Death of an Eye

by Dana Stabenow

  “Escort Nebet to my house,” she said to Aristander’s man. “You know where that is? Good. Nebet, ask for Keren. Say I sent you. She will understand. Go now, and in the name of Isis do not let Ipwet see you.”

  She was on her way back to the kitchen when she thought of something else. Hunefer’s body had, mercifully, been removed from the front doorstep. She caught up with Nebet and the shurta at the gate. “Nebet!”

  Nebet turned, the fear that something had gone wrong plain on her face.

  “No, no, it’s fine, I just need to ask you one more question.” Tetisheri caught the cook by the elbow and pushed her across the street and around a corner. The shurta, mystified, brought up the rear.

  “What?” Nebet said.

  “In the past week, did an older woman come to call? Thin, in her fifties, she would have worn good linens. An air of authority, not deferential at all. She might have asked to speak to Hunefer.”

  Nebet snorted. “When I’m not at the market I’m in the kitchen. I was not welcome in the front of the house.” She paused. “Although—”

  “Yes?” Tetisheri said eagerly.

  “Now that I think of it, there was a woman such as you describe,” Nebet said. “She came round to the back and questioned us about the master.”

  “What kinds of questions?”

  “Where he’d been, what he was doing, who his friends were.” She looked at the shurta and leaned forward to whisper in Tetisheri’s ear. “She bore the Eye.”

  “Ah. And you told her—”

  Nebet shrugged. “He hosted a dinner for a couple of young Romans and a Greek the week before last. Nothing like the dinners he used to give. I can’t remember the last time I made my seafood stew, you know the one with the olives and almonds? Or my lamb in apricot sauce. I—”

  “Did you know the names of the guests?”

  Nebet shook her head. “As I said. I was never welcome in the front of the house.”

  It didn’t matter. Tetisheri could guess. “You told all this to Khemit, to the woman who was here?”

  Nebet nodded. Another thing Tetisheri liked about Nebet was that she never pretended false loyalty to a master she despised.

  The shurta escorted Nebet away and Tetisheri crossed to the house and went slowly up the path.

  “You.”

  She looked up to see Ipwet standing in the doorway. The older woman looked nothing like the composed, stylish woman in Ptolemy’s throne room the night before. Her face paint had run and dried in streaks, her careful coiffure was tangled beyond repair, and it looked as if she had tried to rend the front of her tunic.

  “What are you doing here? Did you come to gloat? Having beggared us, now you come to crow in triumph over the death of a man you always hated? A man you never supported? A man who fathered a child you aborted, even upon the very day of his birth?”

  All the rage that Tetisheri had ever felt in a bitter, miserable, agonizing nightmare two years long bubbled up and over. In a voice she barely recognized as her own she said, “The child was stillborn. I did nothing to hasten its death.”

  “But you hated it!” Ipwet’s shriek could have been heard in Rome. “As you hated us! As if you had any right! As if we did not raise you up far beyond your station from that tawdry trade house on the waterfront! Ungrateful, wretched, murderous girl! I curse the day I ever let Hagne into my house to bargain for my son!” She flew at Tetisheri. “I curse you! I call down the curses of all the gods above and below on you and your children and your children’s children!”

  Tetisheri caught her wrists before Ipwet’s nails could rake her face and then Apollodorus was there, seizing the older woman by the waist and lifting her up off her feet. She sagged in his hold, moaning, “Ruined, all in ruins. My son, oh, my son, my son…”

  Apollodorus carried her into the house and was back a moment later, grim of face. “Are you done here?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m all done here.”

  *

  They were ushered into the queen’s presence shortly after the First Hour the next morning. Tetisheri, Apollodorus, and Aristander had not slept and the queen looked as if she hadn’t, either, although not for the same reason. She kept both hands on her swollen belly as if afraid the child within was going to jump out into the world at his first opportunity. Every now and then she winced, and once Tetisheri thought she saw the imprint of a tiny foot against the thin robe she wore.

