by N. L. Holmes
Maya lifted his eyebrows and puckered his lips. “Whew. Like that insect that kills her mate. And she looks so innocent.”
Hani said thoughtfully, “I suspect it is a sort of innocence that believes murder solves anything. As if the Judge of the Soul doesn’t see.”
They continued in silence, their steps ringing softly on the hard-packed ground of the street. The bracelet, wrapped in multiple turns of the hem of Hani’s cloak, slapped against his hip at every stride. Hani wondered if he ought to offer the jewelry to Pa-kiki and Mut-nodjmet to help them get started.
“Do you think your mother might be willing to appraise this piece of gold Lady Kiya gave me?”
“I’m sure she would, my lord. She may even have made it.”
“Let’s be sure to see her when we get back.”
Maya gave a psh of annoyance, his good humor evaporating instantly. “She may be here. She said she’s already starting to set up the new workshop.”
“Well, let’s ask someone where it is.”
“She said she’s just south of the royal warehouses along the river.”
We were just near there, thought Hani, surprised. Didn’t you even want to say hello to her? He pivoted, and the two scribes directed their footsteps northward once more. Ahead, Hani saw the vaulted roofs of the royal magazines and long, low warehouses, like a scatter of logs, toward the waterfront. Maya craned his neck, and Hani did the same. A small construction site in a pocket of unoccupied ground caught his eye. No one was at work, but scaffolding was still set up in front of a half-erected mud-brick wall.
“Is that it, do you think?”
“No idea,” Maya said tersely.
They stepped inside the still unwalled precinct and found an arrangement similar to the Theban workshop: a small house and a double courtyard divided by a barnlike studio.
“In-hapy!” Hani called. “Are you here?”
At his side, Maya maintained a stubborn silence.
After a moment, the little goldsmith appeared in the door of the freshly whitewashed house. Beneath the habitual scarf, her face brightened in delight. “Lord Hani! Maya, my son! How do you like our new workshop?”
She waddled out to greet them on her bowed legs, arms extended toward her son. He drew away, brow thunderous. She turned apologetically to Hani. “Welcome, my lord. None of the workmen is here yet. I’m just watching over the progress on the wall. We can’t move our supplies up here until that’s secure.”
“We wanted to see how your new place was going, In-hapy,” Hani said cheerfully, ignoring his secretary. “And I just received a beautiful piece of gold jewelry I’d like to have appraised.” He unrolled the hem of his cloak and held out the cuff.
In-hapy took it in her stubby fingers and turned it around, lips pursed. She laughed. “Why, that’s one of ours. I can tell you exactly what it’s worth. It’s solid gold, heavy. Are you wanting to sell it, my lord?”
“Er, not yet. I need to think about it.”
She turned sorrowfully toward her son. “Maya’s not very happy about this move. But what can I do, Lord Hani? The king’s chamberlain has hinted that if we aren’t easier to get to, he’s going to take his custom elsewhere. And anyway,” she looked up at Hani, her worn face sly, “I have something else to do with the old place.”
“No doubt!” Maya snapped. “All my childhood memories mean nothing to you, clearly.” He would hardly look in his mother’s direction.
“I was going to give the house to you, my love—to you and Sat-hut-haru and little Tepy,” In-hapy said, beaming at Maya. “And I’ll even have it reworked to however you want it laid out. The people doing the building here are good men, and I’d like to keep them employed awhile longer.”
Maya gaped at his mother, his eyes round as doum fruit. “Seriously? You were going to give it to us?”
“You’ll get it someday. Why not now, when you’re young and could use some help?”
He threw himself on his mother, squeezing her in his short arms, weeping with happiness. Hani watched, touched and a little sorrowful. The children never seem to realize how much we love and sacrifice for them until they have children of their own.
At last, Maya’s tearful—and no doubt guilt-tinged—words of thanks had been accomplished.
“Will you stay here by yourself tonight, In-hapy?” Hani inquired kindly. “I’m sure our host would accommodate you.”
But she waved him off, rolling her eyes. “Oh no, my lord. I’ve heard about that man and his fancy palace. No, no. Too rich for my blood. I’ll be safe here tonight. There’s a door, at least.”
