by N. L. Holmes
Ra-nefer eyed Hani up and down with a considering expression on his jowly face. That face was a strange color, as if a pallid green had been laid over the copper of his Theban complexion.
Does he know about my resistance to orders? Is he wondering if he can trust me? Hani asked himself.
After the two men had sized each other up for a heartbeat, the vizier resumed. “Two reasons why you’re here, my friend. One is, I have a commission for you in Djahy, or maybe Kharu—I forget which it is, but Ptah-mes will fill you in on the details. See him in Azzati. And the other...”
An ominous ripple of apprehension crawled up Hani’s spine.
“Our Sun God Nefer-khepru-ra Wa-en-ra—life, prosperity, and health be his—wants to recognize you. You’re to be named Master of the King’s Stable and receive the gold of honor.”
It was as if the floor had dropped out from under Hani. Of all the events in the world he’d never expected to happen, this was surely the most improbable. May the Hidden One protect me. Is this a sarcastic joke? He’d been a thorn in the king’s flesh for years—criticizing the foreign policy of the Two Lands, uncovering a shady bit of political intrigue that Nefer-khepru-ra would probably have preferred to keep hidden... and now he was to be honored?
Suspicion smoldered like a banked fire in Hani’s middle, but he said only, “The king’s favor is the breath of life in my nostrils, my lord. I fear I am unworthy.”
“Well, if by that you mean you know nothing about horses, that’s not an obstacle,” Ra-nefer said dryly, as if Hani’s protestations were an imposition. “The association with the cavalry is purely honorific. But some pompous title will give you more clout when you deal with our vassals in Kharu. Or was it Djahy?” He suppressed a belch and patted himself on the chest with a fist. “Damned cucumbers.”
Hani groped for words and finally managed, “I’m speechless, my lord.”
Ra-nefer emitted a burble that might have been amusement, although his put-upon expression never brightened. “Don’t be too speechless. We’re counting on your eloquence in Djahy.”
Or is it Kharu? Hani thought with the kind of giddy interior laughter of a man who has had his world overturned. “And when is this honor to be bestowed, if I may make so bold, my lord?”
“Two weeks. That gives you time to get your people down here. Any questions, Hani? If not, that’s all.” Ra-nefer rose, none too tall even on his feet. He hitched at the knot of his long kilt as if afraid it might all come sliding down, although Hani suspected the man’s belly should hold it comfortably. Quite a difference from his late predecessor, the lean, hawk-faced Aper-el.
Hani bowed, glad the prostration hid his expression. He should have been wildly honored, but this was all too strange, and he couldn’t help but wonder what lay behind his new designation. By the time he rose, the vizier had disappeared through his inner door, and Hani was left to totter, like a man in shock, back out to the reception hall.
Maya popped up from his seat on the floor as soon as Hani had crossed the doorsill. The little secretary was bright-eyed with curiosity. Whatever posting Hani had received would affect him as well—and now he had a wife and two children, whom he would miss. And Hani would miss them, too, because they were his grandchildren.
“What’s the word, my lord?”
“Two things, son. One, we’re going to be missioned out to Kharu again—or Djahy. We’re to stop by Azzati, and Lord Ptah-mes will give us the details.”
“Ah,” said Maya cheerfully. “It will be nice to see him again. It’s been what—two years?”
“Yes,” Hani said as the two men breached the outer doorway and found themselves in the sun-bleached court. “I wonder how he’s doing in disgrace and exile.” It would take more than being broken in rank to crush a proud man like Ptah-mes. What Hani really wondered was how Ptah-mes was doing after the loss of his wife, who had almost certainly been murdered.
Because Hani had refused to exchange his family home in Waset, some five days to the south, for lodging in the new capital, Ptah-mes had graciously invited Hani and Maya to stay at his house when they were in Akhet-aten. So they directed their mismatched footsteps down the broad, glaring processional street lined with lion-bodied images of the king.
Hani, sunk in thought, remembered suddenly that he’d never completed his recital of the meeting. “The second thing Ra-nefer said was that I was to receive the gold of honor and the title Master of the King’s Stable.” He couldn’t repress a bark of skeptical laughter.
