by Diana Wilder
Immediately afterward Khonsu, sitting on the portico of his headquarters for the expedition and chatting quietly with Sennefer and Seti, who had stopped by on his way out of the city, was advised that His Grace, Nebamun of Memphis, Second Prophet of Ptah, requested the favor of an interview with the Commander of the Army for the Fourteenth Nome of Egypt.
** ** **
“It is about Ptahemhat,” Lord Nebamun said, disposing himself in the chair offered by Khonsu. “There are many possible explanations for his behavior. I ask you once more, as the second in rank in Ptah's priesthood, to drop the charges and release him.”
Khonsu shook his head. “I can't do that, Your Grace. Ptahemhat must stand trial. He may well be acquitted. I believe he will, but that is for the Governor to decide as Pharaoh's representative.”
Nebamun drew himself up in his chair. “I can't allow that. Ptahemhat had no part in Paser's death. Release him at once.”
Khonsu traded a quick glance with Seti before raising his eyes to Nebamun. “Does Your Grace have any further information on the death, then?”
Nebamun's expression was calm though Khonsu caught a touch of deep amusement. “I do. You have been looking for the man who killed Paser: here I am.”
Khonsu blinked. Seti's was blank with astonishment.
Sennefer stared. “But I don't understand!”
Lord Nebamun inclined his head. “There is nothing to understand.”
“I don't believe it!” Seti exclaimed.
Nebamun speared Seti with a stare that made him blink. “Are you calling me a liar, General?”
Seti was on his feet. “No, Your Grace, I'm not! But you must admit that the circumstances are—” He broke off.
Nebamun's position did not alter. “Do continue, General,” he said.
Seti shook his head.
“The whole thing's impossible!” Sennefer cried.
Nebamun looked over at Khonsu, who was watching them with a frown. “It was perfectly possible. I went to where Paser was—”
Here was something Seti, frozen with astonishment, could grasp. “To where Paser—” he exclaimed. “But where was he? Was he in the city?”
Nebamun froze him with a stare.
“I beg Your Grace's pardon,” Seti continued. “I did not mean to interrupt. But was Paser in the city when you came across him?”
Nebamun considered for a moment. “No. He had left the boundaries of Akhet-Aten far behind. He was dead by my hand shortly after I found him. And to forestall your question, Commander, I didn't see Ruia when I found Paser.”
Khonsu kept his eyes on his hands.” Was it you who struck Ruia from behind?”
The cold stare was turned on Khonsu. “I beg your pardon, Commander?”
Khonsu, baffled by the suspicion that His Grace was enjoying himself at their expense, dropped the line of questioning. “What else happened, Your Grace?”
Nebamun looked back down at his hands and continued. “After Paser had been killed, I took his body, carried it to my chariot, and brought it to a place where it was certain to be found.”
“Why?”
“Why leave him to be found?” Nebamun repeated as though the question amused him. “Because I wanted him to be found.”
“But why—” Khonsu began.
“You are asking me questions that I am not permitted to answer, Commander,”
Seti looked from one to the other. “This is more puzzling by the moment,” he complained.
“What is there to puzzle over?” asked Nebamun. “Paser was killed, and I have confessed to the killing.” He added softly, “I'd do it again if the opportunity arose again.”
“This is ridiculous!” Sennefer objected. “You must have dreamed it! Or be trying to play one of your jokes!”
“Don't be such a fool, Sennefer,” Nebamun said. He turned back to Khonsu. “I surrender myself to you, Commander. Bestow me as you please.” He added with a touch of amusement, “The harem courtyard in the west palace is secure, as you already know.”
“Very secure,” Khonsu said with a wry smile.
Nebamun's amused expression faded. “If I give my word not to try to escape, will it be necessary to chain me?”
“Chain you!” Sennefer gasped. “Your Grace is delirious!” He looked from Seti to Khonsu. “Sunstroke!” he said with sudden decision. “He's had sunstroke! Going out without a thick enough headcloth! Your Grace went into that damned temple with no breath of shade!”
