by N. L. Holmes
Hani chuckled. “I saw it. Did you object and try to talk her out of it?”
“Not at all. It’s very fashionable with young people right now because of the princesses. She can always wear a wig for dressy occasions.” Nub-nefer delicately lifted a fig from the tray. “She said it would obviate questions about why she had her maiden braids when she was fifty years old and still unmarried.”
You are a gem among women, Hani told his wife silently. Love won, just as I knew it would. He got to his feet. “I need to get some work done before the dinner at Keliya’s this evening. I told Maya to come over. Let’s see if he’s inside.”
He leaned over to kiss Nub-nefer on the top of her head as he passed. With the egg in its basket cradled against his chest, he moved into the shadowy depths of the house. It was cooler inside than out. Sure enough, Maya sat on the floor with his writing tools spread around him, waiting.
“Sorry I’m late, son. Nub-nefer brought out fruit, and I couldn’t resist staying for a piece or two.”
“That’s all right, my lord,” said the secretary. “I was going over a few stanzas of my tale in my head. The confrontation at Lord Ptah-mes’s will be an asset, I think—conflict is a favorite.”
Hani shook his head and laughed as he seated himself next to Maya. “I have a dinner tonight with Keliya. He promised me a surprise.”
Maya’s face grew suddenly grave and uneasy. “My lord, please don’t think I’m acting out of place, but I feel I must warn you. I have doubts about Lord Keliya.”
Hani stared at him in surprise. “Whatever for? I’ve known the man for years.”
Maya’s voice dropped conspiratorially. “Remember how shifty he was when you asked him about Pirissi? He’s concealing something.”
“Undoubtedly. He can’t reveal Naharin’s secrets to a couple of foreigners.”
“But, Lord Hani, think about it. He pretended Pirissi was a bona fide diplomat, and he kept deflecting your suspicions. But it turned out Pirissi was as guilty as anything.” Maya’s eyes were wide and avid. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this. Do we know for sure that the soldier was the one who warned Talpu-sharri that we were coming? We were pretty uncensored in telling Keliya all our thinking. Who better than he to hide a Mitannian? He could pass him off as a member of the embassy—”
“But he didn’t, Maya. He turned him over to us and said, ‘Impale him for all I care.’” Of course, that could have been bravado. Or perhaps he’d finished with the man and was disposing of him. But Hani found himself more than a little defensive. This was Keliya they were talking about, a man who was like a brother to him. “Can you possibly think Keliya was a party to murder and tomb robbing?”
“My lord, I don’t know him as well as you do, but perhaps that makes me less prejudiced. All I’m saying is, be careful. If he’s part of this, he’s ruthless, and he’s able to conceal his real thoughts like a master.”
Hani was deeply disturbed by this speculation because, in fact, he didn’t—and couldn’t—know what Keliya might be up to. The ambassador’s loyalties necessarily lay with Naharin, after all. Are the Mitannians somehow working to replace Nefer-khepru-ra with a less hostile king? Hani chewed his lip, wanting to cry, “You’re crazy, Maya.” But perhaps Maya was perceptive and he, Hani, was just naive. Perhaps he’d let his affection for the man of Naharin blind him to things he should have seen. Perhaps there were two truths even here—Keliya was a kind, charming man, and Keliya was involved in some nefarious scheme.
He said somberly, “I hope before all the gods you’re wrong, Maya, but I’ll keep my eyes open.”
They set to work then, but Hani was distracted by his tumultuous thoughts. His strained loyalties. His fears.
⸎
Shortly before dusk that evening, having shaved and donned fresh linen, a handsome collar of beads, and his best wig, Hani mounted his litter and set out for Mane’s house at the edge of the same neighborhood. It was not so much that he didn’t want to walk but that he felt safer with a few men of his own around. Maya had infected him with suspicions. That’s what we’ve come to, he thought with a grim sigh. Friend has been severed from friend. The king has sliced the bond between people who loved and trusted one another. Between Ptah-mes and his wife. Between me and Keliya. Between some of the servants in the Place of Truth and their neighbors. He is like a blade of flint.
A scepter of flint. Who bestows the breath of life.
