"It was my duty, especially since I'm soon to be a member of the family. Soon I'll be your father's brother and your uncle. Be certain I'll do everything I can to protect the family. In the future I hope to be of great service. Would you like a date?"
"No, thank you."
"You will speak to your father about my taking Idut and your sisters away?"
Kysen ushered Wah out of the room. "As soon as possible. A pleasant evening to you." He closed the door before the man finished speaking.
"Iry, I don't know when I've felt my time more wasted than when talking with that fool."
"Yes, lord, but at least the task is done."
"Get some rest. We'll leave after everyone's asleep."
Kysen took the record of Wah's interview from the charioteer. Iry left while he was placing it in a document case along with the dozens of others made during the course of their inquiries. There was a basket of ostraca, pottery shards on which the men took notes. He picked up one that recorded the statements of a kitchen worker, then tossed it back into the basket.
Because of the two deaths, he hadn't mentioned the situation at the haunted temple to his father. Some of the guards reported that Nento was growing more and more agitated. The long hours in the dark spent listening to the wind and the calls of hyenas were wearing down his courage. He jumped at the slightest sound. He refused to remain in the temple alone with his royal charges, insisting upon at least two guards for company.
The men had assured Kysen that Nento was alarmed about nothing. The only sounds that broke the silence around the temple were those of jackals, hyenas, lizards, and Nento's cries of alarm. The only movement was that of the wind. Kysen was going to talk to Nento tonight and tell him he was welcome to return to Baht. It would be amusing to see the man try to decide which was more dangerous, the haunted temple or a country house in which two people had been murdered.
Chapter 14
Indigo darkness surrounded Meren in the garden at Baht. Although it was several hours after sunset, the sun's heat remained to envelop him in a stifling cocoon. His bare skin stuck to his chair, and no amount of fanning brought relief. He alone sat beside the reflection pool and watched the moonlight play over the still surface of the water and illumine the lotus flowers floating nearby. Still dismayed at his fight with Ra, he had sought privacy here after dining in his chamber. The recently healed wounds Tanefer had given him ached and stung with renewed intensity. It had been difficult to conceal his pain from Ra and the others.
He and his brother hadn't fought as children. Ra had been too young, and once he was old enough, Meren had been sent to the royal court to be reared among princes and the children of high nobles. To Meren, Ra had been a babe, an endearing child in need of protection. But as the years passed Meren had grown more and more confused and angry at the difference in the way his father had treated them. For him there could be no mistakes, no gradual progress in learning. He was expected to learn the skills of a scribe or those of a soldier at once, with no help.
For Ra, life had been different. Ra was young, Meren was told. Ra hadn't been given the gift of as clever a heart as Meren's. Ra was unique, his parents had said; his talents had to be nurtured, encouraged, aided.
Once, long ago, before he'd been sent to the royal nursery, his father had given him his first bow. He had shown Meren how to string the tiny replica of a man's instrument-once. Meren tried to bend the bow as his father had. It snapped in his small hands. Meren was surprised and brokenhearted at the destruction of this prize of manhood, but his father had erupted in rage. He still remembered the bewildered shame he'd felt as Amosis bellowed at him in front of the household.
Years later Ra had broken his first bow, and his second, and had lost his third. Each loss had been met with tolerance. Ra was so strong. No wonder the bow broke. Ra was so busy and popular with his friends. It was understandable that a bow could be misplaced. There was always an excuse.
Now Ra lived on excuses, and Meren was afraid his brother would never understand that the world wouldn't conform itself to his desires. He was afraid that Ra had so misunderstood the world that he'd committed murder with the notion that there would be yet another convenient excuse to save him from the consequences.
"You sent for me, lord."
"What?" Meren dragged his gaze from the silver spray of light on the water. "Oh, Nebamun, yes. You've examined the querns and grindstones? What do you think?"
"Lord, anyone hit with a stone roller would be bloodied."
"I know that, but is there some other way to kill a person with it?"
"I know not, lord."
"And there's still no sign of any tekau poison about the estate?"
