by Diana Wilder
It was good to enjoy the breezes blowing from the river and savor the afternoon peace and let worries of rank and occupation take second place to the tart-sweet taste of the pomegranate juice. He closed his eyes and listened to Sherit and Sitra discuss the activities that ignorant people considered unladylike as he drifted into sleep.
The sun was low in the sky when he opened his eyes again, and the garden was quiet, except for the sigh of the breeze and the distant sounds of the city. Khonsu yawned and turned on his side. For the first time that he could remember, the movement did not hurt. A light blanket of fine wool had been placed over him as a guard against the afternoon chill, and a jug and a cup sat beside him, along with a plate of sliced perseas.
The ladies were nowhere to be seen. It was no wonder, he thought, in view of the fascinating companionship he had provided over the past weeks. But the westering sun's golden light was pleasant, and the garden was no less beautiful for its silence. He settled back with a sigh and let his gaze rest upon the lattice of palm fronds before him.
A slight sound behind him made him realize he was not alone. He sat up, his hand to his side, turned, and met the wide, dark gaze he had seen sculpted in the workshop of Djehutymose the master sculptor and, at the last, in his dream on the night he was wounded. The hazel eyes lightened in a smile.
An answering smile warmed Khonsu's face. “Welcome back to Memphis at last, Your Grace,” he said, holding out his hand.
** ** **
“His Majesty has been generous to me,” said Lord Nebamun. “He publicly approved my actions at Akhet-Aten. I need fear no ghosts from that place ever again. Other matters were dealt with in a generous and satisfying manner, including reopening the city of Sumneh. General Ramesses was there, by the way. He was interested in hearing of you, and Seti was happy to oblige him.
“Seti sends his regards, as well, and asked that I tell you he is now the proud father of a new son, Ramesses, who did not repeat his sire's behavior on his first public presentation. He will be coming to Memphis in a month, and he's looking forward to renewing your friendship then.”
“I will be glad to see him,” Khonsu said with a smile. The smile faded after a moment. “I understand Lord Tothotep has appointed my second, Kheti, to command the Army in my place.”
“Yes, Tothotep told me himself,” Nebamun said. “Don't worry: it actually is good news for you. You'll see. As for you, I am happy to see you so far recovered. Sennefer tells me you're out of danger now.”
Khonsu's smile was reserved. “I was out of danger from the moment you slammed the doors of death shut that night,” he said. “No power in all creation could have claimed me after you did that.”
Nebamun's expression grew quizzical, but he did not speak.
“And I couldn't help but do well under Her Ladyship's care,” Khonsu added.
Nebamun's smile deepened. “She is a treasure,” he said. “How I missed her all this time! She kept me informed of your progress when I was in Thebes. Sherit wrote to me as well.”
“She has blossomed like a flower here,” Khonsu said. A touch of his sadness returned for a moment.
Nebamun understood. “Daughters grow up,” he said. “They can't remain children forever, but there are compensations, I promise.” He stretched out his legs before him. “I am back from Thebes,” he said, “And you're well on the way to recovery. Now it is time for me to redeem my promise.”
“Your Grace?”
“Don't you remember?” Nebamun asked. “It was the evening after Pharaoh sent his messenger, Achtoy, with the word that my past and future actions were all in accordance with his wishes. You came to apologize for what you termed meddling, and to urge me to be careful with my life. I think you had guessed by then what I was doing. I told you I couldn't turn aside, no matter what the cost might be. I also told you that if I survived, I would answer any questions you might have.”
“I remember,” Khonsu said. “I also remember saying Your Grace owed me no explanation.”
“Oh come now, Commander,” Nebamun said with the nearest approximation to a grin that Khonsu had seen. “You are a naturally inquisitive man. I can't believe you have no questions.”
Khonsu met his gaze and began to laugh. “You're right... Neb-Aten,” he said.
“Neb-Aten, son of the Prince and Vizier Nakht, son of Prince Ahmose, son of Thutmose IV by Princess Tadukhepa of Mittani,” Lord Nebamun said. “You established that almost effortlessly. And what else?”
