"Kar was annoying, but that is all."
Meren spent a few more unproductive minutes talking the Wersu and Qedet. Then he went on a tour around the house, leaving the parents grieving in the kitchen. They seemed to be much like other parents, the mother doting, the father stern, both disappointed in their younger son.
He didn't expect to find anything incriminating in this house, but he liked to get a sense of people from their homes and possessions. Kar lived with his brother and parents in this house all his life; it might have something to say to him.
Beginning in the living area, Meren noted the only furniture besides the eating table was a stool made of cheap sycamore wood with a woven seat. The kitchen had baskets of food, but not in any great quantity-bread, onions, dates, leeks and a couple of wrinkled cucumbers. Bread and onions were the staples of the commoner class, Meren knew, as was beer. He'd seen no beer jars, but if Kar was a drinker…
Meren took an interior stair down to the cellar. Here he found one jar of dried peas, one of beer and one of fish oil. He opened a small reed basket filled with dates. Onions hung from the ceiling. A dozen or so jars stood empty along with several wicker boxes.
"No spices," Meren muttered. "No dried fish."
Leaving the cellar, he went upstairs and found himself in the main bedroom. Here sat a wooden bed with a plaited rush base and straw-filled mattress. The sheets were askew and looked as if they were seldom straightened. However, they were of good quality, probably the grade called fine thin cloth, almost as good as royal linen. Evidently unlike the linen in the kitchen, Qedet didn't wash these delicate sheets, for they had laundry marks. The portable stool that served as a lavatory stood over a pottery jar filled with sand. It hadn't been emptied. In a corner, rumpled and dirty, were a couple of loincloths and a kilt. Half a dozen empty beer jars stood around the bed. Meren surveyed the room with a frown. It appeared that the drunkard Kar had slept in the large master chamber.
In the remaining room opposite Meren found three sleeping mats, more clothing in a rickety wicker box, and a tarnished bronze hand mirror in a bag along with a comb and cosmetic set. It was peculiar that Wersu and Qedet shared a chamber with their oldest son. This was Wersu's house; he should have occupied the larger, better room.
Mounting the stairs again, Meren went onto the roof where a loom sat under an awning of palm leaves. Nearby he saw a small fireplace over which rested a tripod. Looking over the roof to the courtyard in front of the house Meren saw a beehive shaped grain bin. One lonely goose pecked at grain scattered on the ground. Beyond the courtyard the street was busy. A herdsman ushered cattle down narrow road while a man led a donkey loaded with palm fronds the opposite way. A self-important priest wearing a leopard skin cloak and carrying a walking stick thrashed at a group of boys who danced around and taunted him. Groups of women passed by with laundry in baskets on their heads; some carried water jars. It was a typical busy city street, dirty, noisy and cheerful. Kar's house was barren, deserted, quiet. The family hadn't even hired professional mourners to stand about crying and throwing ashes and rending their garments as people usually did. Meren doubted that Wersu could afford them.
Meren was glad to leave the house. It oppressed his spirits with its air of lost prosperity and strained relationships. The family of Wersu wasn't a happy one, but there seemed to be no undercurrents of violence that could have led to murder. Meren headed for the royal precinct.
The main Theban palace occupied by the royal women's household was called Hathor's Ornament. The steward who oversaw the running of the household, Lord Peya, sent Meren to the master of doorkeepers and porters, a man of foreign descent called Uthi. Uthi was one of those men who glided when he walked, spoke with hands fluttering and lisped.
"Kar?" Uthi's hands fluttered as he stood before Meren in the lofty reception chamber of the palace. "What would the great Lord Meren want with that lazy donkey?" When Meren didn't answer, Uthi went on. "Kar worked as a doorkeeper here for almost a year, great one. But he was never satisfactory. He fell asleep on duty, showed up late. Sometimes he left his post, but worst of all, he was drunk most of the time. The other doorkeepers and porters told me that when he received his ration payments he would at once spend them on more drink."
"What finally caused you to get rid of him?"