"No, lord. I think the evil one must have used it all in that jar of pomegranate wine." Nebamun cleared his throat. "You asked who might have knowledge of the use of the tekau plant, my lord. A physician would, for it can be used in small amounts to induce sleep or visions, or relieve pain, but it is a dangerous thing. Otherwise, perhaps someone who was interested in gardens and plants might know of it; a mistress of a household, for example."
"But there's none in this garden."
"No, lord."
"So someone brought it with him. You may go," Meren said as he rose and walked to the edge of the pool. Kneeling, he touched the petal of a rose lotus. A frog croaked and hopped into the water, splashing his hand.
"This is madness," he said to himself. "Stop worrying about Ra and think of what you've discovered."
Anhai. She had been killed some time on the night of the feast after Hepu began his Instruction, in some mysterious way, and then dumped into the granary. But putting her in the granary must have been an awkward business. Yet her clothing and wig had been neatly arranged. Why repair her appearance after she'd been killed?
"And there's that scrap of papyrus," he muttered.
Had the killer searched Anhai for a piece of papyrus and then rearranged her clothing? Since finding the scrap, he suspected it might have something to do with the woman's death, but a search of the house had yielded no papers that would have been worth a murder. Of course, the evil one might have destroyed it, or still be carrying it. Did he dare search his own family and Wah? He might have to. Still, he might be chasing a phantom. The scrap might mean nothing.
And who had reason to kill Anhai? Bentanta, and possibly Ra. Meren was skeptical that Antefoker or Wah would kill over debts, and he knew his sister wasn't a murderer. Besides, Ra and Bentanta had both been involved with Anhai, and both had been in a position to kill her the night of the feast.
What was worse, they also had a reason to kill Sennefer. Anhai might have shared her damaging knowledge of Bentanta with her husband, thus provoking Bentanta to kill him. Ra might have killed Sennefer out of jealousy over Anhai, or out of revenge if he suspected Sennefer of killing her.
Meren groaned and pressed his palms against his closed eyes. What a miserable choice of guilty ones. And Bentanta appeared the most likely, since it was her wine that killed Sennefer. But Ra could have stolen into the house from outside and poisoned it. So, too, could the other inhabitants of the house-Wah, Nebetta, and Hepu. His parents wouldn't have killed Sennefer, and Wah had no reason to do it.
"Damnation," Meren muttered. "I'm making no progress at all. I should have brought my juggling balls. Think, you fool. Go back to the beginning-no-to the feast."
He cast his thoughts back, trying to remember if anyone had acted strangely. Idut had dragged him to the reception room to greet the guests. Aunt Cherit had been annoyed with him for refusing to accede to the family's plans for his future. The Antefokers had arrived. Antefoker had been determined to corner Anhai about her cheating him in trade.
Then he remembered Sennefer coming in with Anhai and Bentanta. And at once husband and wife had begun slashing at each other with their tongues. Only Wah's appearance saved everyone from witnessing a fight. There had been talk of the days at Horizon of Aten when both Anhai and Wah had served Nefertiti. B
ut Wah had made even discussion of the fabulous Nefertiti tedious.
Until Ra had arrived. Meren swerved away from considering the ugly reunion with his brother and the annoying discovery that Ra had linked himself with his cousin's wife. His next memory was of being cornered by Wah, succeeded by that quarrel between Bentanta and Anhai. Why hadn't Sennefer stopped it? He'd been nearby, reclining on a chair and footstool, touching his slightly melted unguent cone and sniffing his fingers. Yet he'd done nothing to stop his wife and her supposed friend from quarreling at so important a celebration as Meren's feast of rejoicing.
After the fight and his unsuccessful attempt to make Bentanta confide in him, Meren had been waylaid by Antefoker, then rescued by Kysen, only to be forced to listen to Hepu's Instruction. During this ordeal he remembered seeing Sennefer, Nebetta, Idut, and Wah, but not Ra or Bentanta. However, he'd been distracted by Isis's conversation with Ra's dissolute friends.
He leaned over the pool and spoke to the black reflection of his body. "It's no use. I see nothing that points the way. No signs of guilt, no marks or traces to lead me to the evil one."
