by N. L. Holmes
“This is probably a bit lacking in dignity for the king’s emissary,” Hani said wryly. “Fortunately, nobody knows who we are.”
“So Amen-nefer was willing to give you the debens?” Maya asked, his mouth full of bread.
Hani tore off a half ball with his teeth. “He had no choice—it was a direct order from Ptah-mes. Even though our friend is no longer high commissioner of foreign affairs in the north, he still has jurisdiction over Djahy.”
The two ate in silence. “What about the defecting soldiers?” Maya finally asked. “Are we ever going to do anything about them, my lord?”
“We need to. If some of ours are in with the hapiru, they might have known about the passage of the Babylonians and reported it to their leader.”
“You think it was the hapiru, then?”
“I’m assuming so. Or some other bandits. But how many simple bandits would have attacked an armed convoy? Why—are you thinking that’s political too?”
Maya shrugged and lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t know. But it’s hard to believe the two events weren’t related somehow.”
“I think we need to talk to the emissary from Urusalim who said he saw the renegade soldiers with his own eyes. It’s possible that one of them entered the garrison and carried out the murderous orders of Shum-addi.”
“But how would Shum-addi know that the Babylonians were even here in the palace?”
Hani nodded slowly. “Unless he was responsible for the robbery of the caravan. Maybe its purpose was to drive the emissaries into Kumidi overnight.” He snorted. “And so, of course, the question of how they knew is still open.”
Maya pursed his lips. “How are we going to get into Urusalim? Troops from Sangar hold it, don’t they?”
“Ah yes.” Hani laughed ruefully. “But perhaps if we tell them this is part of the investigation of their countryman’s murder, they’ll be helpful.”
Maya scrambled to his feet, brushing the crumbs off his lap, and hitched up his kilt, looking businesslike and eager. “I’m ready when you are, my lord!”
Hani was tempted to hold out a hand for a pull to his feet, but he was afraid he’d only tug Maya down on top of himself. He rose gracelessly under his own power and dusted himself off. “Since we don’t have any idea where Shum-addi is to be found, I suggest we head for Urusalim first.”
Through the quiet streets of siesta hour, they made their way back to the commissioner’s residence, where Hani sought out Pa-aten-em-heb. “Will you be able to accompany us with a few men, my friend? Apparently it’s not safe for diplomats around here.” He exchanged a knowing look with the young officer.
Pa-aten-em-heb said, “Of course, Lord Hani. I myself am scheduled to visit a few of the other local kings about provisions, so I won’t be able to join you, but I’ll certainly send some men with your party. How many do you need?”
“Oh, five or six should do it. We don’t want to look to the Babylonians at Urusalim like a military expedition.”
The officer laughed. “I’ll see right to it.” He bowed respectfully and took his leave.
“I need to go tell the commissioner where we’ll be.” Hani grinned mischievously. “So they’ll know where to look for our bones.”
Maya’s eyes widened, and then uncertainty puckered his brow. At last, having evidently decided his father-in-law was joking, he laughed. “Shall I go pack our things and tell the others?”
“Tell them we’re going, but I don’t think we’ll need any additional staff. It will just be you and me and the escort.”
His secretary looked pleased. Drawing himself up to his full negligible height, he strutted away, while Hani turned his steps toward the administrative offices of the commissariat, hoping their host wouldn’t be off with his troops somewhere.
Fortunately, he proved to be in. Amen-nefer was seated cross-legged on the floor of his office, some maps spread out across his knees. As Hani entered, he looked up pleasantly and rose with rather more grace than Hani had exhibited after his picnic in the town. “What can I do for you, my lord?”
“I wanted to tell you that my secretary and I will be in Urusalim for a few days. I need to talk to the emissary who saw Egyptian soldiers among the hapiru. While I suspect someone attached to the palace as the actual murderer, the robbery was almost certainly carried out by hapiru, and I’d like to know how they were aware of the Babylonians’ presence.”
“I wish you good luck, then, Lord Hani. Although it doesn’t surprise me at all that the hapiru knew they were there. They seem to have scouts all over, or else how would they be able to descend on any caravan?”