“Maybe I should stay with her,” Maya suggested, enveloping her shoulders with a protective arm.
“Good idea, my boy. I’ll see you in Waset, then.” Hani rolled up his bracelet, and with a light step, he set off once more for Ptah-mes’s house.
⸎
Five days later, Hani reached Waset to find that Sat-hut-haru and her little son had been released from their seclusion. They and Nub-nefer and Baket-iset were already at the house when Hani walked in. He embraced his wife joyfully, savoring her warmth and the sweet smell of bergamot and lilies she always seemed to exude. “My love! It seems like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you!”
She looked up at him with a piquant smile. “Now you know how I felt when you used to be away for months at a time, Hani.” She snuggled against him. “Here we are, reunited again. How were the others in the capital?”
“Well. Neferet is going to attend the royal lyings-in with Lady Djefat-nebty. Aha’s wife hasn’t given birth yet. Pa-kiki—ah! Pa-kiki and Mut-nodjmet want to get married.”
Nub-nefer laughed. “I saw this coming. They were inseparable at the farm. I guess this means we’ll be seeing more of your brother.” She shot Hani an amused glance. “Better practice your dancing, my dear.”
“I don’t suppose Father’s back yet?”
She shook her head. “Come say hello to the girls. They’ve missed you. And greet a certain small someone you haven’t met yet.”
She took him by the hand and led him toward the salon, but Hani stopped her and unrolled his cloak. “Wait, my dove. There’s something I want to give you. It was payment for services rendered to the King’s Beloved Wife.” He held the magnificent bracelet out toward Nub-nefer, who gasped at the sight of it. “Pure gold, like you. Maya’s mother made it.”
His wife took the cuff in her hands, turning it over and over, admiring the craftsmanship of the fine appliqued decorations in wire and granules, marveling at the weight. “This is worth a fortune, Hani. Maybe we should give it to Pa-kiki and Mut-nodjmet instead, to start their household.”
Hani laughed. “That went through my mind. But I wanted my lady to have it. If she passes it along, then both my wishes are fulfilled.”
Nub-nefer strained up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Her voice trembled with emotion. “Thank you. You’re my gift from the gods, Hani.”
They started again toward the salon. Hani slipped out of his sandals and said under his breath, “Speaking of the gods, I never told you—I saw Amen-em-hut again.”
Nub-nefer looked up, her eyes alight and eager. “Is he well? He looked so pitiful when I saw him last.”
“Oh, yes. Back in form.” Hani’s voice dropped still lower, and he said into her ear, “He and the other priests are quietly mounting a rebellion. And Lady Apeny. But please, dearest, don’t breathe a word to anyone. I only tell you this because I know how happy it will make you.”
She threw her arms around her husband and locked him there in silent ecstasy. Finally, she admitted, “Hani, I told Anuia he’s alive. It wasn’t fair to keep her in the dark. She had started to languish, and the children need her.”
“How good is she at dissembling her happiness?” he asked uneasily.
“She’s been golden. One would say she’s just bravely carrying on as a widow.”
“Good. One more thing resolved.”
She looked at him curiously, but they’d en
tered the salon, where both girls cried out simultaneously, “Papa!”
Hani knelt first at the couch of Baket-iset and bent to kiss her. “My swan! How I’ve missed you and your insights. I’ve had to judge people on my own, and I haven’t always done well. How are you?”
She beamed, a beautiful young woman of intrepid spirit, impeccably made up and coiffed, thanks to the loving attentions of her mother. “Wonderful, Papa. I’m an aunt again!”
“I hope you won’t miss that Amur-ba’alu too badly. He was probably married anyway.”
Her smile wavered painfully but she forced it bright once more. “Not at all, Papa. It was just a diversion.”
My poor broken dove, Hani thought, his throat constricted. So little happiness comes your way, and you relinquish it so bravely. Rising, Hani turned to his second daughter, who sat in his chair with a wee rosy bundle in her arms.
She was glowing with pride as she stretched her face up for a kiss. “Here is Tepy, Papa. Say hello to Grandfather, my little man.”