And he was beginning to suspect Anhai had been killed by magic. How else could she have been dispatched without any trace of violence or poison? Yet a search of the house and grounds had revealed no signs of the use of magic-no replicas of Anhai, no collection of the dead woman's hair or nails, no evidence of ritual burning of sacrifices. However, if someone had performed magic while in the midst of some household ritual, at the shrine, for example, such behavior might go unnoticed.
No, that didn't make sense. If someone was using magic, he wouldn't need to dump Anhai in a granary. The magic could have been worked while the murderer was at the feast among those he could call upon as witnesses to his innocence.
Several loud cracks and a yelp, then another, interrupted his musings. The door to the garden banged opened, and Idut marched in, holding an ivory fan. Behind her the two men guarding his privacy bent over, one rubbing his head, the other his shin. Idut descended upon him, shaking the fan in his face.
"No more of this skulking and hiding, Meren. I want to know what's happening. What demon possesses you? How could you take a dagger to Ra?"
"Me! I'm not the one who-"
"Never mind," Idut said. She slapped the fan against her palm. "Not only have you accused your own brother of murder, but Kysen has accused my poor Wah. Wah, of all men, isn't a murderer. He's gentle and sweet, and, and…"
"And a sycophant and a place-seeker."
"He doesn't need to seek a place. He was steward to Queen Nefertiti. And how can you make Ra and Bentanta prisoners in their rooms? They've done nothing."
Meren looked at the pool, wishing he could dive into its black waters. "Idut, I'm trying to solve two murders, and I need to be alone."
"Nebetta blames you."
Turning to stare at his sister, Meren said, "Me? What have I done?"
"I don't know. She says you're responsible for both her sons' deaths. She says if Sennefer and Anhai hadn't come to the feast, both of them would be alive."
"She doesn't know that. If the same person killed both, then that person was determined to get rid of them and would have tried elsewhere. And I was nowhere near Djet when he killed himself."
"I tried to tell her that," Idut said, "but she wouldn't listen to me. No one listens to me. You have to find out who killed Anhai and Sennefer. The whole household is fearful. What if there's some evil demon loose among us? I think I should take the girls and go to Memphis. Wah says he'll take us on his yacht. You can stay here with the murderer."
"My charioteers are on guard now. There will be no more deaths, and I'm not sending Bener and Isis anywhere with that fool Wah."
"There you are!" Hepu strode toward them like a colossus with a sagging belly and jowls. "I hear you've confined Ra and Bentanta to their chambers. Did they kill Sennefer?"
"I don't know," Meren said.
"Why not? It's been hours since my poor boy died."
"Catching a murderer isn't a simple task, Uncle."
Hepu seethed with barely contained rage. "But that woman poisoned him!"
'That isn't certain," Meren said.
"Oh, Uncle," Idut said. "I can't imagine Bentanta killing anyone."
"Ah-ha!" Hepu pointed at Meren. "You're protecting her. I see it now. You're all in some evil plot together."
Meren walked over to Hepu. Even now the older man was taller, but Meren wasn't a child anymore. He studied Hepu's indignant face for a moment, then asked quietly, "Are you accusing me of murdering Sennefer?" Hepu's indignation turned to uneasiness as he watched Meren's expression. "I thought not, Uncle. It's your grief. It's taken hold of your heart and interfered with your reason."
"I'm going to see how Nebetta fares," Idut said. "The physician's potion was wearing off before the evening meal."
As Hepu turned to accompany Idut, Meren held up a hand. "A moment, Uncle." Idut left the garden.
"What do you want now?"
"Have you any idea who might want to kill your son or Anhai?".
"My son was beloved by all who knew him."
Hepu said.
"Perhaps by the women," Meren said, "but not necessarily by all the men."
"I don't understand you."
"Surely you knew about Sennefer's dealings with women, especially married ones." Hepu gave him an openmouthed stare. "You're mad."
"Are you saying he never talked to you about his adventures? He talked about them to everyone else."
