by N. L. Holmes
⸎
Lord Hani and Maya were sitting on the deck of the ferry, en route to the capital. Lord Hani was supposed to be working on some documents for the Hall of Correspondence, but he kept losing his train of thought. Maya had rarely seen his father-in-law so distracted. The gods knew he was distracted as well, with visions of his little son and his beloved wife floating in front of the words he was supposed to be writing. He couldn’t wait until the days of seclusion were over and he could hold them both in his arms. Little Tepy—the first of many sons!
“I might as well stop this, Maya,” Lord Hani finally said with a sigh. He rubbed his face with his hands. “I need to organize my thoughts.”
“Six more days till we can see Tepy and the women, my lord,” Maya said, grinning.
“I should drop in on Aha and congratulate him, too, if Khentet-ka has, in fact, given birth. We may have crossed their messenger on the water.”
“These are great days,” Maya said, unable to wipe the grin from his face.
Hani laughed that deep belly-bouncing chuckle of his. “Yes, they’re turning out that way. Little by little, everything is resolving. Pipi could hardly contain himself when he found out about Aziru and the horses. He kept saying it was too good to be true.”
“Great days. Great days,” Maya continued to murmur, stroking his gold amulet of Bes.
“Let’s count our blessings, Maya. Here are the problems we’ve had this year and their outcome. You might take notes.”
Maya fished around for a potsherd and wrote, Lord Hani’s Problems, at the top. “This isn’t a very big sherd, my lord. I hope you haven’t had too many problems.”
“No,” Hani agreed. “Few but serious. One...” His voice dropped. “Who was blackmailing Lady Kiya, and how do we stop them?”
“Ah,” crowed Maya. “We know what happened there. It was the queen.”
But Hani held up a hand in warning. “Yes and no, my friend. As it happens, there were two blackmails going on. The first was the queen’s. We’ll see if that’s resolved or not. If she doesn’t take up the suggestion we made to her, then I’m out of ideas. It can still go either way.”
“There were more?” Maya looked at him dubiously, his pen floating over the potsherd.
Hani nodded. “The one brought by our Mitannian friends was a wholly different attempt. It seems to have been engineered by the Hittites, enabled somehow by the... let’s call them the Crocodiles. They consider their work finished, so we need fear no more on that score.”
Maya looked up, confused. “The Hittites were blackmailing her? The crocodiles?”
“Ah,” said Hani. “You’ve missed some things while you were at the farm. I’ll fill you in when we’re done. Subproblem: who tried to kill or frighten Hani during his investigation of the blackmail? Still unresolved. The Crocodiles deny responsibility. Along with that comes the death of Kha-em-sekhem. Unresolved, although I’ve been assuming it was the queen.”
Maya caught up to him with a flourish. “Second?”
“The disappearance of Amen-em-hut, which is now resolved.”
“You know where he is, my lord?”
“No, but I know that he is. Alive, well, and as subversive as ever. And by no means alone.”
Maya said with a bit of heat, “Too bad Lady Anuia can’t hear that. She’s given up. She thinks he’s dead.”
“I know,” said Hani, his eyebrows drooping sadly. “We may have to do something about that. Put it under Unresolved. Third problem.”
Maya scribbled, Three.
“Pipi’s debt. Resolved. I never thought I’d be grateful to Aziru, but somehow, our mutual self-interests converged here. I may even be able to get myself a small yacht after all. Wouldn’t it be nice not to have to rely on public ferries?”
In the back of his mind, Maya thought reluctantly that Hani buying a yacht would probably mean no more trips on Ptah-mes’s beautiful vessel. Maya wrote, Resolved, and turned the potsherd over. “Is there a four?”
“Yes. Mut-nodjmet’s broken heart.” Lord Hani chuckled. “That may be taking care of itself. The Lady of Love has touched the heart of Pa-kiki. We’ll see how things develop.”
Maya smiled with the tolerance of a man who knew about such things. “Resolved,” he said as he wrote. He raised his pen. “Anything else?”
