The Crocodile Makes No Sound

by N. L. Holmes

  “Of course. They’re in back.” Hani added, “I’m alone, too, my lord. The family is all in the country, and Aziru’s still in the capital.”

  “That’s where I should be,” Ptah-mes murmured as the two men made their way through the kitchen into the dark service court.

  “Iuty!” Hani called out. “Bring us some torches, will you?”

  Ptah-mes said, “My men are in your street. Let me get them.”

  “No need, I think.”

  Iuty appeared after a moment with a flaming brand in either hand and accompanied the two scribes to the cowshed, where Hani had penned up the horses. Hani opened the door and gathered the halters from a hook at the side. He managed to slip one onto each long muzzle without embarrassing himself too badly and led the docile creatures out into the light. They stood there, blinking and swishing their tails. Occasionally, one of them stamped a foot.

  Ptah-mes raised an appreciative eyebrow. “Nice, actually. But they’re mares.” He moved over to the horses and examined each of them in turn—bending to feel their legs, looking into their mouths, sweeping his hand down the smooth expanse of their necks. Hani was amused to see his urbane superior handling animals with such familiarity. Ptah-mes looked finally at the brands on their rumps then stared up at Hani. “They’re stolen. You’ll never be able to sell them.”

  Hani’s stomach did a flop into his throat. “Stolen?” he cried, stunned. “How do you know?”

  “The brands have been changed. Look here—a bar has been added to cancel out the first image. See? The new scar crosses the old scar right there.” Ptah-mes pointed with a carefully groomed forefinger. “They’ve been stolen from the royal stud farm.”

  “Oh no!” Hani couldn’t conceal his horror. “This is all I need!” He was so distraught that he laughed, a sound that had more pain than humor in it.

  “How did your brother come by these?”

  “He bought them from some itinerant dealer in Men-nefer. Of course, Pipi knows even less than I do about horses. He’d be an easy mark for any swindler.” Hani put his face in his hands. “So much for getting my gold back.”

  “Get them off your property, Hani. Throw them in the river. Kill and eat them. But burn those hides.” Ptah-mes was dead serious, Hani saw.

  “Can I give them back to the king? Tell some cavalry officer I found them wandering?”

  “If you dare. He or his agent might wonder where that happened. I’d get rid of them.”

  That’s because you’re rich, Hani thought, a spark of resentment alight in his breast. I had to strip my farm to pay for those beasts, and I need to recoup my expense. But he knew Ptah-mes was right. “Well, there’s one crisis that’s back in operation after I thought I’d resolved it.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t help you.” Ptah-mes looked regretfully at the horses.

  “Oh, you have helped me, my lord. I would innocently have taken them to market and ended up in some well with my nose cut off for horse thieving. Mahu would have enjoyed every minute of it!” Hani turned to Iuty. “Put the girls up for me, will you?” To Ptah-mes, he said, “Can I offer you some beer? Have you eaten?”

  “Yes to the first. No to the second. But don’t bother with anything. I’m not hungry.”

  That’s why he’s so svelte. I’m always ready to eat.

  They returned through the kitchen, where Hani instructed the servant to bring out two pots of beer, preferably something nicely flavored with herbs. They took their seats in the only fancy chairs in the salon. I may have to sell these. He tried to harden himself against that idea.

  “Time to go back to the capital,” Ptah-mes said with a sigh, smoothing his perfect pleats mechanically. He managed a smile, no doubt so Hani wouldn’t feel sorry for him. “When will your family be back?”

  “Nub-nefer—not until Sat-hut-haru is out of her seclusion, and probably my niece as well. I’ll take Neferet and Pa-kiki back to Akhet-aten whenever they return. I’m not sure when my father and brother and Maya plan to come home. They won’t have much to do in the country, with the new mother’s bower set up in the middle of things.”

  Ptah-mes nodded.

  Hani remembered that his superior had mentioned children of his own. “Do you have sons or daughters, my lord?”

  “Five daughters, three of whom are chantresses of Amen-Ra, and two sons. The eldest is a priest.” Ptah-mes gave a snort that edged close to bitterness. “They have as little to do with me as they can.”

