Murder at the God's Gate

by Lynda S. Robinson

  Ebana narrowed his eyes, then smiled. “Have you lost your father, common cousin? How negligent of you.”

  Kysen stepped nearer, which caused Ebana to grip his dagger and the charioteers to stir. “I’ve no time for diversions and antics. Have you seen my father or not?”

  “Earlier this afternoon, but fear not. He left me in good health. Why are you so agitated, boy? Your father needs no band of armed governesses trailing after him.”

  “Meren is missing, and you hate him enough for me to come to you first now that I’m trying to find him.” Kysen dropped his voice. “And if he’s harmed and you’re to blame, I’ll find you, hack you into chunks, and feed your carcass to the crocodiles.”

  Ebana met his gaze steadily, then smiled. The scar on his face stretched as the muscles in his face moved.

  “You truly fear for him. Tell me, plain-blooded cousin, is it because of me, or because you’re afraid that pharaoh has turned away from him and had him done to death?”

  “I’m going to reach down your throat and pull out your heart,” Kysen replied. He almost jumped at the bark of laughter that answered him.

  “By the good god, you’re a fierce whelp.” Ebana raked his glance over Kysen. “I don’t know where Meren is, but Tanefer mentioned him just now.”

  “Why?”

  Ebana shrugged. “He had much to say to me, and part of it concerned the quarrel between your father and pharaoh. Where are you going?”

  “To find Tanefer,” Kysen said over his shoulder. “He might know where my father has gone.”

  “May the good will of Amun be with you. You may need it if your father has run afoul of one of his enemies.”

  Kysen wasted no effort in replying to the taunt. He left Ebana standing in the avenue staring after him and raced away through the streets in the direction Tanefer had taken.

  Ebana’s voice called after him. “Tanefer was going home, down the Street of the Golden Lion.”

  Kysen dodged around carts, donkeys, priests, and women carrying water. The charioteers ran in his wake. He hurtled down zigzagging alleys and streets, knowing that Tanefer’s chariot wouldn’t be able to go quickly in the narrow streets and crowds. He reached the Street of the Golden Lion and glimpsed Tanefer’s chariot as it passed through the gateway—and he stopped. Abu plowed into him, and he careened into the wall of a house.

  “Stay back.”

  “Lord?”

  Kysen pointed at Tanefer’s house. “Look.”

  Servants were trudging back and forth from the house to carts laden with boxes. Several chariots drove away from the house bearing women. Kysen shrank into a doorway, then motioned for his men to follow him. He edged along the street until he found an exterior stair. Abu waylaid a perplexed householder and Kysen slipped upstairs to the roof.

  As Abu joined him, he knelt behind the front wall and gazed out at Tanefer’s house. Why was Tanefer vacating his house? Had he been ordered afield? If there had been some word of trouble at one of the frontiers, his friend might be sent to handle it. Still, the move was sudden.

  “Abu, have you heard of this move?”

  “No, lord, but events are happening swiftly at court.”

  Kysen scolded himself silently. He’d grown too suspicious, and he’d allowed his concern for Meren to override his good judgment. He stood up. All he need do was go to Tanefer and ask him what he was about. Then his eye caught the gleam of red jasper set in gold.

  Tanefer was leaving his house by a side door, alone. He kept his back to one of the walls surrounding the house until he slipped through a small gate that let out into an alley. Once outside, Tanefer walked swiftly down the alley and into a crooked path that wound away from the Street of the Golden Lion. Without a word, Kysen left the roof, raced to the alley, and dodged along the path until he caught sight of Tanefer again.

  Abu appeared at his side as he peered around a corner at Tanefer’s retreating back.

  “Lord, what are you doing?”

  “It’s not like Tanefer to skulk around the streets like a starved hyena. I don’t like it. There’s something wrong.”

  “But Prince Tanefer and your father are old friends.”

  “Shhh! I know that, but there’s something wrong, and I’m going to find out what it is. If it’s nothing, we’ll go back and take a whip to Ebana.”

  They flitted after Tanefer like a shadow after a hawk in flight. Soon Kysen began to recognize streets and houses. His conjecture turned to certainty when, after surveying a deserted street, Tanefer walked quickly to the entryway of the house of Prince Ahiram. Kysen flattened himself against the wall beside the gate and looked toward the house.

