by Diana Wilder
Karoya looked around the sparsely furnished interior of the priest's house.
Neferhotep smiled. “Prince Nakht cared nothing for furniture or riches,” he said. “Though in those days I had more than now. He often came with the Princes Smenkhara and Tutankhaten—a lively little rascal, that one!—as well as his own son, Neb-Aten. They were great times.”
Neferhotep dismissed the splendid past with a sigh and sat back. “But you came to ask something of me and my people,” he said. “How may I help you?”
“I'm trying to establish the whereabouts of one of our people, a young officer named Ptahemhat,” said Karoya. “I need to know where he was two nights ago. Do you know him? The acting Captain of His Grace the Second Prophet's guard?”
Neferhotep frowned. “I may have met him once or twice,” he conceded, “Though the name doesn't sound familiar to me. There's a strapping young fellow who's courting one of the girls here, but I don't recall... I can ask, if you wish.”
Karoya reflected that he should be going about his business, but the house was shady and cool, the beer was pleasant, and the company enjoyable. “It can wait,” he said. “You were telling me of Khebet's rise.”
Neferhotep eyed the four remaining cakes, took one, and resolutely turned away from the rest. “As we waned, Khebet waxed,” he said. “And Huni prospered as well.”
“Huni?”
“Yes,” said Neferhotep. “He's mayor of Khebet now. But time was that he was a page in the Vizier's household. I remember him well.”
Karoya was silent for a long moment. He knew he really should ask about Ptahemhat, but Mayor Huni's history piqued him. He had taken a dislike to the man, a dislike that Khonsu and His Grace apparently shared. It wouldn't hurt to be armed with facts in case something should come up involving him.
“Then he wasn't always from Khebet?” he said slowly. “I would imagine the Vizier came from Thebes as one of the royal house.”
“Huni may have been from Khebet,” Neferhotep said. “Who can say? His background never interested me enough to make me want to know. But I do know he was in Prince Nakht's household for some years while the King held court at Akhet-Aten.” He smiled reminiscently and added, “He and Neb-Aten were more or less of an age, and were often companions before the dark times. Indeed, I remember Prince Nakht speaking of the young fellow almost as though he were another son. Then the king died and his young son took the throne. Tutankhamun. It was a strange and terrible time, and many comrades were torn apart. I remember the last time I saw them, just before Prince Nakht died, when they both came secretly and in haste. Listen...”
** ** **
Neferhotep finished his date cake and his beer. “The next I heard of Huni, he was mayor of Khebet and we were in eclipse,” he said. “For all that we would have made him welcome for the sake of the past, Huni has never returned here. He always stayed well north of the city.”
“Maybe he's afraid of meeting Neb-Aten's ghost,” Karoya ventured at last with the half-shamed awareness that he was making a poor joke to fill the silence. “The gods know he talks enough about it!”
But Neferhotep only looked thoughtful. “Is Huni saying that Neb-Aten is haunting the place?” he asked. “No, how can he? He knew Neb-Aten, they were boys together! If anyone could say with any certainty that Neb-Aten wasn't the sort to haunt anything, it would be Huni.”
“You don't believe the stories of Neb-Aten's ghost, then, My Father?” Karoya asked. “The tales of the lone chariot along the northern track, the cries in the night—”
“—The yammering of hyenas and jackals looking for carrion to scavenge,” Neferhotep supplied with an ironic smile. “No, Captain. I think the stories were started by someone with some knowledge of the situation, as you know, with an interest in keeping the city deserted. There are plenty of people who might have reasons for traveling north from Akhet-Aten.”
“Your Reverence doesn't believe all the tales,” Karoya said again.
“I don't believe them at all, Captain,” Neferhotep said flatly. “There's no ghost. Only wind, owls, moonlight and memories. They can be beautiful things, unless you have the uneasy heart of a guilty man.”
“But I wonder which are guilty,” Karoya said. “Lord Nebamun has nothing kind to say of Neb-Aten, and he says he knew the fellow!”
Neferhotep's eyes sparked for a moment. “Is that so?” he mused. “And yet I have heard His Grace described as a good and tolerant man. But no doubt he knows better than me.”
