Slayer of Gods

by Lynda S. Robinson

  “By Amun, I knew it.” Horemheb took Meren’s arm before he could protest and waved away several friends who were converging on them. “Not now, not now. He’s overestimated his endurance, the stubborn fool. Not as strong as he thought he was.”

  Meren almost objected, then took advantage of Horemheb’s mistake. He leaned heavily on his friend’s arm. Allowing himself to be guided across the reception hall, he passed Usermontu deep in conversation with his son. The prince glanced at Meren with the hint of a smile playing about his lips. Was it a smile of secret triumph? Barely able to contain the urge to lash that smile off the prince’s face, Meren was trembling with suppressed fury when Lord Pendua hurried up to him. Horemheb growled at him, and Maya came over, smoothly inserting himself between Meren and Pendua, and steered the guest in the opposite direction. Horemheb pulled Meren out of the hall, down a corridor, and shoved him into the anteroom that led to his bedchamber,

  “I’ll find Zar and send him to you,” the general said. “You go to your bed and lie down or I’ll put you there myself.” He followed Meren into the next room and watched until his friend was seated on the bed. “Good.”

  He slammed the door shut behind him, and Meren was alone. Springing off the bed, he flung himself across the room, hesitated, paced to the other side, crossed yet again. He knew he was behaving like pharaoh’s pet leopard aroused by a threat, but he couldn’t remain still. Muttering to himself he paced around the chamber and tried to bring his emotions under control.

  Seldom had he been faced with danger to his children; he took great care that this was so. Kysen had run afoul of a murderer last year. That had been a nightmare. Bener had put herself in danger recently, but only briefly. Now he might lose her forever, and the thought was driving him near to madness. His hands shook, and his heart filled with a thousand nightmarish imaginings. He prayed to Amun to protect her and hissed obscene curses against her abductors. The feeling of helplessness was almost overpowering.

  He stopped himself in the middle of the third cursing spell. “Stop this. You’re only making the fear worse. Think, damn you.”

  “Lord?” His body servant, Zar, came into the room.

  Meren hardly looked at him and continued to prowl. “Send Abu to me. Go!”

  By the time the charioteer arrived Meren was standing beside a chest that held his daggers. With a polishing cloth he was rubbing the blade of a bronze weapon in intense concentration. It was the only way he could preserve his calm.

  “The evil one we seek has abducted Bener,” he said softly.

  Abu sucked in his breath. “What are your orders?”

  “Recall all the agents we’ve sent in search of information.”

  “All?”

  Meren didn’t look up from the whetstone and blade. “Send the orders at once, and make a great show of it. I want no one to be seen making inquiries of any kind. Put Hapimen in charge of the task.” “Meren set the blade and cloth aside and met Abu’s eyes with a stare of blank flatness.

  “Gather the charioteers, but quietly and with the greatest secrecy. Have them search the entire compound for signs of the abduction, especially the garden and service buildings. I doubt there’s a trail to follow, but if there is, find me before you follow it. If there’s no trail send the men out while it’s still dark to hunt for her.”

  Meren drew closer to this man who had protected him ever since he could remember. “Abu, they mustn’t be seen trying to find her. Bener’s life may depend upon their ability to search in concealment.”

  Abu gave him a fierce look. “I swear, we’ll be as shadows inside the darkness. None will mark our passing.”

  “If the evil one suspects I’ve set them on his scent…” Meren couldn’t finish, and his eyes closed again as he tried to shut out images of horror. He felt Abu’s hand on his shoulder.

  “We will find her.” “He moved away.

  Meren whipped around. “Wait.” He started to pace again, then stopped to stare in anguish at the charioteer. “If he can reach into my house and take one daughter, he can reach the others, even my sister and brother. Is General Horemheb still here?”

  “I saw him as I came to you.”

  “Bring him, then do as I’ve ordered.”

  “Very well.”

  “And Abu.” Meren said.

  “Yes, lord?”

  “We don’t have much time.”

  They regarded each other with dread. Abu had been with him when they found the bodies of the queen’s cook and her husband and Yamen dying in a dark street from wounds suffered at the command of this murderer of queens. The one they sought bathed in blood as if it were sweet-scented water.

