The North Wind Descends

by N. L. Holmes

  Somewhat mollified, the two men bowed and departed, Shindi-shugab still muttering disgusted noises. After they’d left, a silence fell. Hani turned to Maya. “Did you get all that? Did you understand their accent? You’re only used to hearing Akkadian spoken badly by men of Kemet.” He forced himself to smile, but a great weight had descended upon his heart.

  “I think I got it all, Lord Hani,” Maya said, ranging his writing tools. He folded up the papyrus he’d been recording on. “Shouldn’t we be getting ready for dinner now? I’m sure the bath water is cold.”

  “Actually, that sounds pretty attractive,” Hani said. “Call Zalaya, will you, my friend?”

  ⸎

  By the time the summons to dinner could be expected, Hani and Maya were all clean and fresh. Hani had put on his gold of honor and painted his eyes and looked as lordly as one could look, despite his cheerful expression. As for himself, Maya had butterflies in his stomach. He’d never been included in a state dinner before, and he had a horror of muffing the formal etiquette and revealing his working-class background.

  “Just follow the people around you,” Hani told him by way of encouragement. “You don’t speak their language much, so probably they’ll all leave you alone.” He stared at Maya, evaluating. “I think you need to take the writing case off your shoulder, though. Just carry it and put it under your stool until you need it.”

  “Of course, my lord.” Maya slipped it off but felt a flutter of shame, as if he had been stripped naked. That writing case, the evidence of his literacy, was what tethered him to the ruling class. He pulled his gold amulet of Bes—the one really expensive thing he owned—from under his shirt and let it lie visibly on his chest.

  When the call came to eat, the two men set off down the hall in the wake of the servant. To Maya’s surprise, they were led not to the ground floor banquet hall but to the commissioner’s apartment, which appeared to have been at one time an office with a vestibule. Amen-nefer rose to greet them. “Lord Hani! Here you are in all your splendor, and me in my everyday clothes. I hope you don’t find me disrespectful, but I thought an intimate meal might serve our purposes better than a state dinner.”

  “Think nothing of it, Lord Commissioner. I don’t stand on formalities,” Hani replied genially. He and Amen-nefer seated themselves at the individual tables that had been set out, and Maya, uncomfortable, hoicked himself gracelessly onto another stool. He must use these high things purposely to embarrass little people.

  The servants began to bring in various delicacies prepared in the fashion of the Black Land—cucumbers in sour grape juice with dill and fennel, little meat-stuffed pies flavored with cumin, like the ones Sat-hut-haru had learned to make, mashed chickpeas and garlic with pieces of bread for dipping. Nothing especially fancy, just good home-style cooking. After weeks of eating cold meals on the shore where their ship had put in at night, or the rich dishes at Biryawaza’s court, the food was welcome indeed. And the beer was good.

  They moved on to roast larks and small fried fish as the evening wore on. Lord Hani and Amen-nefer talked of one thing and another, while Maya listened with one ear and concentrated on his food. He saw that the others were eating everything with their fingers in an ordinary way, so he did too. Little bowls of perfumed water had been provided at each table for them to wash their hands, and servants circulated with platters of food and refills of beer.

  “So you’re from Waset too,” Amen-nefer said. “I don’t get back often. Well, there’s not much reason to. I don’t have family there any longer.”

  “Your wife is here with you, then?”

  “My wife is deceased, Lord Hani.” The commissioner held up a hand before Hani, his eyebrows crumpled in apology, could say something consoling. “No need for condolences. It’s been many years.”

  “How long have you been stationed here, Lord Amen-nefer?”

  Amen-nefer chuckled. “I came up here as a soldier on the usual six-year posting the year of our late king’s second jubilee. Then I was appointed regional commissioner, and here I still am, nearly thirteen years later.”

  He seemed friendly and unguarded. Maya longed to ask him how he’d lost his eye, but instead, the secretary opted to look busy with a lark carcass while he listened.

  “And you, my lord?” Amen-nefer asked Hani.

  “Except for assignments abroad, I’ve maintained my residence in Waset, so I stay with the high commissioner when I have occasion to visit the capital. We have children in both cities.”