“Five: Aziru’s questionable loyalty. I’m not sure this constitutes a problem, because everyone pretty well knows he’s planning to go over to Kheta, and no one, from the king on down to myself, really cares. May Ammit take me if I see why Nefer-khepru-ra was in such a furor to make him come to Kemet if it was just to insult him into the enemy camp. But that’s another problem, one I can’t solve.” Hani’s face went sour for a moment, then he brightened. “Ah, subproblem: who attempted to kill or discourage Hani after he began to investigate Aziru? By his own admission, that was Aziru. Probably with the collusion of those Mitannian henchmen of Kheta. But they won’t bother us anymore—they’re going back to A’amu with him. Let’s hope they’re more loyal to Aziru than Abdi-ashirta’s guards were to him.”
Maya looked up, goggling at Lord Hani in disbelief. “Mitannians working for the Hittites? That’s like lambs in the employ of wolves.”
“They’re mercenaries, Maya. Men without loyalties. And who would be less likely to be suspected of being on the side of the wolves than a lamb?”
Maya shook his head and snorted. “Crocodiles, wolves, lambs, horses! Where are your favorites, the birds?”
“The Great Queen and the Beloved Wife are ducks, remember? Brawling for the favor of their drake.” The two men laughed hilariously. Freedom—at last—from most of the anxieties that had been haunting him for months seemed to have made Hani effervescent. “Now, read out the unresolved issues, if you will, please, my friend.”
Maya scanned the potsherd and read aloud, “Attempt on Hani and death of Kha-em-sekhem. Maybe the queen’s blackmail. Lady Anuia.”
Hani crawled to his feet, grinning. “Lord Ptah-mes recently said I’d be safer in Kharu, and it looks like he was right. And then there’s the police trailing me. But that’s probably going to end soon, I’ve been told.”
“Now that you have a friend on the force,” Maya said with a wink.
“You mean Cub? I’m grateful to that boy.”
“Oh, one more unresolved issue, my lord.” Maya’s smile tarnished, and he could taste the bitterness in the back of his throat. “Maya’s childhood home being sold out from under him.”
“I thought you were going to buy it.”
Maya hung his head, twisting his mouth. “That’s going to be a little hard now, with a baby to take care of.” He looked up quickly. “I know you’d help us, Lord Hani, but I feel I’ve asked enough of you. I may just have to make my peace with this... this betrayal.” In spite of himself, Maya still felt a burn of anger and humiliation inside at the thought.
Hani nodded slowly. “Whatever you think, Maya.” He hitched up his kilt. “We’ve worked long enough. I have a gourd full of wine, if you’d like to share some.”
⸎
They reached the capital to find it in something of a state of ferment. Hani couldn’t think of any upcoming major festival likely to be celebrated in the Horizon of the Aten, but there were workmen sweeping the streets and garlanding the lion-bodied images of the king along the processional road. Banners hung over the bridge into the palace precinct and flew from the two royal buildings face-to-face on either side of it.
“Is someone receiving the gold of honor, I wonder?” Hani asked himself.
At his side, Maya said sarcastically, “It’s been a whole year. About time for another jubilee.”
“Not hot enough. Wait till midsummer.” Hani shocked himself with the openness of his cynicism these days. Maybe it was because he knew how many were suffering the present administration in seeming silence while working to undermine it. Looking around at the arid, swept processional way, he said, “Where do we go first? I think I’d like to see if Mane
’s around. Once we get to Aha’s, we may be there for a while.”
Accordingly, they passed under the bridge and turned right, bypassing the small state residence and entering the cluster of drab cubes that housed the Hall of Royal Correspondence. In the court, clutches of Hani’s colleagues talked together animatedly. He approached a knot of several men with Maya in his wake. “Anyone seen Mane son of Pa-iry?”
One of the scribes said, “He’s with the Mitannian delegation. They’re getting ready for the queen’s elevation. All the foreigners are making some sort of presentation, same as at a real coronation.”
Hani exchanged a quick look of knowing satisfaction with his secretary. To the other scribe, he said genially, “You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve been down at my farm. What’s going on?”
Another man said with an edge of tartness, “They’re crowning her as a second king or something like. We’re going to have two of them at once now.”
“A coregency,” explained the first man.
“He-king and she-king?” Hani said with a smile.
“That’s it,” said the second man. “This must have come up pretty quickly. They didn’t even tell us in advance we had the day off.”
