The North Wind Descends

by N. L. Holmes

  “Thanks, my lord.” Maya joined Hani in the hall, already tucking into the bread.

  The two men made their way through the corridors, carrying their sandals so as not to awaken the sleeping household. But in the audience hall, it became clear that not everyone was sleeping. Torches were lit all about. In the flickering orange light, Lord Ptah-mes stood, one hand on his hip, talking to his commandant. The high commissioner appeared quite martial himself, erect as a soldier in a short kilt and plain shirt, with a bag-like wig cover over his long wig.

  He looked up when Hani and Maya entered. “Well, my friends, the hunt is up. I’ve changed my strategy. We’ll wait till Amen-nefer leaves Kumidi, then we’ll enter and take possession. We’ll intercept him when he returns. That way, we’ll have the element of surprise.”

  “Whatever you think is most likely to succeed, my lord.” Hani had a dangerous slit of a smile on his face now. Clearly he, like Maya, could feel the tension mounting as their desperate adventure grew closer.

  Ptah-mes, Hani, and the officer strode out together, while Maya paraded after them with a bit of truculence to his steps. No litter this time. They mounted light, fast courier’s chariots, Ptah-mes and Hani together, Maya accompanied by the commandant. Maya tried to look blasé, as if he rode in chariots all the time, but his heart was beating fast and not out of fear—this was a working-class boy’s dream, notwithstanding the peril into which they were headed.

  Yet to his disappointment, they didn’t take off with a thunder of hoofs and dust billowing behind them. Mankhate was a long way, and their pace was sedate, to match that of the soldiers who marched at their side. It occurred to Maya that they might have to stand up in their vehicles for days.

  You wanted adventure, my boy. I rather think you’ve got it, he told himself with a carnivorous smile.

  ⸎

  By the time the party reached the new administrative capital, they’d crossed mountains and something very like the desert. Maya was sunburned, and his back and legs ached. Since he could barely see over the rail of the car, he’d rested his face against it to steady himself and, at one point, had almost gotten his teeth knocked out. He was not in the best of moods.

  He climbed down stiffly and staggered after Lord Hani into the residence, at the heels of Ptah-mes and the officer. As they made their way to their accustomed room, Hani said under his breath, “Ptah-mes told me that there have been raids reported on a number of cities up toward Qeden and Qidshu. And they’ve corresponded with absences of Amen-nefer.”

  “He’s guilty as can be, the traitor. Impaling is too good for him,” Maya said fiercely. Hani would usually have tried to temper his secretary’s vengeful spirit, but now he just looked grim and said nothing, letting Maya continue. “But I don’t understand how he could be so hostile to the hapiru on one hand and in league with them on the other. Which is real?”

  Hani sighed. “I can’t answer that. But we know there are two factions of hapiru. And so far, all the evidence suggests that Amen-nefer is working with Monkey Arms’s boys.” They walked along for a few more strides, and Hani asked, “Wasn’t it Shum-addi who told you about the wild woman from their group who was married to the Egyptian officer? If that’s where Amen-nefer’s mother came from, maybe that’s why he particularly hates this faction, and why he’s in league with their rivals to overthrow them.”

  “Phew.” Maya considered his own sweet, indulgent mother, who didn’t have a mean bone in her small body, and tried to imagine hating her whole family—his doting aunts, his worshipful little cousins. “This is ugly business.”

  They made their way to their accustomed rooms and changed into clean clothes. Not too much time later, a servant announced that lunch was served in the audience hall. Below, they found Ptah-mes and some of the officers, the former sitting by himself at a small table, preparing to eat.

  When Hani and Maya entered, he waved them over with a pleasant smile. “It shouldn’t be long now, Hani. You’ll have your revenge, and the Babylonians will have their satisfaction.”

  They ate in silence for a while, until Hani finally said, “Should we recognize Shum-addi as king and help him defeat the rival faction? I’m not sure he’s quite the enemy we’ve been assuming.”

  Ptah-mes turned to Maya. “Here’s the only one of us who has met him. What sort of man is he, Maya?”

  Maya, flustered and more than a little proud to be consulted by the grandee, said, “He’s not Aziru, my lord. He’s as uncouth as Aziru is slick and urbane. It was hard to tell how smart he was, frankly, but I had the feeling there was a bloodthirsty streak under the affability somewhere. Still, certainly a more humane specimen than that Monkey Arms.”

