Scepter of Flint

by N. L. Holmes

  “You must have me confused with someone else,” the Mitannian blustered. “I demand to be released.”

  “You look like Talpu-sharri to me—unless he has an identical twin. I arrest you for tomb robbing and murder.” Hani was relentless, but although he wanted very badly to do violence to this impious specimen, he dared not. He was already operating outside the law.

  “Who are you?” cried Talpu-sharri, his voice rising. “You’re not policemen.”

  “No. You would have recognized your friend Mahu, wouldn’t you?” Hani said contemptuously. “I’m from the foreign service. Because you’re a foreigner who has committed heinous crimes on Egyptian soil.”

  “You can’t do that. I have immunity,” Talpu-sharri protested wildly.

  A doubt began to simmer in Hani’s gut, but he said, “The servants of royal wives don’t have immunity, Talpu-sharri.”

  “I’m no man’s servant!” the captive cried hotly. “I demand to see your king.”

  In fact, anyone accused of a crime could request the king’s personal judgment, but a Mitannian was unlikely to know that. This was arrogant bravado. Hani said, “We’ll start by visiting the high commissioner. Since you murdered his wife and tried to rob her tomb, he may or may not be inclined to mercy.” He turned to the men who held the prisoner between them. “Take him to Lord Ptah-mes.”

  “I want my ambassador!”

  “You’ll see him.” Hani reached out and grabbed Talpu-sharri by the upper arm. His hand closed on metal. “What’s this, an armlet? In this country, my friend, we usually wear our jewelry outside our clothes.” He turned to one of the servants. “Cut off his sleeve.”

  The man pulled out his knife and hacked the fine wool off at the shoulder. A handsome gold armlet was revealed. It looked suspiciously like one of the pieces of the gold of honor.

  Hani ripped it from around Talpu-sharri’s arm.

  “I protest! You can’t rob me like that!” cried the Mitannian, trying to grab it with his shackled hands.

  But Hani pulled it out of reach and stared at it, a smile growing on his face. “You don’t read our language, do you? Or else you would have known that this has the name of the owner inscribed on it. It was an honorific gift of Neb-ma’at-ra to a certain Ah-mes.” He turned, and he and Maya led the way in a torchlit procession through the streets. Hani earnestly hoped that the police wouldn’t show up, although it was likely that the local medjay knew nothing about Mahu’s grievances against him. Hani had a suspicion that the orders to Menna had come from outside the official channels anyway—perhaps Hani wasn’t quite the pariah he had feared.

  It was nearing the approach of dawn when Hani knocked on Ptah-mes’s gate. A sleepy-eyed porter admitted them and asked them to wait. After a longer stretch of time than usual, Ptah-mes himself appeared, immaculately shaved and dressed in full court splendor, as if he’d spent the night in his best clothes, awaiting the arrival of the miscreant. Hani suspected that he had jumped into his garments as soon as his servant awoke him, not being the sort to receive people shirtless and wigless.

  “I see you have him, Hani,” said the commissioner in a carefully neutral voice. He was easily as tall as Talpu-sharri and exuded authority from every pore.

  Hani grinned with savage satisfaction. “Yes, my lord. And here is the proof of his crimes—an armlet from the tomb of Ah-mes.”

  “This is an outrage,” the Mitannian cried. “How dare you abduct me like this? My ambassador will hear of it.” He tried to shrug off the grip of the two servants, but they kept him in control.

  “He will indeed.” Ptah-mes strolled around Talpu-sharri as if to consider him from every angle. “What was the purpose of your crimes, Talpu-sharri? Why was a chamberlain of the Beloved Royal Wife interested in murdering then robbing the tombs of Egyptian officials? Was it mere greed or something more sinister?”

  “I refuse to answer,” said the chamberlain disdainfully.

  So quickly that Hani hardly saw it coming, Ptah-mes backhanded his captive hard across the face. Talpu-sharri staggered back at the unexpected blow. Cool and graceful as ever, Ptah-mes stepped away. His expression was blank, but Hani saw the muscles in his jaw jumping.

  “That’s no way to answer a magistrate of the Two Lands, Talpu-sharri,” Ptah-mes said calmly. “What was the purpose of your crimes?”

  “I have committed no crimes. My whole life has been devoted to the good of the kingdom.” His cheek was bleeding from where Ptah-mes’s rings had torn the skin.