Hani laughed conspiratorially and turned away. He caught Maya’s eye. “Resolved,” he whispered. “Let’s find Mane.”
The scribes directed him to the courtyard of the reception palace not far away.
“They’re doing the coronation today?” Maya cried as they passed through the splendidly decorated pylons.
“Surely not. But soon. This may be a rehearsal. If it’s not at the Ipet-isut, I don’t know what the ceremony even consists of.”
Within, the vast court was planted with rows of palm trees that led the eye toward the entrance like a hall of columns. The king certainly has a strong artistic sense. Hani saw assemblages of exotically dressed men and women gathered here and there and heard snatches of music as he and Maya passed. Everyone seemed to be practicing their presentations at once. He cast around for men of a Mitannian-looking stamp, and sure enough, there were Mane and Keliya talking at the edge of the group. A line of women in bright woolen dresses were playing tambourines and dancing. Hani waved at his friends, who looked up in delight.
“Hani,” cried Mane. “Join us. You can be a Mitannian for the day.” Keliya stood, smiling, behind him.
“I thought I’d pass myself off as one of the dancing girls,” Hani said. “Speaking of girls, how is...?”
“About ready to pop. I don’t know if she’ll be able to take part in the celebration or not.” Mane looked conspiratorial. “Whatever possessed Nefer-khepru-ra to crown his wife a king, eh?” He nudged Hani in the ribs.
“We’ve had women kings before,” Hani said modestly. “Both of you, I need to know something from our girl. Any chance of seeing her?”
“Now?” Keliya scratched his beard. “Maybe now’s the best time, in fact, while everyone is busy.”
“I can take him,” Mane said. “You’re head of the Mitannian mission. You need to stay.”
Mane peeled off, an energetic little round figure, and Hani and Maya followed in his brisk wake. Lady Kiya was established on the deep colonnaded porch with other women, presumably the king’s concubines and lesser wives, and a bevy of servants who fanned the warmth of a brazier toward her offered her fruit, laid out a choice of shawls for her perusal, and in general pampered the Beloved Royal Wife. Kiya was enjoying the role of a very pregnant woman. She seemed no longer to be worried about whose child she carried. Even from a distance, Hani saw the happiness in her face—the sparkling eyes, the flushed cheeks. This was the antechamber of her triumph, with the queen neutralized as a rival. Now all Kiya needed to do was produce a male child.
Hani and Maya waited respectfully in the court while Mane approached the royal wife’s chamberlain. The official carried the message to Lady Kiya. Her gaze grew wide, and she scanned the edge of the crowd. She saw him and beckoned.
“Wait for me here, son,” Hani said to Maya, and he climbed the steps to the portico. In the presence of the Beloved Wife, he made a deep obeisance, hand to mouth, and looked up into Kiya’s merry eyes.
“You did it, my friend,” she said softly. “She’ll never give me another thought. Except when I bear the king’s heir. How can I thank you, Hani?”
“Just with an honest answer or two, my dear lady, so I can understand what has happened.” He stared at her, seeing her as the very young girl she still was. “Who killed the sculptor?”
Her face fell. She glanced fearfully at the servants, who’d stepped away to allow her more privacy, then back at Hani. She managed a transparent air of innocence. “How would I know?”
“I think you do, my lady. Honest answers, please. Clearly, nothing is going to happen to you as a result.” He spoke gently as if to a frightened animal.
“He was dangerous,” she said, hanging her head. “He could have revealed things. And I thought he was blackmailing me. Maybe he even said something to those other people, the veterans.”
Hani was saddened by this ruthlessness but not surprised. Kiya had spent her entire life at someone’s court, where murder was as common as a drink of water. Her family, in particular, was a seething snake pit of fratricide. At least, she had the grace to look ashamed.
He said, “And so I suppose you wanted to warn me away, too, when I started investigating? But you were the one who asked me to find out who was after you, my lady.”
“Yes, but I panicked, Hani. Suddenly, I was afraid it all was going to come out. You’d find out I had lied to you about the time and everything.” Her voice dropped to a husk of itself, and Hani had to fasten his eyes to her lips. “Nobody must ever suspect.”