  Hani wasn’t rendered indiscreet by the beer, Maya knew. Anything he told Amen-nefer was by choice. Perhaps he wanted to build a rapport with him by offering personal confidences. Learn from him. He’s a master diplomat. Didn’t he write in his aphorisms, “Do not reveal your heart to a stranger?”

  Eventually, servants brought out sweet cakes and the last of the autumn’s grapes. Hani said in an amiable voice, “Perhaps, my lord, the time has come to talk about the Babylonian situation. Maya, would you like to make notes so our lord king can be better informed?”

  Amen-nefer heaved a sigh. “Yes. Lamentable. What an embarrassment. This group of hapiru is like a lizard—you think you have it by the tail, but it just breaks off in your hand, and the damned creature grows a new one.”

  “The robbery, yes. But who could have killed Shulum-marduk right under your roof?”

  Amen-nefer stared him in the eye. “You think that can’t be the hapiru too? There’s a fellow named Shum-addi who apparently has set his sights on becoming their leader, as Abdi-ashirta once did in the north. He’s full of a sort of low cunning and will stop at nothing to undercut our hegemony in Kharu. Who would profit more from a rupture between us and our Babylonian allies than he?”

  Hani nodded, his eyes lowered, digesting this. Then he looked up. “You think he wants to establish a legitimate kingdom like Abdi-ashirta’s son?”

  “What I think is we should deport the whole lot of those outlaw scum to Wawat. Let them work in the gold mines for a while—see how they like that legitimate kingdom.” Amen-nefer’s pleasant expression had suddenly grown hard as flint, which worked a disturbing change in his handsome face.

  Maya swallowed with difficulty. Bes protect us, I hope I never get on the wrong side of this man. People who could change in a minute like that disturbed him. He’d been raised by a calm, loving mother. His teachers at the Per-ankh had been pitiless, but they were utterly predictable. Lord Hani was as solid and honest as he looked. He could get angry—although it took a lot to push him—but that anger always came from a principled place and was often leavened with humor. In short, Maya had rarely seen such an instant look of sheer contempt. His flesh creeping, he busied himself with his writing.

  “That decision belongs to Nefer-khepru-ra, of course,” Hani said blandly. “As I told you, he’s sending an army up here soon to clean them out of their nest, and it may well be that some of them will end up in the mines. But you and I need to find the robbers and murderer in this particular case and try to make it right with Burna-buriash before he sees in it an act of war.”

  Amen-nefer tipped his head in acquiescence, his features once more relaxed.

  “The commander of the proposed army should be here soon. He accompanied us up here but had a task to perform elsewhere for a while. When he arrives, we can send out some scouting parties.

  In the meantime, I’d like to talk to the two surviving Babylonians again.”

  “All my resources are at your disposal, Lord Hani.” Amen-nefer rose, and Hani and

  Maya followed suit. Maya hastily folded up his parchment and shoved his pen back into its case. “I’m sure you’re tired from traveling.”

  “Yes, in fact, we are,” Hani said with an amiable smile.

  “I leave you, then.” The commissioner bowed genially and retreated into his apartment, while Hani and Maya made their way down the corridor to their own quarters.

  “What do you think, my lord?” Maya asked in an undertone.

  “A
bout the food? Wonderful.”

  “No, about—ahem.” Maya cleared his throat discreetly. “The commissioner. He wastes no love on the hapiru. Did you see the look that came over him?”

  Hani seemed pensive. “I wonder if they cost him his eye.”

  CHAPTER 5

  The next day, Hani finally received a letter from his wife. It had been sent to Azzati and, in the absence of the high commissioner, had languished there until someone thought to forward it to Temesheq. From Temesheq, it had made its way to Kumidi.

  Hani unfolded the papyrus with relish. How he loved these communiqués from home—news of the children, of the house, of the birds. He saw with affection the bold script of his father. Mery-ra generally wrote for Nub-nefer, sharing what she wanted to tell her husband, and Hani could picture her sweet face and warm golden body as he read, almost as if she were present.

