by N. L. Holmes
Hani said to Neferet in an urgent undertone, “Tell no one this, my little duckling. It’s none of your business. And there are probably people who’d be happy to claim you’d cast a spell on him.”
“May the demons of the Duat twist my tongue around my neck and make me swallow my teeth if I ever say a word, Papa. May the Lover of Silence pull out my hairs one by one—”
“She’ll have to find them first,” Hani said, scrubbing his daughter’s closely shaven scalp with his knuckles. But although his tone was playful, his heart had frozen within him. He wanted to rejoice, but the thought of the chaos that would follow Nefer-khepru-ra’s death made him fearful.
From somewhere across the deck, a girlish voice called out, “Neferet? Where are you?”
“Bener-ib is looking for you,” Nub-nefer said, practically sweeping her daughter away.
She exchanged gazes with Hani, and he saw the same cold flame burning in her eye that had so frequently lit her brother’s. Hani didn’t want to call it fanaticism, but it was certainly fervor. Neferet scampered away and disappeared into the crowd of cousins and nephews.
“Well, my dove. Perhaps our prayers will be answered before long,” he said to his wife with an uneasy smile. “I hope we don’t regret what we’ve asked for.”
“Oh, Hani,” Nub-nefer whispered, “this is the first good news I’ve heard in—how many, ten years? Fifteen, if you count the coregency?” She clutched the front of Hani’s shirt.
“We knew he’d die sometime, my love. ‘Do not say I am young to be taken, for you do not know your death,”’ Hani quoted apprehensively. He was ashamed of how little the idea of the king’s demise moved him. The man was the father of children, after all. If something happened to him, they would be plunged into grief, and the royal family had already been in mourning for two of their small daughters, victims of the plague. But the consequences... what will follow?
“If only Lady Apeny had lived to see this day. She worked so fearlessly to restore the King of the Gods.” Nub-nefer looked up at him with shining eyes. “Oh, Hani, Amen-em-hut can come out of hiding!”
Hani murmured into the top of her wig, “Nefer-khepru-ra isn’t dead yet. It may be a long time. He’s only—what? Thirty-two? His father was nearly fifty.” He stroked her back, as if to pacify some over-excited animal.
Nub-nefer drew back from him with an ill-suppressed grin of eagerness. “At least now there’s hope, Hani. We can hope once more that the Hidden One will emerge into the light in our lifetime.”
“Cooking up sedition again, are you, my children?” Mery-ra inserted himself between them, a crafty smile on his broad face.
“Just dreaming, Father,” Hani said lightly, not wanting to spread Neferet’s news any farther.
“Although it seems to me that being seditious pays pretty well. You’ve just acquired enough joints of meat and sacks of grain to live off of for quite some time, my boy.” Mery-ra chuckled, and his ample belly bounced. “Who would have thought we’d ever see you honored after all you’ve done to antagonize the powers that be?”
“He deserves it,” said Nub-nefer stoutly. “Honoring Hani is the first sign of good judgment our king has shown.”
“Life, prosperity, and health to him,” Mery-ra added, lifting a pious eye to the heavens.
Hani had to laugh. Such sarcasm was dangerous, but it seemed unlikely that anyone among his family and friends would turn them in. For the most part, the people who continued to live in Waset were those less than enchanted by the present regime. “How is Khawy working out?”
“He’s an admirable boy. Tragedy has made him mature above his age, and I’m very pleased with his progress. Not to mention his artwork. He’s already caught up to me with his illustrations for the Book of Going Forth by Day. Guess I’d better hustle to retake the lead.” Mery-ra clapped his son on the back. “He’s very grateful to you for taking him in.”
Nub-nefer said longingly, “He’s a nice boy. I just wish Neferet...”
Hani had a sudden thought. Not quite able to conceal the anxiety under his light tone, he said, “Wait, does my being Master of the King’s Stable make Lord Ay my superior? He’s Master of the Royal Horses.”
Mery-ra crowed, “So here’s the hook inside your poisoned gift, son! You have to report to Ay! That charming and sinister old fox—somehow he manages to serve as the king’s henchman without surrendering his own ambitions.”