  “Which kingdom?” Hani snorted skeptically.

  “Naharin. And Kemet too.”

  Hani turned to Maya and said under his breath, “Go get Keliya, if he’s in town.”

  Maya melted away into the dark vestibule.

  Ptah-mes ordered his men to throw Talpu-sharri into an unlit bedroom and guard the door, adding, “If he needs to urinate, let him do it on the floor like the jackal he is.” They hustled the Mitannian off to his prison with much scuffling and loud cries of outrage. As the noise died away, Ptah-mes turned to Hani. “Who is he, Hani?”

  “My father has said from the start that the man wasn’t a mere servant. I think his instinct was correct. But who Talpu-sharri really is, I couldn’t tell you, my lord. Yet.”

  A commotion at the door made them look up. Maya entered, followed by Keliya, whose long face looked worried. His recently abandoned pillow had left creases on the side of his cheek. “My lord Ptah-mes. Hani. What’s going on?”

  “We’ve arrested a countryman of yours, my lord,” said Ptah-mes. “For five murders and tomb robbing. He claims immunity. Can you identify him? Is he a member of your mission?”

  Keliya’s eyes grew wide, and he shot Hani a look. “Let me see him.”

  Hani escorted him to the door of Talpu-sharri’s prison, and the two servants on duty opened the door for him to look in. Keliya stood on the threshold for a space of time. Hani heard the man inside say, “Who are you?”

  “I am King Tushratta’s ambassador. You apparently wanted to see me. Do I know you?” Keliya replied.

  Talpu-sharri gave a bark of laughter. “Tushratta? He’s no longer king of anything. You have no authority.”

  Keliya considered him thoughtfully. “Then why did you ask to see me?”

  “I thought—” Talpu-sharri began, but then he broke off. After another length of time, when Talpu-sharri had failed to complete his sentence, the ambassador turned back to the salon, and the guards shut the door behind him.

  “Well?” Ptah-mes asked once Keliya had returned to their midst.

  “I have no idea who he is—certainly no part of my mission. I can’t imagine what he means by having immunity. Hani had told me earlier that he was the chamberlain of Lady Kiya, but apart from that, I know nothing. However”—he looked at Ptah-mes and Hani in turn—“from his words, I suspect he’s a supporter of Artatama.”

  “Was what he said about Tushratta true? Has he been overthrown?” Hani asked.

  “I’ve received no word of that, but it was certainly imminent. It may well be true by now.”

  The three men stood staring at each other. At last, Ptah-mes said contemptuously, “Are all Artatama’s followers impious, murdering dogs, Lord Keliya?”

  “In my opinion, yes.” Keliya’s droopy face twitched in a sarcastic smile. “I wash my hands of this man, Ptah-mes. If you want to impale him, you have my blessing.” Ptah-mes and Hani thanked him for turning out so early, and Keliya made his way to the door. He turned briefly to say in a low voice to Hani, “Let’s get together one more time before I go, eh, friend?” Then he stepped out onto the dark porch, and Hani heard his shoes scuffling away into the garden.

  Hani heaved a sigh. “It sounds like Keliya has lost his protector too.”

  “Unstable times,” murmured Ptah-mes cryptically. “I’m going to Akhet-aten to speak to the king. I need to have an authoritative word on what’s happening.”

  “If you give me time to go home and pack a bag, I’ll join you, my lor
d.”

  Ptah-mes nodded, saying, “Meet me at the boat,” and Hani and Maya took their leave.

  Once in the street, Hani said, “You don’t have to come, Maya. I don’t really have any role to play in this audience—I just want to know the outcome as soon as possible.”

  “But I want to come, my lord.” Maya looked stricken at the idea of not being part of the grim adventure.

  Hani’s heart warmed with tenderness for the little man, with his courage and his youthful idealism. As for himself, Hani felt very old and cynical. He suppressed a sigh and tried to sound upbeat.

  “The king will surely put all this straight. I still wonder if Ay isn’t doing things behind his back.”

  “I’ll go pack a bag and join you, Lord Hani.”

  CHAPTER 13

  ONCE HE WAS IN AKHET-aten, Hani decided to kill the morning by saying hello to his brother. Aha was traveling, and his family was away in the country, but Pipi would still be around. So while Ptah-mes set off for the Great House and Maya went to see his mother, Hani headed in the other direction. Hani and Ptah-mes were to rendezvous at lunch, unless Ptah-mes was still in his audience.

