by N. L. Holmes
After what seemed like a very long time, the door opened, and Hani, shirtless and barefoot, his close-cropped curly hair wet, stood before him, smelling of soap. No sight had ever been more comforting than his square-jowled face and broad, heavy middle sprinkled with graying hairs.
Hani’s smile melted off as soon as he saw Maya’s face. “What is it, son?” he cried.
Maya burst past him into the room. “Please, please, my lord. Shut the door.” He knew he was almost incoherent, but he fancied the Babylonian’s ghost had seen him come out of the room and was
after him.
Hani poured a cup of wine from the ewer on the table and passed it to Maya, saying kindly, “You’re safe, my boy. Tell me what has happened. What’s that all over you?”
Maya guzzled down a swig of the wine and gasped. “I’ve found the murder weapon, Lord Hani.” He held up his hands, maroon with dry blood.
Hani’s little brown eyes widened. “Here, wash your hands, and you’d better change clothes.” He pulled the damp linen towel from his shoulders and passed it to Maya, and the secretary scrubbed at his hands wildly.
“I saw a servant go into a storeroom and come out with furniture, so I thought I’d just dodge in and find you a stool. But everything was all piled up inside, old and new together. I started pushing things aside to get in. It was dark, almost too dark to see. At one point, a table slipped to the ground, and when I dragged it away, I saw a heavy carved stool that had been smashed to pieces. And it was covered with blood! Dried, of course, but I got it all over me. It had to have been the murder weapon, Lord Hani. It was covered in blood and all broken apart.”
Far from pooh-poohing the young man’s story, Hani stared at him, his eyes widening as if he had suddenly seen the light. One could deal some pretty serious injuries with a sturdy piece of furniture, and a stool would be easy enough for a strong man to lift, to swing. Bones would be broken; flesh would be rent. Blood would flow and splatter.
It must have been a horrible death, inch by terrified inch, as the victim was swallowed up in pain. Maya watched the progression of emotions on Hani’s face—queasy horror chased out finally by outrage.
Through clenched teeth, Hani said, “I want to see it. Can you take me there, Maya? We’ll bring a torch.”
Maya’s first reaction was to gape with disbelief, but his natural courage clicked back into place quickly. He swallowed hard. “Yes, my lord.”
The two men bolted from the room, and Hani lifted down from its bracket one of the torches that burned day and night in the corridor. Maya led the way with a determined stride, his shadow stretched out before him in the fitful light of the torch in Hani’s hand. Down the stairs they clattered, making no effort to conceal themselves.
Under the staircase, Maya pointed to the nearly invisible mouth of the service corridor. “It’s down there, my lord,” he said, clutching his amulet.
Hani took the lead. This hall, too, was ill lit, but there were windows at its end. Long, bright rectangles of sun, swimming with motes, cut across the floor.
“The second door on your left, my lord,” Maya whispered.
The door was barred now, but Hani easily reached up and drew down the cord that would lift the interior bolt. The panel opened with a subdued screech. Hani held up the torch, and by its fitful orange light, Maya saw once again the chaotic jumble of furniture. As he’d told his father-in-law, some of it seemed to be in good condition, while other pieces were missing legs or had rips in the seats.
“Where was it?” Hani asked Maya in an undertone.
It occurred to Maya they would look less suspect if they didn’t seem so furtive. After all, everyone knew they were investigating. Still, he wasn’t going to be the one who attracted anybody’s attention.
Maya squeezed past Hani and climbed across various furnishings in a state of ruin, where he stood peering around in the flickering torchlight, his heart pounding. “Back here. I was going in a straight line toward that slot of a window.”
He kept his gaze low and clambered a few more cubits into the jumble. Suddenly he dropped into a crouch and heaved a small table out of the way. Below, Maya could glimpse the splintered legs of a stool pointing in the air.
He gagged and shot to his feet, drawing away from it. “Here,” he said faintly.
Hani pressed forward. It wasn’t as easy for a big man like him to squeeze through as it was for Maya. But finally, he raised his torch over the stool, and in the light, they could see the seat well. It had been smashed violently to pieces and was brown all over with dried blood that no one had made an effort to clean. That stench was unmistakable.