  Ptah-mes nodded thoughtfully. “We need to consider that. From what I see, Shum-addi is motivated less by any desire to go over the Hittites than to propel himself to a position of power. Granting him what he wants might be worth it. That might secure his loyalty.” He picked up a chunk of bread and mopped his dish, his eyes fixed on the maneuver. His voice dropped. “What do you think about the Hittites, Hani?”

  Hani leaned across the table and said quietly, “I’d rather have them for a friend than an enemy, my lord. If we have a treaty with them, they won’t be poaching our vassals. And two of us together could solve the problem of the hapiru, who wouldn’t have a place to run to if they antagonized one of us.”

  “My feelings exactly.”

  Soon after, Hani and Maya headed back to their room, leaving Lord Ptah-mes and his officers to confer. Hani said with a grin, “I don’t see any reason not to have a wee nap, Maya. Very soon, things are going to get busy.”

  ⸎

  The following day, their scout rode in at top speed and threw himself from his horse before it had even stopped. “Lord Maya!” he cried. “He’s on his way back!”

  Hani and Ptah-mes were standing together on the porch, discussing the best way to break to the vizier the news that a magistrate of the Two Lands had killed a foreign ambassador and participated in the hapiru raids on his own territory and that they’d had him summarily executed without a trial. But upon the arrival of their scout, Ptah-mes ran down the steps of the porch and demanded, “Which gate?”

  “The north, my lord. Our spies have been following him unseen. He’s been in Qidshu.”

  Lord Ptah-mes’s lip curled. “How surprising. How many men in his escort?”

  “It’s a small party, my lord.”

  “He must not be afraid of the hapiru attacking him,” Hani said dryly.

  Ptah-mes and he exchanged a significant look. To the soldiers clustered around the scout’s sweating horse, the high commissioner called, “To your posts. North gate.”

  They dispersed at a run, and Hani could hear shouted orders and pipes calling the men to muster. There were to be no company standards or fine maneuvers; this was just a policing action. But their number was sufficient to overwhelm Amen-nefer’s troops if it came to a fight.

  “It’s almost done,” Hani murmured to himself, strangely exalted by the thought of a confrontation. Soon this abomination will never hurt anyone again. And at the weighing of his heart, it will sink like lead. Ammit will feast on his black soul.

  As if he’d heard Hani’s thoughts, Ptah-mes shot him a look from the corner of his eye and smiled. The commissioner turned and strode off across the court, while Hani and Maya stood watching him as he disappeared into the crowd of soldiers. Excitement was tingling along the hair of Hani’s arms.

  At last he said, “I guess we need to take a position at the gate, too, my friend.”

  The two of them headed off briskly after the departing troops. An occasional servant stopped to stare, but for the most part, it was too early for the inhabitants of the town to be abroad. There were still no shadows but only a pale, diffuse light. Their dull footsteps pounding on the earthen streets were the sole sound. It was too late for cicadas, and not a bird trilled. Kumidi was encircled by a wall, a kind of fortress breached by two gates—one to the sout
h and Azzati, one to the north and Temesheq and Qidshu. I guess we’ll need to confront Biryawaza, too, at some point.

  Within him, eagerness was sharpening into an expectancy not without fear. He and Maya wouldn’t be directly involved with the fighting, but so many things could go wrong. Amen-nefer might suddenly become suspicious and turn away. He might have attracted a larger escort than foreseen. The fulfillment of Hani’s desire for vengeance was drawing closer, and he could hardly bear to be bilked of his prey so close to the end.

  We’ll get him, he reassured himself. If Ma’at still reigns in the world, his own vileness will bring him down. “He who does evil, the shore rejects him, its floodwaters carry him away. The north wind descends to end his hour.”

  Hani and Maya clumped their way up to the parapet over the gate, where they sat against the north wall, not wanting to be visible to anyone coming up the road. The usual sentry paced up and down at intervals; Amen-nefer wouldn’t find that strange. The wall had just begun to cast an oblique shadow stretching out—bottomless and purple as a bruise—across the courts and outbuildings of the compound when a distant rumble of wheels and clopping of hooves made its way into Hani’s consciousness.

