Slayer of Gods

by Lynda S. Robinson

  He caught up with Ay at the soaring golden gates in the perimeter wall. Hurrying to catch up with his mentor, he had no time to catch his breath as they raced by royal guards, the queen’s steward, Wah, and a shocked chamberlain who tried to announce them. He finally drew even with Ay as the older man threw open the doors to his daughter’s reception hall. They halted on the threshold, stunned.

  Surrounded by servants and priests, standing in a shaft of light shining through one of the high windows, Nefertiti turned to face them. Ordinarily her appearance was startling because of her beauty—those enormous eyes, fragile jaw, and hollow cheeks, that long and graceful neck mirrored in even more elegant legs. But what brought them to a standstill was the crown she wore—the double crown of Upper and Lower Egypt, the crown of a king.

  Meren glanced at Ay. The older man’s hands were clenched at his sides as he stared at the sight. Upon Nefertiti’s brow rested the red crown of Lower Egypt, wide and flaring out to hold the inner white crown of Upper Egypt. Ay made some kind of sound only Meren heard, then walked up to his daughter. With a jerky motion of his hand he dismissed the attendants and priests standing around the queen. Nefertiti hadn’t spoken. She swallowed hard, lifted the crowns from her head,and set them in a box held by her chief priest, Thanuro. He hesitated, as if he was considering staying, but Meren jerked his head toward the door, and the priest left. In moments they were alone with the great royal wife of Akhenaten.

  Ay stared into her eyes and hissed. “Set and Anubis protect us. Are you mad?”

  “Do you think this is my idea?” Nefertiti retorted, her voice rising. She pressed her lips together as if to suppress the violence of her emotions. “This was only a fitting. The crowns aren’t finished.”

  “You’re going to let him make you pharaoh?” Ay’s voice cracked. He took a deep breath and began again. “This is madness.”

  Throwing up her hands, Nefertiti walked away from them as she spoke. “He says the idea came to him in a vision from the Aten. I am to become king jointly with him. That way he can entrust the daily business of government to me and concentrate on his reformation. You know how he hates diplomacy and administration. It’s almost impossible to get him to make decisions about who is to fill various posts or about distribution of grain supplies, much less deal with foreign kings.”

  Ay stalked over to Nefertiti and grabbed her arm. “You can make those decisions without becoming pharaoh. Women don’t become kings. Kings are men, the sons of the great Amun, king of the gods.”

  “If I’m pharaoh I can make decisions without bothering Akhenaten, which means he won’t have to tolerate as many interruptions in his campaign to establish the Aten as the only true god.”

  Nefertiti gently disengaged Ay’s hand from her arm, and Meren saw the glitter of unshed tears in her eyes. “Don’t you see? He didn’t ask if I wanted to be pharaoh. I have no choice.”

  Across the gulf of years the words echoed in Meren’s mind as he sat beside Anath. I have no choice. Had Nefertiti ever had a choice in what befell her?

  He glanced at Anath, who had taken back her dagger to polish it with a length of her red robe. “A little more than a year later, she was dead.”

  “A great pity,” Anath said, the dagger resting in her motionless hands. “And a tale of great evil. Akhenaten perverted the rightness of things, Meren, but that’s hardly a secret, even if no one speaks of it openly.”

  “I told you about it because you were too young to know how things were back then. I felt—most of us felt that chaos ruled. Akhenaten was driving Egypt away from harmony and balance, abandoning all that was right and true. In those final years, Nefertiti was trying to bring him to see reason. It was slow, and she had to go carefully, but she thought she could bring about reconciliation with the old gods. She was working with the priests of Amun.”

  Anath scooted around to face him and whispered. “Do you mean she was actually speaking to them? If the king found out…”

  “He didn’t,” Meren said. “But all her work came to nothing because she died.”

  Nodding, Anath said, “The plague.”

  “No.”

  Her eyes became slits as she regarded him silently.