“Mut, the mother of us all!” Holding his breath, Hani bent and gingerly lifted the piece with one hand. A tottering leg fell off with a clatter.
“It took some violence to destroy a sturdy wooden frame like this,” Maya said, trying to control the tremor in his voice. He bent his head and saw the tuft of dark hair glued to the upswung corner of the seat by a hardened mass of brown. His stomach lurched. The damned assassin smashed his brains out.
All at once, Hani squatted and reached out a hand. Caught among the splinters of a missing leg was a scrap of fabric. He propped the torch inside the upturned feet of a table and detached the material carefully, then he folded it in his fist and picked up the torch once more.
After perusing the stool for a while until Hani seemed to think he’d seen all he needed to—and far more than we wanted to—the men backed their way carefully out of the narrow space and exited the storeroom in a paroxysm of relief.
⸎
They stood in the hall, staring at one another. Then, in silence, they made their way back up the stairs to their apartment. Even once they were safely inside with the door bolted, Hani, his heart still hammering, felt he couldn’t find any words.
He let out a low whistle. “That was the nastiest sight I’ve ever seen. I think it’s undeniably the murder weapon. But just to be sure”—he held out the scrap of fabric—“wash this out, Maya, and let’s see what color it was. Then we’ll ask the Babylonians what color their colleague was wearing the evening he was killed.”
Maya swallowed and departed, leaving Hani alone with his thoughts. So much for someone sneaking in with a war club. The killer probably just picked up the stool that was sitting right there in Shulum-marduk’s room. A shiver ran up Hani’s spine. He felt that Isfet, Chaos, was opening up right under his feet, swallowing down decency and even humanity itself, and he prayed that his family might be protected from such malice. Hani was too distracted to get much done, so he paced up and down, his thoughts roiling.
Sometime later, Maya returned with his scrap of fabric. “Only partially successful, my lord,” he said in a flat voice. “There’s no getting out a dried bloodstain, but here’s a part of the cloth that wasn’t spoiled.” He pointed at the corner where the dark stains appeared not to have reached. “It seems to be red, unless that’s stained too.”
“No, I think you’re right,” Hani agreed, peering closely at the threads. “Let’s go see our Babylonian friends.”
They tramped immediately down the corridor to the door of the emissaries of Sangar. The Babylonians’ servant let them in, and Hani saw that the two men were packing.
“Ah, Lord Hani,” said Shindi-shugab in his growly voice. “As you see, we’ve been recalled to Bab-ilum. It will be a relief to get out of here, despite your kind attentions.”
“I wish you a safe journey, my lords,” Hani said with a respectful nod.
Akhu-tsabu asked hopefully, “Have you found anything?”
But Hani shook his head. “Not the killer, no. But we may have identified the murder weapon. May I ask you if you remember what your colleague was wearing the night of his murder?” Of course, he might well have changed into his nightshirt by then. We don’t know at what hour all this happened.
Shindi-shugab grimaced, scratching his scalp thoughtfully. At last he said, “No, I’m afraid I don’t. I wouldn’t be of much
help anyway—I’m color-blind.” He laughed ruefully.
“I can tell you, my lord.” Akhu-tsabu was almost bouncing up and down in his eagerness to help. “He was wearing a kind of dull red. I remember it well because I commented to him at dinner that even if he spilled wine on himself, it wouldn’t show. Then he laughed and said he was glad I liked it, because his nightshirt had been on one of the donkeys that was stolen and he’d have to sleep in his clothes.”
A hot flush of excitement crept up Hani’s cheeks. He opened his fist and exposed the cloth scrap on his palm. “This corner—does it look familiar?”
“That’s it!” cried Akhu-tsabu. “Where did you find this?”
Hani was suddenly reluctant to tell the Babylonians that he’d found it cached in a palace storeroom. The implication that someone on the commissioner’s staff was guilty could do no good to international relations. He said, “It had been concealed. But Haru sheds his light on evil, no matter how it hides. And it will be avenged, my lords. You may tell your king that. The perpetrator will be found and punished. ‘He who does evil, the shore rejects him; its floodwaters carry him away. The north wind descends to end his hour.’ You may be sure of it.”
