I trust your discretion, because this is an intensely personal matter.” He fixed Hani with his large brown eyes, dignified but pleading. Although he was at least Hani’s age and his face was beginning to bear the lines of his habitual happy expression, there was suddenly something sad and boyishly vulnerable about the small man.

  “You have my word, my lord... if there’s no crime.”

  “There is no crime. At least on my part.” Yanakh-amu seated himself. “Yapakh-addi is my father.”

  Hani couldn’t prevent himself from drawing back in shock, his breath stopped in his mouth.

  The commissioner sniffed unhappily. “Not the man I would have chosen for a progenitor. He’s a pretentious, unkind, self-serving piece of scum. But he did have an affair with my mother forty-seven years ago. Perhaps he was different then.”

  Hani felt rather as if his feet had been knocked out from under him. That such a specimen as Yapakh-addi had produced a modest, charming fellow like this... Yet as he examined Yanakh-amu’s face, he could see echoes of the older man. Yapakh-addi was fat and taller, and his bad temper had imprinted a habitually disagreeable expression on his features, but there was something of him in the lips that were the shape of a recurve bow—Yapakh-addi’s perpetually displeased, Yanakh-amu’s always smiling.

  “I... I’m stunned. My condolences, my lord,” Hani stammered.

  Yanakh-amu laughed, his face flushing, his eyes averted. “I’m relieved you find it hard to believe. I’ve known since I was an adolescent. My mother revealed it to me on her deathbed.” He looked up. “My father still doesn’t know—I mean, the man I think of as my father. The man who has earned the right to call himself my father. I confronted Yapakh-addi, and of course, his first instinct was to lie. But he offered to pay me to keep it quiet, and I read that as a tacit admission.”

  “I’m surprised he doesn’t take pride in something reprehensible like that.”

  “My father would kill him if he found out, Hani, no matter how long it’s been. Such a thing is a very grave blow to a man’s honor in Kharu, and although they’re both completely Egyptian in many ways, they’re still men of Kharu.”

  Hani fell silent, pained for Yanakh-amu, whose world must have tottered with such a piece of news. “You accepted his payments?”

  Yanakh-amu’s eyes narrowed in a glare of pure hatred that Hani would never have expected to see there. “Absolutely. The more I can cost the cur, the better I like it. But I’ve made him no promises about keeping it quiet. I would never inflict such a blow on my father, but Yapakh-addi can’t know that.” He looked up at Hani with a rueful half smile. “Perhaps I haven’t handled it well.”

  Hani made a vague gesture with his hands as if to imply, Who can know? “My lord, this is your personal business, and I’ll pursue it no further. Should I look into Tutu?”

  Yanakh-amu heaved a sigh. “I wouldn’t, Hani. No matter what you find, it won’t be followed up. He has the king’s favor.”

  Finally, Hani decided to speak about the capture of the men who had killed Abdi-ashirta. He hoped that Yanakh-amu would proclaim himself equally innocent of that crime. “Someone made an attempt upon the life of my secretary before we left Kemet, and we had reason to believe he—or they, as it turned out—were planning my death as well. In Beruta, we trapped them and were able to make them talk.” He stared Yanakh-amu in the eye, watching for a betraying change of expression. “They admitted to killing Abdi-ashirta. They were employed by someone high placed, with a name of Kharu—Yanakh- or Yapakh-something.”

  “No doubt our friend Yapakh-addi, although such names are common,” the commissioner said with a disgusted shake of the head. There was nothing tense or unnatural about his reaction. “And if he assassinated someone of the rank of Abdi-ashirta, I’d be surprised if that were not a semiofficial action. That would explain why the king closed the case.”

  “No doubt,” Hani said, a great weight lifted from his chest. Yanakh-amu could still be lying, but Hani rather thought not. The relief was so physical he could only just keep from blowing out a huge breath. If he were wrong—if Yanakh-amu were in fact implicated in any of these nefarious actions—then Hani’s life probably wasn’t worth much. But he chose to trust his instinct.