Maya stopped and gaped at his father-in-law. “My lord! Congratulations! At last, they’re recognizing all you’ve done for the Two Lands.” But then his delight faded into a cocked eyebrow of suspicion. “After the tomb robbery investigation, I’m a little surprised, though. This isn’t a cruel joke, is it?”
“I’ve asked myself the same thing, Maya. I guess we have to treat it as a serious offer. Perhaps the king has heard of how successfully I took care of Pipi’s horses.” Hani had to smile at the recollection of his brief stint as a groom after his irrepressible brother had bought a pair of horses that turned out to have been stolen from the royal stud farm.
Maya snorted, and the two of them strode along through the dust and the blare of cicadas, Hani revolving all the possibilities of what this unexpected royal favor might signify. At the southern edge of the city, the houses thinned out until only the mansions of the rich rose in white-walled splendor along the riverbank.
As they entered Lord Ptah-mes’s gate, Maya said, “What sort of man is the new vizier of the Lower Kingdom, my lord?”
“I don’t have a grasp on him yet,” Hani admitted. “He seemed like a harmless fellow, a little befuddled, but I don’t yet know how benevolent he is toward us—he was the one who rescinded Ptah-mes’s commission, although perhaps he was under pressure from the Great House. In appearance, he’s the opposite of Lord Aper-el.”
Maya made a thoughtful hmmm.
Lord Ptah-mes’s servants came to the door to welcome Hani, who greeted them pleasantly. They knew him and his secretary well, since their master had made it clear that Hani should feel at home even in his own absence.
“Will my lord require anything to eat?” the majordomo inquired politely, while the other servants—disciplined and smooth, as one would expect—stood behind him, attending to his every wish.
Hani and Maya exchanged an eager look. “Thank you, my friend,” Hani said to the majordomo, realizing all at once how hungry he was. “That would be splendid.” He beamed at the servant, who backed formally from the room and set off toward the kitchens.
⸎
Two weeks later, Hani found himself back in the capital among a crowd of his family, friends, and colleagues. Several men were being honored simultaneously, so the processional road before the Window of Appearances was thronged with a festive crowd of well-wishers. Hani’s wife, Nub-nefer, was at his side and all but one of their children, Baket-iset, who had been bedridden for seventeen years, ever since a terrible accident had left her paralyzed. Aha, Hani’s firstborn, was there, proud of his father for once. Pa-kiki and his wife and child were present, along with Maya and Sat-hut-haru, Hani’s second girl. And the irrepressible youngest, Neferet, with her friend and fellow doctor Bener-ib trailing her, was jumping up and down with excitement despite her eighteen years.
Hani’s brother Pipi, who lived in Akhet-aten, was at his side, beaming, and Mery-ra, their father, smiling ear to ear, stood just behind him with his pupil, young Khawy. The family of Nub-nefer’s brother, the rebel priest of Amen-Ra, had even come. Hani saw in the crowd many of his friends and also Maya’s mother, the goldsmith In-hapy, almost invisible among the taller bodies around her. So many beloved faces. All these good people are here to wish me well. They’re probably happier than I am about this. For the first time, Hani was conscious of what an honor this recognition was rather than afraid of what hidden meaning it might be intended to convey. He resolved to suppress his suspicions and enjoy the moment.
He gazed out over the clustered throng bedecked in their finest festival clothes and most expensive wigs, flowers around their necks and in their hair. Nub-nefer, hanging on his arm, looked up at him, her face glowing with pride. She had no love for the king, who had suppressed the cult of Amen-Ra and put his priests, including members of her family, out of work. But she believed in Hani’s worth. Where would I have been all these years without her?
Hani’s nose sparked with tenderness. He leaned over and kissed her forehead through the wreath of flowers that adorned it. “The greatest honor of all is to be seen with you, my dove,” he whispered.
She beamed up at him, as beautiful in Hani’s eyes as she’d been the day they were married thirty-three years before.