“I did him a favor once. Maybe he likes me.”
“Or maybe he remembers how close you came to exposing him in the tomb robberies,” Mery-ra said slyly.
Nub-nefer looked uneasy. “I thought you told me the title was purely honorific, Hani—that you had no duties related to the stables.”
“That’s what I was led to believe.”
“What’s everybody talking about?” Pipi appeared at Mery-ra’s shoulder. His plump, amiable face was wreathed in curiosity.
Mery-ra made room for his younger son, who admittedly took up a fair amount of space. Pipi was broad and squat, like all the men of his family, but to that breadth he’d added quite a sedentary spread.
“We were discussing Hani’s new duties, son.”
Pipi punched Hani on the arm. “Oh, brother, I’m so proud of you. This sheds luster on the whole family! Imagine—I’m the brother of a man with the shebyu collar!” He laughed happily, exposing the gap between his front teeth.
Hani cuffed him playfully on the head. He hoped Pipi wasn’t envious, in his wistful way, of this honor, which he was unlikely ever to achieve. Hani’s brother had only lazily pursued his scribal career over the years, preferring to dream of some windfall. Middle age found him low in the ranks still, although only in the last few years had Hani ever heard him express any regrets.
“If we weren’t on a boat, I’d take you down for that, you snide beast,” Hani said.
“But I’m not being snide, I swear,” Pipi cried, his little brown eyes open wide in innocence. “I only meant—”
“I’m sure Hani plans to share out all this food,” Mery-ra interrupted. “With none of the children still at home, even he will never consume this much.” He patted Hani on the belly, which was admittedly substantial. “And it would be a shame to have to salt all this meat when it would be so much better fresh. Not so, Nub-nefer?”
She smiled knowingly at her father-in-law. “I’m sure he will share. But ask him.”
“Speaking of my belly,” Hani said, “it tells me it’s time to eat. The servants packed lunch for us at the last stop. Who’s ready?”
Together, the four of them made their way over the tilting deck to the big basket the kitchen girls had filled with flatbread and dates and chickpea salad. It was already surrounded by a crowd of children, who were noisily picking over the goodies like a flock of magpies.
“I hope you thought to pack pickled turnips,” said Mery-ra, trying to see over his great-grandchildren’s heads.
“I’m sure there are some in there somewhere,” Nub-nefer reassured him. “Unless these voracious little animals have devoured them all.” She turned to her husband. “How long will you be able to stay at home before you leave, my love?”
“Oh,” said Hani, reaching for a piece of bread, “probably a few days at most. It’s a long way to Azzati. Let’s see, ten days to Men-nefer, and from there, I would guess another ten to Azzati if we sail. That’s two weeks just for travel. We’ll need to conclude our business in the north before their winter rains start, so it’s important to get going.”
“Where exactly are you going this time?” asked Pipi.
“Djahy. Or maybe Kharu. The vizier didn’t seem to be clear about it.”
“Nice as it’s been to have you in Waset, I have to say, son, the Two Lands need you in the field. How many emissaries speak as many languages as you do?” Mery-ra said.
“And how many are Masters of the King’s Stable? You never know when some vassal’s horse will need grooming.” Hani shot his father a mischievous grin.
&n
bsp; To Hani’s surprise, Nub-nefer said, “It’s not a bad thing. It gives us a little extra to tuck away for Baket-iset.”
Hani replied more seriously, “You’re quite right, my dove. If anything should happen to us, whichever brother takes her in will have a tidy silo of grain to help him out.” He looked around. “Where has Maya gone?”
“Can’t be far, unless he knows how to swim.” Mery-ra craned his neck to look around. “There’s Sat-hut-haru with Mut-nodjmet, but I don’t see our favorite dwarf.”
Hani pursed his lips in reflection. “This must be the first time since they were married that Maya has left her alone, except when he’s on a mission.” I hope they haven’t fallen out. He put an arm around Nub-nefer’s shoulders. “Would you like me to be that solicitous, my dear?”
