Bird in a Snare

by N. L. Holmes

  “What about your lady friend, Father?” Hani demanded with a sly smile.

  But Mery-ra was serious. “I go before sundown and don’t come back until it’s up.”

  Hani pondered this grim reality—his happy, pious city so boiling with discontent that a man dared not leave his house after dark. He wondered if Amen-em-hut’s mutterings about assassination were widespread. If so, the next step might be a descent by the army upon the former capital. He shook his head, scarcely able to believe how things had fallen apart so quickly. Neb-ma’at-ra had left the Two Lands at peace. Hani wondered what the divine late king must think of his successor’s activities.

  “The markets are almost empty these days,” Nub-nefer said ruefully as she set the platters upon the tables. “Farmers seem afraid to come to Waset now. I suppose all the good things must be taken to Akhet-aten.”

  “Well, we won’t starve, my dear,” Hani promised her. “We have plenty of land of our own. We need to plant intensively and fish and hunt and do whatever we must. The less the world sees of us, the better.”

  Maya and Sat-hut-haru finally made their appearance, mussed and glowing with a suspicious aura of happiness. I hope they swept Neferet out of the room before they renewed their acquaintance. Sat-hut-haru fell upon her father in delighted greeting.

  “Where is Neferet?” Baket-iset asked as if she’d read her father’s mind.

  Sat-hut-haru said, “She’s in the garden, teaching Qenyt to dance.”

  Nub-nefer sent one of the serving girls to call her in, and the others tucked hungrily into their supper, laughing and talking as they ate, trying to bury their misgivings under the simple joy of being together again.

  A moment later, Neferet appeared dramatically in the doorway, fists trumpet shaped at her lips. “Dooot! Dooot! Papa, there’s a man in the garden for you.”

  Hani sprang to his feet and pushed his table aside, his heart skipping a beat although he couldn’t have said why. “What? Why didn’t A’a tell me?”

  “I told him I’d tell you. I forgot to ask his name.”

  Neferet followed Hani toward the door, but he sent her back to the salon. “My dear, I don’t know who this is. Why don’t you go back and start dinner with the others?” He was so spooked by all the talk of plots and soldiers that his heart was beating thunderously. Who can this be at such an hour? And Neferet let him in without knowing his name.

  He pushed aside the reed mat that hung in the doorway and made his way with crunching steps through the twilit garden toward the gate. He could see a dimly luminous white-clad figure, tall and slim. Hani hurried his steps and called out, “Lord Ptah-mes? Please forgive me for keeping you waiting. My daughter seems to have forgotten the most basic courtesies. Come in, come in.”

  He dropped a respectful bow to the high commissioner, who nodded. There was something furtive about Ptah-mes’s kohl-painted eyes, which kept glancing toward the gate. “Forgive me for coming unannounced. You must be at table. Can we speak somewhere in the garden without being heard?”

  “Of course, of course. Shall we sit in the pavilion?” Hani led his guest through the perfumed greenery to the shelter, where the spring vines had yet to cover the porch. He bade Ptah-mes take the only chair, and he seated himself upon one of the stools. The men settled while the rhythmic song of crickets filled the semidarkness.

  Ptah-mes gazed around him as if in appreciation. “I apologize for the melodramatic invasion of your privacy, Hani,” the high commissioner said at last. “I was afraid you might not get to Akhet-aten for weeks, and since I was in Waset, I wanted to share some information with you.”

  “You’re always welcome, my lord,” Hani said sincerely.

  Ptah-mes’s severe mouth spread in a smile, then he sobered. “Rib-addi is dead. I thought you’d want to know. He threw himself on the mercy of Aziru, who promptly instructed the old man’s host to turn him over to the king of Siduna. He had him beheaded in fulfillment of some ancient grudge.”

  A wave of sadness broke over Hani, and he heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry to hear it, my lord. We’ve lost a faithful vassal—perhaps our only faithful vassal.” He looked pointedly at his superior. “It’s my understanding that Lord Yapakh-addi had something to do with that. He’s been busy greasing palms all over Kharu. Apparently, he is paying off both Aziru and Ili-rapikh, although my informant didn’t know what for. Maybe that was it. And it seems Yapakh-addi was responsible for the death of Abdi-ashirta.” Hani told Ptah-mes about the attempts on his and Maya’s lives and the trap that had enabled him to grill the would-be assassins.