All at once, the silvery notes of trumpets rang out. The crowd rippled like a field of wind-tossed wheat as everyone bent in a full court bow before the king, Nefer-khepru-ra Wa-en-ra, and his queen and coregent, Nefert-iti Nefer-nefru-aten, who had appeared in the window above the road. Slender columns with fluttering banners flanked them, so that the royal couple was framed like a pair of gods in a shrine. They were a dazzling apparition in their blue crowns. Clad in gauzy white linen and adorned with elaborate jewelry, almost every inch of the royal pair coruscated in the blinding midday sun—together, the living avatar of the Aten, the Sun Disk.
A herald proclaimed the names of those to be honored that day, each one greeted by the cheers of his supporters. The first man was raised onto the shoulders of his friends, and as he stretched out his arms in ritual supplication, the royal couple showered him with sacks of grain and cuts of meat and gold necklaces and armlets—as if the very bounty of the heavens had been upended upon him. His friends scrambled for the gifts and hung the gold shebyu collars of honor around his neck, everyone laughing, aahing, and crying out at once.
And then came Hani’s turn to be hoisted, rocking and uneasy, upon the shoulders of his father and brother and sons. His heart was pounding with the precariousness of the seat—he was not a light man—but he let go of Mery-ra’s and Pipi’s heads long enough to stretch out his hands to the royal couple above him. Over the bright, richly embroidered cushion that padded the sill of the window, the king leaned forward, his pointed face a benevolent and impassive mask, and gold and food began to rain down upon Hani, striking him like weighty hail, a not altogether pleasant sensation. He heard the excited cries of the family below him as they scrambled for the falling gifts, but he could hardly distinguish one bent back from another. As the men started to lower him to the ground, Hani caught the queen’s eye. It was narrowed in an evaluating look, neither malevolent nor kindly.
What’s she thinking? Hani wondered with a chill.
When his feet had reached solid ground once more, and the children had tied the last of the gold collars with lens-shaped beads around his neck, Hani—flushed and still off-balance—laughed and embraced his wife. “Am I prettier with these things framing my chin?” he asked mischievously. He felt rather exhilarated in spite of himself.
She was radiant, but a little tartness marked her tone as she said, “You deserved them, my love. You’ve deserved them for years. Anyone else would have honored you long before now, again and again.”
Hani wondered once more what this honor really meant. Perhaps it was only as Ra-nefer had said—that the elevated status gave him more influence abroad. Still, the question passed through his mind: Is the king trying to buy me?
But this was a day of celebration. His family gathered about him, Hani made his way toward the embarcadero, where a ferry would take them back to Waset. “Who’s coming and who’s staying?” he called out.
“We’re coming back with you,” Neferet cried joyfully, hugging him hard. “Lady Djefat-nebty gave us some time off because the occasion was so-o-o special!” Djefat-nebty was the royal sunet with whom Neferet and her friend were studying.
An apologetic look on his face, Aha said, “I’d like to join you, Father, but I have things to do here.” He clapped his father on the shoulder in an awkward gesture of pride. Aha, more than any other member of the family, would be impressed by such superficial ceremonies. He was an enthusiastic follower of the king and his reforms—much to the chagrin of his parents.
“Thank you for coming, son.” Hani embraced him. “Give our love to Khentet-ka and the children.”
Having bade goodbye to Aha and all their friends who now resided in the City of the Horizon, the rest of the family trooped down to the ferry they had retained. The servants, who stood grinning on the shore, sent up an enthusiastic cheer.
“Congratulations, my lord,” A’a, the old gatekeeper, cried. The others echoed him as Hani and his party clumped up the gangplank, their arms full of gold jewelry and haunches of meat and sacks of grain, their steps resounding on the boards.
⸎
Maya was as proud as if he himself had received the gold of honor. He tried the words out for size in his mind. I am the secretary of the Master of the King’s Stable. By all the gods, this would add spice to his Tales. The Traveler, secretary to the Master of the King’s Stable... was sent on a delicate mission. Saved the king’s life. Single-handedly carried twenty little princes from a burning building. Fought his way back to the capital in time with an urgent message.
There were definitely possibilities here. He found he was almost eager to head north again, despite the fact that it meant months away from his family. He was thirty-two, but he still had a young man’s thirst for adventures. Especially now that he had discovered how successfully they fueled his storytelling and how much Sat-hut-haru and the children loved to hear about extravagant exploits.