  The rest of the night passed slowly for Meren, each moment an agony of wondering what was happening to Bener. He asked Horemheb to send contingents to guard various members of his family and begged him not to ask the reason for the request. His friend was annoyed that Meren couldn’t confide in him, but he agreed. He heard from Kysen a report of what had transpired in his absence and marveled that he kept his sanity through the whole tale.

  By the time the sun rose half the charioteers had returned empty-handed. As the morning progressed the others reported back with the same results, and midday saw the end of Meren’s hopes. A lengthier search risked alerting the abductor. Kysen returned from a sweep of the outer city districts haggard and unhappy.

  “Not a sign of her,” he said as he dropped wearily to a cushion beside Meren’s chair in his office on the second floor.

  Meren had been attempting to review the documents found at Horizon of the Aten. Bek and Dedi were plowing through stacks of papyri. Kenro hunkered over a chipped clay tablet translating the wedge-shaped script of the Asiatics.

  Running a hand through his hair Meren muttered, “I didn’t think you’d find anything.”

  “Father, you’re the color of sun-bleached linen. Have you eaten?”

  “What? I don’t know. I’m not hungry.”

  Kysen lowered his voice. “Will he release her unharmed?”

  “Has he once shown mercy since we began this cursed inquiry?”

  “I should have stopped her. This is my fault.”

  Meren reached down to place his hand on Kysen’s arm. “No. It would have happened no matter what you did. The evil one has planned this maneuver for a long time.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  Swallowing hard in spite of a dry throat, Meren straightened. “I’m looking at every scrap of information we’ve gathered, but I don’t think I’m going to suddenly find a sign that will reveal the identity of the evil one. It could be Usermontu. He could have sat there eating and smirking at me while his men took Bener. It could be Pendua or Dilalu. It could be someone we haven’t even considered yet, like Zulaya. The only one I’m sure couldn’t have done it is Yamen.”

  “The murderer is desperate to attempt such a thing,” Kysen said. “I should try to find Dilalu again. Perhaps he knows enough to lead us to our enemy.” Kysen rose. “I’ll change into my Nen clothing and go to the Caverns.”

  “Take Reia with you.”

  “I’m more likely to get answers alone.”

  Meren’s voice crackled with irritation. “That wasn’t a request, Ky.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  Once Kysen was gone Meren returned to the documents he was reviewing. He had difficulty keeping his attention on what he was doing and shutting out his fear for Bener. He was going through a collection of records from Horizon of the Aten. They dated from late in Akhenaten’s reign, years fourteen through seventeen. Tutankhamun’s middle brother, Smenkhare, had ruled for a brief two years before dying of an ague, and this was the fifth year of the young pharaoh’s rule. In that short time so much had happened, and yet these documents revealed little of the turmoil and danger that had threatened Egypt.

  Meren sifted through tallies of the herds of cattle dedicated to the Mansion of the Aten from year fourteen of Akhenaten. He read a tattered sheet giving permission to t
ransfer slaves from the royal women’s household in the Fayuum oasis to Horizon of the Aten in year sixteen. Another papyrus contained orders to transfer deeds to new owners like the royal princesses, the temple of the Aten, favored courtiers, and servants like the priest Thanuro, all dated year sixteen.

  There was a list of traders who had been granted the privilege of dealing with the king’s household that included Dilalu. Bek handed him a weapons supply list for one of the garrisons at a fort on the Ways of Horus that guarded the route from Canaan into Egypt. The official who sent the supplies was Usermontu; the merchant who furnished the weapons was Dilalu.

  “What does this signify?” Meren asked.

  Bek shook his head. “I don’t know, lord.”

  Suddenly Meren heard a yelp outside the office door. The portal slammed open, and Anath strode into the room. Behind her the guard he’d posted was cradling his hand. Meren signaled to him to shut the door and handed the supply list to Bek.

  “What did you do to my man?”

  Anath smiled and held out a decorative pin with a sharp point that had been clipped to her yellow robe. “He told me I couldn’t come in. He was offensive, but he’s learned manners now.”