Somberly, Shindi-shugab took Hani’s hands. “I thank you, my colleague. We’re deeply grateful for your help. Please continue to search. I will tell my king what a friend you’ve been to Karduniash.”
“May our alliance grow ever stronger, Lord Shindi-shugab.” Hani bowed to them both, and he and Maya took their leave.
⸎
“The mail is here,” Maya called from the door. The Babylonians had been gone for two days, and he and Hani had not made any more progress in identifying the killer. Their search was taking on that obstinate equilibrium that cases always reached before the truth came to light and everything seemed clear in retrospect.
Maya was hopeful that this diplomatic pouch, unlike the last one, would contain a word from Sat-hut-haru—“All is forgiven. I can’t wait to see you” or “I’ve been proud and foolish. Let’s let no shadow darken a love like ours.” He’d tried out those words on his own behalf, but somehow, he couldn’t make himself say them. He didn’t even know what she was angry about. Perhaps nothing indeed. Women seemed to concoct grievances that were beyond the understanding of men.
Still, he was anxious as Lord Hani unpacked the pouch. There were four folded packets of papyrus inside, tied with string and stamped with clay seals. Hani took up one, and by the grin of delight that beamed from his face, Maya understood that it was from Lady Nub-nefer. His heart in his throat, he glanced at each of the remaining three—one from Lord Ptah-mes, one from the vizier, one from the king of Temesheq.
A wave of sorrow and, yes, fear washed over Maya. Nothing from Sat-hut-haru? What does this mean? He had to struggle to contain the tears that threatened to leak from his eyes. Maya turned away before Lord Hani could see how devastated he was.
But Hani had a keen eye. “Maya, my boy, is something wrong? It seems like a long time since Sati wrote. Have you written to her at all?” His little brown eyes were warm with affection and concern. Maya felt he couldn’t bear such compassion; it threatened to unman him completely.
“No on both counts,” Maya said with feigned indifference. “But that’s all right.”
Hani continued to stare at him, his head tilted like a bird’s, trying to understand. “Is it all right?”
Maya’s lip trembled in spite of himself. He said in a tiny voice, “I think so.” He could feel the absence of hope sucking at his soul until he feared it would drain right out. Sati, my love, say I haven’t lost you. He hung his head and turned away, no longer able to contain his grief. I should have known it was too good to be true.
Hani stood watching him, his hands spread helplessly. “Talk to me, son. I’m a married man too.”
“What can I say, my lord? She no longer loves me. We quarreled before I left—I don’t even remember why—and after that she was sulky and would barely talk to me. And now, after months, she won’t say a word. Doesn’t she know I’d die for her?” Suddenly his shoulders shook with sobs of misery so profound he feared he would, in fact, die on the spot. He buried his face in his hands.
Maya felt Lord Hani’s arms enfold him. His father-in-law held him in a silent embrace for a long while. “Sat-hut-haru can be stubborn, my boy. If she feels she’s always the one to have to apologize after an argument, she may refuse to take the first step. It’s up to you. It’s always up to the strong one.”
“Strong?” cried Maya bitterly. “To grovel to a woman?”
“To sacrifice even pride for someone he loves.”
Maya realized in an onslaught of self-pity that he had no real idea of how to be a husband or a father. He’d never known his own father. There had been no man in his youth to model that kind of strength. He’d been his mother’s little prince and had known nothing about how a woman and a man interacted except to expect to rule.
As if he’d read Maya’s mind, Hani said ruefully, “Sat-hut-haru has been spoiled, I’m afraid. She expects to get her way—quietly, perhaps; she’s not like Neferet. But she takes for granted that others will bow down to her.”
“I do bow down. I worship her,” Maya whimpered.
“Not to worship, just to apologize.”
Maya dashed at his brimming eyes. “But I don’t even know why she’s mad, my lord. I don’t even know if it’s my fault. Maybe... maybe there’s another man.” Oh, dismal thought. She’s tired of me because I’m a dwarf. The pain was like a spearpoint in his heart.
Hani’s face was crumpled with sympathy. “Listen, Maya. I have to tell you something that is perhaps not mine to tell, but I think desperate times require desperate measures. Sati is several months pregnant.”