“There's the matter of Paser's death,” Khonsu said. “I'm not sure I understand all that happened there.”
Nebamun lifted an eyebrow. “I don't think there is much you don't understand,” he said. “You know already why Paser was allowed to remain with the expedition. If I had it all to do again, I wouldn't change that. I think he had gone mad, and there was no help for him.
“You saw the bowl he had stolen. It was part of a set of silver bowls and platters sent as a gift to my father by King Shupilluliumash of the Hittites. There were no others like them in Egypt, and so when Paser admitted it was his, I knew he had found my father's tomb. I hoped to make it secure, a ticklish matter, since I was forbidden to speak of what had happened here at Akhet-Aten years ago.
“Things happened swiftly. Paser fought Ptahemhat and left Akhet-Aten. I knew he would return to my father's tomb and plunder it. I decided to stop him permanently. In addition to that, though, you were close on my trail. You had told me that Mersu would bring you to my tomb the next day. I knew I had to destroy anything that would tie me in with Neb-Aten. And so I drugged all my officers during the feast, which gave me time to destroy my 'corpse' and my portrait statue. If I hadn't been so pressed for time, I might have remembered the likeness that had been left in Master Djehutymose' studio.
“I knew I had to move swiftly. I disabled Ruia. I really should apologize to him for that tap on his skull, but I was careful. I then went to my tomb and entered the burial chamber. Though I hated the thought of it, I lit the fire atop the sarcophagus, and then went on to my father's tomb.
“Paser didn't trust many people. One of Huni's people from Khebet was standing guard outside. An arrow in the throat did him in, and he couldn't shout for help. Once he was dead, I set my bow and quiver in a safe spot and entered my father's tomb. Paser was there, striking at the barrier to the sarcophagus chamber with a maul. A few more blows and he would have broken through.
“'Stop this at once!' I commanded, advancing. I had set my bow and arrows aside because the tomb was too crowded for archery and I wanted to question Paser. I had my dagger with me, and I knew, none better than me, where other weapons could be found in my father's tomb.
“Paser saw me and tossed the maul aside. He was far gone with greed; he didn't know I was Neb-Aten and I was protecting my father from insult. He thought I wanted the treasure for myself. “So the temple-rat's not the saint everyone thinks him!” he jeered, advancing. “Find another cache: this one's mine!”
“He drew his knife with a snarl and lunged for me.
“'You thief!' I said through my teeth. 'You have traded long enough on my compassion! I am going to stop you once and for all!” I parried the blow, but I didn't want to hurt him yet. He had some information I needed. He was a good fighter, but he was no match for one who had been trained to arms in a king's household from his youth. He realized this quickly, and it infuriated him. Soon he was striking wildly.
“I questioned him as we fought, and his answers didn't surprise me. Huni had corrupted him. It hadn't taken much effort. He offered him a share of any treasure taken from Akhet-Aten. 'It's all mine!' he panted. 'You want your share, temple-rat? You'll get it right now: a dagger between the ribs!'
“He had told me all I needed to know by then, and it was time to make an end. I seized the mace from the hand of my uncle's statue at the entry to my father's sarcophagus chamber, and closed with Paser in earnest.
“He realized his time was up. He tried to flee me, crashing up against bo
xes, flinging chests in my way as I advanced. I came closer, laying myself open for his blow, which I'd anticipated, but giving me clear scope for a sweeping stroke. It broke Paser's forearm. He crashed to his knees, screaming with pain.
“'You bastard!' he shrieked as I raised my mace again. 'Why did you have to get in my way? There's plenty for everyone! You can't—'
“'This is why,' I said, tossing him a ring I'd taken from my tomb: a ring with the name 'Neb-Aten' on it. It clattered to the ground before him, flashing gold in the torchlight, and he scrabbled it into his hand, greedy to the last. As he stared white-faced at it, I brought the mace down on his head and killed him.
“I left the ring clenched in Paser's fist. I thought it would give Huni something to think about when he found the body. I dragged him and his accomplice to the northern track, where he told me he had arranged to meet Huni's people just at dawn.”