  “Forgive me, but I can’t see you now.”

  Folding her arms, Anath eyed him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You look as if you haven’t slept. The shadows of the netherworld mark your eyes.” She came closer, frowning. “Something has happened. The whole household is silent. Everyone is creeping about as if someone’s died. What’s wrong?”

  “No,” Meren said faintly, avoiding her gaze. “Please, Anath, you must excuse me. I’ll see you later.”

  Anath studied him for a moment, then shrugged. “Very well. I’ll visit Bener.”

  Meren jerked around, fists clenched. “No! Leave me alone. Go away.” Behind him the scribes looked at each other, then eased out of the room.

  Anath watched them go. She contemplated the closed door for a while before approaching Meren. Her hand closed over his, and it was all Meren could do not to shake it off and bellow at her. He wanted to rush into the streets and scream Bener’s name, order pharaoh’s army to surround the city and search it house to house. Instead he ground his teeth together so tightly his jaw ached.

  “You might as well tell me what’s happened, my love,” Anath said with gentle firmness. “I’ll find out anyway.”

  So, haltingly, with hard-won restraint, he related what had happened since he left her. When he finished he sank to the cushion Kysen had used and buried his head in his arms, using the chair seat as a prop. A long silence ensued, and he was grateful to Anath for knowing him well enough to allow him time to recover. He lifted his head and stared at the polished and gilded cedar chair back.

  “The message commands me to blame Yamen for the queen’s murder. I’ve thought long about it.” He looked into Anath’s sorrowful eyes. “I can’t lie to the Golden One. I’ll have to tell him the truth.”

  Anath was beside him instantly. She took his face in her hands and whispered to him.

  “No, no, no, my love. Do as the evil one commands.”

  Eyes bright with unshed tears, Meren whispered back, “Don’t you see? He’s going to kill her anyway. My only chance is to find her before he does.”

  Anath dropped her hands, sat back on her heels, and regarded him with a tortured expression. “Surely not, my love. Surely he knows what you’ll do if he kills Bener.”

  “That’s just it,” Meren said in a choked voice. “For once I face an enemy who doesn’t seem to fear what I can do to him, and that may cost my daughter her life.”

  Chapter 13

  Seeing his own fear mirrored in Anath’s face, Meren got to his feet slowly, turned his face away, and closed his eyes. “May Amun help me.”

  Anath came to him and put her arms around him. “Oh, Meren, I’m so sorry.” He felt a strange, sharp ache in his throat as she gently guided his head to rest on her shoulder. Anath’s touch, her arms, her soft sympathy threatened to drive him to tears. He hadn’t wept since he ceased to grieve for Sit-Hathor. He wouldn’t do it now when Bener needed his strength. He straightened and stepped out of the circle of Anath’s arms.

  “I can’t deceive pharaoh, and there’s no need. His majesty will understand that we must refrain from this inquiry for a while, until Bener is safe and the evil one lulled into believing he’s won.”

  “You of all people know what this drinker of blood is capable of doing should he discover your deceit. And he will find out what you’ve done.” She threw up her hands. “Isn’t Bener’s life worth a small lie?”

  Meren stared at her. “It isn’t a small lie. It’s a lie to the living god of Egypt, one that furthers the designs of a murderer.”

  “But the crime is an old one,” Anath said. “Who is hurt by it now?”

  “Pharaoh is hurt. All of Egypt was hurt by this crime, and if he can kill a queen, he can murder a king too. Don’t you think I’ve been over this a thousand times since she was taken? Besides, if I lied to pharaoh he’d find out.”

  “He’s only a boy, Meren. You can make him believe the lie.”

  Meren shook his head. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d spent much time with him. He has the wisdom, guile, and ruthlessness of Thutmose the Conqueror, and he can enthrall and beguile whomever he wishes. Pharaoh knows many things before I do, and he’d find out I lied to him before two days had passed.” Meren sat down in his chair again and rubbed his forehead wearily. “He must be told.”

  Anath sighed. “I fear for Bener. Dear, funny Bener, who’s too shy to admit she likes that callow Lord Irzanen, who takes care of everyone and asks for nothing in return. How can you risk her life?”