  The high commissioner pursed his lips and sat staring into his lap for a space of time. “Is he working to become king of Kebni, I wonder, or is this due to more of those northern grudges?”

  “Perhaps both. But he clearly has political ambitions. My source also said he was paying off our commissioners in Simurru—Pa-hem-nedjer and his son Hotep.”

  Ptah-mes’s lip curled. “No enormous surprise there, alas. They’re as corrupt a pair as have ever sailed upon the Great Green.”

  Hani leaned forward, his voice dropping, his face tense with outrage. “Then why are these men assigned to a delicate and dangerous post like that? If Rib-addi had had the full garrison behind him, he could have resisted Aziru, but Hotep took nearly everyone with him just to provide an impressive escort.”

  With an eloquently raised eyebrow, Ptah-mes answered, “They have the king’s ear. Pa-hem-nedjer passes for an expert on Kharu.”

  Hani repressed a noise of disgust, but his face must have betrayed his contempt for the pair, because Ptah-mes said with a dry smile, “Yapakh-addi is an expert, too. The king listens to him.”

  “Yanakh-amu thinks Yapakh-addi must be acting with the king’s protection. And I think the same thing. Why would his men have used that special knife, which is so identifiable, if they weren’t making the point that they were untouchable?”

  Ptah-mes nodded with a slow bow of the head. Then he said pensively, “Yanakh-amu has a certain connection to Yapakh-addi himself, I’m afraid.”

  Hani opened his eyes wide in surprise. “He told me but under strict confidence. You’re aware of it too?”

  Ptah-mes smiled without humor, and he looked suddenly older than his years, which couldn’t have been much more than Hani’s. “It has long been my business to know things, Hani. Why did he tell you?”

  “My source said that Yapakh-addi had additionally paid out sums to Nakht-pa-aten and to Yanakh-amu. I confronted him with it, and he told me what was going on—Yapakh-addi has been paying him to keep his mouth shut.”

  “Brave of you. Can you be sure he was telling the truth about the payments?”

  “No, my lord. But he showed every evidence of speaking the truth. I can hardly imagine him hiring bravos to assassinate me and my secretary when he has so many more efficient methods at hand as my immediate superior.”

  Ptah-mes gave a noncommittal shrug that left Hani uneasy. “Yapakh-addi is certainly a more likely perpetrator. But in either case, they must have acted in the name of a higher power.”

  And that is why I have lost respect for that higher power, which stoops to eliminating everyone who disagrees with it. “My lord, I want to talk to you about something personal. I would like to tender my resignation from the diplomatic corps.”

  Ptah-mes’s habitually cool face betrayed his surprise. “On what grounds?”

  The words rushed out of Hani. “My family needs me, and I’ve been away constantly. Now, with the capital so distant, the problem has become even more acute. My children are suffering from my absence. My son can no longer study at the House of Life, and I want to teach him. Besides, I have an invalid daughter, and if she should die while I’m away, I don’t know if I could forgive myself.”

  Ptah-mes was silent, then he said, “Of course, the real reasons are that you disagree with our foreign policy and you feel used. Perfectly legitimate.” Hani remembered the emotional disarray of the self-contained grandee afte
r the new king’s accession. Ptah-mes seemed weary but in control of himself now. “I urge you to reconsider. It will look ... conspicuous. And believe me, you don’t want to be conspicuous. Your family is already under observation for other reasons.”

  “You mean Amen-em-hut?”

  “He needs to learn to keep his mouth shut if he wants to live to a ripe old age.”

  Hani suddenly found swallowing difficult. “I’ll tell him, my lord.” He stared into the fast-descending twilight, weighed down with disappointment. “What can I do? I can barely keep from expressing my discontent openly. And now, the abject betrayal of Rib-addi...”

  “You make the mistake of actually caring about the people you deal with, Hani. This is what makes you so attractive to them—hence, so useful to the king. But it also dooms you to constant anguish.” Ptah-mes’s dark eyes were compassionate. “Concentrate on the oath you swore to Nefer-khepru-ra. It seems to work for someone like Aper-el.”