  “So,” Cleopatra said. “My new issue is returned to me. Well done, Tetisheri.”

  “It was a joint effort, my queen.”

  The queen looked at Aristander. “And the coin?”

  “Is in the strong room in the palace, my queen, under lock and key and with an extra layer of guards around it.”

  “Good.” The baby kicked and the queen took a quick breath.

  “A chair, majesty?” Apollodorus said.

  She gave him a quick, pained smile. “Thank you, Apollodorus, but at this point it’s less comfortable to sit than to stand. He was awake all night. He should sleep soon.” She looked at Tetisheri. “Hunefer?”

  “The coin was found in his house,” Tetisheri said. “And it appears he was in trouble financially.”

  “But?”

  “No buts,” Tetisheri said. “This has at least some of the markings of thieves falling out. Stolen coins. A murder at the door of the house where they were hid.”

  Cleopatra was quick to pick up on what she didn’t say. “You believe it was made to look so, rather than actually is?”

  Tetisheri spread her hands. “A murder is certain to draw attention. And if he were killed over the coin, why is it still there?”

  “You think it has been made to look as if he were involved?”

  “Oh, he was involved.”

  “And?”

  “And he was deemed a useful sacrifice when—”

  “When what?”

  Tetisheri hesitated. “I was going to say, when the thieves felt us closing in on them.” She looked up and met Cleopatra’s eyes. “But we weren’t.”

  “Possibly the thieves felt panic at the mere thought of being caught? As well they should have,” Cleopatra added with feeling.

  “Perhaps.”

  “But you don’t think so.”

  “My queen.” Tetisheri chose her words with care. “You have your coin returned to you, in full. Only one chest was broken into and that we believe is because the thieves wanted to make sure they had stolen what they meant to steal. The new issue is safe in your hands and ready to be released.”

  Apollodorus glanced at Tetisheri but said nothing.

  “The stolen coin was found in the house of Hunefer,” Tetisheri said, “who himself was found dead on his own doorstep.”

  Cleopatra’s mouth tightened.

  “You have your stolen property recovered, and you have the house it was found in, and you have the man who owned the house, dead, true, but when alive it is obvious he was in serious financial difficulties. The bills we found in his office confirm that, as I’m sure his mother will when questioned.”

  “What is your point, Tetisheri?”

  Tetisheri spread her hands. “This investigation could stop here, majesty. You have the stolen property, found in the home of a very likely suspect. It is unfortunate that he cannot be questioned, but the circumstances could be construed as being self-evident by all but the most critical observer.”

  “But you don’t think he did this alone.”

  “I know he didn’t, majesty,” Tetisheri said firmly. It was, in fact, the one thing of which she was absolutely certain.

  “Why not?”

  “Because, majesty, I knew Hunefer only too well. It would have been impossible for him to construct such a perfect plan, let alone execute it so efficiently.” She paused. “I don’t think he would even have had the capacity to think of it in the first place as a means to alleviate his monetary problems. He just wasn’t that intelligent.”

  A faint smile crossed Cleopatra�
��s face and her hands dropped from her belly. “I’ll take that chair now, Apollodorus.”

  He pulled a chair out and the queen subsided into it with care. “So you think he had a partner or partners, and that they are still at large.”

  Tetisheri hesitated for a long moment. The queen seemed willing to wait for her answer until Ra set again in the west. “I do,” Tetisheri said at last. “There have been two murders, remember, both committed the same way with the same weapon.”

  Cleopatra raised her eyebrows.

  “A sally rod, majesty,” Apollodorus said. “A long, thin, round rod made often of willow but occasionally of other, more durable woods. Army sergeants often carry them to, er, enforce discipline during training. It would be all too easy to lay hands on one.”

  “Such a weapon could kill?”

  “Made from a hard enough wood, wielded with enough force? Yes. Especially if the killer knew what he was doing.”