He nodded his understanding. He couldn’t demand more honesty of her than he himself displayed often enough in diplomatic discussions.
“I only wanted to scare you,” she pleaded, her sweet plum-shaped face more beautiful than ever with her incipient motherhood. It was hard to hold anything against such a face.
“I take it you didn’t send the Mitannians after me.” He thought she didn’t need to know that they’d been the agents of anyone other than the queen.
“No, no. I was afraid of them. It was just some people who... who do things like that.” She smiled uncertainly.
Hani nodded. “You’ve answered my questions, Lady Kiya. I wish you a safe and happy childbirth.”
“You must let me give you something, Hani.” She turned, dug about in the chests behind her, and produced a marvelous gold cuff bracelet, which she forced on him. “I’m grateful.”
Hani accepted it with a deep bow. Heavy. Priceless. There sits my yacht. He backed away down the stairs into the courtyard, and Mane and Maya stepped up to his side.
“What did she give you, my boy?” asked the emissary to Naharin.
Hani held out the bracelet as they all walked away through the tree-shaded court. Mane whistled. “Your wife will love that.”
“Yes, she will,” said Hani, suddenly conflicted. His yacht had disappeared into the mists again.
He saw Maya’s goggling eyes. There’s his mother’s house. He rolled the bracelet up carefully in the end of his cloak and pinned it under his arm.
They left Mane once more with the Mitannians, and Hani and Maya made their way through the southern residential sections of town to Aha’s gate. They were admitted to the garden, where in spite of the lingering chill, the young people had congregated.
“Papa!” cried Neferet, rising and hurling herself on him. “Pa-kiki and Mut-nodjmet want to get married! Isn’t it wonderful?”
“It is indeed.” He looked over her head at the happy pair, who sat beaming at him, red-faced with beatitude, their arms around one another’s waists. “No one can say they haven’t known each other long enough.” He winked at his son then turned to Neferet. “You’re not at Djefat-nebty’s side today, my duckling?”
“She gave me the day off. She said we’d be busy as soon as th
e queen and Lady Kiya have their babies. Which is aaany day now.”
Hani exchanged a puzzled look with Maya. “Doctors do that? I thought it was for sisters and aunties to deliver babies.”
“But, Papa, these are the king’s women. You can’t be too careful.” Neferet sounded so grown-up that he had to remind himself she was barely fourteen. “It will be another sort of experience for me.”
“I’ll say,” he said, thinking of his father’s remarks about screaming in pain. “Where is Aha?”
“He’s at the temple of the Aten, Papa,” said Pa-kiki. “He said he had work there, but I think he wanted to get out of the house.”
“Ah, yes, speaking of childbirth—has Khentet-ka had hers yet? We hadn’t received a message by the time we left Waset.”
“Not yet,” Neferet assured him. “Her mother said I could help her, so I’ll have some experience when the queen and the Beloved Wife go into labor.”
“It’s a great year for babies,” Maya murmured at Hani’s side, his mouth spread in a wide smile of satisfaction.
“Well, Maya, you and I can head back to Lord Ptah-mes’s house for the evening and return to Waset tomorrow. Unless you want to stay for the coronation.” He shot his secretary a teasing quirk of the mouth, which Maya returned knowingly.
“The staff of the Hall of Correspondence is off until after the ceremonies,” Pa-kiki said, “but I’m not sure we’d have time to get home and back. I’m thinking of quitting anyway.”
“I wouldn’t until your grandfather finds you a post in the military, son. It might look like a protest, and this family needs to minimize its appearance of rebellion.” Hani clapped him on the shoulder unoccupied by Mut-nodjmet. The boy would find something to do with his time in Akhet-aten; that was clear. “See everyone soon. Let me know when Aha’s little one comes along.”
They all bade the two men a cheerful goodbye, Neferet giving him her usual rib-cracking hug, and Hani and Maya regained the street.
“When do the royal scribes ever work?” Maya said with a snort.
“We could ask ourselves that, too, eh, my friend? We may have to request another assignment to Kharu just to get some rest.” They marched along with their mismatched strides. Hani said, “By the way, Kiya admitted that it was she who killed Kha-em-sekhem and had me attacked as a warning.”