  “Why has he come here?” Abu asked.

  Kysen shook his head as the charioteers who had been following them arrived to conceal themselves in doorways and against the wall. It was growing dark. Kysen waited for a few moments, but Tanefer failed to reappear Then from behind the house came a man, a soldier by his appearance, leading a chariot. He tethered the team to a stone on the ground near the door and disappeared behind the house again.

  “Abu,” Kysen said. “Remain here with the others.”

  “Lord, this is foolish. You know what your father said.”

  “He’s in a dead murderer’s house, Abu. I have to know what’s going on, and I can’t sneak in with all of you stumbling after me. Stay here.”

  Kysen raced across the street and planted himself against the wall that ringed Ahiram’s house. He ran around it to the side wall, only to find that Abu had followed him.

  “Forgive me, but the lord Meren gave me orders.”

  “Damn you. Very well, then boost me over the wall.”

  He sailed up and onto the top of the wall. Lying flat, he peered into a front garden in the fading light. It was deserted, so he lowered himself to the ground and darted behind a sycamore. He heard a slapping sound and a grunt. Abu’s head appeared over the wall. The charioteer struggled atop the wall, then dropped over the side and joined him.

  “Gods, you’re tenacious as a goose after a fly.”

  “Thank you, lord.”

  Kysen watched the front door, but it was growing dark. He and Abu moved to the concealment of Ahiram’s chapel. Looking around the corner of the building, he saw Tanefer come out the front door.

  “He’s coming. I think we’re close enough to hear—gods!”

  Kysen fell silent, then drew his dagger, for behind Tanefer, flanked by two men carrying spears, came his father.

  Chapter 19

  Meren allowed the two guards to shove him out of the house after Tanefer. If he was forced to fight, he’d rather do it in the open, and Tanefer didn’t fully believe his professed decision to join him in treason. He had tried to be convincing, seeming to waver between loyalty to pharaoh and Tanefer’s passionate ambitions for Egypt. Yet his hands were still bound.

  He had tried to accustom himself to what must be done, but most of his time had been spent wondering at the mysteries men kept hidden in their souls. He had known Tanefer for so long. He’d trusted him in battle with his life, caroused in beer taverns with him, even been with the same woman. Yet each of them reserved a part of himself—a part rich in secret wounds and corruptions—sheltered in the depths of the ka.

  It was that time between dusk and darkness when pale objects seemed to brighten with the last vestiges of the heat of Ra. Meren glanced around the forecourt as he was pushed toward a chariot. He’d been gone long enough for Kysen to miss him. He could only hope the boy was trying to find him, but he couldn’t think of any signs he’d left that would make Kysen search at Ahiram’s house.

  Then he heard a wiry screech, and another—the sound of two cats fighting. Meren fought hard not to show his relief. When his guards shoved him again, he balked and knocked aside a spear. Tanefer turned, drawing his dagger at the noise.

  “Where are you taking me?” Meren demanded. “I’ve said I would join you. Release me now.”

  Tanefer strolled back to him
, slapping his palm with the flat of his dagger blade. “I think not. I’ve had time to consider, and despite your so-graceful submission, I think I’ll feel better if it’s accompanied by a complete estrangement from pharaoh.”

  Meren stared at his friend. “So you’re going to make him hate me.”

  Tanefer laughed. “Perhaps. But first I’ll keep you awhile. If you vanish from sight without warning, pharaoh will have good cause to look upon you in a manner like to Ahiram. After ten days or so, I’ll release you. Then, no matter how dear you are to him, he’ll never be able to trust you again.”

  “And he won’t believe me if I tell him about you,” Meren said.

  “Also, if you betray me,” Tanefer said, “your interference will come too late. In ten days I’ll have my men gathered outside the city.” He stopped and glanced around. “Enough of this chatter It’s almost dark. I couldn’t risk moving you in daylight, you know. Your face is too well known.”

  Meren felt the tip of a spear poke him in the back. From somewhere beyond the high walls that blocked his view of the street, the din of cat fury began again. He took a step toward the chariot, moving away from the guards. As he moved, he heard a familiar twang and hiss. The guard behind him grunted and toppled as an arrow took him in the chest. Another arrow flew past, just missing the second guard.

