by Mike Ashley
“I thought perhaps the king, your father . . .”
“No, I don’t remember him giving me something like that. I rarely saw him you know.” She eyed him. “You’re so grave. If it’s that important, you should ask the steward for the latest inventory. I think it was done six or seven months ago. It should list everyone’s possessions.”
“Thank you, Princess. I will.” Meren hesitated. “I must also ask you about the garden doorkeeper called Kar.”
Iaret was stroking her cat, her head lowered. “The doorkeeper Kar, yes. He’s gone, you know.”
“He’s dead.”
The Princess’ head jerked up. She stared at him with wide eyes, her mouth open. Moments passed before she spoke.
“Dead? But he was here only a few weeks ago cursing and weaving around drunk. Oh. Did he have some accident while besotted? I was so worried about him. He was drinking himself into ill health.”
“No,” Meren said softly. “He was murdered. Stabbed to death with a dagger engraved with the name of your father.”
Iaret continued to stare at him in horror. “But that can’t be. Wait.” She narrowed her eyes. “Surely you don’t entertain suspicions of me. Me? By all the gods, how could you think I would do such a thing?”
“Princess, I am the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh. When murder touches those near Pharaoh, I pursue the evil one no matter where the trail leads. You know this.”
“But me. It’s ridiculous. I tried to help Kar.” Iaret was clutching her cat to her breast as if to protect herself.
“Sometimes there are false trails,” Meren said, feeling guilty for upsetting this sweet girl in spite of himself.
“Oh.” Iaret sighed. “I see. Then you aren’t going to arrest me?”
“Of course not.”
“Good. I’ve never been arrested before. I’m sure I wouldn’t like it.”
Meren shook his head. Iaret seemed guileless, dangerously so for a member of the imperial court. They talked about Kar, but Iaret had little to add to what Meren already knew. Kar was a wastrel who had been given many chances to reform to no avail. Finally even Iaret had given up on him.
Meren took his leave of the Princess and requested the household inventory from the steward, Lord Peya. The official produced a leather box filled with papyri. Meren located the inventory of the princess only to find that Iaret had been right. She owned no daggers. She had lots of jewels of gold, electrum, lapis lazuli, carnelian and other precious stones. She owned many clothes, and dozens of bolts of royal linen, vessels of alabaster and granite, and a valuable mirror of silver, but no weapons. Several of the foreign princesses who had married into the royal family possessed daggers, but none of the descriptions matched the murder weapon. Looking at the stacks of inventories, Meren considered sending someone else to plough through them. But he was already here. So he read of lists of royal possessions, his fingers tracing the columns in a fruitless search for the engraved dagger. He even sent for the few daggers he located in hopes of finding one similar to the one that killed Kar. A fruitless effort. Finally he thanked Lord Peya and left Hathor’s Ornament for his town house.
At home he met Kysen in the large room on the second floor that served as his office. It was late afternoon, and he could smell antelope roasting in the kitchens. Kysen entered the office with a stranger trailing behind him.
“Lord Meren, this is the unguent maker Onuris, brother of Kar. I have brought him to you that you may hear his story.”
Meren nodded, taking his seat on his favourite chair on the master’s dais at one end of the office. Kysen had been born into the artisan class, the son of a tomb worker in the Place of Truth. His ear was more attuned to the nuances of conduct in commoners. In the past year he’d grown more confident in his position as Meren’s heir. Now he could intimidate a reluctant witness almost as well as Meren. They seldom had to resort to physical punishment, which was good in Meren’s opinion. Beatings extorted lots of information from people, but often it was useless, given simply to escape pain.
Kysen leaned on Meren’s chair and whispered to him. “It was hard going, but I got the truth out of him.” Kysen straightened. “Onuris, son of Wersu, tell Lord Meren what you told me.”
Onuris was a slim version of his younger brother, with thick hair and a habit of wiping his clammy hands on his kilt. He smelled faintly of myrrh and frankincense. He bowed and cleared his throat.
“Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh, to my great sorrow my younger brother was a dissolute and unworthy man who took it as a great insult that he had to work for his livelihood. I’m afraid my parents doted on him throughout his childhood and youth. They praised him when he made little effort and excused his shortcomings rather than correct them.”