  Pipi’s new home had about it the rawness of a house that hadn’t been lived in long, with its sharp-cornered mud-brick walls and eye-assaulting whitewash. The modest garden was all newly planted and spindly, but Hani had a sense that Pipi’s large, boisterous family would soften it up rather quickly. Nedjem-ib greeted him at the door with loud cries of pleasure, and she shouted inside, “Pipi, it’s Hani!”

  She escorted him into the salon. The paintings of water lilies and reeds around the top of the red dado weren’t even complete, and the wooden columns were unpainted altogether. “I’m so tired of having to keep the children away from wet paint,” she complained breezily, pulling off her wig and running her hands through her bushy hair.

  “It’s a very nice place, my sister. Whose good taste is all this, yours or Pipi’s?”

  She laughed heartily. “Pipi is as tone-deaf with his eyes as he is with his ears. But we love him anyway.”

  Pipi bounded into the salon with outstretched arms. “Hani! Welcome to my house. How do you like it?”

  “It’s beautiful,” Hani replied as he and his brother embraced. “You’ve done an excellent job.” He grinned wryly at Pipi. “You’re turning into a conventional householder.”

  “Well, you know,” Pipi said, ducking his head in pleasure and embarrassment. “A new job, a new life.”

  “Listen to him!” crowed Nedjem-ib. “Next he’ll want a new wife, young and slim.” She was as plump as Pipi. But they seemed to enjoy one another inordinately, always doubling over with laughter at each other’s jokes, and Hani had a hard time imagining Pipi as a man with a roving eye.

  “What brings you to the capital, Hani?” Pipi pressed as they took stools under the ventilator. His face was still red and beaming with the pleasure of receiving Hani in his handsome new house.

  Hani suppressed a smile of tenderness for his little brother and said more seriously, “We’re here while Lord Ptah-mes has an audience with the king. That is, if Nefer-khepru-ra will receive him.”

  “The thing is,” said Pipi earnestly, “why would Lord Ay want to kill people and rob their tombs?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know.” Hani was tempted to tell Pipi about the arrest of Talpu-sharri, but it was too sensitive a matter. Hani and Ptah-mes might be outlaws by now, and nothing revealed to Pipi would be secret for long. “Why are you not at work today?” he said to change the subject.

  “It’s another holiday. The king is going to bestow the gold of honor on some people, so everything shuts down. Half the scribes will be there, anyway, to watch with envy while their colleagues are honored.”

  Hani wondered how the king would grant Ptah-mes an audience if he were occupied all day with ceremonies, but he said nothing about it and asked his brother to show him around his new place. As they strolled through the garden of saplings, Hani said, “Are you still wanting to become a farmer?”

  “Maybe,” Pipi said indifferently. “I’ve been thinking it might be nice to be an investigator.”

  Here goes the competition again, thought Hani with an inward sad smile. He said carefully, “That’s not really a career, Pipi. It’s just something a superior may ask you to do from time to time.”

  “Oh, I know I don’t speak all kinds of languages like you, brother,” Pipi said, sounding disappointed.

  “That has nothing to do with it. You just have to be asked—or told. It’s a task, not a job.”

  “But I’ve worked with you on this case, Hani.”

  “True, and perhaps your overseer will remember that when he looks for someone to investigate for him,” Hani said kindly.

  “Who exactly does an archivist investigate?” said Pipi, not mollified.

  Hani laughed in spite of himself and gave his brother a quick squeeze. “You’re doing well for yourself, Pipi. This house is beautiful.” He turned to go and called over his shoulder, “Make my goodbyes to Nedjem-ib, will you?”

  His stomach told him lunchtime was approaching, so he set out for Ptah-mes’s villa on the off chance that the commissioner might already have obtained an audience, though it was more likely that the audience had been put off till some time in the future. He took a seat in the garden pavilion and stretched out his legs. The day was hot, and Hani found himself sliding imperceptibly toward sleep.

  “Ah, Hani. Here you are.” Ptah-mes’s voice brought him quickly to consciousness. Hani rose, flustered.

  “Where is Maya?” said Ptah-mes with a smile.

  “I’m not sure, my lord. He went to visit his mother, and he may or may not still be there. Perhaps he’s taking a siesta. As you see, I found the same occupation very tempting.”

