by N. L. Holmes
“Papa? Are you in here? Where did you go? We’re waiting for you,” came Neferet’s voice from the darkness of the vestibule.
Dear gods, I forgot all about Father and Neferet, Hani thought desperately.
She burst into the salon. “Papa—oh, Uncle Amen-em-hut! You’re here? Everyone’s been—” Her astonished face dropped suddenly into worry. “Oh, Uncle. What’s wrong? You look horrible. And you smell.”
The fear that had stopped Hani’s breath dissipated, although his voluble daughter was perhaps the last person he would have wanted to see the fugitive. He said dryly, “I think you need to work on your bedside manner, my girl.”
But Amen-em-hut managed a smile. “Hello, Neferet, dear. Give me time to take a bath, and then I’ll hug you.”
Neferet stared back and forth from her father to her uncle, a grin spreading across her face. “Is this where he was all along, Papa?” She danced around on her toes with relief. “Oh, Mama and Auntie will be so happy you’re safe. But you don’t look good at all, I have to say.”
“Let him get cleaned up, my dear. Uncle’s going to be staying here for a while.” Hani threw a gesture of the head at his brother-in-law, who tottered into the bathroom, steadying himself against the wall. “I’ll find you some clean clothes, my friend,” Hani called after him. He stood, both relieved and anxious, facing his daughter while Amen-em-hut rattled around in search of a jar of water in the distant bathroom. “I’m sorry; I forgot you and Grandfather were still waiting by the River, my duckling. I found Uncle here, and we got involved.”
“Did someone kidnap him?” Neferet asked in a hushed voice.
“No, no. He just felt he should get out of sight for a while until the police forgot about him.” Hani drew her to him and put an arm around her shoulders, looking straight into her eyes, which were still wide with stupefaction. “You must tell absolutely no one that you’ve seen him; do you understand, Neferet? It could endanger his life. Not even Mama or Aunt Anuia. I’m entrusting you with this like an adult.”
She nodded with great gravity. “Physicians never reveal anything about their patients, Papa. That’s the first thing Khuit taught me. No one will ever, ever rip any word of this out of me, not even if they torture me with red-hot pincers and put leeches up my nose. May Meret-seger the Silent One bite my feet if I ever, ever—”
“I believe you, my girl,” Hani said, hoping this was a sincere oath and not a bit of dramatic extravagance. “Go look in the bedroom and see if there are any clean clothes in the chest that Uncle can use.” He’d fit a dish towel better than one of my kilts, Hani thought with a sigh. Six weeks of fighting the pigs for food has left him pretty rubbed out.
“Hani? Neferet? Where is everyone?” Mery-ra called from the door.
Hani rolled his eyes in resignation. Amen-em-hut’s secret was unraveling fast. “In here, Father.”
“First you disappeared, then Neferet. I was getting a little concerned. What’s going on? Why are you up here? The boats are in your shed.” Mery-ra toddled in, his face red from the climb from the riverbank. He looked from his son to his granddaughter. “Where is everybody?”
Hani said, “The servants are all down in the village. It’s a festival day, remember?”
“Oh, right.” Mery-ra’s little eyes narrowed. “Why the look of studied carelessness, son? Something going on? A surprise for your old father, perhaps?”
“I’ll say,” said Neferet, looking slyly at Hani from the corner of her eye. But she said nothing further. The three of them stood there, staring at one another, until Hani finally recovered his presence of mind sufficiently to say, “We might as well go on back to the boathouse, Father. It’s still not too late to go out.”
Mery-ra shrugged. “If you want to. But I can tell you, it’s getting hot, whatever the hour.”
“Yes, let’s go. Come on, Neferet.” He hustled the girl before him toward the door.
“But you said to look in the clothes chest—” she objected.
“Let’s go.”
As they departed from the salon, Hani heard water splattering in the bathroom and the ringing thunk of a heavy jug being set on the floor. He caught his breath and stiffened.
Mery-ra looked back. “Who’s that? Is one of the servants still here?”
“Probably. Come on, everyone. To the boathouse. You can help me carry the boat, Father.”