  “Then I leave you, my friend,” said Yanakh-amu, rising, his face still red. “I hope Aziru is on his way to the Two Lands, but in any case, you should be ready for a rest.”

  “I am indeed, my lord.” Hani got to his feet and made a deep bow. “Nothing personal you’ve told me will escape my lips.”

  The commissioner smiled gratefully and clapped Hani on the back as he passed through the door.

  ⸎

  It seemed as if an age had passed since Hani had last set foot inside his gate and let the peace of his garden envelop him. Once descended from the litter, he stood for a moment, eyes closed, and listened to the twittering of birds in the trees, breathed in the sweet scent of greenery and wet soil.

  “It’s good to be back, isn’t it, my lord?” said Maya enthusiastically at his side as Hani opened his eyes. “We’ll see our ladies any minute now.” The secretary rubbed his hands together in brisk anticipation.

  Hani responded with a laugh. “‘It is joy when your hand is with her,’ eh, Maya?”

  They set off across the garden, following the graveled path past the flower beds, still sparse after being cut back for the winter. The frogs were popping and roaring amorously in the lily pool. A flash of white between the trees told Hani someone was coming to meet them, and in a moment, Mery-ra appeared with his rocking gait, broad and welcoming.

  “My son! Here you are at last!” he cried happily, throwing himself on Hani. “Maya, welcome, my boy. Someone is waiting anxiously for you. Why don’t you go to her, eh?”

  The secretary shot a questioning look at Hani, who nodded. Maya took off toward the house, leaving Hani and his father alone.

  Hani cuffed his father’s head affectionately, but a twinge of anxiety awoke in him. “Is there anything you didn’t want him to hear, Father?”

  “Not really. Little Shu and his wife are here, so he’ll hear it all soon anyway.”

  Hani was disappointed to think he’d have to share his first moments with his family with the priest and his wife, but then he realized what hard times the servants of Amen-Ra must be going through, and he felt ashamed. “Anything new happening?”

  “The Ipet-isut has been closed, the cult images defiled. The prophets are forbidden to carry out the daily liturgy.”

  Hani’s stomach caught in his throat as if he had been thrown from a window. “So it’s finally happened.” He stared into the trees, trying to absorb this unthinkable piece of news. “I guess we
can’t say we’ve had no warning.”

  Mery-ra stepped closer to his son and, casting his eyes around uneasily, said in a low voice, “There’s been talk of assassination among the priests.”

  “Dear gods! I hope Amen-em-hut hasn’t—” But Mery-ra’s eyebrows, raised in a gesture of assent, affirmed Hani’s worst fears. “He’s going to find himself lying in a well with his feet bastinadoed or his nose cut off.”

  “If he’s lucky,” Mery-ra agreed. “Don’t get a pious man angry at you.” He aimed a mock punch at Hani’s shoulder and began again in a brighter tone, “But what have you been up to, son? We just got your letter from Azzati, but you didn’t tell us much.”

  “I wanted to wait until I saw you in person. I need to fill you in on a few attempts on our lives first.”

  His father’s little eyes grew round. “Iyi. That’s not going to make Nub-nefer happy.”

  “No, but this will: I’m going to retire immediately. I’ve had enough of carrying out a foreign policy I hold in contempt. My conscience can’t take it anymore. We’ll live off our properties, and I’ll write and chase birds in the marshes.”

  Mery-ra looked less delighted and more discomfited than Hani had anticipated. “Can you do that?”

  “Everyone keeps asking me the same thing. You did.”

  “But you’re young. And your brother-in-law is, doubtless, under observation for serious lapses of loyalty... well, I know you won’t act without taking counsel.” Mery-ra forced a smile. “I want to hear everything. And I may have a little news for you, thanks to my lady friend’s nephew, who’s some sort of personage at court.”

  Arm in arm, the two men made their way to the door. Behind them, Hani could hear the servants wrestling the baggage carts in, despite the protestations of the donkeys. As soon as A’a opened for them, Neferet came running barefoot from within to greet her father with a joyful “Papa!”