  “She was poisoned by her steward, Wah. He supplied the poison, and her favorite cook used it over a period of time until she collapsed.”

  Anath said a spell against evil under her breath. “By all the demons of the underworld, Meren, what are you saying?” The color ebbed from her face while her breathing sped up. She darted more glances around the garden, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “How do you know this?”

  Meren told her about accidentally discovering the truth from Wah before he was killed. “Since then I’ve been trying to find out who ordered Wah to kill Nefertiti, but every time I come upon someone who might be able to help, they’re murdered.”

  “This is impossible,” Anath muttered.

  “I assure you, it’s not. I wish it were.”

  Anath stared into his eyes for a long time, as if she could read the truth in their agate darkness. Finally she nodded once, and Meren knew she had accepted what he’d said. She would never question him again.

  “I’m going to Syene tomorrow to find the bodyguard Sebek, but I’ve put it about that I’m sailing for my country house to complete my recovery.”

  “Send someone else,” Anath said with a frown. “You’re not strong enough for such a long journey.”

  “Yes I am, and besides, the matter is urgent. You were right when you said pharaoh is troubled, Anath. He loved Queen Nefertiti as a mother. His ka suffers great torture knowing that she was murdered and that her killer has gone unpunished for so many years. The idea that her majesty’s spirit cries out for vengeance torments him. Anyway, I must go because there’s no one else. Kysen must remain here to conduct business with the king and to keep an eye on those who may be involved.”

  “Who?”

  “There are several, but two are Asiatics, so I thought you’d know more about them than anyone here. A dealer in weapons called Dilalu, and a merchant named Zulaya.”

  Getting to her feet, Anath dusted off her gown and leaned against the tree trunk. Folding her arms, she cocked her head to the side in her characteristic gesture and regarded him solemnly.

  “Dilalu is loyal only to himself and to gold. Riches are his only lust, except for his cat. He’ll cast his own father into the Lake of Fire if paid enough, but he’s a coward. That’s why he surrounds himself with mercenaries. I can’t see him ever having the courage to carry out such a blasphemy.”

  “And Zulaya?”

  “Zulaya has no interest in the affairs of kings except when they touch his own dealings. I have had business with him often in Babylon. If threatened he’s capable of killing, efficiently and without remorse.”

  “Has he ever mentioned Akhenaten or Horizon of the Aten?”

  Anath shook her head. “He comes to Egypt for trade, Meren. He has a house here, but he spends more time abroad than in the Two Lands.”

  “Someone ordered the queen’s murder,” Meren snapped in frustration.

  “Isn’t it more likely to have been an Egyptian?” Anath asked with eyebrows raised.

  “That’s what I assumed until I received information that pointed to three men—Zulaya, Dilalu, and Yamen, who is dead.”

  “Yamen? An officer in the army. A corrupt officer, if I’m not mistaken. I’ve heard complaints about him from some of the Canaanite vassals.”

  “He was murdered before I could fully question him. He was still alive when I reached him, but what he said made no sense.”

  Anath’s gaze fastened on him, and she raised her eyebrows in inquiry.

  Meren sighed. “He babbled something about the one who killed him. Yamen said his killer would destroy me as he had him, that all perish who threaten him. He said no one else knew the killer like he did. A familiar refrain. I’ve heard such claims before from the companions of men of great evil. I hope he wasn’t right, o
r I’ll never find the bastard.”

  Anath shoved away from the tree trunk. Head down, hands clasped behind her back, she walked in a circle without speaking. Then she stopped and looked directly at him.

  “Let me think for a while. I might remember something about these men that will help. You’ve looked at the royal records and questioned the queen’s former servants, I take it.”

  “Those that are still alive. Some are dead. There is no record of what became of many others. With the passage of time many moved around and the royal records don’t show where they went. That’s what happened with the queen’s guard, Sebek.”

  “Of course.”

  Anath resumed her slow walk. Meren got up and brushed himself off.

  “I have it!” Anath exclaimed.