Hani’s hair stood up on the back of his neck. There was that passage again. This was what he had found by the pool of Two Truths.
Still chilled by his fears, Hani crunched up the garden walk of Mane’s charming villa. The doorkeeper admitted him, but instead of Mane’s wife in the vestibule, there stood Mane, his arms wide, his grin just as wide.
“Hani, old friend! Come embrace your surprise!” The two men hugged one another with joy.
“So you’re back, you old rogue—and just a jump ahead of the fall of Tushratta, from what I understand.”
“Yes,” Mane said, giving Hani a meaningful look. “Everything has changed. I’ve learned quite a lot that will interest you. And so has Keliya.”
Hani made an interested noise, but within, he didn’t know how to react.
Keliya stood in the inner door, his droopy face beaming. “How do you like your surprise, Hani, my friend?”
He wore a handsome tunic of wool dyed the color of turquoise.
A shiver ran up Hani’s spine. How do I act toward him? But nothing had been proven against the ambassador. Hani let friendship guide him. “Keliya, my friend. Where did you get that beautiful garment?”
Keliya smiled; he had to remember that Hani had found such an incriminating tunic in the baggage of his aides. “Mane brought it back for me. He said they’ve been all the rage in Wasshukanni ever since some dyer figured out how to get that color.”
Hani felt he could breathe for the first time in several moments. He laughed in relief and clapped Keliya on the shoulder.
The three men headed into the salon. Mane laid an arm across Hani’s back and guided him with exuberant affection. “We’ll eat on the porch, my friends. My wife has supervised a wonderful dinner for us. And we can talk politics, eh?” He winked at Hani.
Servants came out with little tables and set them up before the guests. Others with basins and pitchers washed their feet and faces.
“That feels good on a hot night, doesn’t it?” Mane beamed.
“How was your experience as a hostage?” Hani asked him. “I hope you weren’t mistreated.”
“Not at all. They just wouldn’t let me go. Tushratta was very depressed toward the end. Then he was angry. I think it relieved him to be able to make a gesture of hostility toward our kingdom, even though he and I are cordial personally. Then, once he was dethroned, his own son murdered him.”
“Murdered, eh?” Hani gave a cynical snort. “He had good reason to be angry at Kemet. We abandoned him shamelessly.”
Mane’s cheerful face grew sober. “That’s truer than you know, Hani. You remember I told you I was being sent to Naharin to feel out which side we should support—Tushratta or Artatama.”
Hani nodded. At his side, Keliya listened with lowered eyes.
“I’m sorry to say, Our Sun God had already made up his mind. He was actively working with Artatama to overthrow his brother.”
“You mean we were the foreign power behind his increased activity?” Hani cried incredulously. “Of all the double-crossing—”
“My sentiments exactly,” said Mane. “And do you know exactly where the funds came from?”
Hani’s heart was in his throat. “Don’t tell me—tomb robbery.” He put his face in his hands. “It makes me ashamed for our kingdom, Mane. To turn on an ally like that...”
Keliya spoke up in his easygoing way. “That’s how kings are, Hani. All of them. It’s always about their own best interests. Honor and justice mean nothing.”
“Can anyone explain to me why they took such devious m
eans of coming up with funds? Surely, the treasury could have footed the bill.”
“They tried, but the treasurer was having none of it. Needless to say, none of this could go through the ordinary chain of command, which would have been too public. It was all under the table. He couldn’t know that the king himself had instigated such a request.”
“Sa-tau,” Hani said. Everything was starting to come together now. “His was the first tomb robbed, after they had killed him.”
“Then they approached a judge, thinking he could arrange a judgment against the treasury in court, but he refused to be part of it.”
“So that’s why Ah-mes was targeted. And Pa-ren-nefer?”
“The king’s steward and his father’s friend from childhood. They must have thought he could exert some influence to make the king cough up directly. And of course, once they’d approached these men and been refused, they had to get rid of them because they knew too much.”
“And Lady Apeny?”
“They were hoping the group of disgruntled priests, of which she was a vocal part, might be interested in earning some favor with the new king Artatama. Imagine—the present administration dealing with those it knew to be its enemies in order to betray a faithful friend.”
