by N. L. Holmes
“I think your father is not so easily preyed on, my lord, my lady. And I think you wouldn’t care if he were. You might actually be glad to see him cheated—except for that inheritance.”
Her nostrils tense, Mut-em-wia glared at her brother then turned to Hani and, with an unconquerable bravado Hani almost admired, shot back, “How dare you!”
“I have eyes and ears, my lady. It’s pretty clear what you two are up to. At least your brother is honest enough to admit to your motives.” Hani smiled coldly. “You held Lord Ptah-mes in scorn for collaborating with the regime, but you didn’t know why he did it. It was all for you, ingrates that you are. He was afraid that if he resisted, he would be stripped of his property and would be unable to leave you anything. I think if he’d seen the kind of serpents he was harboring in his bosom, he would have been a resister from the start.”
Mut-em-wia looked ready to explode with anger. Her mouth had become a thin line, trembling with the effort to come up with a rejoinder. Her brother glanced at her for directions, a half-guilty expression on his handsome face.
At last, the woman said in a quivering voice, “Come, Huy. We don’t have to put up with these insults. This baseborn man is trying to steal our property through his daughter—that’s clear.”
She spun on her heel and stalked to the door, her brother in her wake. Hani watched them go and offered no gesture of courtesy. As their footsteps receded into silence down the garden path, he could finally feel the heat of anger ebbing from his face.
No sooner had the two departed in their seething cloud of fury than he actually gave a laugh. “I think you mean ‘our father’s property,’ don’t you, dear?”
“Whew! What a bunch of little flint chips! Poor Ptah-mes,” said Mery-ra as he emerged into the room from the stairwell.
Hani turned on him with a grin. “Were you listening to that whole conversation, you old rascal?”
Mery-ra stared at the door as if to be sure the visitors had well and truly left the property, then he said, “Not on purpose, son. I was coming down the stairs when I heard their voices, and I decided to lie low. Unworthy little scions of their parents, aren’t they? Ptah-mes and Apeny were both always so perfect in courtesy.”
“Imagine what their family life must have been like. No wonder Ptah-mes always seems down in the mouth.”
“I must say,” Mery-ra said, lacing his fingers across his belly and tapping his thumbs smugly, “baseborn though we are, at least we always loved one another.”
Hani gave a laugh and shook his head. The confrontation had left him with a leaden lump of sorrow in his middle. Something had gone very wrong to produce such voracious greed.
CHAPTER 8
Maya had been reluctant to leave his renewed connubial bliss, especially since Sati would be giving birth in only a few weeks. But the lure of adventure—and the desire to see justice done against the perpetrator of a horrible crime—had been too strong. He and Lord Hani had sailed from Peru-nefer up the coast to Beruta, and now they had entered once more into the commissioner’s residence.
“Welcome back, Lord Hani,” Amen-nefer said genially. “That didn’t take long.”
“True,” said Hani. “It’s not altogether clear why the king needed to see me in person. Any breakthroughs since I left?”
Amen-nefer shook his head. “I haven’t pursued anything. You’re the one who knows what you’re doing. I’m just a simple soldier.”
“Well, I’ll let you know if I need your troops for anything. Thank you again for your hospitality.”
Amen-nefer saluted smartly and strode off about his duties. Hani and Maya exchanged a look.
“What do we do next, my lord?”
“After taking a shower and eating, you mean? I think we need to talk to those slaves again. And maybe a few more. Somewhere out there is a man who is willing to tell tales on his fellow.”
“We could always torture them, my lord. I bet they’d talk then,” Maya suggested with a savage grin.
Hani eyed him askance.
“I mean threaten to torture them, of course.”
“They looked cowed enough. I hate to frighten them even more.” Hani sighed.
“But if they’re frightened, they’ll talk, won’t they?”
“Maybe.” Lord Hani seemed reluctant. “Unfortunately, we couldn’t trust anything they’d say under torture.”
The two men fell silent. Hani’s thick, straight eyebrows were drawn down in a deeply pondering expression. Maya had no idea what he was thinking.