Karoya recalled his purpose. “Forgive me, My Father,” he said. “I didn't mean to waste your time talking. I did want to find out about Ptahemhat, the captain of His Grace's personal guard on this journey.”
Neferhotep nodded and clapped twice, loudly. When one of the town's children put his head in the doorway he said, “Bring Sebnit here. Tell her it's urgent.”
He looked at Karoya. “You can ask her yourself.”
When the girl had come to them, Karoya asked her, “Have you seen Ptahemhat, who is acting as Captain of His Grace's bodyguard at the city of Akhet-Aten?”
Sebnit's smooth brown cheeks flushed a darker pink and she looked down. Hers was the kind of fresh, generous beauty that made Karoya think of sun-kissed fields of grain and the coolness of a breeze in the middle of summer.
“I have heard of him, Captain,” she said. “And perhaps I met him once.”
“Did you see him two nights ago?” Karoya asked.
Sebnit looked at Neferhotep and then lowered her eyes again. Her cheeks grew warmer and a dimple hovered at one corner of her mouth. “No, Captain,” she said softly. “I didn't see him...” She opened her eyes at Karoya and then spoke to Neferhotep, who was frowning at her. “May I go, My Father?”
“Go, Daughter,” Neferhotep said. He looked as though he might say more, but he finally shook his head and motioned to the girl, who turned and left them in a flutter of home-spun linen.
There was nothing more to say. Karoya rose and bowed to Neferhotep. “Well,” he said. “That's that. I'd best go back and look elsewhere.” He smiled at the priest and added, “I thank you for your help, My Father.”
Neferhotep was gazing after Sebnit with a thoughtful frown. “Such as it was,” he said. “I'm not sure she's telling the whole truth. You saw her blush. She isn't a liar, but sometimes youngsters her age will dissemble. I recall that the night in question was a moonless one. She's my nephew's daughter, and a good girl, I promise you. I'll speak with her in private and send you word as soon as I do.”
The priest's frown cleared and he smiled up at Karoya and added, “And whatever help I can provide, Captain, is yours and your force's whenever it is needed.”
Karoya said something suitable, and Neferhotep accompanied him in silence to the roadway. But as he was leaving, the priest leaned close and said, “And Captain, I beg that you send my duty to His Grace, and assure him that he has firm allies in this town and in Neferhotep, its priest.”
XXXV
“I had no better luck in the other towns, Chief,” Karoya said the next afternoon as he reported to Khonsu before supper. “No one admits to seeing Ptahemhat during the time that we think Paser was killed.”
Khonsu nodded. “What do you think?” he asked.
“I get the feeling they don't want to talk,” Karoya said. “The girl at Sumneh knows something, I'm sure. Father Neferhotep said that he'd speak with her again.” He sat back and then added, “You want me to bring her here for questioning?”
Khonsu considered and then shook his head. “We'd best not for now,” he said. “The priest said she was innocent and virtuous, and he has a point about dissembling youngsters. I'll let him speak with her for now.” He smiled and then added, “And, truly, how shameful are a few stolen kisses under the stars?”
“It depends on how shameful her family thinks them,” Karoya said. “And how acceptable they find the one doing the kissing.”
“You're right,” Khonsu agreed. He looked over at Seti, who had dispose
d his long, elegant frame in the shade and was skimming a report penned by one of his lieutenants. “Ptahemhat will be arrested and questioned tomorrow morning,” he said.
Seti looked up from the report and set it aside. “Tomorrow morning?” he repeated.
Khonsu nodded. “That'll give me time to speak with His Grace and tell him what we're doing so he won't worry. I know he fostered Ptahemhat in his own household. He's been ill and I don't want to upset him any more than I have to.”
“You may have to,” Seti said. “Hadn't you heard? No, come to think of it, you were patrolling to the north again. Ptahemhat has turned command over to Rai for the time being. He has His Grace's leave to return to Memphis for a week.”
“To Memphis?” Khonsu repeated. “Whatever for?”
“Something about speaking with his mother,” Seti said. “He's also bringing Paser's body back to his family for burial at His Grace's expense.”
“That's right,” Karoya said. “I'd heard something about it too. Hmm. I didn't think… Say, Chief, I think we have hit on it after all! Do you think he's going there to obtain the lady's blessing on a proposed marriage?”