  Hani stooped to enfold her in his arms, warmed, as if by a cozy brazier, to be back among the people he loved. He chided her fondly, “My sweet duckling, you need to put some clothes on. It’s still chilly out.”

  “Not to me. I have feathers.” She flapped her arms as if to demonstrate and waddled ahead of them, quacking, into the vestibule. There Pa-kiki met Hani with a shy, manly embrace, still unable to hide his too-bright eyes.

  “Son,” cried Hani, his arm around the boy’s shoulders, “you’ve grown since I saw you last. Why, you look like you’re starting a beard already!” He proudly scrubbed the lad’s jaw with the back of his knuckles, and Pa-kiki blushed.

  “That’s not so new.” Then, in a subdued and awed voice, the boy said, “They’ve closed the House of Life, Papa. I haven’t been going to school for a month.”

  Of course. That’s where so many of the priests were trained. But also scribes for the Hall of Royal Correspondence. Our king may have made a bad mistake there. So much had happened in his absence.

  How can I leave them for months at a time? Hani thought in an agony of regret. I must make up to them all the time they haven’t had me around. Why, Pa-kiki must be old enough to shave off his sidelock by now, old enough to be circumcised—seventeen or eighteen, at least—and I still think of him as being Neferet’s age. He thought of Aha and how he’d failed him, and everything confirmed the rightness of his decision to leave the diplomatic corps.

  Behind Pa-kiki’s shoulder, Hani saw Nub-nefer approaching. Her face was wide open with joy, but some anxiety lingered in her eyebrows. Hani and his wife exchanged an understanding look as he took her in his arms and kissed her. She murmured into his chest, “Oh, Hani...”

  “My dearest, I’m home, and I’m not leaving again. I’m staying right here beside you to share the troubles that are befalling us.”

  “You’ve heard about Pa-kiki’s school? About Amen-em-hut?”

  “Just now. Is he here?” Hani stared over her head, but the vestibule was brighter than the salon beyond, and he couldn’t make out the identity of the white-clad figures within.

  Nub-nefer took his hand and led him toward the inner door. “Let him tell you what has happened.”

  Hani repressed a sigh. Do not tease a man who is in the hand of the god nor be angry with him for his failings, he thought wearily. Shu needed his comfort. His own relaxation could wait.

  Everyone rose and fell silent when Hani entered the room, followed by his father, and he felt a jest surfacing to his lips, but the faces of his in-laws told him it was not a moment for levity. Maya and Sat-hut-haru had already gone off by themselves, it seemed. He greeted Baket-iset first of all and picked Ta-miu up to set her on the girl’s lap. Right here, he told himself, gazing at his eldest daughter’s wasted body, is reason enough to stay in Waset. Every year could be Baket’s last. He could never forgive himself if her days ended while he was weeks of travel away.

  “My brother.” He slapped Amen-em-hut on the back. The priest stared up at him with his great black eyes burning and dark ringed. He looked poorly shaved, and Hani saw some silver glinting in the stubble. “I’ve heard the news. May the Hidden One sustain and... avenge you.” He kissed his sister-in-law, whose face was a morass of low spirits.

  “It’s come to this, Hani,” Amen-em-hut said soberly. “We must resist in the name of the King of the Gods or be ground up and plowed under.”

  “I’m submitting my resignation. It’s all I know to do.”

  Amen-em-hut’s eyes brightened, and he grabbed Hani’s arm. “Well done, man. I knew you had a spine.”

  Hani repressed a tart comment and chuckled amiably instead. “Don’t take that as a solicitation to rebellion, my friend. The quieter and more out of sight we stay, the fewer heads the wind will blow off.”

  The priest opened his mouth to say something, but Nub-nefer gently steered the conversation aside. “My brother, I suspect Hani and Maya are hungry and tired. I think we should probably let them eat. Will you join us?”