“Is this why Kar occupied the master’s chamber in your house when it should have been your parents’ room?” Meren asked.
Onuris hesitated. “In part, lord. I have explained why Kar behaved as he did, but there came a time when he grew intolerable even to my parents, about a month ago.” Swallowing hard, Onuris stuttered before continuing. “I – I have been so worried. I knew something was wrong, but he was my brother, no matter his faults, so I kept silent.”
“This isn’t the time to keep secrets,” Meren said.
“Yes, lord. You see, a couple of months ago Kar began bringing home valuable things – alabaster jars, a gold armband, fine leather sandals. He said he won these things gaming at his favorite tavern. Well, Kar was not the kind of man who won things. He was usually too drunk to concentrate. I thought . . .”
“He stole them,” Meren finished.
Onuris hung his head.
Meren glanced at Kysen. “The dagger?”
“No,” Kysen said. “It appears he never brought such a thing home.”
“No, lord,” said Onuris. “I followed him once, thinking to solve the mystery, but Kar only went to his usual tavern and drank until he fell on the floor. Last week I tried again, but he saw me. After that Kar took all the valuable things and hid them. I don’t know where.”
“The cave,” Kysen said.
Meren sighed. “Indeed. Whoever killed Kar must have taken the stolen items.”
According to Onuris it was after Kar became wealthy that he demanded the best room and generally became unbearable. He used abusive language to his family and tried to strike Onuris when his brother attempted to persuade their parents to evict Kar. Wersu wanted to toss Kar out of the house then, but Qedet defended her youngest son. She reminded Wersu that Kar’s new wealth would provide better for the family than he ever had. In Qedet’s view, riches excused almost any evil.
Listening to Onuris, Meren began to get that irritable feeling that meant he’d missed something. There had to be a connection between Kar’s death and Hathor’s Ornament. Almost certainly that was where the dead man had got the stolen goods, and that meant he had help from someone inside the palace. But why hadn’t the thefts been reported? Perhaps Lord Peya was concealing them because such evil doings reflected badly on him. Pharaoh might take Peya’s office away from him. Meren dismissed Onuris with a command to report anything else he remembered to Kysen.
When the unguent maker was gone, Kysen sank to the dais beside Meren. “He was stealing from the royal women’s palace.”
“Yes,” Meren said, rubbing his temples. “And someone in a high position was covering it up. Damnation, this is going to be a scandal. More corruption. The high priest of Amun will be delighted to spread stories that the heretic’s brother is incompetent and can’t even govern the palaces of his women. That old man is riddled with hate for the royal family.”
“I can’t imagine anyone hated Pharaoh,” Kysen said.
“You were a child when Akhenaten did away with the old gods of Egypt. Paranefer and his priests suffered terribly under Akhenaten. Many of them died rather than renounce Amun for the king’s new god. Curse it. Thinking of Paranefer has given me a headache.”
“What will you do?”
“Try to
investigate quickly and quietly, before Paranefer gets wind of the scandal.” Meren rose and stepped off the dais. “But tomorrow morning I must first tell Pharaoh.”
Meren’s town house sheltered behind high walls. Ancient sycamores, tamarisks and willows clustered near the main house with its reflection pools and loggias. Behind the house lay a separate walled garden, service buildings, servants quarters and barracks for the charioteers serving the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh.
That irritable feeling of having missed something important kept Meren awake when everyone else had gone to bed. Having given up chasing sleep Meren left the house and walked to the stables where his thoroughbreds resided in pampered luxury. The two stallions, Wind Chaser and Star Chaser, greeted him with nickers and tossing heads. Meren fed them handfuls of grain and listened to the low grinding of their teeth as they ate. He had always liked the sound, so peaceful and regular.
He was going back to Hathor’s Ornament in the morning, after he spoke with Pharaoh. The scale of his inquiry would increase, and the king must approve. Meren was worried, for what had appeared to be a simple murder of a commoner had become something far more complex. There was no telling how great the scale of corruption was or how high it had spread.