Khonsu nodded. “You were wounded, yourself,” he said. “Was it then that you returned to Neb-Aten's tomb?”
“Then or never,” said Nebamun. “I only had one night to do everything I needed to do. I found the strength I needed, but it was hard to take Paser's maul and deface that beautiful statue my father had commissioned. I can still remember him standing there and smiling at it. And that splendid granite sarcophagus split into a thousand pieces when I poured the water on it.” He fell silent.
“And then you, wounded and exhausted and, I think, heartsick, wrestled the coffins out of the wreckage and opened them?”
“Yes,” said Nebamun. “It was hard. I opened the coffins, took out my 'body'—that was one of the strangest moments of my life, lifting my own corpse in my arms, carrying it clear of the debris, and setting it afire. I found I hadn't the stomach to watch it burn.”
“Mersu found blood on pieces of the sarcophagus,” Khonsu said. “You went to the northern palace at some time the next day and released Ruia, as well. You must have been in terrible pain by then.”
“I have had worse in my time,” Nebamun said. “It was bearable.”
“Perhaps so,” Khonsu said. “But...”
Nebamun lifted his eyebrows.
“You were protecting Paser's daughter with your silence.”
“Yes,” Nebamun said. “And it was worth it. Her father died a hero, and the thought comforts her. Poor little girl! She will never know otherwise.” He thought for a moment, his fingertips tapping against his knee. “It is proper, I think,” he said at last. “Paser tried, and it is not altogether his fault that he failed.”
“I heard you and Huni,” Khonsu said. “You went to Akhet-Aten to avenge your father's death. How did it come about?”
“I shall tell you,” said Nebamun.
LVIII Questions Answered
“My father was vizier during the last years of the reign of my grandsire, Amenhotep III, and throughout the reigns of Akhenaten, my uncle, and Smenkhara, my cousin. He was a great statesman, a courageous and wise man, and a loving father such as few children are ever privileged to have. I grew to manhood knowing myself to be my father's pride and one of my uncle's favored children.
“When Akhenaten died and Smenkhara succeeded him, my father continued as vizier. Smenkhara was close to my age, only four years younger than me, and he was old and understanding enough to recognize my father's worth and loyalty. But Smenkhara died after three years, and Tutankhaten came to the throne. With him came his close confidant, Huy, who had long been an enemy of my father.
“My uncle's last years had been filled with sorrow and isolation. He turned his gaze from the world around him, which had brought him only grief and bereavement, and fixed his eyes on his god. My father had done his best to keep the empire strong, but without Pharaoh's fiat, he was powerless. The confusion continued into Smenkhara's reign, though my father did much to bring Egypt back to stability. When Tutankhaten came to the throne, Huy persuaded him to strip my father of his official rank and forbid him holding public office.
“My father was a powerful and wealthy man still, and he could have appealed to the nobles for support, but I think he loved Tutankhaten. He also could have brought pressure to bear by appealing to Shupilluliumash. But my father judged it best to wait for the bad times to pass.
“Huy was now vizier. He spared no effort to humiliate my father, but he didn't touch me, aside from making certain I heard of every indignity visited upon my father. He recognized in me a weapon that might somehow be turned against my father.
“It maddened me to see my father's plight, and I hadn't learned to bridle my tongue yet. Many people heard my opinion of Pharaoh's lack of backbone and Huy's villainy. One of them was a young man named Huni, the son of my father's old major-domo, who had been raised in my father's household as though he were his son. My father sent Huni to me when he fell from power, thinking, I believe, to spare him suffering. I took Huni into the armies as my aide.
“Since we had been boys together, I felt no need to guard my tongue before Huni. That was a mistake: Huni had made some contacts with my father's enemies. I think he had been a spy in my father's household for some time. He listened to me and then repeated what I had to say to those who had paid him to do so.
“Those people decided to rid themselves of my father, who was showing Huy to such disadvantage, even in defeat, that they judged it necessary to end his life. They decided to force him into swift and drastic action that would result either in his death or his permanent disgrace, and I was seized upon as the best means to such an end.