  “My dear Hani, all the children are well. Sati and Pa-kiki’s little ones are more adorable every moment. Tepy told Mery-ra the other day that he wanted to be an emissary like his gamfather! Neferet and her friend were here for the holidays. You can imagine how much brighter the house felt with Neferet around. Although she’s always too ready to tell stories about the life of court, which concerns me. I hope she understands the difference between harmless statements and confidences. Bener-ib is finally starting to loosen up a little. She’s quite sweet with Baket-iset, which makes me feel good about her.

  “The Flood was very generous this year, and the fields look beautiful. I think we’ll have good crops at the farm. Baket-iset sends her love. Qenyt misses you, because I won’t let her eat the bulti fry I put into the pool to raise for eating (our eating). Ta-miu had another litter of kittens, but we were able to give them both to the grandchildren. I can’t imagine that she’ll be having too many more at her age. Sat-hut-haru is expecting again—I’m sure she’s written to tell Maya.

  “Hani, some news has come out of the palace, this time not through Neferet but publicly. The king has named a coregent, his brother Smenkh-ka-ra. The new coregent seems to be making his residence in Waset. What does this mean, I wonder? Are his overtures to try to win over the Thebans or to keep an eye on us? How I wish you were here to help me understand. I hope you and Maya are well and safe. Your loving Nub-nefer.”

  Mery-ra had added his own postscript. “Son, what do you make of this new coregency? What’s to happen to the queen? We miss you. Love, Father.”

  “This is very strange,” Hani said, troubled. “Maya, the king has named his brother to share the throne with him.”

  Maya looked up, goggle-eyed. “But he has a coregent. You helped get the queen to be his coregent.”

  “Well, as it turned out, she was something not altogether a king. I mean, she wore the crown and did all the things kings do, but have you noticed? Her name was never written in a double shen ring like a proper king’s.” Hani pursed his lips in thought, his eyebrows knotted. “I don’t know what to make of this.”

  “I thought Prince Smenkh-ka-ra wasn’t quite right in the head.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard, although I’ve never met him.” Is the king finally giving some thought to his own mortality? Hani wondered. Does he think a male can serve as a less controversial regent for his son? Or does he know the queen is sick and may not survive him?

  “That’s all we need—more instability at home,” Maya said sourly. “Lord Ay won’t be happy that his daughter is being displaced.”

  “No...” Hani wasn’t sure what to say. “And Smenkh-ka-ra’s apparently going to rule from Waset.”

  “What?” squawked Maya. “What’s going on? Are they trying to sweet-talk us Thebans?”

  “I’m sure I have no idea. Perhaps it’s all a facade anyway. It’s hard to imagine our king sharing his real power with anyone, especially someone who may not even be competent.” Hani wasn’t sure why this news should disturb him so, but it all seemed so carefully contrived that it left him with a bad taste in his mouth. “I wonder if this is meant to curb Ay’s power.”

  Maya nodded reflectively. “I’ll bet that’s it, my lord. He’s finally onto Ay’s ambitions.” He gave a dark chuckle. “Our friend Pa-aten-em-heb’s status just went down.”

  “From what I gather, being married to Lord Ay’s daughter hasn’t been anything Pa-aten-em-heb has exploited anyway. He seems to have wasted no affection on his father-in-law.”

  “True.”

  Hani noticed that Maya was writing on a potsherd. “Did you not get a letter from Sat-hut-haru?” he asked without thinking.

  Maya’s face grew shuttered. “No, actually, I didn’t, my lord,” he said with studied carelessness. “No doubt, she’s busy with the children.”

  “No doubt.” Hani was surprised at his secretary’s reply. Normally, anything related to his wife brought out an eager and joyful response in Maya. “Well, let’s go. We have an appointment with our two Babylonians. I want to find out what kind of man the late Shulum-marduk was. Perhaps that will give us a clue as to who might have wanted him dead.”

  They set out down the corridor to the apartments of Shindi-shugab and his colleague, where a slave admitted them. Before long, the two diplomats entered the salon, looking somber. Akhu-tsabu’s eyes were red.

  “Lord Hani,” Shindi-shugab said in a lugubrious voice.