  Ai, thought Hani, with a pinch of the heart. He deserves more happiness than that. It was true that Ptah-mes wasn’t a cuddly fellow—he had perhaps been a cold father. But he was a good man, generous and fair; Hani couldn’t imagine that he’d ever mistreated his children so as to earn their hatred. Are they, too, estranged because of his participation in the present administration? Watching his superior and friend sitting, straight backed but weary looking, across from him, a dispirited absence of expression on his fine-boned face, Hani thought, He isn’t an easy person to know. He seems to be full of contradictions.

  The servant girl brought their beer, set up stands beside both of them, then left.

  “To our master, the Lord of the Two Lands,” Ptah-mes said in a tone dangerously close to sarcasm. The men put their lips to their straws and drank.

  Hani was uncertain whether to tell Ptah-mes the details of his meeting with the priests; he couldn’t read the strange mood the man seemed to be prey to and didn’t want to aggravate his tense relationship with his wife. They sat in silence, drinking from time to time, Hani casting a friendly smile at the high commissioner whenever he saw his eyes emerge from their distant focus.

  After some while had passed, Ptah-mes rose. “It must be getting late. I’ll give you back your evening, Hani. I’m sorry about the horses.”

  “Me, too, my lord, but that’s the way it is. I’ll get rid of them. Thank you for your diagnosis.”

  He clapped Ptah-mes’s arm with a comradely hand and saw the other man’s dark eyes warm.

  Ptah-mes laid his hand on Hani’s. “Thank you for the beer. I’ll see you in the capital soon, I expect.” He turned and made his way to the door, where A’a opened it for him with a respectful bow. Hani heard his footsteps crunching off down the path. “May Khonsu give you safe travels, my lord,” he called from the door.

  ⸎

  The next morning, Hani was watching the ducks dive for bread balls in the pond when there came a commotion of talking and laughter from the gate. He swung the panels open without waiting for A’a and found his father, Pipi, Pa-kiki, Mut-nodjmet, and Neferet rocking with hilarity. Neferet pounced on him immediately, her arms in a crushing hug around him. “Papa! You have to see little Tepy! He’s so adooorable!”

  “Tepy? He’s Tepy?” Hani inquired laughingly of his father over her head.

  “That’s right—‘the first.’ Of many, one hopes. And it makes a good nickname for Amen-hotep,” Mery-ra said in approval.

  Pa-kiki grinned. “At least people won’t always be asking him why he’s called that.”

  Flashing a knowing look at Pa-kiki, Mut-nodjmet stifled a giggle.

  “I owe my life to a monkey, son” Hani said. “No unkind words about them.”

  Everyone stared at him in surprise. “What’s happened now?” Mery-ra asked, catching his eye.

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  “Was it...?” Neferet made her baboon face.

  “Yes. His name is Djehuty’s Cub, and I petted him for you. His fur is surprisingly coarse, although it looks soft.” Hani combed his daughter’s bangs with his fingers.

  “We’re going back to Akhet-aten today, right?” She looked up at him.

  “Afraid I’ll have to wait for Lord Aziru to return, little duck. But Pa-kiki can take you down.”

  “Let’s get our bags put up,” said Mery-ra, leading the procession into the house.

  “Wait a minute, Father.” Hani put out a hand to stop him. “And you, too, Pipi. I need to tell you something.”
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  While the others clumped off into the back of the house, the three men remained in the vestibule.

  “Lord Ptah-mes came by last night to look at the horses,” Hani said under his breath.

  Pipi’s eyes lit up eagerly. “Is he interested?”

  But Hani shook his head in warning. “He said they’re stolen from the royal stud farms and that we’ll never be able to sell them. He said we’d better destroy and eat them and conceal the evidence of their brands.”

  Pipi’s jaw dropped, the very picture of horrified.

  Mery-ra rolled his eyes. “Why does this not surprise me? There’s no such thing as half a disaster. Thank the gods I didn’t show them to Pa-aten-em-heb.”

  “What are we going to do?” cried Pipi in a high-pitched voice. “That bastard gold changer will destroy and eat me.”