  “And this one did,” Aristander said. He was in no mood to betray Maat and let killers walk free in a city he considered as much under his protection as it was Cleopatra’s. “We shaved the heads of both Hunefer and Khemit. The wounds are nearly identical, and almost identically placed. They were much of a height and were killed with the same weapon, most likely by the same person.” He glanced at Tetisheri. “This is the conclusion of my own coroner, as well as that of an independent authority brought in to consult.”

  “And, majesty, there is the fact that the coin itself had been moved to Hunefer’s pantry only last night.” Tetisheri thought. “Well, night before last now.”

  All three of them stared at her. “And how do you come to this extraordinary conclusion?” Aristander said, forgetting himself enough to speak before and without permission from his sovereign.

  Apollodorus snapped his fingers. “The grain.”

  Tetisheri nodded. “The cook bought it the day before yesterday, and one of the kitchen slaves dropped a sack as she was moving it into the pantry. There was still some on the floor. When Aristander’s men took the chests out, you could see their outlines in the grain.

  “The coin was stolen eight days ago. To hold it safe, where none of us heard a whisper of its location, and then move it to Hunefer’s house one night before he is killed on his own doorstep?” She shook her head. “A reckless move indeed, and one fraught with peril for the thieves. Hunefer was not beloved by his slaves. They would have talked of the chests in the marketplace and the news would have been all over the city in a day. No.” She shook her head. “The movement of the chests and Hunefer’s murder were concomitant. The perpetrator wanted him associated with the theft and his mouth permanently shut so he couldn’t deny it.”

  A long silence.

  “So.” Cleopatra sat long in silence, staring over their heads, one hand caressing her belly now rather than rubbing it. They waited. Tetisheri felt a wave of exhaustion and swayed a little where she stood. Apollodorus’ hand reappeared, warm and steadying at her back. Tetisheri leaned into it, just a little, but she was sure the queen saw anyway. She made no comment, however, for which Tetisheri was profoundly grateful.

  “Well,” Cleopatra said, placing her hands on the arms of her chair and sitting upright. The uraeus Ptolemy had worn so carelessly two nights before was on her brow in spirit, cold, gold, and deadly. “Do you have any avenues of inquiry that you feel might be productive to follow?”

  “One at least, majesty,” Tetisheri said, “and possibly two.”

  “Then follow them, Tetisheri. I want their names.” The queen leaned forward, her eyes hard. “All of their names, everyone who was involved in this conspiracy to rob my kingdom. I don’t care who they are. Bring them to me.”

  “Majesty.” Tetisheri bowed her head.

  *

  They had managed to enter the palace unseen by any but Cleopatra’s personal guards. Their exit was not so discreet. Tetisheri walked into the atrium, only one door away from the street, there to be confronted by Aurelius Cotta, wide awake and offensively cheerful. He was, mercifully, alone, because Tetisheri didn’t have it in her that morning to duel with Caesar, too.

  “Ah, Tetisheri.” He clasped her hand warmly before she could move it out of reach. “Many congratulations on the successful conclusion of your investigation.”

  She felt Apollodorus and Aristander stiffen behind her. She herself didn’t know what to say. If she thanked him, she would be admitting there was an investigation, and if she didn’t, he might be alerted to the fact that it wasn’t concluded. “Aurelius Cotta,” she said. “You are an early riser.”

  He gave her a sunny smile. “It has always been my motto that the one to greet Apollo as he begins his day’s journey is the one most likely to receive the news first. Good and bad, and I’m delighted that he carries good news in his chariot this morning. The queen must be so pleased with you.” He allowed his face to fall into lugubrious lines and shook his head. “Although such a shame about the young man, wasn’t it? Such a noble house, and for its son to fall so far as theft, and from his own sovereign, too.” He waggled a finger. “Hear me, because I speak from personal observation: his family will never recover. Yes, yes, it is true, such things happen even in Rome, as unbelievable as that may sound.” He grew stern. “An object lesson to other youths

  who might be tempted from the path of virtue and probity.”

