Heretic's dagger

by Lynda S. Robinson

  "What luck to find you alone so soon," a voice hissed.

  Meren was still too stunned to do more than gasp.

  "Listen to me, Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh. The doorkeeper was killed by someone he had debts with, a friend or a tavern keeper. Accuse one of them and settle this inquiry. Otherwise you're not so mighty that you can't be dispatched as easily as that drunken sot. Allow me to show you."

  Suddenly the blade sliced his throat, but Meren grabbed the arm of his attacker, ramming it backwards and rolling out of his grip at the same time. As he rolled a shadow swooped at him. It fastened hands on his head and jammed it into the hard packed earth of the stable floor. Blackness took him in less than a beat of his heart.

  The uproar over the attack on him caused Meren more pain than his injuries. Kysen stomped around giving orders to the charioteers to track the invader while Meren's daughters tried to put him to bed and called his physician. For his part, Meren was furious. It was humiliating for a king's warrior to be attacked in his own dwelling and beaten like a peasant who had failed to pay enough tax. Thus Meren was in a foul mood late the next morning when he went to pharaoh's palace to report on his progress sporting a bandage wrapped around his throat. It stuck out above the gold and lapis lazuli broad collar he wore. His head ached beneath the formal wig that fell to his shoulders. When he saw Meren the king wanted to call out the royal guard to arrest someone, anyone. It took all of Meren's persuasive skills to calm the boy down so that he could point out that they had no one to arrest.

  Ra's fiery orb was high in the sky before Meren was able to leave the palace and pay another visit to the house of Kar's family. Kysen was already at Hathor's Ornament with a squad of charioteers and scribes. They were going over the accounts and records of the royal women's household in search of inconsistencies. The questioning of the royal women would have to wait until Meren arrived.

  Meren now knew he was looking for someone other than a lowborn thief. His attacker had known how to use a blade and had fought like a warrior. That ruled out farmers, craftsmen and many scribes and government officials. And few men in Egypt had the temerity to threaten the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh and expect to get away with it. The attempt spoke of desperation or a rashness that seemed inconsistent with the careful way in which the murderer had concealed many of his actions.

  At Kar's house Meren noticed right away that the family's circumstances had changed. Wall hangings brightened the walls, food was more abundant, and Kar's father appeared almost cheerful.

  Wersu greeted him with a sad smile. "You honor us, Lord Meren."

  Glancing around the living area Meren nodded at a large wine jar on a stand. "I see many improvements since I was last here."

  "Ah, yes. I am ashamed that I had to conceal many of my possessions from Kar, my lord. He would take things and trade them for beer and wine. His mother had to hide her jewels, her clothing, even her linens."

  "Where is Mistress Qedet?"

  "I will fetch her.'

  Meren shook his head. "We will go to her."

  "She is upstairs, lord."

  In the master chamber Qedet was busy putting clean sheets on the bed that her son once occupied. When Meren entered she hastily tucked a sheet under the mattress and stuffed more folded linens into a box at the foot of the bed.

  "I want to ask you if Kar ever said anything about his work at Hathor's Ornament," Meren said.

  Wersu and Qedet glanced at each other.

  "Not much, my lord," said Wersu. "He didn't like Uthi, the overseer of doorkeepers and porters. But Kar never liked anyone who had authority over him. That was why he failed as an unguent maker."

  "And what about his sudden wealth? The gold bracelet, the other things?"

  Wersu flushed, and Qedet burst out, "We were so afraid he'd stolen them. Onuris told you about those things, I know. What were we to do? Give our son to the police? I couldn't bear the shame. Please, my lord, we're old and humble, and have been good subjects all our lives. May the gods witness how we tell the truth. We didn't steal, and Kar didn't tell us anything."

  No matter how he approached the matter, Meren couldn't alarm or trick Wersu or his wife into admitting being involved in their son's crimes. Further intimidation would be necessary, and that meant dragging the old couple to the barracks at his house. That could wait until he'd finished with the people at Hathor's Ornament. Then he would send men for Wersu and Qedet. Being summoned at a late hour to appear before him often was enough of a shock to loosen tongues. Meren eyed Wersu as the older man made more excuses for his son's crimes. Qedet added her own litany when Wersu ran out of breath. Losing interest in their justifications, Meren's attention strayed. His gaze drifted from the ceramic lamps distributed about the room to the small alabaster and faience tubes and trays used to hold eye paint and kohl eyeliner.