“Stop your noise!” said Nebamun. “I have confessed to a killing. I have raised no objection to any confinement, so why should you? Well, Commander?”
Khonsu was silent for a long time, allowing the question to hang in the air. “I'm not certain that Your Grace needs to be imprisoned at all,” he said finally.
“A sensible man!” Sennefer cried. “What His Grace needs is a strong sedative and a week in the shade!”
“Silence!” said Nebamun.
Khonsu spoke carefully. “Would Your Grace be kind enough to explain your reason for killing Paser?”
Nebamun met Khonsu's gaze squarely. “I have told you that I killed him,” he said. “I am not permitted to offer any explanation.”
“But the manner of his death,” Seti said. “He seems to have fought someone weapon to weapon before he was killed. And the thing that had been clenched in his hand— I don't understand.”
“Forgive me, General. You are asking questions that I am not permitted to answer. I have told Commander Khonsu all that I may tell. It is not necessary that you or anyone else understand.”
“Was anyone acting with you?” asked Khonsu.
Nebamun turned to gaze at him for a long, considering moment. “No, Commander. I acted alone.”
Khonsu's frown deepened. “If Your Grace will bear with me, I must know how Paser was murdered.”
“Paser was not murdered,”
“How you killed him, then,” Khonsu corrected.
“I crushed his skull with a weapon,” Nebamun replied. “It took two blows.”
“What weapon did you use?” Khonsu pursued.
“I used a heavy, blunt instrument. I discarded it after I was finished.” And he shut his lips firmly on any elaboration.
“But what sort of instrument?” Khonsu demanded.
Nebamun's eyes were warm with suppressed amusement. “You are asking questions that I am not permitted to answer, Commander.”
Khonsu leaned forward. “You said it was not a murder. Did you kill Paser in self-defense?”
Nebamun sat back to think. “No,” he said at last. “I wouldn't call it self-defense.”
“I see,” Khonsu. leaned back against the wall and looked down with raised eyebrows at his steepled fingertips. “Then you waylaid him and killed him by stealth.”
Nebamun lifted his eyebrows at Khonsu. “You know me better than that, Commander. I have told you what I have told you. I surrendered myself to you willingly. I will answer no further questions.”
“Your Grace is mad!” The sentence threatened to become a refrain for Sennefer.
Nebamun rounded on the physician. “Stop your babbling!” he snapped. He turned back to Khonsu. “Perineb has been leading the sacerdotal functions of this expedition all along, and he should continue to do so. As the leader of the provincial army force, you are in overall command with General Seti as, your immediate junior. I suggest you assume sole command until further notice. Since the quarries are not likely to be worked within the foreseeable future, I would recommend that General Seti employ his force in patrolling the area around Akhet-Aten, as far afield as he sees appropriate.”
Seti nodded silently.
Khonsu had sat back with his arms folded, frowning before him. He lifted his eyes to Lord Nebamun's. “So be it. I will report this as you said: you killed Paser and discarded the weapon.”
The warmth of Nebamun's smile startled him. “I'm satisfied,” said the Second Prophet. “Imprison me where you will. And release Ptahemhat. I know he's been fret
ting. Now: before I go to my prison, may I first return to my quarters and gather some things that I may need?”
Khonsu looked over at Seti and then shook his head, caught by the hesitant nudge of an idea. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I think it is best if you go directly from here to wherever you are to be confined. I...don't know where that will be at the moment.” He added, “If Your Grace will give me a list of your needs, I'll collect them for you”
Nebamun inclined his head.
Sennefer turned from staring wide-eyed at Nebamun. “Come outside Commander, and you, too, General. I need to speak with you at once!”
Khonsu nodded. “With Your Grace's permission...”
Nebamun was sitting quietly with one hand holding the Udjat amulet. He raised his eyes to meet Khonsu's with the hint of a dark smile. “I am your prisoner, Commander. You don't need my permission to do what you must.”
** ** **
“Where will you send him?” Sennefer demanded once they were outside, and out of earshot of the door.