  “Calm down, son,” said Mery-ra, patting the air. “I’ve already charged the wagons with your grain and bronze debens. We’re taking them up to Men-nefer as soon as Mut-nodjmet is ready to leave. You have nothing to worry about. Hani, on the other hand...” He cast a reluctant glance at his firstborn. “They’re probably worth a year’s wages each, would you say?”

  “At least we won’t starve this year, between them and the ostrich.” The situation was so ridiculous that Hani had to laugh. “Maybe we can sell the meat in the market. Barter the skins for bread.”

  “Make fly whisks out of the tails,” Mery-ra suggested. “Wigs out of the manes.”

  Despite their chagrin—or perhaps because of it—the men laughed crazily.

  “What’s so funny?” Pa-kiki asked as he stuck his head into the vestibule from the salon.

  Wiping his eyes, Hani recounted the story of the doomed horses.

  “What a shame. Horses are so beautiful.” The youth dropped his gaze then looked back up at Hani, his little brown eyes sparkling. “Speaking of beautiful, have you seen Mut-nodjmet?”

  Pipi beamed proudly. “She’s changed, hasn’t she?”

  “I should say so. Iy, she’s really gorgeous! I mean,” he protested quickly, “she always was. But now...” Pa-kiki cleared his throat, his face growing red. “We talked quite a lot at the farm. She’s a very intelligent girl. I like her sense of humor. And loving—you should have seen how she handled Tepy.”

  “Of course. She’s one of us,” said Mery-ra with a broad smile. He clapped his younger son on the shoulder.

  Pa-kiki kept fishing for his father’s eye, a daft grin on his lips. “I mean, a man could do worse.” He clearly wanted to be reassured.

  “A man could do much worse,” Hani agreed amiably.

  “I don’t suppose she could stay around a little longer, Uncle? Do you have to get back to Men-nefer immediately?”

  “I do,” Pipi said, “but if your mother is agreeable, Mut-nodjmet could stay longer.”

  “I’d like to get to know her better.” Beaming, the youth drifted on back into the salon and away.

  They watched him go, Hani full of tenderness for the boy, whose heart was attached to his eyes.

  “Can cousins marry?” asked Pipi.

  Mery-ra said, “Of course. Why, brothers and sisters can marry.”

  “I think you’re confusing us with the royal family, Father,” Hani said.

  “You’re telling me your friend Ptah-mes and his wife aren’t brother and sister?”

  Scandalized, Hani said, “Father, how lurid!”

  “I’ll bet anything she’s his father’s love child or the other way around.”

  The conversation was getting uncomfortable. Hani felt disloyal making a joke of Ptah-mes’s staggering marriage. The truth was, he admired both Ptah-mes and his wife. He said blandly, “How can we know? Maybe all those high nobility look alike.”

  Suddenly, he was painfully conscious of how much he wanted to see his wife. And the older girls. He wanted his Amurrite guests gone and his family back where they belonged. “How many more days until Sat-hut-haru and Tepy leave their bower?”

  ⸎

  In the afternoon, Pa-kiki and Neferet returned to Akhet-aten. Mut-nodjmet went with them, because she had yet to see it, and Aha’s new baby must have been born by that point. The young people headed off gaily to the riverside in search of a ferry. Hani thought with a smirk that Aha was going to find himself with three hungry adolescents on his hands instead of two. Hani would need to make another offering at the Ipet-isut, he supposed, but outside the gate seemed to be sufficient. His police tail was probably back in effect.

  To complete the cascade of events, Aziru and his entourage arrived at the house, talking loudly and laughing with the high good humor of men who were headed home after too long a time. Aziru stopped to greet Hani, who was writing a letter to Nub-nefer in the salon. “Well, Lord Hani,” he said with his most charming and sincere-seeming smile. “At last you’re rid of me. We’ll pack tonight and leave tomorrow. The king, as eager suddenly to be rid of me as you no doubt are, has actually lent us a state boat as far as the delta of the River. I thank you for your hospitality. That hunt was something to tell my grandchildren about.”

  Hani smiled, his relief unfeigned. “I wish you a safe journey, my lord. Salute your beautiful homeland on my behalf.” He stared directly into the dark-lashed, foxy eyes of the Amurrite, who sustained his look with the shared understanding of their long mix of friendship and antagonism. Hani said more quietly, “Why did you have me attacked in the street, Lord Aziru? Didn’t you like the food you were served?”