  That nagging irritable feeling was back. He was about to interrupt Qedet when his eye caught the newly made bed. Light streamed in from a window set high in the wall and caught the sheen of the linens on the bed. Such fine cloth, almost the quality of royal linen-soft, smooth, tightly woven. It was then that Meren remember his first visit to this house. He'd been talking to these two in the kitchen, and Qedet had been scrubbing a spot off a sheet, an ink spot. Only now Meren realized it hadn't been a spot. It had been a laundry mark, and that mark had been from the laundry at Hathor's Ornament. Meren suddenly shoved Wersu aside, walked over to the bed and pulled at the sheets.

  Wersu followed him, wringing his hands. "My lord!"

  Meren turned to him with the corner of a sheet in his hands. "Your wife couldn't remove the mark entirely. I can still see the name of the owner, Wersu. Your son stole this from Princess Iaret. It's time for the truth, unless you'd rather wait for the attentions of the city police."

  "No! No, my lord, please, I'll tell you what I know." Wersu licked his lips and clasped his trembling hands. "Kar brought home a large box of linens, and these are some of them. He-he wasn't stealing-"

  "I should have brought my whip," Meren snapped.

  "No, please, lord. Kar told me what he was doing one night when he was drunk. He knew a secret, a secret about one of the ladies, and she was giving him valuable things so that he would keep the secret."

  "Out with it, Wersu. The woman was Princess Iaret. What was the secret?"

  "It was that Princess Iaret had fallen in love with Lord Roma. She met him while performing her duties in the temple as a singer of the great god Amun. Kar saw them meeting secretly late one night in the garden of Hathor's Ornament. He went to the princess and threatened to expose the affair if she didn't pay him."

  Meren's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. It was worse than he'd imagined. Roma was the grandson of the Paranefer, the high priest of Amun. He had just stumbled onto what could be a plot to take the throne of Egypt. It had been done before. A man of great ambition could marry a royal princess. If he had enough backing from the powerful temples and nobles, he could seize the throne and legitimate his claim through his wife. This was why so many princesses remained within the royal women's household where pharaoh could keep an eye on them. Iaret was the daughter of Akhenaten. Roma was a young man of great skill as a warrior, having won battles against the wild tribes of Nubia and rebellions Asiatic vassal princes. He had a large following in the army. Together Roma and the princess could be a real threat to the immature Tutankhamun, especially with the richest temple in Egypt, that of Amun, behind them. Cursing, Meren left Wersu and Qedet pleading for leniency and making excuses for themselves instead of their son. As he stepped out of the house he heard Qedet screeching at Wersu, blaming him for their misery. His last sight was of Wersu, his flaccid skin pale, his eyes watery, staring after Meren like the shade of one without a tomb doomed to wander lost forever.

  Instead of going to Hathor's Ornament, Meren returned home and sent for Kysen and his men. He spent a few hours in preparation before dispatching a messenger with a polite invitation for Lord Roma to visit him. The young man arr
ived near dusk. Meren received him in the reception hall of his town house, a graceful room with a high ceiling supported by eight slender columns in the form a water lilies. Wearing an intricately pleated robe of royal linen, a gold broad collar set with carnelian and turquoise, and matching armbands, Meren was seated on the master dais in a gilded chair. Kysen and Abu stood beside him.

  Roma strolled into the reception hall resplendent in his own jewels and fine linen. He was one of those men who, despite being rather plain, exuded an air of power and confidence. "An invitation from the great Lord Meren. An unexpected honor." He bowed slightly, the salute of one equal to another.

  "Welcome, and may the gods bless you, Lord Roma. May I inquire as to the health of your grandfather?"