“That’s a good point,” Hani said, musing. “Well, hopefully this trip will elucidate a few things. And when we return, I’ll approach Zalaya yet again with an offer of gold to encourage his garrulity.”
“Have a safe journey, my lord,” Amen-nefer said, nodding respectfully.
By the time Hani returned to his room, Maya had already packed their bags and baskets and was sitting on the bed.
“Ready, Maya? It’s a seven-day journey on foot, so I want to start promptly. The soldiers are bringing tents for everyone.”
“On foot, my lord?” Maya said dubiously.
Hani laughed. “We’ll have a litter—don’t worry. But the soldiers will be on foot, and we can go no faster than they do.”
Around midafternoon, the little party set out for Urusalim, some distance south and west. Their first stop was Temesheq, where they spent the night. King Biryawaza wasn’t there. Out sharing a pot of beer with the hapiru, Hani told himself sarcastically. But the king’s staff provided Hani’s party with everything they needed. Maya had slipped off into the city to do a little shopping for the next day’s journey.
As their assigned slave, having left dinner for them, prepared to bow himself out, Hani asked him in a friendly voice, “Where is your king? I had hoped to talk to him.”
“He’s in Qidshu, my lord. He had an important meeting with the commissioner of Ullaza.”
“Ah, well, bad timing on my part, I guess,” Hani said with a shrug. But he thought, Qidshu? To meet with that despicable Hotep? What’s Amen-nefer doing in Qidshu? It’s not in his jurisdiction.
As soon as the slave had left, someone knocked on Hani’s door. “Come in,” Hani called, and Maya eased into the room with a huge hempen sack of dried dates.
“I bought these for the road, my lord. An old lady was selling them in the plaza just outside the palace wall.”
“Well done. Dinner just came, so we might as well eat. We can have some of your dates afterward.”
They tucked into the rich and delicious meal with a good will. “Guess where Biryawaza is,” Hani said through a mouth full of bread. “In Qidshu.”
Maya’s eyes bugged. “Qidshu? Why? It’s a hotbed of the hapiru.”
“To meet with the commissioner of Ullaza.” Hani watched with amusement as Maya’s eyes grew round and a flush of anger rose up the secretary’s cheeks.
“What’s Amen-nefer doing up there?”
“Slapping wrists, perhaps. I don’t know. It’s under the jurisdiction of the commissioner of Ullaza. But as soon as we left, our friend hotfooted it to the north.”
Maya pondered this. “Do you think his soldiers are the ones who have gone over to the hapiru?”
Hani shrugged. It wouldn’t have surprised him. That would make Amen-nefer just one more corrupt commissioner in a long line of them. The temptation in an unsupervised and remote post must be too much for people. “Biryawaza, Amen-nefer, and Aitakkama. Quite a team.”
⸎
It was a surprisingly cold early morning when they finally reached Urusalim, bundled in cloaks and blankets. The rocky golden hillsides were silvered with frost until the sun began to steal over the horizon, raising a pale, pearly mist that only gradually unveiled the ridges and ravines of barren scrub. Hani was unsure if the Babylonian occupiers would even receive them, but a soldier of Sangar summoned him and Maya from the gate and led them
to King Abdi-hepa’s modest palace.
The Babylonian officer in charge greeted them courteously, if coolly. Hani responded in Akkadian with all the warmth of someone who’d been met with a smile and a hug. “Thank you for your welcome, my lord. My name is Hani son of Mery-ra. I’m the emissary of the Great King of Kemet, here to investigate the unfortunate murder of your countryman.”
“Finally,” said the officer. “How can we help you?”
“I would like to talk to anyone who knew Lord Shulum-marduk. And I’d like to see the emissary of the king here who reported nearly a year ago about seeing Egyptian soldiers among the hapiru.”
The Babylonian’s face darkened. “That’s a pretty thought,” he said caustically. “Are you implying that the attack on our embassy was engineered by your government?”
“By no means. But it’s possible that renegades from our army have joined up with the brigands. Or else someone else altogether is masquerading as Egyptian soldiers in order to stir up bad will between our nation and yours.” That idea had only just occurred to Hani.