Meren rubbed his face against Star Chaser’s dish-shaped jaw. The horse gently nibbled at his shoulder. Suddenly Star Chaser’s head jerked back and his ears flattened.
“What’s wrong, old friend?” Meren asked, reaching for Star Chaser’s mane.
That was when he felt a tiny current of air against his back. He turned slightly, and pain exploded in his head. Meren fell against the stall door, dazed, clutching his head. Someone grabbed him, and a fist jabbed into his stomach. Meren sank to the ground, trying not to vomit. Before he could recover his attacker yanked him up by the hair. A blade appeared at his throat and pressed into his skin.
“What luck to find you alone so soon,” a voice hissed.
Meren was still too stunned to do more than gasp.
“Listen to me, Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh. The doorkeeper was killed by someone he had debts with, a friend or a tavern keeper. Accuse one of them and settle this inquiry. Otherwise you’re not so mighty that you can’t be dispatched as easily as that drunken sot. Allow me to show you.”
Suddenly the blade sliced his throat, but Meren grabbed the arm of his attacker, ramming it backwards and rolling out of his grip at the same time. As he rolled a shadow swooped at him. It fastened hands on his head and jammed it into the hard-packed earth of the stable floor. Blackness took him in less than a beat of his heart.
The uproar over the attack on him caused Meren more pain than his injuries. Kysen stomped around giving orders to the charioteers to track the invader while Meren’s daughters tried to put him to bed and called his physician. For his part, Meren was furious. It was humiliating for a king’s warrior to be attacked in his own dwelling and beaten like a peasant who had failed to pay enough tax. Thus Meren was in a foul mood late the next morning when he went to Pharaoh’s palace to report on his progress sporting a bandage wrapped around his throat. It stuck out above the gold and lapis lazuli broad collar he wore. His head ached beneath the formal wig that fell to his shoulders. When he saw Meren the king wanted to call out the royal guard to arrest someone, anyone. It took all of Meren’s persuasive skills to calm the boy down so that he could point out that they had no one to arrest.
Ra’s fiery orb was high in the sky before Meren was able to leave the palace and pay another visit to the house of Kar’s family. Kysen was already at Hathor’s Ornament with a squad of charioteers and scribes. They were going over the accounts and records of the royal women’s household in search of inconsistencies. The questioning of the royal women would have to wait until Meren arrived.
Meren now knew he was looking for someone other than a lowborn thief. His attacker had known how to use a blade and had fought like a warrior. That ruled out farmers, craftsmen and many scribes and government officials. And few men in Egypt had the temerity to threaten the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh and expect to get away with it. The attempt spoke of desperation or a rashness that seemed inconsistent with the careful way in which the murderer had concealed many of his actions.
At Kar’s house Meren noticed right away that the family’s circumstances had changed. Wall hangings brightened the walls, food was more abundant, and Kar’s father appeared almost cheerful.
Wersu greeted him with a sad smile. “You honour us, Lord Meren.”
Glancing around the living area, Meren nodded at a large wine jar on a stand. “I see many improvements since I was last here.”
“Ah, yes. I am ashamed that I had to conceal many of my possessions from Kar, my lord. He would take things and trade them for beer and wine. His mother had to hide her jewels, her clothing, even her linens.”
“Where is Mistress Qedet?”
“I will fetch her.’
Meren shook his head. “We will go to her.”
“She is upstairs, lord.”
In the master chamber Qedet was busy putting clean sheets on the bed that her son once occupied. When Meren entered she hastily tucked a sheet under the mattress and stuffed more folded linens into a box at the foot of the bed.
“I want to ask you if Kar ever said anything about his work at Hathor’s Ornament,” Meren said.
Wersu and Qedet glanced at each other.
“Not much, my lord,” said Wersu. “He didn’t like Uthi, the overseer of doorkeepers and porters. But Kar never liked anyone who had authority over him. That was why he failed as an unguent maker.”
“And what about his sudden wealth? The gold bracelet, the other things?”
Wersu flushed, and Qedet burst out, “We were so afraid he’d stolen them. Onuris told you about those things, I know. What were we to do? Give our son to the police? I couldn’t bear the shame. Please, my lord, we’re old and humble, and have been good subjects all our lives. May the gods witness how we tell the truth. We didn’t steal, and Kar didn’t tell us anything.”