  “My lords, I am here to repeat my condolences and to ask you some questions that may help us find your colleague’s murderer.” At the back of his mouth lay the sour taste of fear. Once diplomats start being murdered, what are any of our lives worth? “What sort of man was Shulum-marduk? Did he have enemies?”

  Shindi-shugab looked pained. “Here? Not likely. He’d only been to your land once before, a long time ago—fifteen or twenty years—and never by way of Kumidi. And now he languishes in the land of Ereshkigal, leaving a family behind...”

  “Was he a friendly person? Any chance he might have rubbed some local the wrong way?”

  “Well, he could be stubborn,” Akhu-tsabu admitted. “But a pleasant man overall. It would take a monster of irascibility to take such offense as to bludgeon him to death.” His voice broke a little. “You should have seen the corpse, my lord. It was inhumanly mistreated. His ghost is going to be very angry.”

  “He’ll haunt his murderer for sure,” Shindi-shugab agreed with a bitter smile of satisfaction.

  “Then it’s up to us to appease him by taking vengeance. Has he been buried yet?”

  “Yes, of course. It’s been more than a week, and in this heat...” The younger emissary shrugged, apologetic.

  Shindi-shugab smoothed his scalp automatically. “We did our best for him, but of course, who among his family is going to make offerings for him way out here? King Burna-buriash will be livid.”

  “With just reason, my lord. Would you object if I visited your late colleague’s room?”

  The Babylonians exchanged a surprised glance touched with apprehension. They led the way across the hall and opened the door reluctantly for Hani and Maya. Hani found himself in a splendid apartment with painted walls and a handsome tapestry, an attached vestibule and bathing room, and windows onto a courtyard. It was considerably more luxurious than his own yet had no furniture except a bed frame sitting lopsided on a broken leg, some of its webbing torn through. But what made it enormously less pleasant was the heavy odor of blood that still clung to the stones. Any attempt to scrub out the gore had not completely succeeded, and dark stains disfigured the paving and walls—everywhere.

  Maya made a retching noise and hid his nose with a hand. Hani forced down the rising queasiness that billowed up in him. “Dear gods,” he murmured in horror. He’d rarely seen such carnage even on the battlefield. It looks like a slaughterhouse. Did killing one man really require such a bloodletting? “Could you tell from the wounds if the attacker used a weapon or just his fists?”

  Akhu-tsabu, looking distinctly green, shook his head. “Something blunt, my lord. He wasn’t, er, chopped but bashed.” Tears began to
tremble on his eyelashes.

  “I think we’ve seen enough.” They hustled into the corridor, and Hani dared to draw a breath once more. He felt contaminated by the mere sight of such inhuman violence. Could it have been a demon? But no, surely a human being had done it—a man with a body that couldn’t pass through walls. “Would Shulum-marduk have locked his door, do you think?”

  “Assuredly,” said Shindi-shugab, loosening the neck of his tunic as if he couldn’t breathe. “We were all spooked after the robbery.”

  “And yet he seems to have opened for his killer—there are no signs the door has been forced.” Hani didn’t know what to make of that detail. Was it possible the late emissary knew his killer? Could it even have been one of the colleagues standing before Hani in such seeming distress? “How long will you gentlemen be around? I may have more questions for you.”

  “Until King Burna-buriash recalls us or tells us to continue to Kemet. The courier left immediately after the... the murder. With luck, he could be back in a week or two.” Shindi-shugab, still pale from the shock of the blood-spattered room, thrust his thumbs under his sash as if to still his trembling hands.

  “Let me ask around to see if anyone heard anything that night. We’ll speak soon.”

  The Babylonians bowed and hustled back into their quarters, looking ready to weep—or vomit—and Hani and Maya started back down the hall to their own room. Hani was sunk in thought. Where do we start? he asked himself hopelessly. “If only we had a witness. If we could find the murder weapon...”

  Maya shook his head, still looking greenish.

  Hani said, “I’d like to know what could have beaten a man so badly as to leave all that blood. I’ve seen some pretty terrible wounds on the battlefield. Maces or axes or even bronze rods or clubs can do a pretty thorough job of smashing. But in the commissioner’s palace? Wouldn’t someone have seen a man creeping through the halls with a military weapon?”