She handed up the naked baby, holding his head carefully. He waved his tiny hands and made a cooing noise but didn’t cry. Hani took him in his arms, marveling at the small creature in whom his own blood ran. Tepy already had a scalp covered in dark fuzz—curly, like Hani’s. Hani could feel tears starting to burn in his nose.
“Cover him, Papa. It’s chilly.” Sat-hut-haru rose, wrapped his loopy-woven blankets around the child, tucked them in with tender fingers.
Nub-nefer, at Hani’s side, put her arm around her husband. “In-hapy said she doesn’t think he’s going to be a dwarf.”
“What difference does it make?” Sat-hut-haru demanded, a little defensive.
“None at all, my love. Maya should be home any day now, by the way. He stayed the night with his mother, who was in the capital overseeing the construction of the new workshop.” Hani watched the baby’s stirrings with delight. He looked up at his daughter. “She’s giving him the old place here in Waset for you and your family.”
Sat-hut-haru’s eyes grew wide with excitement. “Oh, she’s so generous! Maya was sick at the thought of losing that house. And it’s the sweetest little place, Papa. We can fix it up so nicely. I bet if we bring in River mud, we can even have a beautiful garden.”
“I’m sure you can, dearest,” said Nub-nefer, melting with affection. She inserted her finger into Tepy’s diminutive fist. “What does our little man think of that, eh?” She took the baby from Hani’s arms and rocked him back and forth, and a look of contentment spread on Tepy’s face.
He’s perfectly satisfied with his life. “I completely agree,” Hani said fervently.
“Agree with what?” Nub-nefer asked, her face still transfigured with the happiness of watching her grandson.
“My life is pretty well perfect.”
⸎
The next morning, Hani received a letter, written in a careful schoolgirl hand, from Neferet in the capital. At first, he faced it with misgiving. This was the first time she’d ever written to him. Had something happened to her or Aha or Pa-kiki? He fumbled off the seal—Lord Pentju’s, so she had clearly written it at Djefat-nebty’s house—and unfolded the papyrus with unsteady fingers.
Dear Papa, he read and began to relax. I thought you’d want to know: Khentet-ka had another boy! You won’t believe this, but they’re calling him Pa-aten-mes! I swear I didn’t act as disgusted as I felt.
Hani laughed in spite of himself. The idea of Neferet concealing her feelings was pretty hard to imagine. He read on. Numerous words were written in emphatic red ink:
Lady Kiya just had an adorable little girl, but she didn’t seem terribly happy. They all said the baby looked just like the king. The Great Queen—or is she a king now?—had a little boy! Everybody was very happy! As Maya would say, it’s a great year for babies. Grandfather was right about the screaming in pain, though. Don’t tell Mama, but I never, ever, ever want to go through this! May Ta-weret twist off my ears one by one and stuff them down my throat if I do. Be glad you’re a man. Love, Neferet.
THE END
Did you enjoy this book? Here is a taste of the next Lord Hani mystery, Scepter of Flint:
How long will this go on? How long will we suffer at the hands of an impious tyrant who thinks of no one but himself? Hani thought in disgust.
Hemmed in by an enormous crowd, Hani stood between the lion-bodied images of the king that flanked the main street of Akhet-aten. He was waiting—as it seemed he had so often in the last seven years—for the king and his family to make their appearance. This occasion was the opening ceremony of the Great Jubilee of the Aten. More splendid than even the two previous jubilees Nefer-khepru-ra had held since he’d come to the throne alone, this one had been two years in the making. All the ambassadors of foreign lands, all the mayors of Kemet’s vassal states to the north, and all the princes of Ta-nehesy to the south were there to render homage—because Nefer-khepru-ra was the Aten. Officially, he was the son and the only priest of the Shining Sun Disk, but Hani had realized long ago that, in fact, the king in his person was intended to be the revelation of the Aten.
One god, one priest, one revelation: him.
Hani ground his teeth at the very thought of Nefer-khepru-ra’s theology. Had the king no idea of the havoc his decrees had wrought? The Ipet-isut, the Greatest of Shrines, consecrated to Amen-ra, had been closed, the cult statues desecrated, the priests expelled. The Hidden One’s estates had been confiscated, and tens of thousands of priests and workers had found themselves without jobs. Had the king held his celebration in the old capital, Waset, this crowd would have been dangerously hostile.