"My son knew the advice of the great man who said beware of approaching women in a man's home. He was a man of honor and upright judgment."
"Hepu, Sennefer made a habit of seducing married women. It's a wonder some wronged husband hadn't already taken a knife to him."
"My son didn't do such things," Hepu said as he drew himself up to his full height so he could look down his nose at Meren. "It wasn't possible for him."
"Why not?"
Hepu went as still as a temple relief before answering. He looked away from Meren and said, "Because I taught Sennefer well. Unlike Djet, he learned virtue, respect, the conduct of a decent man. No doubt Bentanta killed him in a jealous rage because he refused her. Perhaps she killed Anhai so she could have my son."
Meren could find no reply to this fanciful reasoning. Anyone should know a woman like Bentanta wouldn't want Sennefer. Hepu's conception of his son had more to do with imagination than with Sennefer's true nature. "I must return to Nebetta. She isn't well at all." Left alone, Meren tried to regain his calm so that he could resume contemplating what little evidence he had for the two deaths. Eventually he gave up and went to bed. He fell asleep wondering if he could face arresting his own brother for murder.
Early the next morning a vessel arrived with priests of Anubis. Along with the grieving parents and the family, Meren witnessed the ceremonial removal of the two bodies to the ship that would take them to Abydos for embalming. Then he went to Green Palm.
Now he walked down the main path of the village. It was lined with the trees from which its name was derived, and between the palms squatted stalls covered with goods-vegetables, fruit, basketry, pottery, amulets, cloth. He and Reia stopped beside a rickety awning that sheltered a vendor of melons and surveyed the two-story structure. In the door's stone lintel was carved "The Green Palm," the name of the tavern and village alike.
"Reia, you're staying outside. I don't need a guard to visit a tavern."
"Lord," Reia said. "Captain Abu would flay the skin from my body if I allowed you to go in there without me."
"Abu answers to me-oh, very well. You'd think I was an untried youth. But I can't speak to these women if you hover over me, so you stay away. Watch from a distance and try not to look intimidating."
"But you're you, lord. It's not I who will frighten them."
"I haven't been to Green Palm since before my father died. No one knows me."
Reia gave him a skeptical look. "As you say, lord."
Meren went inside, leaving behind the white light of the new day for the darkness and dim yellow glow of pottery lamps. The main room of the tavern was long, with a central fireplace filled with dead embers. Reed mats lined three walls, and on these were thrown cushions and pallets. Several women reclined in a group on the cushions, while some distance away a man snored on one of the pallets.
Against the fourth wall sat a table on which rested jars of varying sizes and stacks of cups. A man came through a door at the back, his arms loaded with beer strainers, clay straws, and more cups. A girl followed him with two baskets, one filled with bread, another with melons.
The man piled his burdens on the table and began arranging the cups. Meren went over to him, but he didn't look up from his work. "I understand Lord Nakht was here on the night of the feast at Baht."
"I don't flap my tongue about my customers," the tavern keeper said.
"He recommended your tavern to me as a place of comfort and pleasure."
The tavern keeper looked at Meren for the first time. He took in the fine linen, the bronze pectoral necklace, the leather sandals.
"Ah, good master, I'm honored. Yes, yes. Lord Nakht was here and had a merry time drinking my fine beer. My family has brewed the best beer in the entire nome for generations. And I have the most beautiful of women."
"These women, my friend said he liked them well, and I'm interested in seeing them."
"Of course, good master."
The tavern keeper hurried around the table and ushered Meren over to the women. None of them got up. There were three, each wearing a beaded girdle around her hips and nothing else. Although they were more painted than the young female servants of Meren's household, he found none of them more remarkable. The tavern keeper pulled one of the women to her feet.
"This is Tabes, one of the women Lord Nakht favored. Greet the good master, woman."
"Stop snarling at me, Kamosi." The woman bowed to
Meren and kept on lowering her body until she was lying on her cushions again.
Kamosi glowered at her, but Meren dismissed him. "I'll spend a while with these lovely women." When the tavern keeper went back to his beer table to serve Reia, Meren sat down among the women.
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