  “No, no,” Anuia assured her, hustling her husband toward the door. “The children are expecting us back. We’ve overstayed anyway because we wanted to greet Hani.”

  Hani could tell that Amen-em-hut was itching to talk, but—mercifully—the priest let himself be guided away. “We must have lunch soon, Hani,” he called over his shoulder as A’a let the couple out the door.

  Once it had closed heavily, a delicate silence descended. Hani heard once more the cicadas from the garden outside and the purring of Ta-miu, curled alongside Baket-iset.

  Nub-nefer took his arm. “I’m sorry they were here, dearest, but he’s so upset. He wanted to tell you about his dismissal and the terrible indignities to which all the servants of the Hidden One have been subjected. Pa-kiki was nearly in tears when they shut down the school at the Per-ankh. I told him you’d find him somewhere to continue his studies.”

  “Of course,” Hani said. “I may even teach him myself. Actually, that would be a pleasure.”

  “Is that so, Papa?” the boy cried eagerly from behind him.

  Mery-ra brought up the rear. “And what about me? Am I not a scribe, too? Happy the lad whose father and grandfather teach him the ways of the Lord Djehuty!”

  Hani was so overcome by the loving solidarity of his family that he felt he might weep. I’m just tired, he told himself. But he tightened his arm round Nub-nefer’s waist, and she squeezed his in return as if she understood. “Where have the girls gone, Baket-iset? Is Neferet badgering our happy couple?” he asked, as much to steady himself as to receive an answer.

  “I’m sure she is, Papa. She was so bored when Auntie and Uncle were here. No one was paying any attention to her.” They all laughed, and Ta-miu jumped down from the girl’s legs, disgruntled.

  “Are you really resigning, my love?” Nub-nefer asked after a moment. “Is that dangerous? Because as far as my wishes go, nothing could please me more.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t feel I can go on trying to implement the incoherent policy we seem to be pursuing—no, that’s too strong a word. Allowing them to h
appen. But I promised I would seek counsel before I did anything.” Hani conducted Nub-nefer to his chair and patted his lap for her to sit. He couldn’t get enough of her warmth and fragrance. “So, my counselors, what do you think?” His glance sought Mery-ra’s as the old man took his own chair across the room from him. Pa-kiki sank cross-legged to the floor, wide-eyed at the honor of being included among the grown-ups.

  Mery-ra wove his fingers together and rested them on his belly. “I wish the king had never seen or heard of you, son. Can you disguise this resignation somehow?”

  “Perhaps I can ask to move to the archives or something morally neutral.”

  “You’ll die of boredom,” his father predicted. “You need to be around people.”

  Nub-nefer shook a finger at her father-in-law. “Stop trying to discourage him, Father.”

  But Mery-ra said, with surprising seriousness, “He mustn’t look like he’s standing up against the king, is all. I have a feeling Nefer-khepru-ra is not above any sort of petty vengeance. In the name of his god of love, of course.” He cast an uneasy eye around for any of the servants who might have been within hearing.

  Hani felt descending upon him the same sorrow and outrage he’d experienced when he’d first seen Lord Ptah-mes struggling with his conscience. This is just not according to ma’at. “Ptah-mes is the man who can tell me how to do this. I’ll talk to him about it. So tell me what’s been going on in my absence.”

  Nub-nefer called for the serving girls to bring the tables and set them for a light supper. While preparations were being made, Pa-kiki said, “Well, the House of Life is closed. Soldiers actually came and made the teachers stop in the middle of class.” His voice shook a little. “It was pretty scary. They chased us all out and barred the gates. They actually hit an old priest who tried to block them.”

  Nub-nefer pressed a quick hand to her mouth, and Hani knew she was thinking, That could have been Amen-em-hut.

  “The temple gates are locked, the statues are stripped of their gold and silver, and the banners are down from the flagpoles,” Mery-ra added. “It’s a pretty sad sight. Waset has become a tense place, with a lot of very unhappy priests and civilians who made their living from the temple in an ugly mood. I don’t want to be out on the street at nights.”