Hani was speechless with disgust. He shook his head as if to shake out these disillusioning images. “You mean the king promised Artatama support but didn’t want to pay him?”
Mane and Keliya exchanged a steaming look. “Oh, he intended from the first to do it this way, I think,” Mane said. “Because an alliance works two ways. Nefer-khepru-ra funded Artatama’s insurrection, and Artatama got rid of some major foes of the king, while his hands stayed clean.”
“Their own king assassinated these people.” Hani shook his head in disgust. “He robbed them of the food and goods they would need in the afterworld. Our worst enemy could have done nothing more heinous.”
Keliya said sadly, “I told you that, Hani. That’s the way kings are.”
Mane continued, “You’ve probably figured out by now how Talpu-sharri was involved. He was the agent of Artatama.”
“And Pirissi was part of this?”
“Oh, no, Hani,” Keliya assured him. “Pirissi was Tushratta’s man. A spy, if you will, sent down here to try to stop Talpu-sharri or at least undo what he’d done. That’s why he kept showing up at the houses of the victims. He wanted to know what Talpu-sharri was up to and change the minds of any potential target who might have yielded. I think he must have been surprised by the lethal ruthlessness of our countryman.”
Hani’s face was burning with shame. How could he have suspected Keliya? “Did you know about this all the while, Keliya? While I was trying to convince you that Tulubri was somehow involved?”
“No, no,” said the ambassador. “I only found out recently. As far as I knew, they were simply what I had been told—young diplomats come to second me at the embassy until they took Lady Kiya home. I suppose Tulubri really was.”
Hani’s thoughts tumbled around in his head, struggling to take some shape. “So when Talpu-sharri spoke of putting the real king on the throne, he meant the throne of Naharin. He meant Artatama in place of Tushratta. That was what confused me. I couldn’t understand why Nefer-khepru-ra would want to see a new king in his place on the throne of Kemet.”
“Right,” Mane said. “Nefer-khepru-ra told Ay to do what he needed to do to help the effort, even to the point of involving cavalry personnel in the robberies.”
“And Mahu’s task was to undo everything I did to figure the situation out,” Hani said bitterly. He sat in pensive silence for a moment. “But why did the king even put me on the case at all? He must have known that if anyone investigated, they would expose something. Why is Mahu still looking for Talpu-sharri? Why did he have the workmen who carried out the robberies in custody?”
Mane sighed. “That I can’t answer, Hani. Perhaps he wanted to make a show of tracking the criminals to deflect suspicion from himself.”
“All this happened during the Great Jubilee, when foreign diplomats were everywhere. He probably didn’t want any scandal,” Keliya reminded Hani.
“Regarding your other questions, maybe the king wants to protect Talpu-sharri from you until he can hustle him out of the country safely. He knows that you could get a confession out of a stone. As for the poor workmen, I wouldn’t be surprised if he administers the maximum penalty to keep them from ever figuring out what happened—or telling someone who could figure it out.” Mane stared Hani frankly in the eye as if to confirm that this was the pitiless world they lived in.
“And I suppose when Talpu-sharri kept demanding to see his ambassador, he thought Artatama had already installed his new man,” Hani said.
Keliya smiled dryly. “One assumes so. He certainly wasn’t happy to see me.”
Hani sat, speechless with outrage, until he finally said, “I feel used, my friends. Once again.”
“We all do, Hani,” said Mane, more serious than usual. “We all are.”
“But both of you—what happens now? Keliya, will you be missioned back here by the new government in Wasshukanni? You’ve had years of experience in our kingdom; you know Kemet better than anyone.”
“I don’t know,” said Keliya. “I’m not sure I would serve Prince Artatama. I may just call my wife to join me here in permanence.”
“You’d be more than welcome my friend,” Hani assured him with a broad grin. “I wish I had a place to flee to. And you, Mane?” He turned to the tubby little man at his side.
Mane heaved a sigh. “I’ll go wherever I’m sent. Probably back to Artatama’s court. Although knowing what I know about his tactics...” He raised his eyebrows then grinned. “But as Keliya would say, ‘That’s the way kings are.’”