  Meren sprang to his feet so violently that the chair shot back and tipped over. He fought the wrath that nearly overwhelmed him, raking Anath with a hate-filled stare, his body trembling. Anath took a step backward.

  “Get out,” he said.

  “You’re furious because I might be right.”

  “Get out, Anath, or by Amun’s staff, I’ll toss you into the street myself.”

  Her eyes met his with an unblinking challenge, but after a few moments of searching his face, she walked out of the room without another word. When he was certain she was out of the house Meren left the office and went to his bedchamber where Zar helped him bathe and dress to go to the palace.

  Meren ended up at the royal workshops near the temple of Ptah, for pharaoh had gone there to inspect the progress of the work on his new war chariot. The workshop was a long, low building with walled courtyards in which carpenters sawed and shaped the expensive imported wood used to form the body, shafts, pole, and wheels of chariots. Elsewhere workers cut the leather that fastened parts together, covered the body and wheels, and formed the reins and blinkers. There was another room devoted to the manufacture of whips.

  Draped in transparent linen, gold, and carnelian jewelry and shod in fine leather sandals, Meren passed sweating carpenters’ assistants. Several held a wooden chariot shaft while another jumped on it to test its flexibility. Beneath an awning of dried palm leaves a chariot master directed more assistants in binding wheel felloes. Walking around a stack of spokes, Meren entered the main workroom.

  Tutankhamun was standing in the center of the workroom accompanied by the treasurer Maya, Karoya, and half a dozen royal guards. He was talking to the chief overseer and royal chariot master, who was showing off the body of the king’s new vehicle. Of gessoed wood overlaid with gold, the compartment had been embellished with bands of precious stones and glass. The central panels were engraved with the wings of the solar falcon, which protected the names of the king and queen. The axle, wheels, shaft, and yoke were glossy black and inlaid with gold bands.

  Meren approached and waited for Tutankhamun to notice him. He dreaded this interview, for he would have to admit helplessness, but he’d do anything to get Bener back. Pharaoh stepped up into the chariot a
nd bounced on the floor, testing the body’s integrity. Meren noted with dread that he’d lost weight and seemed troubled even as he gripped the handrail, then leaned against it as he would while firing an arrow. Raising his arms as if he held a bow, he twisted his body while bracing his legs. As he turned he saw Meren, paused as their gazes touched. Something flickered in the king’s eyes, but he continued his sweep with the imaginary weapon. Then he jumped to the floor, spoke a few words to the master, and waved his escort and Maya away. Craftsmen and courtiers filed out of the room, leaving Meren to come forward and kneel beside the gold-encrusted chariot.

  “I heard you arrived last night,” Tutankhamun said. The gold uraeus that held his headcloth in place caught a sunbeam from a window and flashed in Meren’s eyes.

  “Majesty, I beg leave to speak privately.” Meren touched his forehead to the floor and sat up only to be startled when the king abruptly dropped to one knee close to him.

  “What’s wrong?” Tutankhamun’s voice was low and urgent.

  “Bener has been abducted. They took her last night after I came home.” Meren pounded the floor, his voice rising. “While I was there, by all the demons of the netherworld!”

  Alarm clear in his gaze, the king said, “Tell me what happened.”

  Meren took a deep breath and lowered his voice. He tried to speak without emotion, but by the time he finished, his body was tight with tension, while at the same time he felt as if he were looking at himself from a perch near the ceiling. It was as if his ka tried to take flight and search for Bener while his body remained earthbound, explaining to pharaoh.

  Upon hearing Meren’s words the king’s expressive eyes filled with anger and sympathy. He stood and motioned for Meren to rise. “I knew something terrible had happened the moment I saw you.” The king gripped the chariot rail hard and swore. “This insanity must end. I’ll order everyone you suspect arrested and have them beaten with staves until one of them confesses.”

  “No, majesty!” Meren dropped to his knees again. “I beg you not to do this. I have no doubt that the evil one has given orders that Bener is to be killed should anything happen to him. We must be seen to comply with his commands.”