  At the same time, Meren twisted around and grabbed the second guard’s spear Before the man could respond, he’d yanked the weapon from his grasp. The guard drew a knife from his belt. Hampered by his bonds, Meren jumped back, hefted the spear, and shoved it. The tip caught the man in the thigh. He screamed and dropped to the ground. Around him he heard the war cries of his charioteers and saw men scaling the guard walls.

  The second guard’s knife was lying beside him. Meren dropped to one knee and reached for it with his bound hands. The edge of a blade descended in front of him and pressed into his neck As it did, he heard Kysen’s voice call a halt to the charioteers. He heard Tanefer whisper in his ear.

  “Don’t, old friend. I don’t wish to kill you.”

  The edge of the dagger sliced into his skin, bringing a searing sting. Blood seeped between his flesh and the blade, trickled down his neck He drew his hands back from the knife as his regret at having to fight Tanefer vanished in his fury.

  “Now,” said Tanefer, “rise slowly.”

  “Damnation to you, Tanefer.”

  “I know, brother of my heart. This grieves me as well. Forgive me.”

  Tanefer’s arm slipped around his throat and shoved his chin up, further exposing his neck. Meren stood and Tanefer turned him so that they faced Kysen and half a dozen charioteers scattered between the house and the guard walls. The chariot was standing by, but only because the horses had been tethered.

  Tightening his grip on Meren, Tanefer called out. “Well done, Ky, but you should have killed me first.”

  Kysen began to walk toward them, and Meren felt the blade sink deeper into his flesh. Charioteers started closing in on them. He set his jaw, refusing to cry out as Tanefer wished. Then the blade lifted, swiftly. Like the strike of a hunting cat, Tanefer’s blade jabbed. Meren felt it pierce his flesh high on his shoulder. He heard Kysen shout.

  This time he couldn’t prevent a cry from escaping as the dagger embedded itself and then withdrew. Stunned, Meren felt his body stiffen. His hands came up to press against the wound. Blood wet them. Figures rushed at him, but Tanefer stopped them by returning the dagger to Meren’s throat.

  “Forgive me, Ky,” Tanefer was saying, “I do regret causing Meren pain, but this is the most efficient solution to my dilemma. Now you must allow me to go to my yacht unhindered, for that’s the only way your father will live. If you try to prevent me, I’ll simply delay, and if that happens, the way Meren’s bleeding … Well, do you wish to risk it?”

  “No.”

  “I thought not. Now drop your weapons. All of you move back to the wall. Meren, we’re going to my chariot. You will drive. That’s why I kept your wound shallow.”

  “You’ve lost,” Meren said through clenched teeth. “Don’t make things worse.”

  “You’re mistaken. Look at your son, he’d hand me the sun boat of Ra if it would save your life.”

  Tanefer began to drag him sideways toward the chariot. It was almost nightfall now, and he could hardly see Kysen or anyone else. His thoughts raced while he fought the pain of his wound. He was fast losing strength. If he was going to fight, it would have to be now. He was about to grab Tanefer’s dagger arm when he heard a sound—phhhht. Tanefer jumped and gasped as an arrow grazed his arm.

  This was his chance. Meren grabbed Tanefer’s dagger. He shoved it away and twisted to face his opponent at the same time. He heard Kysen shouting, but he and Tanefer were engaged in a battle for possession of the dagger.

  Although he knew things were happening quickly, he saw them as if in a sea of chilled honey. The blade writhed in Tanefer’s hands, then pointed at Meren. Without warning, Tanefer leapt on him.

  Caught off guard, Meren felt his body overbalance, and he fell beneath Tanefer. He hit the ground, his head cracking against the packed earth. Desperate, he kept his grip on Tanefer’s wrists. But as they struggled, he felt his strength wash from him, receding like a spent sea wave on a beach.

  His hands were wet with blood, and they shook. His muscles screamed at the strain, while above him Tanefer pressed down on the dagger, aiming it at his heart. Knowing he had little time, Meren heaved upward with his whole body.