Khonsu pushed a hand through his hair. “Where will I imprison the Second Prophet of the entire cult of Ptah? A man, all other things to the side, to whom I owe an immense personal debt? I have no idea at all! Do either of you have any suggestions?”
Seti shook his head. “This entire situation is beyond me. I wonder what my father would say…”
“It's ridiculous!” Sennefer snorted. “And there's something strange behind it! His Grace never raised a finger in wrath without it being completely justified! I don't know if he's sick or foolish, but he has committed no crime!”
“He certainly never used the word 'murder' in this entire exchange,” Khonsu said thoughtfully.
“That's because there wasn't a murder!” Sennefer insisted. “I know the man! If he killed Paser, he had an excellent reason for it! And he's just foolish enough to be ready to go to his death without saying a word in his own defense if he thinks it's necessary. I'm amazed that I haven't throttled him years ago!”
“That's all well and good,” said Khonsu, “But there he sits, a confessed killer, waiting to be imprisoned. As the officer charged with keeping the peace here, I can't allow him to walk away! And His Grace wouldn't let me do it, either! He was right: I do know him better than that! What are we to do with him?”
Sennefer lowered his voice. “I have an idea. The house of Prince Nakht, the Heretic's vizier, is to the south, well away from the rest of the town. It is in good repair. Send His Grace there on his word of honor. He would never break that. I'll spread the word that he was taken ill. It'll give us time. You two can get to the bottom of this, or I can talk some sense into him, and no one will be the wiser.”
XXXVIII
“You're letting me go?” Ptahemhat repeated as he climbed to his feet. “I won't be tried?” The young man had been sitting cross-legged in the corner of his cell and gazing moodily before him while fingering the Knot of Isis he wore at his wrist. He had looked up as Khonsu entered the room but had not risen to his feet.
Khonsu, seeing his defiance, had permitted himself an inward smile as he quietly told Ptahemhat that he was free. Now his voice was dry as he replied, “We are dropping all charges.”
“I told you I didn't do it!”
“Yes,” Khonsu agreed. “You did.”
When Khonsu added nothing further, Ptahemhat frowned and said, “You owe me an apology at least!”
Khonsu folded his arms and propped one shoulder against the well. “An apology?” he repeated. “I don't think so. You played the fool throughout this entire business, starting with openly rejoicing at Paser's death.. You compounded your folly by ramming about this city telling everyone you wished you had killed Paser, and outlining the ways you'd have done it if you'd had the chance.”
Ptahemhat's mouth dropped open.
Khonsu flicked him a scornful glance and continued, “Three days in prison is a light penalty for that kind of stupidity, and if I hadn't promised Lord Nebamun to set you free at once, I'd keep you here another week to make certain the lesson sinks in! But I respect His Grace too much to break my word. You may gather your belongings now and return to your quarters. Rai will bring you up to date on what's been happening since your arrest.”
“No! I want to speak with His Grace first! He promised I would be freed within the week and he was right! I know this was his doing!”
“Oh it was his doing, all right,” Khonsu said drily. “But you won't be able to speak with him just now.”
“What?”
“He has taken ill and is in seclusion. Master Sennefer has ordered that he not be disturbed until he's recovered.”
“But he stood as my guardian when my father died!”
“You're the reason he's ill at the moment.”
“His Grace? I don't believe it! He's never been one to fret himself into illness! If I were only half so cool-headed!”
“Nevertheless, he's ill and Sennefer has judged it best that he not be disturbed.”
Ptahemhat digested this in silence. “He's been a father to me! I must see him!”
“I don't see the necessity. A visit from an idiot like you would only serve to agitate him. You can wait until Sennefer gives you permission.”
Ptahemhat leveled a frowning stare at him. “I see,” he said. “And who's in charge of this expedition while Lord Nebamun is sick?”
“The leader of the people from Memphis is Father Perineb,” Khonsu said. “I think you know that. General Seti has his group, and I—” he said it with smiling emphasis, “—am in overall command here. You'd better keep that in mind.” His smile widened and he said more kindly. “I know you're worried about His Grace. Everything will be fine, but he needs to rest.”