Uthi sniffed. "I like to think of myself as a tolerant man, o great lord. But three weeks ago when I told Kar his wages would be reduced because he was sleeping on the job, he abused me and tried to strike me. I fended him off with my staff. Luckily my assistant was with me, and he wrestled Kar to the ground. I think all that beer finally pickled his wits. That's the thanks I get for trying to serve the royal ladies so faithfully. Why, I only kept him on because he was in Princess Iaret's favor. If it weren't for her, he would have been cast out long before. And after all, what did he have to do but stand at a garden gate and open it occasionally."
"Princess Iaret favored a doorkeeper?"
Uthi must have sensed Meren's skepticism. "Oh, yes, mighty lord. Princess Iaret is a sweet lady, full of kindness and compassion. She is always giving aid to the lowest servants. She even speaks up for slaves accused of stealing. Her reputation for goodness is well know to the royal household."
"Of course."
Meren remembered Iaret now. She the half-royal offspring of the heretic Akhenaten and a lowborn concubine. Had Iaret been a male child, she would have had a chance of becoming pharaoh, but as a woman, she was just one of many superfluous royal children. Most such half-royal princesses lived uneventful lives in the royal women's household forgotten by the court. Meren asked a few more questions.
Soon Meren dismissed Uthi and started pacing the reception room. He had a murder weapon that had once belonged to Akhenaten, and now he learned that the dead man had been favored by one of Akhenaten's half-royal daughters. Was there a connection? He couldn't imagine Princess Iaret stabbing a doorkeeper, but perhaps the dagger was an inheritance from her father. Kar might have stolen it. Uthi had denied that Kar was a thief, saying that the man was too drunk to steal most of the time, and at other times he was asleep.
Meren requested an audience with Princess Iaret, who quickly appeared in the reception chamber carrying her pet cat. Iaret's mother had been beautiful, as was the case with most royal concubines. Unfortunately the nineteen-year-old princess had inherited Akhenaten's horse face, hollow shoulders and spindly legs. However, Meren hadn't spent more than a few moments in her company before he understood why Uthi had been so effusive in praise of her.
"Dear Lord Meren, what a surprise. How are your lovely daughters? Isis is the youngest, is she not? And such a beauty."
"All are well, princess."
"And your fine son Kysen?" She asked as she stroked the cat in her arms. "I have heard that he is becoming a skillful warrior like his father."
"You're kind, my lady."
"I visited Tefnut and Bener at your town house last month, but you were away. Your daughters were kind enough to give me plant cuttings for the garden. Your house is magnificent."
"Thank you, princess."
Iaret indicated two high-backed chairs of ebony and ivory. "Let us sit, my lord. Why insist on stuffy etiquette, eh?"
Iaret seated herself and settled her cat on her lap. To Meren the creature looked like a miniature Sa-long and lean with shining black fur. This cat's eyes weren't green, though. They were tawny gold and as large as olives. Iaret was holding the cat up to her face.
"My little Miu. You got lost yesterday didn't you. Mother was frantic. Yes she was." Iaret turned to Meren. "She went out hunting and got lost in the servants quarters. She's the first animal I've ever owned, and I love her dearly. I don't know what I'd do if I lost her." Iaret's eyes grew bright with tears. She buried her nose in Miu's black fur. "You will think me foolish, Lord Meren."
"Soft hearted, princess, but not foolish. It is never foolish to give one's love."
Iaret looked at him over her cat and grinned. "They say you're
the consummate royal courtier, and now I know why."
"Forgive me, my lady," Meren said with a smile. "I have a few questions I would like to ask you."
"Yes?"
"Do you own a bronze dagger with an alabaster pommel?"
"What an odd question. Why do you ask?"
"Please, my lady. Do you own such a dagger?"
"No, I don't think so." Iaret's brow furrowed. "I own a few knives, cosmetic implements like razors and the like. I've no need of a dagger." She gestured widely. "There are plenty of guards with daggers and spears should I need a weapon."
"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 favorite 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 that 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 gotten 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 ridden 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.
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