The officer grew thoughtful. “I’ll ask if anyone on my scribal staff knew the late Shulum-marduk. Then you might want to talk to King Abdi-hepa. He would know who that emissary you’re looking for is.” He added, with a thawing of expression, “My name is Esagil-kin-apli. I appreciate your learning our language.”
“Ah, but your eminent tongue binds all the civilized kingdoms of the world. Where would international correspondence be without it?” Hani smiled benevolently. Nothing like a little flattery to soften up hostility. This is more than half of my work as a diplomat.
Esagil-kin-apli called a servant to show Hani and Maya to their quarters. The palace wasn’t large, although it had an impressive gate. Hani and his escort were all housed in a wing of guest rooms facing a court. It was close to the throne room and other public parts of the building and therefore not as quiet as Hani might have hoped. But the suite was pleasant, and on a brazier, some fat wood crackled invitingly.
Maya chafed his hands over the fire. “And to think, it’s harvest season back home.” He looked up at Hani with an expression of tremulous hope. “I guess Sat-hut-haru has had our son by now, eh, my lord?”
Hani grinned. “I wouldn’t be surprised. You may well have a letter by the time we get back to Kumidi.”
Maya turned back to the brazier with a beatific smile.
A knock at the door made Hani turn around, and he strode to the panel and opened it. Standing in the doorway was a slight young man of medium height—not much more than thirty—with a thin, delicate face, a smooth crescent nose, and the most mournful eyes Hani had ever seen on a human being. The man was expensively but unostentatiously dressed in a tunic of lapis blue, with no jewelry at all, not even a signet ring.
“How may I help you?” Hani said pleasantly, wondering who this was. He didn’t look like a Babylonian.
“I’m Abdi-hepa, the king of this place,” the young man said.
Hani drew back, nonplussed, and folded in a reverence. “My lord! Forgive me. I wouldn’t have expected you at my door.”
“May I come in?” The king’s voice was strangely flat.
“By all means. Please take this chair.”
Abdi-hepa sank onto the chair with a sigh. He slid down into it, his knees splayed. “We need to talk, Lord Hani. The gods know what sort of story these Babylonians will give you. But Our Sun God needs to have the truth.”
“By all means, my lord. This is my secretary”—Hani indicated Maya with a gesture—“and with your permission, he’ll take notes.”
The king nodded. Maya crossed his legs, took his seat on the floor, and spread out his writing tools.
“Well, you know we were invaded, I assume. But how? That’s the question. I sent a horseback courier with a call for help to our high commissioner in Azzati, not far away, but he took no action. I sent a second call, and he said he had never received the first one. By that time, the men of Sangar had overrun us.”
“I know Lord Pta... Maya well, my lord. And I can tell you that if he said he didn’t receive the first message, he didn’t.”
The king’s melancholy face grew longer. “Oh, I believe it. Because the second messenger found the corpse of the first one lying by the road.”
Hani’s heart sank within him. “The hapiru?”
“No doubt. Such a thing would happen only to me.” Abdi-hepa looked vacantly into the distance. “I labor under a curse.”
“Oh, surely not, my lord king,” Hani said kindly.
Abdi-hepa’s chest heaved in a discouraged breath. Finally, he resumed. “And then, there’s the matter of Egyptian soldiers among our nomadic friends.”
“That’s precisely why we’ve come. I wanted to talk to the emissary who told Lord Maya he’d seen soldiers in their ranks some months ago.”
“I saw them, too, Lord Hani. And lest you think we’re just provincials who might have mistaken the uniform, I was raised at your court. They were Egyptian. They were red skinned, if you’ll pardon me saying so, and had on infantry uniforms.”
Hani dropped his eyes and twisted his mouth in thought. “Only that once, my lord? Or is it habitual?”
“Frequent. Among their other misdeeds, they attacked my escort once when I was traveling and have made several attempts to enter the city.” The king looked at Hani in sorrowful accusation. “Since we’re not permitted to fortify our city, defending it is difficult. We have only the casemate formed by our outer ring of houses, no proper wall. No gates we can close.”