** ** **
Perineb looked up from the papyrus scroll that he was scanning. “If Master Sennefer thinks His Grace should be in seclusion, then so be it. But if there should be any questions that I feel I can't handle alone...” The sentence trailed off, not quite a question.
“His Grace has complete confidence in Your Reverence,” Khonsu said.
Perineb smiled and nodded, but he looked thoughtful as he set aside the light plank that he had been using as a sort of desk. “He is never ill,” he said, unknowingly echoing Ptahemhat. “He is, in fact, the healthiest man I have ever met! For him to be stricken again is a bad sign. Does Master Sennefer have any idea of the nature of his illness?”
“Overwork coupled with a slight fever. His Grace hasn't completely recovered from his most recent illness. Sennefer thinks rest will take care of things.”
Perineb nodded. “Lord Nebamun is untiring.” His smile became mischievous. “In fact, the High Priest and Her Ladyship both feel that His Grace is that way to the point of being exhausting. I'm inclined to agree. While he rests, so can we.”
Khonsu smiled and sketched a salute, then looked over the ranks of aged papyrus rolls and the piles of writing materials. Perineb and his priests had set up a sort of library in one of the large storehouses that lay between the king's private house and the huge temple of the Aten. The archive chamber opened to a colonnaded porch opening to the northeast. The walls channeled the prevailing northern breeze into the area.
The room seemed to rustle, a soothing sound of brushes moving across papyrus, the sigh of documents being turned. As Khonsu gazed around, one of the priests looked up and smiled at him.
“Is work going well, Your Reverence?”
“It's going well, Commander,” Perineb replied with a smile. “We found a great deal to review, and we have been thorough. By the end of another several days it should be complete.”
“And then?”
“And then I'll go into the temples and see what is to be seen,” Perineb replied. “And, to save you the question, Commander, once that's finished, and I have had an opportunity to consider, and to pray for guidance, I'll make my recommendation.”
“I see.” Khonsu drew a breath and squared his shoulders. “Well. Your Reverence should be wa
rned that Ptahemhat may apply to you for permission to speak with His Grace.”
“That isn't surprising,” Perineb said. “His Grace has been a father to Ptahu. I'll make certain that Sennefer's orders are obeyed.”
“I thank Your Reverence,” Khonsu turned to leave and then paused to look back at Perineb. “Your Reverence?”
Perineb had taken up his brush again. He looked up and smiled. “Yes, Commander?”
“This city. Is it evil?”
Perineb's smile warmed. “Evil, Commander?” he repeated. “Certainly not. There's nothing evil here at Akhet-Aten. I don't believe there ever was.”
** ** **
Lord Nebamun looked up as Khonsu and Seti approached, and then rose to his feet. “You're welcome here, gentlemen. Have you come to question me further?”
Khonsu looked down the long portico of the house's upper story, and then frowned northeast toward the Northern Sentinels, standing in stark outline against a darkening sky. “Is Your Grace comfortable?”
“Quite comfortable,” Nebamun said. The dryness of his voice matched that of Khonsu's not long before. “This is a beautiful place. I feel almost as though I were in my own home.”
Khonsu reflected that he certainly looked that way. He was barefoot with windblown hair. His tunic, of heavy, plain linen, yellowed with age and much-mended, was obviously an old favorite, probably worn over his wife's exasperated protests. A coarse pottery cup sat at his elbow and a flask was on the floor beside it.
Seti stepped forward and bowed as Khonsu looked around. “That's good to hear,” he said. “We were concerned.”
Nebamun eyed Seti over the rim of the cup as he sipped, then set it down. “I see,” he said. “And what do you need from me?”
Though Nebamun's expression did not waver from its gravity, Khonsu had the impression of amusement firmly held in check. He drew a deep breath and said with an attempt at Nebamun's calm, “Your Grace must be aware that we still need answers.”