  Maya started to stand up, but Hani pulled him back down. “We don’t want to be seen,” he whispered. But the apprehension in his middle tightened every orifice of his body and made his jaw clench. The tension had become almost unbearable, like the buildup to a sexual climax. Does hatred have as much power as love? he wondered.

  It was agony not being able to rise and watch as the wheels and hoofs and softer shuffle of men’s feet drew nearer. Now he could hear the jingle of harness and Amen-nefer’s brassy voice barking out to the guards at the gate, “Look sharp there, soldiers.” Hani heard the cavalcade pass beneath his feet, the noises echoing briefly as they navigated the brick tunnel made by the parapet overhead. And then they were within the compound.

  Hani rose cautiously and peeked over the inside crenellations. He could see the commissioner’s erect back in his chariot and the rest of the escort starting to move across the plaza. Now! Now, by all the gods! Before they get in among the buildings, Hani willed Ptah-mes.

  All at once, directly below his feet, he saw soldiers running to shut and bar the gate. At the sound of slamming panels and the wham of the descending bar, Amen-nefer looked around, surprised, as troops closed in on him from all sides, their spears leveled, their bows drawn. “What is this insurrection?” he sputtered in fury. His escorts stood staring about them, disbelieving, not daring to reach for their weapons.

  Ptah-mes stepped forward in full court dress, with his gold of honor about his neck. He said calmly but with a voice like flint, “This is no insurrection. Amen-nefer son of Ah-hotep-ra, I, a magistrate of the Two Lands and your superior, do accuse you of murder, high treason, and too many attempted murders to number. You have cast your vile shadow upon the earth too long. I sentence you to death by impalement.”

  Amen-nefer blustered, “What murder? Where is my trial? I—”

  But at a gesture from Ptah-mes, the ring of men drew closer until their spear tips were almost touching the commissioner’s guard. “Anyone who fights on his behalf will be sentenced with him as an accomplice,” Ptah-mes said, and one by one, the seven or eight soldiers who had accompanied their commandant unbuckled their sword belts or threw down their axes and raised their hands. Amen-nefer stood alone in the box of his chariot, his eye goggling with disbelief.

  “They probably all hate Amen-nefer anyway, if he treats his troops the way he treats his servants,” Maya whispered at Hani’s side.

  It appeared that the arrest was going to occur without resistance, but all at once, Amen-nefer cracked his long whip over the backs of his horses with a cry, and they bolted forward, whinnying with fear, knocking soldiers out of their way in a storm of hoofs and tossing heads. The chariot streaked for the narrow streets of the town, Amen-nefer no doubt hoping to lose the men among the buildings and get out through the south gate, but Ptah-mes had thought to station other troops at every exit from the plaza. Spears down, they formed a human chain across the street mouth that even the panic-stricken horses feared to breach, and as soon as the chariot slowed, another wave of men threw themselves upon it. Braving Amen-nefer’s whip, they pulled him from the box and wrestled him to the ground none too gently.

  Hani’s pulse was hammering with eager ferocity. Our bird is caught! He beckoned to Maya, and they clattered down the steps to the inside of the wall. The loyal troops were binding their fellows’ arms and collecting their weapons. Someone had led away the horses to unhitch them, and Amen-nefer lay on the ground, his wrists tied to his ankles behind his back, like a common criminal. He’d lost his wig, and his thick wavy hair flopped into his eye.

  Ptah-mes approached and stood over him, tall and composed. He said in a voice like that of the Lord of Souls on judgment day, “I hope you are prepared to die, Amen-nefer.” He turned as Hani and Maya approached and smiled coldly. “How does it feel, my friend, to see this abominable specimen lying at your feet?”

  Amen-nefer craned his neck and threw his hair out of his eye. When he saw Hani, his face contorted with rage. “You’re in on this, too, eh, you meddling bastard? You two renegades are going to regret it when the God’s Father hears about this affront. We’ll see who’s putting people to death.”

  “You, alas for you, won’t be around to enjoy it,” said Ptah-mes, and he spun on his heel and walked away, Hani and Maya behind him.