At his side, his wife gave a great sigh of contentment. “Wasn’t that marvelous? Papa deserves it. We’ve always wondered why he never got any recognition.”
Because he gets up the king’s nose at every opportunity, Maya answered silently. “Because he’s honest and incorruptible, my love. He hasn’t clawed his way up the ladder by pushing other people down.”
“I wish we’d brought the children. Pa-kiki and Uncle Pipi did, and Aunt Anuia. Little Tepy would have been thrilled to see his gamfather standing before the king.”
“He’s only seven, my dove. I’m not sure but all that waiting in the sun wouldn’t have made him cranky.”
“Maybe you’re right...” Her voice trailed off. It was clear she didn’t think he was right.
Maya replied in irritation, “Of course I’m right.”
He looked away from Sat-hut-haru and concentrated on the glorious River in front of him, gilded by the long rays of the afternoon sun, its waters like swirling malachite. He could only just see over the gunwales, and that peeved him too. On the distant bank, trees swayed, and now and again a village appeared and receded into the distance, a jumble of dun cubes looking as if they’d grown right from the dun soil. Farmers bent over their fields, setting up the sluice gates in their canals, readying for the Inundation, which would come upon them soon—that life-bringing flood of fresh, rich alluvium that gave Kemet, the Black Land, its name.
When Maya turned back to his wife, she had gone.
⸎
The family had been on the ferry for three days. Most of the excitement had died down, most of the necessary conversations concluded. Hani had packed up the gold jewelry and the cuts of meat wrapped in vinegar-soaked rags and the sacks of grain the first evening, and the servants took turns sitting on them.
Hani and Nub-nefer were standing silently, arm in arm, gazing out over the River, thinking their own thoughts, when Neferet burst between them. “Papa! You make us so proud.” She stretched up to kiss him with her usual exuberance.
“You’ve said that several times, little duckling. I appreciate it. It makes me proud to think I make you proud.” He winked at her, and Nub-nefer suppressed a smile.
“I’m glad the king recognized you now, because he... well...” Neferet dropped her eyes and got that shifty look of hers. She jabbed a sealing thumb against her lips. “
I shouldn’t say.”
“Whatever it is, you’ve been itching to say it since the ceremony, I’ll bet,” Hani said fondly. “But, Neferet, my dear, you mustn’t spread stories you hear at court.”
“I don’t. I would never tell anybody but you and Mama. Bener-ib already knows, because she heard it at the same time I did. And this could be important.” She looked about her furtively then whispered near his ear, “The king is sick.”
A shiver of foreboding raised the hair on Hani’s neck. “People do get sick from time to time, my duckling. Even gods on earth.” Hani realized his voice was more acerbic than he had intended, and he softened it. “Please don’t tell me anything you’ve learned at a patient’s bedside.”
“The king’s not my patient. I heard Lord Pentju telling Djefat-nebty.” Neferet looked at her mother as if for support. “That’s completely different, isn’t it?”
Nub-nefer locked glances with Hani behind Neferet’s head. Hani could have sworn he saw an ember of eagerness in her kohl-edged eyes.
“He’s young yet. It’s probably nothing serious.” He tried to remember whether Nefer-khepru-ra had shown any signs of illness when he’d leaned out over Hani to bestow the gold upon him, but Hani had been so blinded by the sun and so preoccupied with not falling off people’s shoulders that he hadn’t been at his most observant.
Neferet continued, undeterred, her voice dropping still lower. “The Osir Neb-ma’at-ra died of a bad heart. And his son has one too.” She pounded a fist on her chest in a rhythm, first slow, then frantic, then slow again. Then she stared smugly at her father.
Hani felt less sorrow over this news than he would have for nearly anyone else. But a man’s life was no small thing, even such a man’s. And when he dies... what then? Can Nefert-iti hold things together alone? No, there’ll be a civil war. Will Lord Ay make a move? Will the Crocodiles be ready to jump into the breach with their Hittite? He heaved a sigh. Mut, mother of us all, guide the Two Lands.
Nub-nefer was staring avidly at Hani. No doubt, she was praying for Nefer-khepru-ra to die so that the priests of Amen-Ra, whom Hani thought of as the Crocodiles, could carry out their plan to return the kingdom to worship of the Hidden One.