They retraced the worn path through the farmyard, Neferet skipping ahead. Mery-ra took advantage of her distance to ask under his breath, “What’s going on, son?”
Hani could see that the secret was going to come out one way or the other. It made him realize that Amen-em-hut undoubtedly would have to move after all, probably well before the rest of the family came down. He weighed his father’s reliability and decided to tell him. He said under his breath, “It’s Amen-em-hut. He’s been hiding in the boathouse for more than a month. I took him to the house and told him to stay there instead. But Neferet saw him. I don’t know how long she can keep from telling her mother and the girls. We need to find another place for him.”
Mery-ra grunted. “Little Shu’s going to bring trouble down on all of us.”
Hani said reasonably, “We can’t just abandon him, Father. He’s Nub-nefer’s only brother. And he’s a good man, besides. He’s doing a principled thing.”
Mery-ra grunted again.
They’d reached the boathouse, where Neferet waited, her medical basket in her hand. “I left it here when I went to look for you. I found a piece of chalk in it for—for anyone who needs it.”
“Oh, good,” Mery-ra said with a twinkle in his eye. “Sometimes, when I’m out on the water, I get a craving for a nice piece of chalk.”
“No, it’s for—” She clapped a hand over her mouth.
Hani heaved a sigh. This was why secrets were so hard to keep. “Grandfather knows,” he said heavily. “Look, both of you, we need to get our fugitive out of here as soon as we can, but in the meantime, please understand how important it is that no one else find out. Neferet, do you hear me?”
“Yes, Papa.” She looked as chastened as she was ever likely to look. “This chalk will help his stomach, though.”
“My dear, please don’t feed him anything that will make him sick. He’s been through a hard few weeks. He needs to eat and rest.”
“Djefat-nebty said it would help. In goat’s milk. Or was that to make people throw up?”
Hani suddenly felt very tired. It seemed he had no control over any aspect of his life, as if the gods were lobbing him back and forth among them like a child’s leather ball. He just wanted all these complications to go away for a bit. He shot his father a look that pleaded for mercy. “You know, it’s too hot to go out in the marshes after all. Let’s go back to the house and have a pot of beer.” Then he remembered the servants were gone. “If I can find it.”
Mery-ra suggested, “Why don’t we go into the village and see what’s happening at the festival? I’d be amazed if there weren’t some good food.”
“You and Neferet go. I want to talk to... our guest.”
“Why won’t you say his name, Papa? Nobody’s around,” Neferet asked. But she took her basket and followed her grandfather.
“Let’s get into the habit of not saying it, all right?” He waved to the pair as they cut across the lettuces and headed for the road.
At last, he stood there alone, gazing out over the reeds and trees and, not too far in the distance, the blinding ribbon of the Great River. A mob of frenzied wing-flapping ducks surged up into the sky from its waters. Something had disturbed them. Some of them might not have made it into the sky alive. The crocodile makes no sound, but fear of it is ancient.
He turned back to the house lit up rosily by the long afternoon sun, a friendly jumble of cubes where they’d added on rooms here and there over the years as the number of children grew. It was providential that the servants were not around, although they’d no doubt be back before the night was over. He needed to think
of what to do about his brother-in-law.
When he entered the salon, he saw Amen-em-hut, looking gaunt but much more himself, shaved and clean, his thick, wavy hair getting so long it almost hung over his forehead. Hani saw that he was graying at the temples. Damn, the man is handsome even after all that.
The priest looked up at Hani gratefully. His eyes, so like Nub-nefer’s, were circled with dark rings. He was shorter than Hani, but still, sleeping in the little reed boat with its upcurved ends couldn’t have been comfortable. “Thanks, my brother. I don’t know where to go next, but I can’t stay here and endanger you.”
“You could stay as long as you wanted, except that the women are coming down the minute I tell them things are ready. I’m not sure Anuia could hide her sudden joy if she knew you were safe here.” Hani brought him a piece of the stale bread. “You can toast this if you want. There’s more cheese and some salted fish.” It occurred to him that priests weren’t permitted to eat fish.