At last, Hani said, “Let’s go get cleaned up for dinner. Afterward, we’ll split up again, and you can take the Egyptian-speaking slaves. I’m hoping that the night shift will have come on by then. Those are the people who are likely to have seen or heard something.”
But there’d been a change since the last time Maya had tried to interview Zalaya and the others. When people saw Maya from afar, they melted away. When he actually managed to confront one of the servants, the man made the excuse that he was urgently engaged in some important task that couldn’t wait.
Maya could feel his annoyance mounting like an icy tide. What game do these lowborn bastards think they’re playing? Don’t they know by now that the demands of the king’s emissary take precedence over their class loyalties? Eventually, he called off his interviews—his intended interviews—and stumped back up to Lord Hani’s room in a dudgeon to wait for his return.
And there he found Zalaya stooped over with a bow drill in his hands, trying to light the wood in the brazier. He twirled it back and forth so rapidly that it shook his whole body. His skinny back was to the door, and at first, the slave didn’t seem to hear Maya enter.
Maya stood in the doorway, his arms crossed in what he hoped was a menacing posture. “You there,” he growled.
Zalaya whipped around in guilty haste, and seeing Maya, he made a low bow. “How may I serve you, my lord?”
“By telling me the truth, Ammit take you. What are you and the others hiding?” Maya swaggered toward the slave. “I guess you know the murder has provoked an international incident. Sangar has invaded one of our cities, all because you won’t tell us who killed their emissary.”
The slave’s round face crumpled, somewhat in shame but mostly in terror. He fell to his knees, his hands clasped. “Oh, master, I swear I don’t know anything about it.”
“Right.” Maya sneered. “A man is bludgeoned to death with a heavy piece of furniture in the quiet of the night, and no one hears a thing. A broken, blood-soaked stool is carried down the stairs and hidden in the storeroom, and nobody sees anything. Whoever did it must have had bloody clothes to dispose of, but the laundrymen have no idea what I’m talking about. Is the whole staff here deaf, blind, and dumb?” His voice had risen till he was almost shouting, the spittle shooting out at the man, who cowered, his head to the ground.
“I... I don’t know who did it,” Zalaya sniveled, his face on the floor. “Please, my lord. I don’t know.”
“He does,” said Lord Hani from the door, “but he’s afraid for his family. Are they here at the palace, son?”
Zalaya crawled toward Hani on his knees and began to kiss Hani’s feet, weeping desperately. “Please, please, don’t make me talk. They’ll kill her. She’s not even supposed to be here anyway, but we’re trying to make enough to save up and buy our freedom.”
“You can go now, Zalaya, but if you ever decide you can tell us anything at all, please come to me. You could prevent a war.” Hani spoke kindly, and he lifted the slave to his feet and patted him on the shoulder.
Maya, breathing hard, watched Zalaya go. “He’s got to talk,” he said fiercely. “How are we going to make any progress unless one of these sons of jackals tells us what he knows? Maybe we should bribe him. If he had enough to free himself and his wife, he wouldn’t have to worry anymore.”
Hani quirked his mouth thoughtfully to one side. “Not a bad idea. I’ll have to clear it with Lord Ptah-mes. Meantime, we’ll try t
o work around them as long as we can. Let’s look for a man with a motive. Who would want to stir up enmity between us and Sangar?”
“Could it have been personal? Are there any Babylonians on the staff who might have had a grudge against this Shulum-marduk?”
“We can look. And then there’s Shum-addi, the would-be hapiru chief, who has a certain vested interest in drawing our attention elsewhere. Maybe we should talk to him.” Hani clapped Maya on the back. “Our next few days will be busy, my friend.”
Hani had Maya draft up a letter for Ptah-mes, asking permission to offer the witness whatever payment was necessary to make him feel he could get away safely. Then they parted company and set off once more to interview the servants.
⸎
“There are no Babylonians. But you know what I notice, Lord Hani?” said Maya when they met again that evening. “There are no women, either, employed at the commissioner’s residence.”
“No? Apparently Zalaya’s wife is.”
“Where? I haven’t met a single maidservant, a single spinner, a single kitchen girl.” Maya tilted his head. “Does that seem odd to you?”