“Probably,” Khonsu said, “But we can't let him leave the city with this pending!” He thought for a moment, frowning. “There's no help for it,” he said at last. “I'll have to arrest him at supper.”
“At supper?” Seti repeated. When Khonsu nodded he protested, “That doesn't give us much time to speak with His Grace and warn him!”
“It gives us no time at all,” Khonsu agreed. “Thoth's beak! I wish I had more time, but His Grace is probably changing his clothes for supper now, and I don't think he'd thank me for interrupting. Never mind, His Grace is a sensible man, and I can explain privately once the fuss has died down.”
** ** **
Ptahemhat had been speaking expansively of Memphis and his proposed visit over supper. He was smiling as he leaned forward to take another conical loaf of bread from the pile before him. He turned to make a laughing comment to Karoya, and then sank his teeth into the seed-scattered crust. Lord Nebamun, sitting at the head of the room, was consuming a portion of roast goose with his usual economy of movement, but it was obvious to Khonsu that his mind was not on the meal.
Khonsu saw the squadron of guards arrive at the door; he nodded to them and sat back to watch as they came silently into the room.
Perineb, seated on Lord Nebamun's right, saw them first. His brows drew together; he set down his meat and looked questioningly at Khonsu as the guards surrounded Ptahemhat.
Ptahemhat was still laughing as he reached for a portion of lettuce. The laughter died under the direct stare of Khonsu's guardsmen. Even then, he merely set the lettuce down and looked up at them.
By this time Nebamun had heard the commotion and sat back with a puzzled frown.
Khonsu said quietly, “You're under arrest.”
“What?” Ptahemhat demanded.
“Will you come quietly?”
“Don't be ridiculous!” Ptahemhat said.
“Take him,” Khonsu said, nodding to his men.
Ptahemhat was too surprised to struggle as he was seized and hauled upright.
“What is the meaning of this, Commander?” demanded Nebamun, rising to his feet and wiping his hands on the cloth at his waist.
Khonsu bowed to him. “I'm detaining Ptahemhat for questioning in the death of Captain Paser, Your Grace,” he said.
“No!” Ptahemhat cried. He sounded angry, amused and frightened at once. “I didn't do it!”
“I'm not so sure, Ptahemhat,” Khonsu said.
“Well, I didn't!” Ptahemhat repeated. “And whatever you think, I'm starting for Memphis tomorrow!”
“I'm afraid that will be impossible,” Khonsu said. “I'm sorry, Ptahemhat. The evidence against you is strong: you and Paser quarreled openly and now he's dead.” He looked sternly at the younger man and added, “And I need hardly remind you that you won't account for the time between your quarrel and the discovery of Paser's body.
Khonsu's expression and the condemnatory looks directed toward him struck Ptahemhat dumb for a moment. He found his voice as his captors forced his arms behind him. “But I didn't do it!” he cried. “The gods know I wish I had! I swear— Your Grace!”
“That'll be enough!” Nebamun exclaimed. “He is my subordinate and my responsibility! Unhand him at once!”
Khonsu's guards checked and looked from him to Nebamun.
Ptahemhat tore himself free, sending one of his would-be captors spinning into a platter of roasted meat. He vaulted the low tables with the rest of the guards hot on his heels, hurled himself at the Second Prophet's feet, knocking Perineb aside, and came to rest crouched against Nebamun's ankles, with his face pressed against the Second Prophet's leather sandals.
Lord Nebamun, thrown off balance, clutched at a nearby pillar to steady himself. The jolt made him blanch, but he caught up the overlap of his long kilt and cast it over Ptahemhat's shoulders just as the guards reached them both. A snap of his fingers brought five of his personal guard to his shoulder with drawn swords.
Khonsu shook his head at his guards. “Stand back,” he ordered.
Nebamun watched through narrowed eyes as Khonsu's men obeyed, and then said with a close approximation of his customary calm, “Why are you arresting him?”
“I have reason to suspect that he killed Paser, Your Grace,” Khonsu answered.
Perineb, who had picked himself up and moved safely out of reach from the fracas, stared.
“That's preposterous!” Nebamun said, white-lipped. “You yourself told me that Paser was killed in a fair fight!”