  Aziru froze for a moment but gathered his smile quickly, even if his face reddened. He’d caught the reference to sharing bread and salt, which should have bound them in unbreakable friendship. “Oh, that was you? How awkward. Let’s say it was a hasty reaction to being spied on, eh? Nothing fatal was intended.”

  “The Mitannian agents of Kheta must have told you we were sitting behind your back, I suppose,” Hani said with bland amiability.

  “Is that who they were?” Aziru asked innocently.

  Hani just smiled. “I forgot to tell you the police were following me. Those poor men were pretty badly bitten by the medjay’s baboon.”

  “Life plays strange tricks, doesn’t it?” Aziru grinned. He was a handsome fellow—more than a little wicked looking—with his almond-shaped eyes and neat beard. Hani found his sarcasm a bit abrasive, but he wished him well as king of the newly established A’amu. “I somehow never got around to buying those horses I intended to take home, but—”

  “You’re looking for horses?” A crazy hope tinkled in Hani’s head.

  “To enrich our breeding stock. I actually have an export billet for them, but I never got to the king’s stud farm. Not, the gods know, because I didn’t have time. I’ll have to send an agent back here at some point. Soon. Before—” Aziru eyed Hani’s suddenly eager face and asked quizzically, “Why?”

  “It happens that I have two mares from the royal stud farms in my cowshed, Lord Aziru. I don’t suppose you’d like to look at them?”

  Aziru laughed richly. “You never cease to amaze me, Hani. This is surely the last word in hospitality!”

  Hani led him through the kitchen into the court. “Wait till you see them first. You’re under no obligation, of course, but it would save your agent a trip back. Before...” Hani knew that Aziru would understand his meaning: before you cease to be a vassal of the Two Lands.

  Hani swept the indignant geese ahead of him and out of the way and opened the door of the cowshed. The mares looked up with their mild brown eyes. He slipped their harnesses on and led them out into the light. Aziru’s face brightened appreciatively, and he began the same inspection Lord Ptah-mes had performed the other evening—lifting their feet, parting their lips, running his hands over them.

  “Someone hasn’t curried these girls for a while, but they seem to be in good health. Very nice stock. I’d be interested... considering that I owe you some kind of reparations anyway.” Aziru grinned. “May I trot them around?”

  “Of course.”
>
  One at a time, Aziru led them around the court, increasing his speed and watching their legs as they trotted then cantered in a circle. He listened to their chests and put his ear to their nostrils. He obviously knew what he was about. “Not bad at all, Hani. Before I ask you the price, tell me why you have two horses with marked-out royal brands in your barn?” His expression was both amused and curious.

  “It’s a long story, my lord,” Hani said with a rueful quirk of the mouth. “Let’s just say that my brother doesn’t know much about horse trading. Are those brands going to cause trouble for you?” Not that he cares, once he’s outside the borders of Kemet.

  “No, no. I have a billet for horses from the royal stud farm, after all. And at this time of year, I think a nice trapper will keep the girls warm, don’t you? That way, no one will ask unnecessary questions.” Aziru threw back his head and laughed, as if he could scarcely believe the good fortune of this coincidence. “Now, break the price to me gently.”

  Aziru didn’t even flinch at the amount. Perhaps Pipi had gotten a good price after all, since the animals had been unsalable.

  “This may delay our departure a day or two. I need to buy some equipment and hire some grooms.” The Amurrite’s eyes sparkled naughtily. “I hear Mitannians make the best grooms.”

  “That’s what I hear, too, my lord,” Hani said. And his Mitannian accomplices will get to leave the country under diplomatic immunity. “I’ll be heading for the capital tomorrow, so if we don’t see one another before your departure, please give my best to your brother. His attentions were a nice diversion for my daughter.”

  “Mutually, my lord. Perhaps we’ll meet again.” His white teeth bared in a smile, Aziru made his way back into the house while Hani put up the horses.

  “Better to bear your foals in A’amu than be eaten in Waset,” he told the animals and chuckled. There’s the first entry in my new “Aphorisms for Horses.” He was eager to share the good news with Pipi and his father.