Hani looked thoughtful. “Maybe Amen-nefer considers it an army post. He’s a widower; he must have a concubine or something. Or maybe he just uses the local resources.” He grinned.
“Well, other than that, nothing to report, my lord. No one will speak to me. They’re linking elbows and making a wall of silence against our questions.” Maya let out an aggrieved breath through his nose. “Somebody must know something.”
Hani nodded. “Indeed. Until we hear from Lord Ptah-mes, let’s try to think of another line of inquiry. Maybe Amen-nefer can tell us more about this Shum-addi, the would-be leader of the hapiru. Although it’s not clear to me how he or his men could have infiltrated the staff. Let’s ask the steward if there have been any new hires—or purchases—in the last year or so.”
⸎
Several days had passed before Maya and Hani were able to catch the steward in private and interrogate him. As it turned out, there had been only one new purchase—a twelve-year-old kitchen boy.
“So much for that theory.” Lord Hani snorted as he and Maya left the steward’s little closet of an office. “A lad that age wouldn’t have had the strength to wield a heavy stool so energetically.”
Maya, steaming with frustration at yet another dead end, trotted to keep up with Lord Hani’s brisk stride. Hani, too, chafed at being stymied, he could see.
“I wish our Babylonians were still here. I’d like to know if there were any connections between the robbery of their caravan and this murder.”
“Could we go track them down, my lord?”
But Hani’s mouth twitched in a rueful little smile. “I don’t think we’d get a very warm welcome in Sangar at the moment.”
They’d almost reached the door of Hani’s room when a voice behind them called, “My lord! The diplomatic pouch has arrived.”
Hani and Maya turned simultaneously to see a soldier approaching them with long strides. He held out toward them the scuffed leather courier’s bag that brought their mail.
“Thank you, son,” Hani said as he accepted the bag into his big hands. He turned to Maya. “Well, my friend, let’s take a look before we do anything else. Lord Ptah-mes may have given us directives.”
They entered the room and sat cross-legged on the floor. Hani emptied out the several tied-up packets of papyrus the bag contained. One by one, he read the address or looked at the seal. “Here’s one from Nub-nefer. And one from Sat-hut-haru for you.” With a twinkle in his eyes, he held that one out to Maya, who snatched it up eagerly and unfolded it as Hani continued to murmur, “Here’s one from my father. And here’s Lord Ptah-mes’s answer.”
Maya looked up. “What does he say, my lord?”
“He says to go ahead and pay Zalaya for his information. The commissioner will give us whatever funds we need. Excellent!”
Maya settled back to his letter, warmed to the very tips of his toes by his wife’s loving and newsy report on the children. Sat-hut-haru was due any day, and Lady Nub-nefer had set up the birthing bower at Hani’s house, so the mother wouldn’t be alone and the other children would have family around for the fourteen days of Sati’s seclusion. Another son. I can feel it! Maya thought gleefully. By the time I get back, I’ll have three children. The girl is a goddess.
“Listen to this, Maya. My father has been doing some research on our friend Amen-nefer,” Hani said, looking up. His little brown eyes were lit with the eagerness that new information always evoked in him. “He’s from a Theban family of low-level gentry—the men are mostly in the cavalry. His father died when Amen-nefer was young, and he was raised by his mother. There was some kind of scandal when his wife died violently eighteen years ago. She was pregnant, and the baby died too. Her family claimed Amen-nefer had killed her, but no one could ever prove anything.”
“Iy,” Maya murmured, horrified by the information and all the more at the thought that something so terrible could happen to his beloved Sat-hut-haru and their child. Never at my hands.
“There were a few cases, in his military career, where he was almost kicked out for fighting with his fellow officers, but he was such a valuable soldier that nothing ever came of it except for brief reprimands. He won the Golden Fly four times for bravery in battle.”
Maya whistled. “Once a fighter, always a fighter.”
“He was garrisoned at Kumidi for the usual six-year hitch but ended up being appointed commissioner, just as he told us.”
“Typical—a man like that being rewarded.”