  “What?”

  “On your way to Syene stop at Horizon of the Aten and look at the records there.”

  “Horizon of the Aten is almost completely abandoned. Many of the brick buildings are falling apart.”

  “But outdated records were left behind in places like the overseers’ offices, the royal granaries, and the office of the king’s correspondence. I know where a lot of things were kept. I was there often enough. I’ll come with you and help you look in the right places.”

  “I can find them myself,” Meren said. “After I see Sebek.”

  “If I go with you, we can stop on the way to Syene because it won’t take as long to search.”

  “I don’t want to take the time.”

  Anath rolled her eyes. “You can’t be certain whether it’s more important to see Sebek or find records at Horizon of the Aten. If you’re worried about him, send someone to Syene to guard him until you can talk to him.”

  “I don’t see why—”

  “Ha!” Anath clapped her hands together. “Now I remember. I knew there was something important about going to Horizon of the Aten. Do you remember old Hapimen, chief scribe of the office of royal records? I used to visit him at his work because he had an assistant, a former slave who could read and write. I would practice my foreign languages by conversing with him while he worked.” She drew nearer Meren, her eyes gleaming. “Do you know what he worked on? The queen’s correspondence. And I remember where he kept his records, and where he dumped the notes he took when he no longer needed them.”

  Hesitating, Meren weighed Anath’s words.

  “We can stop at Horizon of the Aten, pick up the records, and be on our way in a few hours. If we find any important documents we can return on our way back to Memphis.”

  Meren paced, weighing the risk of delay. “Very well, but if you’re coming with me, you’d better wear Egyptian clothing. I’m trying to keep this inquiry a secret, and it won’t help if you parade around looking like the goddess Ishtar and call attention to our movements.”

  Anath planted her fists on her hips again and surveyed him. “Meren, you’re dressed in the finest linen Egypt can produce, wearing a gold and carnelian headband and an electrum signet ring. If you aim to move about without attracting notice, you’re going to fail.”

  “I mean I don’t wish to provoke curiosity and suspicion.”

  “Then you should never have become the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh.”

  Meren smiled slightly. “My dear Anath, I didn’t have a choice.”

  Chapter 3

  Meren lay on his bed with his eyes closed. He wasn’t asleep, but he needed to rest. Anath had left soon after their conversation and he’d spent the rest of the day consulting with Kysen. His son would continue to prowl the foreign district in disguise hoping to pick up more information on their suspects. Kysen also would conduct the affairs of the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh during Meren’s absence. The king had given his consent to this arrangement last year when it became clear that Meren’s son would make an excellent successor to his confidential inquiry agent.

  Bener had tried to convince Meren to delay his journey, and now she was supervising the preparation of the evening meal, grumbling all the while. Meren shifted on the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position that wouldn’t cause his side to ache. On the floor beside the bed lay several letters. One was from his eldest daughter, Tefnut, who was about to have her first child. He planned to visit her and Isis, his youngest daughter, who was living with Tefnut. A few months ago Isis had nearly gotten her father killed through her selfish conduct, and the shame of it had forced the girl to see herself clearly for the first time. Isis wore her shame like a cloak of thorns, and Meren often worried about her.

  Another letter was from Meren’s brother, whom everyone called Ra. It consisted of a plea for Meren to rescue him from creditors, yet again. Ra had wagered a valuable field on his estate in a chariot race, which he lost. Without the field, his estate couldn’t produce enough grain to support itself. The letter brimmed with protestations of reform, with promises of prompt repayment, and grand plans for future riches once his debts were paid. Meren didn’t finish reading the letter. He had half a dozen similar ones; none had resulted in reform or repayment.

  The sun had dropped low enough to shine into the windows, and Meren covered his eyes with his forearm. He was thinking about his brother when he felt his skin prickle, and he sensed another presence in the room. Without moving, Meren tensed his muscles and listened. He heard something brush against the sheers hanging from the frame around the bed, twisted and dropped to the floor while he groped for the dagger that always lay beneath the bed. As he moved he caught sight of a dark figure against the pale curtains and froze.