She sniffed. “There’s a point past which solicitude becomes control. I prefer you the way you are, Hani.”
Hani wondered if there weren’t buried in her words some oblique reference to the secret visits she paid her brother, Amen-em-hut, with Hani’s tacit blessing. Amen-em-hut was in hiding while he stirred up people against the king. There’s the real cooker-up of sedition.
The lengthening shadows made it clear that their day of sailing was drawing to a close. Soon they would pull ashore to spend the hours of darkness in sleep and to replenish their stock of food. In two days, they would be home.
Only to turn around and leave again. Hani sighed. His years off the mission roster had been pleasant. There had been plenty to keep him busy in the king’s service at home, and he’d been able to enjoy the company of his family far more frequently than usual. But it seemed that, without Ptah-mes to cover for him, he was back in the field. He wrapped his wife closer, and they stood leaning against one another, watching the banks of the River slide past and the rays of the sun growing longer and longer until it was a burning disk of copper in the western sky.
CHAPTER 2
Hani’s sojourn in Waset was brief, and apart from making the necessary preparations for travel, he resolutely did nothing. It was far sweeter to spend those last few days with his family. He and Neferet were describing for Baket-iset the ceremony of honor.
“First,” Neferet said enthusiastically, “we had to hoick Papa up on our shoulders. And he is h-e-e-a-vy!”
“It was the men who did that,” Hani corrected affectionately.
But Neferet said with a touch of stubbornness, “I was there, too, Papa. You just couldn’t see me because I was in the back.” She mimed heaving something weighty to her shoulders. “And then the king leaned out over his balcony and started throwing things down to Papa”—she made strewing gestures—“legs of lamb and big, heavy gold necklaces and sacks of grain. It was like we were being bombarded with rocks! A ham hit me right on the arm, and it hurt.”
“Fortunately, you’re a doctor and could set any broken bones.” Mery-ra had entered, and he drew up a stool to where they all sat clustered at Baket-iset’s couch. She was drinking in her sister’s recital with pride and delight, and her grandfather leaned over and patted her withered arm. “You were there with us in spirit, my girl.”
“Oh, I was, Grandfather. I was thinking about you all every minute, picturing what must be happening. I had the servants make thank-offerings to the Hidden One.”
Hani’s nose twinged with an anguish of tenderness. His eldest daughter was perhaps the most beautiful of his children and certainly had the most luminous spirit. Despite the blighting of her young life, she was always serene and cheerful. He could imagine how bitter he would have been in her place, and it made him admire her all the more. Baket-iset possessed, besides, an uncanny ability to read people—a truly divine gift, as if in recompense for the terrible sacrifice she’d had to make.
“Let me ask you something, my swan,” he said in a quiet voice, not quite sure he wanted any of the servants to overhear. “It seems so improbable that the king would honor me. I’ve been so much of a stone in his sandal for so long that I wonder if it’s sincere—if he’s really recognizing my service or, I don’t know, warning me or trying to buy my loyalty. Perhaps my suspicions are totally unjust...”
“Papa, can’t he do all of those at the same time? This must be partly in show for the people around him—all such ceremonies are.” She gazed at him with her big wise eyes. “Everybody knows how deserving you are of recognition, so he had to do it or look terribly petty.”
Mery-ra chuckled. “How many years have you spent at court, my girl, that you understand these things so well?”
“And certainly someone like Aha, much as it pains me to say it, would be completely bought by the gold of honor,” Hani mused. “I suspect you’re right, little swan. Nefer-khepru-ra most certainly wants me to understand that he has total power to make or break me.”
“He’s a ba-a-ad man.” Neferet left no doubts about her opinion.
But a flicker of fear made Hani lay a finger on her lips. “Please don’t speak those words aloud, little duckling. You work at the palace. If anyone realized how you felt about the Lord of the Two Lands, it would be the end of your career—and maybe your life. Besides, I’m sure he has redeeming features. He has excellent taste. He seems to love his children.”
Neferet was not one to abandon her position easily. “His children, maybe, but what about everyone else’s children? What I couldn’t tell you about what I’ve seen at the quarries! But I won’t, I swear.”