  They writhed, tangling their legs and rolling. He sank beneath Tanefer’s weight again. He was slammed against the ground, crying out as the impact jarred his wound. His hands slipped as they tried to deflect the dagger. He twisted the weapon at the last moment, just as the black shadow of Tanefer’s body descended upon him. He felt the blade puncture flesh, glance off bone. Hot blood spilled over him. He couldn’t breathe.

  Tanefer gasped in his ear “Forgive me, brother of my heart.”

  “No.” He felt Tanefer’s body relax and he swore.

  Suddenly he was free of Tanefer’s weight. Meren blinked up into torchlight. Kysen and Abu were lifting the body off him. Kysen dropped to his knees and began prodding.

  “Are you hurt? Damnation, answer me!”

  “I don’t know.”

  He winced as he tried to sit. Kysen helped him, and by the time he was upright, he realized that he wasn’t seriously wounded. He watched Kysen’s hands tremble while they touched the flesh near the wound on his shoulder.

  A charioteer appeared with cloth, which Kysen pressed against the wound. More charioteers arrived, bearing torches. A pool of light formed, revealing Tanefer He was lying on his back, his chest covered with blood from a wound near the heart. Meren cursed, then shook his head as his vision blurred. He couldn’t remember stabbing Tanefer, but he must have.

  “Gods,” Kysen said. “I saw that arrow and started running, but you fought so quickly. By the time we got here, I thought he’d killed you.”

  Meren’s vision filled with the sight of Tanefer’s ruined body. Crimson stained the sheer white of his robe and dappled the electrum at his wrists and neck. Death seemed such a violation in a body full of brightness, wit, and youth. Turning his face away, he allowed Kysen to bind his wound.

  “This will do until Nebamun can treat you.”

  Abu held a cup of water to his lips, and as Meren drank a shadow fell between him and the torchlight. He pushed the cup away and raised his eyes. Ebana stood over him, holding a bow. Kysen helped Meren stand, and together they stared at his cousin. Ebana bent down and retrieved a bloodied arrow. At the appearance of Meren’s cousin, Abu and the other charioteers retreated out of hearing distance.

  “It was you!” Kysen said. “You fired that arrow at Tanefer.”

  “You piqued my curiosity with your worry about your father, so I followed you,” Ebana said.

  Meren leaned on Kysen and studied the scarred blankness of Ebana’s expression. “Did you try to k
ill him to save me, or to stop him from using you against pharaoh?”

  Ebana didn’t answer.

  “I don’t understand,” Kysen said.

  “Tanefer has been planning a revolt all along,” Meren said. “He was using Ahiram and Qenamun to devise the desecration of Akhenaten’s tomb in order to provide funds for his mercenaries. The pure one, Unas, stumbled upon their plot, and Qenamun killed him.”

  Kysen was shaking his head. “Then Qenamun was the dung-eater who tried to kill me.”

  “Yes,” Meren said. “But Qenamun’s foolhardiness and our inquiries caused Ahiram to become overwrought, so he killed Qenamun, only to find he’d aroused Tanefer’s fury by calling attention to the first murder. Tanefer tried to rid himself of Ahiram at the hippo hunt and failed, and Ahiram fled, thus exposing their intrigue. That was when I finally searched in the right direction.” Meren gave his cousin a pained smile. “And that direction leads from Tanefer, through Ahiram, to the priests of Amun.”

  “We knew nothing of this foul plot against pharaoh,” Ebana said at last.

  “Why should I believe you?”

  Ebana remained silent while he unstrung his bow. Then he began winding the bowstring. “I saved your life.”

  “Yes,” Meren said. “Now tell me why.”

  Ebana came closer and glanced at Meren’s wound. “Perhaps I didn’t want you to die.”

  Meren lifted his brows and waited.

  “Perhaps I thought you and pharaoh easier to deal with than Tanefer.”

  “You were right. Eventually Tanefer would have killed you as well as me.”

  “And of course, I’m telling the truth. The temple of Amun never plotted against the life of pharaoh.”

  “What do you want, Ebana?” Kysen asked.

  “A bargain.”

  Meren exchanged glances with Kysen and nodded for Ebana to continue.

  “Let us declare a truce between the temple and the court, cousin. We offer an end to all this hidden warfare in exchange for—how shall I phrase it—a cessation of these awkward inquiries of yours. Qenamun was the only priest among the evil ones who have so disturbed the peace of the living Horus.”