  “Karoya!” Meren remained crouched on the floor, the dagger aimed at the Nubian before him while he fought the rush of sensation caused by alarm and battle readiness. Then he lowered his blade. “Damnation. Must you sneak into my bedchamber like that?”

  “The Golden One commands the presence of the Eyes of Pharaoh.”

  Meren rose and dropped the dagger on the bed. “Just because you’re the chief royal bodyguard doesn’t mean you must go about frightening everyone the king wishes to see.”

  Stately, impassive, and as tall as an obelisk, Karoya ignored Meren’s complaint. “The living Horus has sent a chariot for you.” Turning on his heel, he left the bedchamber without waiting to see if Meren was behind him.

  It was nearly sunset when Meren followed Karoya through antechambers and reception halls, the cavernous throne room, and more antechambers of the royal palace until he came to the king’s suite. Rows of guards stretched to either side of the gilded doors through which Karoya vanished, and Meren waited there, studying the glazed tiles in the lotus frieze along the walls of the antechamber. Lamplight cast wavering shadows across the impassive faces of the guards. Meren nodded at the captain, a man known for his valor in battle. The captain saluted him and spoke quietly.

  “The lord is well?”

  “It was only one arrow, Yuf.”

  “We thank Amun for protecting you, lord.”

  Meren inclined his head, glancing at the others in Yuf’s company. “Your concern honors me.”

  Suddenly the gilded doors swung wide, and a young woman swept through them. Clad in a shift and transparent pleated overrobe, she gleamed with electrum and precious stones. A braided wig framed her face with its pointed chin and gazelle’s eyes. She moved with stately confidence, and her heavy jewels clicked together as she walked. She paused when she saw Meren, who bowed low before her.

  “Ah, Lord Meren,” she said in a low voice as a girl bearing a harp made of costly wood and ivory appeared behind her.

  “Great royal wife, may you live forever in health and prosperity.”

  “You’re better. Nebamun has driven out the fever demon that attacked you.”

  Meren kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his back bent. “I am unworthy of thy concern, majesty.”

  “Nonsense. Straighten up, my lord. I don’t want my husband to hear I kept you in an uncomfortable position when you’re not yet fully recovered.”

  Meren straightened and said, “All of Egypt knows t
he kindness of thy majesty.”

  Ankhesenamun waved her attendant away and walked across the chamber. “A word, my lord.”

  Meren reluctantly followed the queen. Ankhesenamun had never liked him. A follower of her father’s heresy, she blamed Meren among others for advising the king to abandon the Aten and return to the old gods. More recently he’d foiled her attempt to replace Tutankhamun with a Hittite prince, and it had taken her a long time to convince her husband of her contrition.

  Meren didn’t believe in her reformation. He could see the same obsidian fire in her eyes that had burned in her father’s. That black void of chaos had haunted him since Akhenaten had his father killed for refusing to conform to the heresy. Sometimes his dreams consisted solely of those eyes chasing him, tearing into his soul, ferreting out its deepest secrets, ravaging him until he longed for extinction. No, he didn’t believe Akhenaten’s favorite daughter had reformed. She was too much like him.

  “How may I serve thy majesty?”

  “It is a small thing, and yet a great one, my lord.”

  Ankhesenamun held a fan that she plied gently, sending a small breeze toward him that carried the scent of myrrh, cinnamon, and oil of lilies. Her bracelets clicked rhythmically, and the tension he’d felt ever since encountering the queen faded with the mesmerizing scent and sound. Ankhesenamun’s throaty whisper joined the motion of her fan and the pleasing sound of her jewels.

  “I’ve had much time to think, my lord. You and I have been rowing in opposite directions for some time, but my husband has spoken to me of your care of him, how you guard him with your life. For that I’m grateful, and I regret our past differences.”