  "He's well, considering his great age." Without being invited Roma sat in a chair near the dais and helped himself from a bowl of dates on a nearby table. "What's the purpose of your invitation, Meren? I'm due at the temple for the evening ritual. I'm a lector priest, you know."

  "A learned man and a skilled warrior," Meren said softly. "Admirable accomplishments for one so young. The ladies at court must find you irresistible."

  Something flickered in Roma's eyes, but he answered easily. "No more irresistible than you, Meren. You should have remarried by now, if you'll pardon me. You wife has been dead many years."

  "True, Roma." Meren rose and stepped down from the dais, ending up beside his guest. He bent down and hissed, "But I don't have a princess besotted with love for me." As he spoke Meren pulled Roma's dagger out of its sheath and rested it against the hollow of his throat. Leaning close, he said, "I don't appreciate being attacked from behind in my own home, Roma. I ought to gut you just for that."

  Roma had frozen when Meren drew his dagger. He met Meren's eyes, lifted his chin and spat, "So you know. I've done nothing wrong."

  "Corrupting a royal princess, you call that nothing? We shall see what pharaoh thinks of it." Meren straightened as Kysen and Abu joined him and took up positions on either side of Roma. "You should have made sure Kar was dead before you left him. I'm surprised you didn't take him farther out into the desert."

  "Kar." Roma's dark eyes flashed with anger. "You think I killed that worthless donkey's arse? I didn't even know he was threatening Iaret until she confessed to me after you came to see her. She kept it from me because she knew I would kill him. You can ask her."

  "I will, and I'm going to ask her if she gave you a dagger engraved with the name Nefer-kheperu-re."

  "Well, she didn't," Roma sneered. "I happen to know that dagger just came in a couple of months ago. It was from a lot of items moved from the royal palace in the Fayuum Oasis. It had been her mother's. If Kar was killed with it, Iaret gave it to him to keep him quiet."

  Meren realized with admiration that the sweet-natured and seemingly guileless Iaret had deceived him with great skill. He opened his mouth to reply, but shouting sounded at the front door. Something crashed to the floor in the entry hall, and an old priest charged into the hall followed by several retainers.

  "What are you doing here, Paranefer?" Meren demanded.

  Paranefer stopped and leaned on his walking stick, his scrawny chest heaving. "What are you doing with my grandson?"

  "Don't bore me with this air of injured innocence," Meren said as he walked away from Roma. "I know the plot, Paranefer. You're not going to marry your grandson into the royal family. You'll be lucky to escape this with your life."

  "What!" Paranefer squawked. He rounded on Lord Roma. "What's this, boy?"

  Meren rolled his eyes, but Roma was staring at the floor and turning red. Curious, Meren remained silent while Paranefer continued.

  "Is this true? Answer me, you addled colt!"

  "Yes," Roma mumbled.

  Paranefer let out a squeal of outrage. "What have you done? Who is it? Who is the woman?" His grandson muttered under his breath. "Who? I didn't hear you."

  "It's Princess Iaret," Meren said as he watched Roma shrink under the molten gaze of his grandfather. His swagger and confidence had vanished.

  The old priest's jaw dropped. He whacked Roma on the head and took his seat, his hands trembling. "A daughter of the heretic! May Amun protect me." He glared at Roma. "You would taint our blood by allying yourself with the spawn of that great criminal?"

  Roma straightened and faced Paranefer. "I love her."

  "What?" Paranefer regarded his grandson with horror.

  "I love her!"

  "Nonsense. No one could fall in love with one of the heretic's brood. You've betrayed me. May the gods witness my anguish." Paranefer moaned and spewed epithets at his grandson.

  While the two argued, Meren took Kysen and Abu aside.

  "They've forgotten about us," he said ruefully.

  "Aye, Father. I believe the old man was ignorant of Roma's doings."

  "Indeed," Abu said. "His outrage wasn't feigned."

  Meren shook his head. "Love. I never considered it."

  "That's what comes of being so jaded," Kysen said with a grin.

  Frowning at his son, Meren said, "Nevertheless, Roma has interfered with a royal princess." He thought for a few moments. "However, one could view the liaison differently, as an opportunity to form an alliance with an old enemy."