“This is fine,” Amen-em-hut assured him, dunking a piece of the dry flatbread in his water. “I don’t know where to go, Hani. My own place is too obvious.”
“Listen, are you sure they’re actively looking for you? My feeling is that the king has forgotten all about you. As long as you don’t make any noise, they’ll assume you’re dead.”
Amen-em-hut said nothing, but his face was somber as he chewed the bread with difficulty. He swallowed. “If I make no noise, I might as well be dead.” He looked up as Hani started to speak and added, “I appreciate your own tactic, brother, but it isn’t mine.”
Hani sighed, a little put out. “None of the other prophets are being so obdurate, Amen-em-hut.”
The priest snorted scornfully. “Political appointees. That’s what you get. My forefathers have held this office for generations, Hani. I would shame my ancestors if I didn’t cry out.”
“I admire you, my friend. But I see this bringing pain down upon your family. Once you said to me that bad times were coming and that I should protect Nub-nefer. Well, I say the same thing to you. Why make it so hard on them?”
Amen-em-hut hung his head, his mouth a thin line. He loved his wife and children—not to mention his sister—deeply, Hani knew.
“Just until everyone’s forgotten about you, Amen-em-hut. Then pop up in Men-nefer or Iunu or Sau or someplace and yell all you want.”
Amen-em-hut bared his teeth bitterly.
“But stop calling for assassination. That’s what really has the king’s back up. And I can’t say it isn’t understandable. They’d just ignore the other things.” Hani could see his brother-in-law was unmoved, but the consequences of his obduracy were so dangerous that Hani was willing to beg. “I mean, regicide, Amen-em-hut? Can’t you compromise?”
The priest stared up at Hani with his black, starved eyes, and he almost looked like a madman. “He hasn’t enacted the Opet Festival since he came to the throne alone, Hani. He’s not the living Haru. His ka is not divine. He’s not a legitimate king. I’m not preaching regicide.”
“Then who, by all the demons of the Duat, do you think is legitimate? No doubt, the queen’s father would happily crown himself, but is civil war what you want?” Hani’s voice had risen. He felt half-mad, himself, with frustration. He seemed to be beating his head against an unyielding wall. Civil war—that was what was out there waiting for the Black Land. And at their borders, the Hittites slavered. “The king’s one legitimate brother is dead, his half brother is weak in the head, and Nefer-khepru-ra has only daughters. Who, Amen-em-hut? Some general?”
“I don’t know.” Amen-em-hut let out his breath as if he were deflating. “Whoever has the favor of the gods.”
Hani sputtered, “But who is that? Be reasonable, man. This isn’t just a theological problem. There are real consequences. If you just kill the king, with no one out there to replace him, what in the name of all that’s holy do you think is going to happen?”
“That’s not my business, Hani. That’s for the military and the chancery to decide. I’m a priest. And the gods reject the heretic on the throne of the Two Lands.”
Hani’s face was burning like a coal. The man won’t listen to reason at all. He turned away and breathed deeply, seeking to calm himself. He didn’t want to be yelling at this poor half-starved worn-down brother-in-law of his, but Amen-em-hut had become a complete fanatic. Can he really be so unworldly that he doesn’t foresee the consequences of what he’s preaching?
Hani forced himself to say levelly, “Do what you think you must, then. But we need to find another hiding place for you. And your family. Because if you insist on speaking out against the king, I can promise you, he’ll strike at them.”
Amen-em-hut stared at Hani, his eyebrows buckled in pain. “Hide them, Hani,” he begged, and his voice was suddenly wobbly, all his blazing confidence drained out.
Hani strode up and down the little salon, trying to jog his imagination. “Where, though? What if we sent your brood down here with Nub-nefer and our children? Would it be too obvious? If they didn’t leave the property, no one would know where they were. Would Pen-amen be willing to hole up here, do you think?”
“If he thought he had to in order to keep his mother safe.”
“And where do we stash you?” Hani laughed in spite of himself. He was thinking of his little brother-in-law as some kind of holiday surprise for the children. Where shall we stash it? He reached out and laid a fraternal hand on Amen-em-hut’s thin shoulder. “No hard feelings, right?”