The hair rose on Hani’s arms. “What were you doing at a quarry?”
Neferet needed no urging. “A lot of people were getting sick in the workmen’s village, and Lady Djefat-nebty took us up there to treat the wives and children. One of them died—the cutest little boy; it was terribly sad—and Bener-ib and I went down to the burial place just so someone would be there to mourn him. But nobody embalmed him, Papa. They just opened a big pit full of bones and laid him in there with the others.”
Hani exchanged a look of alarm with his father.
“I could see the bones were all small. I asked someone who all those little bones belonged to, and he said they were the workmen who had died quarrying stone for the new capital. They were children, Papa! They had set little children to work in the quarries in their rush to put up that awful city! And they died like flies, so many they had to push them all together into a pit.” Neferet’s little brown eyes had grown shriveled with the effort to fight back tears.
A wave of nausea washed over Hani. He saw similar horror on the faces of his father and Baket. The people of the Two Lands loved and protected their children. This was a demonic thing.
“I’m sorry you had to see such a sight, my duckling. Sutesh never gives up. There is evil in the world.”
“And it’s sitting on our throne,” Mery-ra growled under his breath.
“But maybe not for long!” blurted Neferet.
Hani rose abruptly before Neferet spilled all the other court confidences she carried. “Father, let’s you and me go out into the garden and have a pot of beer.”
The two men hurried from the salon onto the porch. Anxiety gnawed at Hani’s gut. He had to convince his daughter not to speak of such matters. Goodhearted and intelligent though she was, she did like to be the center of attention.
As they crunched down the graveled path of Hani’s beloved garden, through the pungent greenery of late summer, Mery-ra asked, “What she’s talking about? Is she planning to poison his castor oil?”
“Nothing, Father. You know Neferet.”
“I know she never met a secret she didn’t want to spill. Everybody in the capital probably knows about my hemorrhoids.”
They settled themselves in chairs under the grapevine that shaded the pavilion and gazed out at the pool, where ducks floated and occasionally upended in a dive. In the shadows of the trees, Qenyt the Younger, Hani’s pet heron, made her watchful rounds, lifting each leg with exquisite care. Hani observed her with affection. Young Khawy had given him the egg as payment for his writing lessons. She’d turned out to be tame
r than her predecessor, Qenyt, and in two years, Hani had become extremely fond of her silent presence. He picked up a fallen grape from the ground and held it out to her. She came eagerly but turned away in disappointment, being a lover of frogs and fish. Her pale-golden eye was reproachful.
“You can’t even give your favors away, I see.” Mery-ra grinned. He settled himself more comfortably into the low-backed chair and stretched out his legs. “Unlike Nefer-khepru-ra. People seem eager enough for his favor.”
“Not me.”
The serving girl arrived with a pot of beer and its stand. She set it up between them and arranged the straws. “Would my lord like anything else? Some dates? A little cheese?”
“What would you say to some of that good cheese Nub-nefer has had the cook make? It’s yet another thing I’ll miss up in Kharu. Or Djahy.”
Mery-ra seconded the idea with enthusiasm, and before long, the girl had returned with a plate of cheese chunks and a little folding table. She disappeared discreetly. The men sat in silence, savoring the tangy cheese and washing it down with drafts of beer.
At last Mery-ra said, “What exactly are you going to be doing up there this time, son?”
“I don’t know. The vizier had nothing to say on that score. He said only to check in with Ptah-mes in Azzati and that he would give me my directives.”
Mery-ra considered that. “So you have no idea how long you’ll be gone.”
“None.”
A squawk from the pond attracted Hani’s attention. A drake was trying to draw the eye of a female duck, but every time he approached her, she would change direction and cruise away, insulting him under her breath. Finally, she hopped out of the pool altogether and waddled off on her bandy orange legs, the persistent male following. Hani and his father watched the pair of ducks in amusement. Hani observed the drake’s posturing and tail-wagging, how the bird strutted around in front of the drab she-duck, who remained magnificently unimpressed.