But the inhabitants of Akhet-aten were handpicked. They were the bureaucrats and tradespeople for whom the king’s continued favor had been more important than conscience, and they would applaud him as he demanded.
Yet here I am too, Hani thought with a twinge of cynicism. And here is my father, and here are my sons and daughter and son-in-law. Nub-nefer, his wife, had been obdurate enough in her faith to refuse to attend. Sat-hut-haru, Hani’s middle girl, had yielded to her mother’s stern orders and declined to participate as well.
Hani mopped his forehead. The temperature wasn’t extreme in this second month of the winter season. Still, packed in with a dense crowd of perspiring bodies, he was none too comfortable as sweat dampened his armpits and then chilled. The men around him were, like him, scribes and emissaries in the king’s foreign office. His friend Mane was at his side, bouncing on his tiptoes, trying to see over the taller heads around him.
“I should be like a crocodile,” Mane shouted over the rumble of the crowd. “They keep growing as long as they live. I’d be taller than Keliya by now.” Keliya was their mutual friend, the ambassador from Naharin.
Hani laughed. He was of average height and still could see nothing more than the white-clad backs of his colleagues, the linen shirts growing transparent with perspiration. Everyone’s big court wigs blocked even more of his view. He wondered if Maya, his son-in-law and secretary, could see anything at all.
Hani eyed the bright, clear sky overhead, blue as turquoise, soft and smooth as the breast of a heron. Great Ra, he prayed silently, put an end to this madness. A hawk sailed overhead far, far into the cloudless azure distance, and Hani followed it admiringly with squinted eyes. Perhaps it was a magnificent bird... or perhaps it was the god Haru, watching the Two Lands with an all-seeing and protective gaze. Lord Haru, show us the way of truth. Hani sighed.
He heard a scuffling noise ahead of him, and suddenly, two men lurched back into the crowd, one of them looking blanched and unwell, leaning on his anxious companion’s arm. They forced their way through the throng, and Hani and Mane found themselves pressed forward into the front rank of the spectators.
“We can breathe at last,” he said to Mane with a grin.
The great processional way stretched off before him in either direction, the crowd of bureaucrats a bright white-and-black fringe bordering the tall whit
ewashed walls of temple and palace and sparking with festive gold jewelry. Banners rippled lazily in the scant wind. The sun-scorched street had been swept and the dust held back by a sprinkling of water, but still, it reflected the glare until it was almost impossible to see without a visoring hand. Somewhere to Hani’s right, toward the palace, were the viziers and upper-level functionaries like his own superior, Lord Ptah-mes, high commissioner of northern foreign relations. To his left stood the lower-rank royal scribes and military scribes, including his sons and father.
All at once, trumpets began to bray, chiming in one after the other in a joyous ascending chord. The crowd rustled and murmured excitedly. Around the north wall of the palace, the royal procession came into view, first several army units marching in step to the beat of drums and then the royal family. The king and queen were borne high in their golden carrying chairs on the shoulders of stalwarts decked in plumes and leopard skins. Nefer-khepru-ra gazed straight ahead of him, a slight smile on his lips, and so did the beautiful Nefert-iti Nefer-neferu-aten. They were a splendid couple, he had to admit—and things had reached such a pass in Hani’s soul that even that admission was painful. But they were young and good-looking, although the king had begun to grow fat like his father. Decked with jewels, their crossed arms bearing the crook and flail of kingship, they sparkled like the pair of gods they were. Behind them, the royal daughters were borne aloft, pretty girls with shaved heads and the lock of childhood, several of them starting to enter adolescence. The crown prince—the Haru in the nest—who was only two, was carried in his nurse’s arms, and other members of the dynasty—the queen mother and more of her children—followed. Clouds of flower petals and bits of fine gold leaf fountained into the air as they passed, tossed by enthusiastic naked children with baskets. The crowd roared its approval, and many spectators lunged forward to collect the falling gold, but soldiers stationed every few cubits held them back with lowered spears.