  Ptah-mes made a noise resembling a laugh, but his face had resumed its somber lines.

  Hani asked hesitantly, “Did you have your audience, my lord?”

  “I did, Hani, before the good god went off to bestow the shebyu collar on several men. Among them, our friend Mahu.”

  Hani’s stomach did a flop, like the final throes of a fish in the mouth of a gull. “Does that foreshadow what I think you’re going to say?”

  Ptah-mes seated himself, straightening his skirts, then he crossed his legs, clasped his hands around his knee, and nodded slowly. “Let me start at the beginning. I commenced by telling Nefer-khepru-ra that I was pleased to announce that you had apprehended the culprit in the crimes he had commissioned us to investigate.”

  “And how did he react?”

  “He commended you for your skills, Hani. He said, ‘We can always trust our dear Hani to pursue his quest to the end.’ The tone I found... ambiguous. But then, our king is a master of ambiguity.”

  “He said that?” Hani cried, a wave of uneasiness breaking over him. He’d hoped more than anything not to attract the king’s notice.

  “And then he said that the death of the lamented Aper-el had put a brake on things in the Hall of Correspondence, that some affairs were going to have to be dropped to make way for the new vizier’s agenda.” Ptah-mes smiled bleakly. “Can you see where this is going?”

  Hani felt rage rising like hot steam up his face; it vented itself in a loud snort. “Only too well, my lord. They’re stopping the case.”

  “Oh, no. Ma’at must come to light. But the vizier and the foreign service will no longer have charge of it.”

  “And Mahu and his medjay will?” Hani could no longer control the sarcasm in his voice. He threw up his hands. “That’s like saying the investigation will stop. I don’t doubt that he intervened at Lady Apeny’s tomb to take the robbers to safety, not to arrest them.”

  Ptah-mes’s face flickered with hatred then settled into blankness. “I told Our Sun God that there was some evidence that Lord Ay might be involved in working for a regime change.” He curled his lip in a bleak simulacrum of a smile. “He said, ‘Oh, no. He’s completely loyal, have no fear.’”r />
  “Frankly, that makes me fear the more,” Hani said grimly. “That suggests the king himself is aware of the collusion of the cavalry in this sordid business.”

  Ptah-mes rose and walked to the edge of the porch as if he could no longer restrain his nerves. “I told him that my wife had been one of the victims, Hani. He said first, ‘Our condolences,’ and then he said, ‘Can you prove they were murdered?’ Needless to say, I admitted that we could not. And he said, ‘Well, then. This remains an improbable theory.’” He reseated himself.

  “Well, I now have evidence that at least some of the deaths were murders.” Hani told Ptah-mes briefly about Neferet’s experiment on the contents of the cup from Sa-tau’s house.

  “I think no one is much concerned with evidence in this case, my friend. For your daughter’s safety, say nothing of this.”

  Hani was so full of disgust and hopelessness he could hardly speak. He groaned and put his hand over his eyes. “I suppose the fact that we found some of Ah-mes’s jewelry on Talpu-sharri’s arm is nothing more than an improbable theory too.”

  Ptah-mes sneered. “The king also told me that Artatama is now on the throne of Naharin.”

  “No surprise there. No surprise in any of this, in fact. Our government is a pigsty of corruption, starting with—” Hani stopped himself in time.

  “Life, prosperity, and health to him,” finished Ptah-mes with a caustic smile.

  “And what becomes of Talpu-sharri now?”

  “We are to turn him over to Mahu.”

  Overcome with frustrated rage, Hani slammed his palm down on the stool at his side. He sat there, his breath sawing in his nose. Then he said in a tight voice, “I hope you’ll forgive me for not staying for lunch, my lord, but I feel I can’t spend another hour in this city of the damned. As soon as I find Maya, we’ll be gone.”

  But instead of replying, Ptah-mes, staring into space, concluded the recital of his audience as he said in self-contempt, “And then I said, ‘I thank my Sun God for bestowing upon me the breath of life.’”

  ⸎

  Maya was not in his room. He’d said something about using the morning wait to visit his mother’s workshop, so Hani was preparing to go look for him there when the secretary came barreling into the house. Before Hani could even tell him about their imminent departure, Maya blurted, “Oh, my lord. Get out! Get out! I passed a whole troop of policemen on their way here. It can mean nothing good.”