No matter how he approached the matter, Meren couldn’t alarm or trick Wersu or his wife into admitting being involved in their son’s crimes. Further intimidation would be necessary, and that meant dragging the old couple to the barracks at his house. That could wait until he’d finished with the people at Hathor’s Ornament. Then he would send men for Wersu and Qedet. Being summoned at a late hour to appear before him often was enough of a shock to loosen tongues. Meren eyed Wersu as the older man made more excuses for his son’s crimes. Qedet added her own litany when Wersu ran out of breath. Losing interest in their justifications, Meren’s attention strayed. His gaze drifted from the ceramic lamps distributed about the room to the small alabaster and faience tubes and trays used to hold eye paint and kohl eyeliner.
That nagging irritable feeling was back. He was about to interrupt Qedet when his eye caught the newly made bed. Light streamed in from a window set high in the wall and caught the sheen of the linens on the bed. Such fine cloth, almost the quality of royal linen – soft, smooth, tightly woven. It was then that Meren remembered his first visit to this house. He’d been talking to these two in the kitchen, and Qedet had been scrubbing a spot off a sheet, an ink spot. Only now Meren realized it hadn’t been a spot. It had been a laundry mark, and that mark had been from the laundry at Hathor’s Ornament. Meren suddenly shoved Wersu aside, walked over to the bed and pulled at the sheets.
Wersu followed him, wringing his hands. “My lord!”
Meren turned to him with the corner of a sheet in his hands. “Your wife couldn’t remove the mark entirely. I can still see the name of the owner, Wersu. Your son stole this from Princess Iaret. It’s time for the truth, unless you’d rather wait for the attentions of the city police.”
“No! No, my lord, please, I’ll tell you what I know.” Wersu licked his lips and clasped his trembling hands. “Kar brought home a large box of linens, and these are some of them. He – he wasn’t stealing –”
�
�I should have brought my whip,” Meren snapped.
“No, please, lord. Kar told me what he was doing one night when he was drunk. He knew a secret, a secret about one of the ladies, and she was giving him valuable things so that he would keep the secret.”
“Out with it, Wersu. The woman was Princess Iaret. What was the secret?”
“It was that Princess Iaret had fallen in love with Lord Roma. She met him while performing her duties in the temple as a singer of the great god Amun. Kar saw them meeting secretly late one night in the garden of Hathor’s Ornament. He went to the Princess and threatened to expose the affair if she didn’t pay him.”
Meren’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. It was worse than he’d imagined. Roma was the grandson of the Paranefer, the high priest of Amun. He had just stumbled onto what could be a plot to take the throne of Egypt. It had been done before. A man of great ambition could marry a royal princess. If he had enough backing from the powerful temples and nobles, he could seize the throne and legitimize his claim through his wife. This was why so many princesses remained within the royal women’s household where Pharaoh could keep an eye on them. Iaret was the daughter of Akhenaten. Roma was a young man of great skill as a warrior, having won battles against the wild tribes of Nubia and rebellious Asiatic vassal princes. He had a large following in the army. Together Roma and the Princess could be a real threat to the immature Tutankhamun, especially with the richest temple in Egypt, that of Amun, behind them. Cursing, Meren left Wersu and Qedet pleading for leniency and making excuses for themselves instead of their son. As he stepped out of the house he heard Qedet screeching at Wersu, blaming him for their misery. His last sight was of Wersu, his flaccid skin pale, his eyes watery, staring after Meren like the shade of one without a tomb doomed to wander lost for ever.
Instead of going to Hathor’s Ornament, Meren returned home and sent for Kysen and his men. He spent a few hours in preparation before dispatching a messenger with a polite invitation for Lord Roma to visit him. The young man arrived near dusk. Meren received him in the reception hall of his town house, a graceful room with a high ceiling supported by eight slender columns in the form of water lilies. Wearing an intricately pleated robe of royal linen, a gold broad collar set with carnelian and turquoise, and matching armbands, Meren was seated on the master dais in a gilded chair. Kysen and Abu stood beside him.