“What?” Maya cried. His first reaction was joy, but then he realized how much worse it made everything that she hadn’t even told him. “She told you but not me?”
“No, she told her mother. And what I wanted to say is that pregnant women can take on strange notions. They can be very emotional. They can act in ways they normally never would.”
Maya had no answer. With a leaden heart, he began to see the enormity of his assumptions. “What can I do, then?”
“Write her. Tell her you’re sorry, even if you don’t know what for. Tell her you love her.” Hani smiled. “I think once you start, you’ll find you already know what to write.”
I’ve been proud and foolish. Let’s let no shadow darken a love like ours. Yes, he knew. “I will, Lord Hani. Right away.” The thought that Mery-ra or Pa-kiki would read his words aloud to Sati horrified him, but it would just be one more sacrifice for his beloved. He threw himself down cross-legged on the floor and pulled off his writing case.
⸎
Ah, youth, Hani thought fondly as he saw a pacified Maya scribbling away on a scrap of papyrus. If we could learn from our experiences, I would be a wise old bird by now.
Satisfied that his son-in-law had been dragged back from the brink of despair, he set himself to reading the letter from Nub-nefer. As always, he didn’t quite relax until he saw the words “everyone is fine.” Little Tepy’s front teeth were already loose. Sat-hut-haru was given to fits of weeping and wouldn’t tell her mother why, but she seemed to be progressing well with her pregnancy. Mut-nodjmet was expecting again with Pa-kiki’s second child. Pa-kiki and his officer were heading for the north. “Have you seen him up there?”
Not often enough, Hani answered her silently, but the boy was doing his grown-up job competently and earning the admiration of his superiors.
And then came his father’s postscript: “King Smenkh-ka-ra is now ensconced in Waset with his bride, the Great King’s wife Meryet-aten. Lady Nefert-iti still holds whatever position she held before, but she, too, is announced as Great King’s wife. We’re swimming in Great King’s wives! I’m thinking of offering our Neferet up to some prince so we can be Gods’ Fathers, too, like everyone else. I would be the God’s Grandfather. Has a
ring to it, doesn’t it? Come back soon, or I’ll become so cynical you won’t recognize me. Love, your reverend father. (You thought I’d forgotten, hadn’t you?)”
Out of respect for Maya, Hani suppressed a laugh. His incorrigible father was yet pushing along a joke that they’d shared years ago about the proper respect owed him.
Still basking in the warm glow of pleasure that news from the family always shed upon him, Hani turned to the other letters. Lord Ptah-mes, in Akhet-aten, asked after the progress on the murder case. They’d had to break the news of the murder to the Babylonian ambassador, who nearly had an apoplexy. Ptah-mes said nothing about his meeting with the king, so Hani suspected he’d not yet had it.
The final letter was from the vizier Ra-nefer. He summoned Hani back to the capital immediately for a royal audience. Hani almost dropped the papyrus. “They’re pulling us off this assignment, too, before we can conclude it? What’s going on?” he cried, aggrieved.
“What’s that, my lord?” Maya looked up, his face beaming. But seeing the storm cloud hovering over Hani’s own, he grew anxious. “What is it, my lord? Is Sati—”
“No, no. She’s grieving your absence but is otherwise well. I was exclaiming over this summons from the vizier. We’re to head home immediately. Doesn’t he know we’re in the midst of an important case? They’ve already made us change direction once.” His breath was steaming in his nose with disgust, and he slammed the letter to the floor. “I’ve half a mind to ignore it and stay to finish our investigation. When it’s successful, I could just convince Ra-nefer it had been his idea all along.”
“But this is from the king...”
Hani curbed his irritation. “I know, I know.” He stood staring into space, pondering various acts of rebellion he might commit but knowing very well that he would have to obey. Finally, he said between his teeth, “Let’s go tell the staff to pack up. We’re heading home. And thank all the gods our Babylonian friends have already left so they don’t witness this abandonment of their cause.”
Maya scrambled to his feet and trotted off to spread the word, while Hani remained immobile, struggling with his conscience. All the stupidities of the regime are not on you, my friend, he finally decided, and he turned to pack his baggage.