“No, Your Grace,” said Seti. “While we haven't ruled out the possibility that it was a fair fight, we don't know for certain. With the quarrel between the two of them, any fight must be suspect. I'm sorry.”
Ptahemhat raised frantic, dilated eyes to Nebamun. “I didn't do it!” he said again. “I swear by Ptah himself I did not! How could I possibly—”
Nebamun skewered Seti with a look. “This man never murdered anyone in his life!”
“Your Grace,” Khonsu began. “Our information shows that—”
“Your “information' has misled you!” Nebamun snapped. “You are arresting an innocent man!”
“Forgive me, Your Grace,” said Khonsu. “My investigation shows otherwise. He rejoiced to learn that 'such a scoundrel is finally sent out of this world'. Most of us heard him. He refuses to account for his actions during the time that Paser was probably killed, and now he plans to depart for Memphis. How are we to take that? I'm sorry, Your Grace. I have no choice but to detain him.” He paused and then added, “I deeply regret the scene, but I'm within my authority. My duty to the rest of the people here doesn't permit me to do otherwise. He won't be harmed.”
Ptahemhat had been listening with dwindling hope. He raised himself a little and buried his forehead against Nebamun's knees.
The Second Prophet's frown became a scowl. “What will you do with him?” he demanded.
“He'll be questioned and, if I think it justified, sent to the Nomarch's court for trial, Your Grace,” Khonsu replied.
“I see,” said Nebamun. He thought swiftly and then said, “Ptahemhat and Paser were both with the temple of Ptah. The matter would most properly come under Ptah's jurisdiction in the person of the High Priest.”
“It would, Your Grace, if it were anything other than murder,” said Khonsu. “But murder is Pharaoh's proper concern, and Count Tothotep is Pharaoh's representative in this province. I am required to detain Ptahemhat for trial before Count Tothotep.”
Perineb said, “We'd best let him go with them, Your Grace. If he's innocent—as I'm sure he is—we can surely clear him.”
Ptahemhat, watching his hope of protection dwindle, shivered. “I didn't kill Paser!” he said again. “You must believe me, Your Grace!”
“Then tell me where you were when he was killed,” Khonsu said.
Nebamun
looked from Khonsu to Ptahemhat. “He's within his rights,” he said quietly. “Tell him, Ptahu: what were you doing that night?”
“I can't say, Your Grace. I know it looks bad, but I never killed Paser!” He stared at Nebamun's shuttered expression and cried, “By all the gods—! You know I'd never lie to you!”
Nebamun's hands had unconsciously clenched into fists. He looked down at them as though he were seeing them for the first time. He slowly opened them and then spoke to Ptahemhat. “I believe you, Ptahu,” he said. His voice lowered and he added, “But I have no power to help you at this moment.”
The words sank into complete silence.
Ptahemhat raised his head and stared despairingly up at Nebamun.
Seti, gazing across at Nebamun, shifted his stance.
Khonsu cast a quick glance around at the doors to the dining hall, where his men had gathered, and then looked full at Nebamun. His men outnumbered The Second Prophet's guard's by three to one, and a contest between them had only one logical ending, but he found that his imagination did not stretch to the point of envisioning him overpowering His Grace.
Lord Nebamun stood where he was, oblivious to the stares directed at him, his eyes focused before him as though he were gazing into a landscape that no one else could see. His expression concentrated, lightened, and finally shifted to a thoughtful frown.
He looked down at Ptahemhat, who was still clinging to him. “Will you be guided by me, Ptahu?” he asked.
Ptahemhat nodded.
“Then here's what I advise. Let go of me, stand up, and go with them wherever they take you.”
“But I'm innocent!”
“I know it,” said Nebamun. “You won't suffer any harm because of this mistake. But go quietly with them now, and don't do anything that might harm yourself or anyone else. You'll be free within the turn of the moon; perhaps sooner.”
“It may take longer than that if he's to be brought to trial, Your Grace,” Khonsu protested.
“I have spoken and you have heard me,” said Lord Nebamun. “And you will see shortly that I didn't speak amiss.” He turned back to Ptahemhat. “You will be released, I promise you. Now will you promise to do as I have bid you?”