  “I remind myself hourly of that, my lord. But the voice of the Hidden One in my heart keeps telling me it’s just a piece of hypocrisy and that I know what is right but haven’t the courage to do it.”

  Ptah-mes exhaled deeply. His face sagged in a peculiar way, as if his features were about to slide off, and Hani noticed his eyes dropped to the golden knife at his hip. “Ah, that.”

  The two men sat in cogitative silence while darkness deepened around them. Behind the feathery flowers of the tamarisk, gray in the fading light, a flicker of darker gray proclaimed the slow passage of Qenyt. Frogs began to croak in the pool. A mosquito buzzed past Hani’s ear, and he brushed at it.

  Finally, Ptah-mes said, “What I can do for you is this. Stay on the payroll, but I won’t assign you abroad. You may have to come to Akhet-aten from time to time, as you need to be seen doing your job. But as far as I can, I’ll keep you off the overseas assignments. You can work from home.”

  Hani dropped to his knee, seized Ptah-mes’s hand, and pressed it to his lips. “How can I thank you, my lord?”

  “Of course, if the king wants you sent abroad, you’ll be sent abroad.” Ptah-mes extracted his hand and fixed him with a somber eye. “And if some henchman of the king really is after you, Hani, there’s nothing I can do to protect you. A former vizier has limited influence—or he wouldn’t be former, would he? You won’t be any safer here than in Kharu.”

  Ptah-mes motioned him to rise, and Hani reseated himself. “I understand. I’ve assumed that my pursuer was Yapakh-addi, because so many clues seemed to point to him, especially if he was the assassin of Abdi-ashirta. And... my son has taken him for a patron, which has prejudiced me against him.” Hani realized that, in fact, he was still not completely sure of the mysterious murderer with a northern name. “I think Rib-addi knew the culprit, but he was strangely coy about telling me.”

  “I’m sure he would have been happy to see Yapakh-addi punished, guilty or not of the crime. The men of the north have very long memories when it comes to grievances.” Ptah-mes rose, a tall, immaculate figure, his white garments phosphorescent in the gloaming. “I’ve kept you too long from your dinner, Hani. And no doubt, you want to enjoy the company of your family after such a long absence. When did you get back?”

  “This afternoon.”

  Ptah-mes exclaimed, “Oh, dear. Excuses are in order, then. I’ll leave you to the many things you need to see to.” He moved down the path through the darkness, his elegant sandals with their fashionable curled toes crunching on the gravel.

  Hani, who had risen at the same time as his superior, trailed him toward the gate. Far off, he could see light from the clerestories of his house spilling out through the trees, warm and golden. “I can’t thank you enough, Lord Ptah-mes. You must have dinner waiting as well.”

  “We have to support one another, my friend. The king is scarcely twenty-five. He will certainly outlive you and me.” The high commissioner bared his teeth in a humorless grin and slipped through the gate into the darkness. Hani could hear him speaking to his litter bearers as the gate swung closed.

  After Ptah-mes left, Hani stood for a moment, pondering.

  “Everything all right, son?”

  “Father,” Hani cried, turning. His father emerged from the shadowy greenery. “How long have you been standing there in the dark?”

  “You were gone so long we all started to worry a little. I decided to go look for you, but I heard Ptah-mes’s voice and realized it wasn’t some footpad come to assassinate you.” Mery-ra slipped his arm inside his son’s.

  “How much of our conversation did you overhear, you slippery old rascal?” Hani demanded fondly.

  “Enough. You can be grateful to that man.”

  Hani made a noise of appreciative assent, and they walked arm in arm back toward the house through the dark cricket-swagged night.

  “Oh, son, I still haven’t told you what Meryet-amen’s nephew revealed,” Mery-ra said as they approached the door. They stopped, the lamplight from within washing over their feet. “He has a friend who is a Mitannian, a military officer. Several years ago, his friend was sent to Kharu to talk with some of the northern vassal kings about a mutual protection pact against Kheta Land. Don’t ask me why our king wasn’t interested in protecting his vassals.”

  “I know about that pact, Father. Mane informed me.”

  “Well, the boy said his friend told him Abdi-ashirta was part of that group. He wasn’t a king, but I guess he felt the same sort of responsibility toward his hapiru.”

  Hani nodded, not sure whether Mery-ra could see him or not but unwilling to keep saying, “I know.”