  “Tell me, Aurelius Cotta,” Tetisheri said, “have you ever thought of taking to the stage?”

  He laughed. It even sounded genuine. “Congratulations again, Tetisheri. By the way, I enjoyed myself very much at your reception last night. Your catalogue is impressive. I don’t wonder at your enjoyment of your work. I’m sure you’ll be very happy indeed to get back to it.”

  He kissed the back of her hand before she could prevent it, nodded at both men, and strode off.

  She turned to stare as he passed out of sight. His hints could not have been broader and she would have to have been very stupid indeed not to interpret them correctly. The investigation had come to a successful conclusion and she was to return to her life and give the theft—and the thieves—no more of her attention.

  She remembered the scene in Ptolemy’s throne room and in her mind she went around the circle of advisors, royal favorites, august visitors, and court sycophants again, lingering here and there.

  All of their names, everyone who was involved in this conspiracy to rob my kingdom. I don’t care who they are.

  She turned to Aristander. “Release Laogonus’ crew and tell them to report directly to their ship.”

  She looked at Apollodorus. “Go to Laogonus and tell him we sail for Lemesos as soon as you and I and the crew are on board.”

  10

  on the Fifth Day of the Third Week

  at the Thirteenth Hour…

  A brisk following wind carried them to Cyprus in a little over two days but it might as well have been two years for Tetisheri, who saw a pirate sail in every wisp of cloud on the horizon. To exist at the mercy of the wind seemed to her to be almost suicidally reckless. And yet, Cleopatra had tasked these men and this ship with her most confidential missions. There was some mystery here, if only she could forget that they were traveling under the threat of eminent doom.

  Debu let out a line and the wind filled more of the single sail, causing it to belly out over the port side. The Thalassa heeled more sharply to port. With a dismayed squeak Tetisheri caught hold of the nearest object, which that time happened to be Apollodorus. “Calm down,” he said, which she might have forgiven if he hadn’t been grinning, too.

  “Calm down, the man says,” she said bitterly. “Calm down, when at any moment the wind could die and we could be overtaken and attacked by pirates from Oea to Rhinoccorua.”

  “Really,” he said, still grinning. “I had no idea word of our presence spread so far.”

  “Go ahead, laugh,” she said, and clutched him again when Debu let out a little more line and the Thalassa heeled even more perilously to port. “Loo
k at that, the water is nearly over the side!”

  “But see how much faster we are moving than we would be under the old square sail,” he said, pointing at their stern.

  She had to admit, if only to herself, that they were leaving a boil of a wake behind them. A dark speck on the horizon caught her eye. “Look! What’s that? There, you see? Is it a ship?”

  “No, I believe that might be a cormorant.”

  A moment later the shape resolved into a large pair of wings beating against the sky.

  A dark shape surfaced to starboard. “That!” she said, pointing. “What’s that? Is that a ship?”

  “No, I think that is a school of dolphins.”

  The sail flapped and she regarded it anxiously. “Is the wind failing?”

  Debu tightened the line. The sail filled again and the Thalassa leaped forward.

  “What I wouldn’t give for twenty strong oarsmen,” she said. Possibly she growled. She didn’t get a wink of sleep during the entire journey and she greeted the shoreline of Cyprus with inexpressible relief.

  “Yes, yes, hilarious,” she said tartly when the crew laughed at her, again. “I imagine you’ll find it a tad less amusing when we’re boarded by the Brundisi and sold into slavery on the return trip. Those of us who are not slaughtered out of hand.” The deck rose suddenly beneath her feet and she clutched at Apollodorus. She looked up and saw an expression cross his face that she didn’t recognize. “What?”

  The expression was gone as if it had never been, and he smiled at her. “Why,” he said, his voice a silky purr that reminded her of Bast at her most duplicitous, “only that it would please me very much indeed to encounter the pirates of Brundisium. It is said they are very efficient. But not, as I understand it, entirely reliable.”