“The plot was carefully laid. My father had been sent to Akhet-Aten to supervise the dismantling of the city. He told me he was doing this under royal commission, and was receiving all the respect due one of his birth and rank. Horemheb had ordered that he be guarded at all times in order to protect him from his enemies.
“I received word, anonymously, that my father was being held under house arrest, heavily guarded like a felon, and that he was kept shackled. As Huy had foreseen, the news sent me into a rage. I demanded speech with Pharaoh and was turned away, not gently. I swallowed my pride and tried to speak with Huy, thinking I could sway him by recalling to him the times my father had helped him to come to power. I was given nothing but smooth, meaningless words.
“I decided to travel to Akhet-Aten and learn from my father exactly how matters lay. I turned my command over to my second, took what supplies I felt necessary in order to travel lightly: my two favorite horses, the gold-mounted chariot my cousin Tutankhaten had given me, and two changes of clothing. I and boarded a ship traveling north from Thebes. Huni accompanied me.
“We arrived at Sumneh, and Huni went ashore as I supervised the unloading of my horses and my chariot. Huni came back to me as I was thanking the ship captain. He seemed disturbed. He told me that no member of my father's family was allowed to speak with him, but that he was permitted to receive messengers. He offered to carry a message to my father for me, and so I asked him to do so and ask my father for the truth of his treatment.
“Huni returned to me late that afternoon with a description of my father's humiliation that would have brought tears of rage to the eyes of a granite statue. He spoke of my father's desperation, and he painted such a picture that I was mad with horror. Shackles, guards, and he housed in a filthy cell in the barracks. Huni told me he had been placed under arrest, and had only just succeeded in making his escape. He also told me he had learned I was to be arrested, and he suggested I leave at once.
“I should have known better, of course. But I trusted Huni and I wasn't thinking. I cast about frantically for a way to save my father, and suddenly I remembered my uncle's younger brother, Prince Thutmose, who was High Priest of Ptah at Memphis. I had seen little of him after my fourteenth year, when Pharaoh had issued his edict proscribing all gods but the Aten. Prince Thutmose had suffered much during that time, but he had emerged from the end of that reign with his integrity untouched, and with the respect of all.
“I thought that such a great and wise prince woul
d surely stretch out his hand to help my father. I intercepted a royal messenger who was traveling posthaste to Memphis, and gave a letter into his hand. In that letter I poured out my heart to Prince Thutmose and pleaded for his help. I said I was traveling to Memphis, myself, with all speed. I wrote out one more message, which I hid under the floor board of my chariot, and then harnessed my horses and drove north with a heart filled with hope.
“Hope makes any journey one of beauty, and I was caught by the sun glittering on the river, by the coolness of the wind as it blew south from Memphis. But gradually I began to notice things that made me uneasy. Sounds, movements behind me. I was a good soldier, and I was certain I was being followed by the second day after I had left Sumneh. I thought they were my father's enemies, trying to keep him from rescue.
“I tried to outrun them, but they were swift and frighteningly well-trained. I realized my only hope lay in reaching the desert passes and cutting straight north through the Arabian desert. I thought I might be able to make my way to one of the old caravan routes and reach Memphis that way. But it was no use. A detachment of the army had made a forced march and now guarded the passes. I circled south in a frantic attempt to reach and cross the Nile, but I was brought to bay the next afternoon.
“A troop of men, all with drawn bows, surrounded me, and General Horemheb was at their head. He said, “Surrender, you fool, and give up this treason!”
“I decided I would go down fighting rather than submit tamely and allow my fate to dishonor my father. I drew out and nocked an arrow, aimed it at Horemheb, and shouted back, “If it is treason to protect my father from disaster, then I am a traitor! You were never my enemy and I don't want to hurt you, but if you have joined the rest of those villains, you won't be with them for long. Stand aside or die!”
“Horemheb is a man whose words are few and harsh. He motioned to two archers who were ready to skewer me with their arrows, turned to me and said, “It's you who have brought your father to disaster! Listen to me: Nakht is dead because of you! Surrender and come back with me at once before matters get any worse!”