⸎
The next morning, as he and his son tore chunks off a pot-shaped loaf of bread and washed it down with milk, Mery-ra asked, “How was your party last night, my boy? Seems like you got home pretty late.” They were seated in the garden pavilion, catching the fresh breeze of early morning. Hani had put the heron’s egg under one of the broody geese. Any day now, the Flood would begin, and new life would spring up along the River. It was the one thing that could be counted on, the one sure thing. That and death.
“Very illuminating. I can’t wait for Ptah-mes to hear about it. It may pitch him right over the edge of cynicism,” Hani said, although, upon reflection, he wasn’t sure that would be much of a kindness to him. His superior already lived in a dark, sharp-edged world.
Mery-ra raised his bushy eyebrows. “Sounds interesting. Anything you can repeat?”
In a low voice, Hani told his father what Mane and Keliya had revealed to him the night before. Mery-ra’s little eyes grew wide, and he pursed his lips in a whistle. “So that’s the way the land lies. I’m shocked but not surprised.” He shook his head then said more loudly, “My favorite part of all this is that you seem to have gotten out of it alive. You have your answers, and the king has his way, and you need have nothing else to do with that abominable excuse for a man, Mahu.”
“But has ma’at been served, Father? Can I say before the Judge of Souls that I have preserved ma’at?” asked Hani. Contemplation of this whole sordid affair made him feel downright unclean.
“You’ve done all you could, Hani. The rest of it is on the consciences of others.” Mery-ra rose and stretched. “Does Ptah-mes still have that Talpu-sharri hidden someplace?”
“As far as I know. I suppose he might as well turn him loose now. And that’s what makes me angriest. Artatama gets his throne by insurrection and murder. Talpu-sharri, that foreign dog turd of a man, kills five of our people and starves the souls of three, and he’ll walk away with praise instead of punishment. No wonder the gods have sent plague upon us.”
“Speaking of the Judgment, I think I’ll work a little on my Book of Going Forth by Day.”
“How was Khawy’s first lesson?”
“He’s a natural because of
his artistic background. Plus, he’s very mature. We didn’t make a mistake when we accepted him.” Mery-ra looked satisfied with himself. “I’m going to pay him to finish the pictures in my Book.”
“I think we should read it every day to remind us how to live,” Hani said fervently. He heaved himself from his stool and followed his father into the salon. “I’m going to Ptah-mes to tell him what I’ve found out. Consider it my last official report on the case.”
Hani was calmer by the time he’d walked to the southern edge of the city, where Ptah-mes’s ancestral villa stood. Hani was cheerful by nature, after all, and while his idealism had been tarnished by its brush with corruption, his basic conviction was that the world the gods had made was a beautiful place. The day was hot but with a little of night’s freshness still lingering. Any hour now, the priests of Hapy, farther up the River, would send fast couriers to tell the Two Lands the joyous news: “The Inundation has begun.”
He breathed in a deep draft of air and cast his eyes lovingly over the pure pale-blue sky, where a heron winged its way along the banks of the River, that generous mother. Someday, my egg will know the ecstasy of flight like that, Hani told himself hopefully. I’ll call her Qenyt-ta-sherit, Qenyt the younger. At least one small sorrow would be set right.
Ptah-mes was home, looking almost cheerful himself, although his smile had a carnivorous edge. Before Hani could even tell him the news from Mane, Ptah-mes said neutrally, “There has been an unfortunate accident, Hani. Talpu-sharri fell on a knife and slit his throat. His body found its way into the River, where crocodiles are known to gather.”
Hani gaped at him for a moment, then a kind of grim pleasure seeped into him. He struggled not to grin. “Then justice has been done after all, my lord. Let me tell you what Mane brought back from Naharin.” As Hani told him all he had learned, Ptah-mes listened without any interruption, his face concentrated, until Hani concluded, “You’ve bilked Mahu of his prey—or rather, his colleague in deception.”
Ptah-mes looked both satisfied and reflective. “The death of a man is never a light thing,” he mused. “Only a high good can justify it.”