“That must have been shortly after our new king came to the throne alone, which has been ten years. So seven or eight years ago. Well, at least he’s competent—that puts him in a class apart up here. A lot of people have quick tempers.”
“But to kill his wife?” And slash the face of a would-be sweetheart?
“Ah, but we have no reason to think he did. The Master of the Hall of Justice found him innocent.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t change his name to Pa-aten-nefer. That’s how you get ahead under Nefer-khepru-ra. Life, prosperity, and health to him,” Maya said with a sarcastic sneer. “Did Lord Mery-ra say how the commissioner lost his eye?”
“I don’t see any mention of it.” Lord Hani dropped his own eyes once more to the letter and then looked up. “Listen to this. Father says the coregent Smenkh-ka-ra is taking as his queen the king’s eldest daughter, Meryet-aten. They seem to be knitting the dynasty tight for the fight that’s sure to break out when the king dies. For sure, a small child like Prince Tut-ankh-aten would be too young to rule on his own. What is he—seven or eight?”
“Seven, my lord. Born the same day as Tepy,” Maya said proudly. “So now we have two kings and two queens? What happened to Lady Nefert-iti as she-king?”
“She’s still there, a prominent visual counterpart to the he-king, but not, apparently, eligible to reign on her own. Maybe Nefer-khepru-ra doesn’t trust her.”
“Or her father.”
Hani chuckled, his belly bouncing. “Neither would I.” He heaved himself to his feet. “Well, Maya, I leave you to read your letter from your wife in peace, and I’ll go out into the garden and read mine.” He tucked the folded-up papyrus under his arm and disappeared into the hall.
With a burning heart, Maya resumed devouring his precious missive. He pressed the sheet to his nose and took a deep, voluptuous breath, fancying that a whiff of Sati’s perfume clung to it.
⸎
Hani caught Amen-nefer in one of the commissioner’s brief interludes in his office. He looked up pleasantly as Hani bowed. “Ah, Lord Hani. What can I do for you? How is the investigation coming?”
“Slowly, my lord. The servants, who show every sign of having information, refuse to tell us anything. You can help us, though. I have a requisition here for a large sum of copper debens to be paid to potential witnesses to encourage them to talk.” Hani extende
d Ptah-mes’s letter.
Amen-nefer glanced at it so briefly that Hani wondered how well he could read—or maybe he took Hani’s word for its contents. “Who is it you’re wanting to pay?”
“Well, Zalaya, for one. He acts like a man who knows more than he’s telling. I suspect that one of the slaves is guilty and the others are covering for him.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. They’re probably in the pay of the hapiru. Gold will make them talk, all right. They would do—and probably have done—anything for gold.”
“Theirs is a hard life,” Hani said with a compassionate sigh.
But Amen-nefer snorted. “Hard? They hardly ever work, and they get room and board and
medical attention for nothing. Plus prestige. And I even pay them a little something for their personal needs. I don’t feel very sorry for them.”
But they’re not free. There’s a reason why we don’t have slaves in the Black Land.
Hani said, “Do you prefer me to get the debens from you now or to give you an itemized list of the disbursements and let you pay me then?”
“If you aren’t afraid to leave that much copper in your room, I can give it to you now. Otherwise, bill me, so to speak.”
“Why don’t we wait, then? I can’t know in advance who’s even willing to talk.”
Amen-nefer nodded amiably. “As you prefer. Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?”
“No, no. I thank you for your cooperation, though.”
“I should think,” the commissioner said with fervor. “This assassination reflects very badly on all of us, especially me. That it should have happened under the very roof of a magistrate of the Two Lands...”
Hani took his leave. He couldn’t make up his mind about Amen-nefer. The commissioner seemed to be a curious mix of hardheartedness and uprightness, of prejudice and geniality. At least he’s cooperating in the investigation.
He joined Maya at lunchtime, but instead of ordering something from the palace kitchen, the two of them set out into the town to forage. The market was still open before the siesta’s lull, and they bought flatbreads and little fried balls of something spicy. By the wall of a temple, they found shade where they could sit down in the street and spread their lunch on their knees.