  They made their way in silence back to the residence, leaving the soldiers to deal with the former commissioner and his men, many of whom had probably been quite innocent of anything worse than following orders. As they mounted the steps of the porch, Hani saw standing in the street at the foot of the wall a stocky, youngish man, plainly dressed, his eyes wide, his mouth gaping. One of the servants, Hani thought. I’ll bet they’re all stunned—and happy.

  “My lord,” Maya said, plucking at Hani’s sleeve. “That man over there is one of the slaves I interviewed on our very first trip up here. He was Amen-nefer’s valet. I bet he has no idea what to do now.”

  “Well, for one thing, he can stand up straight. Whoever replaces Amen-nefer, I’m sure he won’t be as cruel and unpredictable as his predecessor.” Hani followed Ptah-mes through the empty audience hall, thinking, Perhaps I should buy him and set him free, like Bin-addi. But he couldn’t buy every slave in the palace. And more would only replace them. He felt less celebratory than he’d anticipated. In the attainment, vengeance was proving a little stale. Nothing would ever undo the harm to Baket-iset. He heaved a sigh.

  His kohl-painted eyes as black and sharp as obsidian and a flush on his cheeks, Ptah-mes said, “Well, that’s over. I suppose you can go back to Kemet now and tell the Babylonians that their murderer has been found and punished. I’ll deal with the vizier. He’ll be a hero, of course.”

  Hani grinned. “Of course, my lord.” He saw from the corner of his eye that the slave had returned to his task, which seemed to be wringing out rags.

  Ptah-mes caught the shift of Hani’s gaze. “Are you interested in that man? You can have him if you like. The next commissioner will probably bring his own staff.”

  “Why, thanks, my lord. I think I’ll do that. And... and thank you for everything.” He took Ptah-mes’s hand and bent over it in a grateful kiss.

  Ptah-mes laid a hand on his shoulder. “No. I thank you.”

  ⸎

  Hani and Maya left the next day. Lord Ptah-mes was staying to “try” and execute Amen-nefer, so they made their affectionate goodbyes and mounted their litter for the long trip home. For a long while, neither of them seemed inclined to speak.

  Finally, Maya said in a voice that was both fearful and disapproving, “What are you going to do with that slave? Will he be your body servant, my lord?”

  “No, no. I don’t need that sort of artificial enhancement to my beauty.” Hani grinned at Maya, detecting his jealousy. “I may just le
ave him at Azzati rather than take him home—although he does speak Egyptian. He looks like a strong young fellow. Perhaps he would be useful at the farm.”

  Maya, reassured, asked more lightly, “What’s his name? I never even asked when I talked to him.”

  How typical, Hani thought. Slaves are invisible. They’re just pieces of furniture, not men. It made him sad. “His name is Kalbaya. He’s a mild fellow, even with the terrible yoke of a cruel master lifted from him. One of those big, gentle sorts, like a mellow old mastiff carrying a tiny chick in its mouth. I rather like him.” Hani saw with amusement the scowl that settled on Maya’s brow.

  Silence fell again, accompanied only by the trudging footsteps of their entourage and the creak of harness. Within the litter, body next to body, the heat had begun to mount, and Hani pushed back the curtains only to find that the glare made it even hotter. He began to think about his family, as he so often did when on assignment. With all the terrible things people did to one another, he could only lay his dear ones in the hands of the gods and hope for the best. It seems Baket-iset has borne more than her share of hardships. My poor little swan. But at least, a certain kind of divine justice had come down upon the perpetrator. Hani wished he could enjoy it more.

  Although it wasn’t far, it was a good week to the port of Surru, because much of the journey was spent crossing the high mountains that stiffened the spine of the coastal plain. Hani got out of the litter and walked from time to time, eager to observe the local birds that twittered and cried from the branches of the forest canopy. He enjoyed walking as an action—the rhythmic movement of his legs, the drawing of deep, satisfying breaths. Maya had joined him for a while, but trudging iteru after iteru up and down the steep roads on his short legs was a bit more than he could relish, so for the most part, Hani was alone with his thoughts.

  Occasionally, he would fall back and walk with Kalbaya, who kept trying to serve as his valet. Hani laughed it off. “You’re a free man now, my friend. You’ll see your old fellow Bin-addi when we get home. Unless you prefer to stay at Azzati.”