  “He said that Abdi-ashirta approached him quietly to hire a couple of men as personal bodyguards. He had some Egyptians too—veterans of Lord Yanakh-amu’s troops.” Mery-ra’s eyes glittered as he turned toward the light of the door.

  “I’ve heard that, yes.”

  “They were to protect him from Yapakh-addi—”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “But wait, son. They were to protect him from Yapakh-addi, but Meryet-amen’s nephew said that his friend told him that Yanakh-amu gave the Egyptians a counterorder. They were to kill Abdi-ashirta instead and leave the knife so everyone would think it was Yapakh-addi who had done it!”

  Hani’s heart sank to his feet. “He said that? About the knife and everything? You didn’t prompt him somehow?”

  “All unsolicited information,” Hani’s father’s said triumphantly. “I did keep plying him with some of that wonderful wine you sent us from Kebni.”

  Hani’s stomach swooped within him as if he’d fallen from a high place. A trickle of sweat began its way down his temple. Yanakh-amu after all. And I told him everything I knew. “The Mitannians went along with this?”

  “They were paid, it seems. Mercenaries will be mercenaries.”

  There was a long silence. Mery-ra was staring avidly at his son’s face, a satisfied grin on his own. I’ll bet you didn’t know that, it seemed to say.

  Hani swallowed with difficulty. Yanakh-amu has to continue to think I believe in Yapakh-addi’s guilt, or my life isn’t worth a duck’s tail feather. Finally, he said, “Let’s go in, Father. It’s getting late.”

  ⸎

  The family had finished dinner, and Maya recounted the trap he and Hani had set for the would-be assassins. Too late, he realized Lady Nub-nefer was unaware of the attempt upon his life and the threat of danger to Hani. He embellished the story considerably to distract her from her anxiety, adding a few elements so palpably fictitious that he hoped she would take the whole story for a fable. The more he got into it, the more he realized how he loved doing this. The starry-eyed gaze of Sat-hut-haru, the rapt attention of Pa-kiki, Neferet’s hilarious spontaneous acting out of the story, and the timely laughter, gasps, and cries of relief from Baket-iset, Mery-ra, and Nub-nefer were like strong wine to the secretary. Some time passed in this exhilarating pursuit, and he answered everyone’s questions, his face burning with excitement and pleasure.


  Eventually, Mery-ra hoisted himself from his chair and said with studied casualness, “I think I’ll go see what’s holding Hani. He’s missing all the fun.” The old man disappeared, with his rocking gait, through the door, and Maya could hear the outer door close.

  Nub-nefer looked around, anxiety visible once more in her eyes despite the smiling lips. The heady, carefree mood of a few minutes before seemed to have dissipated, leaving something darker, tinged with unease. She turned a doggedly bright gaze back to the family. “Children, I think it’s well past your bedtime. Pa-kiki, you and your sister go on up, please.”

  “Neferet’s the only child,” Pa-kiki grumbled, but being an obedient young fellow, he herded the irrepressible girl out. She pranced and threw her head like a horse, calling over her shoulder, “Whe-e-eh! That means Goodnight, everyone!”

  “Too bad she’s not a real talking horse. We’d all be rich,” Maya said. Sat-hut-haru, who was a little tipsy, giggled. They exchanged a complicit look. “Well, maybe we should be going, too. No telling how long Lord Hani will be out there.”

  While Lady Nub-nefer saw to it the servants carried Baket-iset to bed, Maya took his wife by the hand, and they made their unsteady way to the door. As they tried to tiptoe quietly through the dark garden, Maya couldn’t help overhearing a drawling upper-class accent he recognized as Lord Ptah-mes’s.

  A’a was asleep at the gate, sitting on an overturned bucket, his head thrown back against the wall and his mouth gaping. Maya picked a blade of grass and tickled his nose with it, and the old man jerked awake in confusion. Snickering and squealing, the young couple let themselves out into the street.

  The neighborhood was deserted, the unpaved road whitened to alabaster by the light of a full spring moon. A soft breeze rustled the palm fronds over the high walls that shut the houses away from the public lane. These were mansions belonging to priests and midlevel personnel of the Hall of Royal Correspondence. Maya wondered how many of the buildings were abandoned these days, since the exodus to the Horizon of the Aten.