“I’m grateful, Hani—for all you’ve done for me. Just stash me where I won’t be any danger to you.” The priest grinned up conspiratorially. Hani didn’t think of Amen-em-hut as a man with much sense of humor, but he wasn’t opaque. Poor fellow. I’m glad I’m not him.
The door banged open in the vestibule, and Mery-ra and Neferet came clattering in, their voices raised in painfully off-key song. They finished the verse at an explosive volume. Hani heard a burst of laughter and the thud of something being dropped to the floor.
“Hani?” called Mery-ra. “We brought provisions for until the servants get back.”
“We saw some of them in the village.” Neferet stood in the doorway. “We told them to take their time. Oh, Uncle! You’re all clean. Can I hug you now?” She threw herself on Amen-em-hut, and he embraced her in return, his eyes dampening.
How he must miss his children, Hani thought, his heart softening. “We’re trying to think of a place for Amen-em-hut to hide and quickly, before the others all get here. Maybe his family can stay here at the farm with Nub-nefer and the girls. We’re afraid the police might try to get at him through them.”
Mery-ra shook his head dismally. But he greeted the priest with unreserved warmth. “How has your vacation in the boat shed been, my boy?”
While his father chatted with Amen-em-hut, Hani helped Neferet carry their purchases into the kitchen. He saw fresh bread and smoked fish and a gourd full of curds. “Thanks for this, my duckling. It should hold us till the servants have time to prepare food. Is this my drinking gourd?”
“We didn’t have a pot with us, Papa.” She lowered her voice. “How is Uncle?”
“He hasn’t eaten or slept well for more than a month. But he’s all right. We just need to get him to a new hiding place.”
She nodded, furrowing her brow. “What about the other priests? Couldn’t they hide him?”
Hani looked at her appreciatively. “Not a bad idea, little duckling. Maybe someone could even let him into the temple precincts.”
Neferet looked pleased. “I told you I was smart.” She grinned her wide gap-toothed grin.
The four of them ate a frugal supper featuring bread and curds. Neferet picked some lettuce for a salad, but none of them could find oil or green grape juice, so they crunched it down unsauced.
“It’s a feast, believe me,” Amen-em-hut assured them. “Compared to what I’ve been eating. Except for the figs. They’ve been marvelous for the last week or so.”
“But our well is good, isn’t it, Papa?”
“Yes, my love,” Hani said, his mouth full of bread. “Amen-em-hut, our girl had a good idea. Would any of your confreres consent to hide you?”
The priest looked up, his eyebrows raised. “That is a good idea. I thought of it, in fact, but I’d need to sound someone out, and I had nothing to write with nor any means of delivering a note.”
“That’s one problem we can solve,” Mery-ra said. “Scribes are thick on the ground around here. Not a single person in this room is illiterate, right, Neferet?”
“Right, Grandfather. And I just happen to have in my medical basket a stack of potsherds, a pen, and some ink blocks.”
“Take one potsherd before bedtime with a cup of inky water,” Mery-ra finished, lifting an authoritative finger.
“Nooo,” she said, cheerfully exasperated. “It’s to write prescriptions.”
Hani said, “I’ll deliver it for you, brother. Just say whatever you have to say discreetly, please, in case the medjay pick me up and rifle through my writing case.”
Neferet mixed up some ink and passed the scribal tools to her uncle. He stared reflectively at the potsherd, chewed the end of the pen, and shaped it into a point with his fingertips. “I’m just going to ask at this point if they know where I could hide. I’m hoping they’ll spontaneously offer to cache me, but it would be a lot to lay on someone simply to present myself.”
Indeed, Hani thought with a twist of the mouth.
Amen-em-hut began to write, straight-backed and proper as if he were seated in the House of Life. After a moment, he handed Hani the potsherd blackened with his fine cursive. “This person can be trusted.”
Hani closed his hand over it without looking. “What excuse do I have to show up at the door of a former priest of Amen-Ra, though? I’m just afraid someone may be tailing me... for another reason.”