“I understand, my lord,” said Hani in a low voice. The system was an embarrassment as far as he was concerned; only a weak nation would be so nervous about being resisted by its vassals. “What I’d like to know is whose soldiers they are. Has the commissioner at Kumidi done anything to investigate?”
The king’s face grew gloomier, his thin hands absentmindedly rubbing the arms of his chair. “No. He seems to have no interest in our safety.” He looked Hani in the eye. “I understand that the Great King is planning to lead troops up here to settle the hapiru once and for all.”
Lead? I’ll believe it when I see it, Hani thought. “That’s the plan, my lord. Probably in the fall, before sailing season ends.”
“We are an inland kingdom, Lord Hani. Sailing season means little to us. We need help now.”
“When I return to Kumidi, I’ll certainly tell the commissioner.” Hani wrestled with the propriety of the question before he asked in a low voice, “How is Lord Amen-nefer viewed by the kingdoms of Djahy, my lord?”
“He holds us in contempt. Unless a great cavalry battle with waving banners and the opportunity for conspicuous heroism offers itself, he won’t lift a finger for us.” The king’s lusterless eyes glittered suddenly with resentment. “But we have to choke down our feelings because he is our only hope of protection. I’ve written directly to Our Sun God on more than one occasion, but he just refers me to our local dignitaries—Amen-nefer, in short. Or Maya, who is as helpful as he can be, but he, too, depends on the commissioner to carry out his will.” Abdi-hepa gazed into space with an air of hopelessness. “I don’t know what to do...”
Hani asked quietly, “Do you have any reason to think the commissioner is less than loyal?” Abdi-hepa shrugged listlessly. “Your king is far away. Amen-nefer is loyal to the idea of Kemet in Djahy, which is him.”
Hani pondered this perceptive observation. “He seems to hate the hapiru with a more than common level of vitriol.”
But the king looked up, surprised. “Hate them? I doubt it. We suspect him of harboring them.”
A bolt of amazement skewered Hani to the spot. A moment passed before he could regroup and ask, “How so, my lord? That’s a pretty grave accusation.”
“Which is why I’ve never made a formal complaint. Considering how isolated we are, Amen-nefer would be free to wreak his vengeance on us.” Abdi-hepa looked up at Hani with a meaningful stare. “And he’s a frightfully vengeful man.”
Remembering Pa-aten-em-heb’s story, Hani said somberly, “I can well believe it.” He fingered his chin. Is there any way I can get the man replaced? It can’t be in our best interests to have as commissioner a person his subjects so despise. “Let me tell you this—perhaps you’re already aware. As soon as I left Kumidi, the commissioner took off for Qidshu in the company of King Biryawaza of Upi.”
Abdi-hepa’s thin, beaky face grew cynical. He said sarcastically, “No surprise there, my lord. They’re all three birds of a feather.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“All three are protectors of the hapiru.”
“But why?” Hani cried. “What can any of them hope to gain by such an action? Aren’t their cities endangered as much as anyone else’s?”
The king shrugged apathetically. “Are they being paid off? Do they think they can gain some control over the nomads by being cozy with them? I’m sure I don’t know.” He sat staring into space for a few heartbeats then said in a dull, disillusioned voice, “When I left your court ten years ago, I was full of loyalty and enthusiasm. I felt I was doing a noble work for the Great Kingdom of Kemet by shepherding one of its vassal states. Since then”—he looked up with his melancholy black eyes—“it has become clear to me that your king doesn’t respect me or my country. We are only being exploited as a disposable buffer for your eastern border. And no one cares what we are suffering. If we can’t even count on your protection, why do we remain loyal?”
A pang of shame skewered Hani. He sees clearly. We have become a soulless beast that eats up our vassals, sucks their marrow, and spits them out. He said with feeling, “My lord, I assure you, there are many in the Two Lands who value and respect your people. You may trust Lord Maya to have your best interests at heart. And I’ll certainly carry your message to the vizier when I return to the capital.”