  "Paranefer would hate it," Kysen said with a bigger grin.

  "All the more reason to approach pharaoh with the idea. I shall consider it."

  Abu cleared his throat. "And what of the murder, lord?"

  "Yes, I'm inclined to believe someone else killed Kar with that the dagger he got from the princess," Meren said. "It's the simplest explanation."

  Kysen looked at him inquiringly "Who?"

  Meren said nothing for a few moments, toying with Roma's dagger as he thought. "By the mercy of Amun," he breathed.

  "What is it, Father?"

  "Abu, my chariot, quickly. We may be too late."

  Meren paced back and forth. Kysen watched him anxiously while Paranefer and Roma argued, oblivious to their surroundings.

  "What's wrong?" Kysen asked.

  "I'm probably too late," Meren muttered.

  "Father!"

  Meren rounded on his son. "You stay here and watch our two guests, but don't keep them. They're not going to flee the city."

  "Where are you going?"

  Heading for the door, Meren said, "I'll take Abu with me."

  Running out of the house, he found Abu careening around the corner of the house driving his chariot. The vehicle swerved so that Meren could jump in, and they rumbled down the tree-lined avenue and out the gate in the wall that surrounded the estate. Scattering pedestrians, herds of sheep and donkeys, they clattered over the packed earth, down narrow streets and around precipitous corners. They skidded to a halt at a corner occupied by a stall selling fresh beer because the chariot wouldn't fit between it and the opposite house. Meren leaped to the ground with Abu close behind him and raced around the corner. He hurtled down the street and saw Wersu in his courtyard pulling on the tether of a donkey loaded with parcels. Meren stopped just beyond the courtyard wall, but the old man hadn't seen him. Wersu's front door was open, and he was shouting at someone inside.

  "Hurry! Leave the rest! I have the valuables already."

  Qedet shouted back. "I'm not leaving my linens!"

  "Taking a trip, Wersu?" Meren asked softly.

  The old man gasped and whirled around. Seeing Meren, he paled and opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Wersu's gaze jumped from Meren to the tall, imposing charioteer at his side.

  Meren's fingers ran over the beads of electrum and lapis lazuli in the belt that cinched his robe over his kilt. "How unlike Kar to be so generous as to give you that valuable royal linen. I find myself unable to believe your tale, Wersu. I think Kar kept all his loot to himself. I think you were furious at him for this last and greatest injury. Did Kar threaten to leave and take his wealth with him after all you'd put up with from him?"

  Dropping the donkey's tether, Wersu sobbed
and dropped to the ground at Meren's feet.

  Unmoved, Meren continued. "I think if I look in those carefully wrapped bundles on you donkey I'll find more of Princess Iaret's possessions. What do you think?"

  Wersu raised himself, but he spoke to Meren's sandaled feet. "I beg mercy, great lord. Kar wouldn't share anything, not a bead, not a scrap of linen, and Qedet-. My wife has always berated me for my lack of ambition and wealth. I thought to myself, at last, here is a chance to please her. She will love me as I've always wished now that I can give her the luxuries she craves. But Kar refused. After all I'd done for him, for years. I couldn't bear it, and Qedet kept complaining and criticizing." Wersu was quivering. "I so tired and unhappy. I just wanted her to stop telling me what a failure I was, and Kar wouldn't help me."

  "So you followed him to his hiding place and confronted him," Meren said.

  The old man nodded. "He was in the cave admiring his newest treasure, that d-dagger. I didn't mean to kill him." Wersu was crying now. "He was my son, but he never listened, just never listened. Wouldn't listen to me. I didn't mean to hurt him, but he wouldn't listen."

  Meren winced at the way Wersu seemed to disintegrate in front of him. At that moment the front door to Wersu's house banged open, and Qedet backed outside with a long wicker box. She maneuvered her burden across the threshold, turned and saw Meren. Shrieking, she dropped the box, spilling royal linen into the dusty courtyard.

  Glancing at a sheath dress with a hem embroidered in purple and gold, Meren said, "Ah, Mistress Qedet. I think you'll find that those linens have come at a higher price than even you are willing to pay."

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