Murder at the Feast of Rejoicing

by Lynda S. Robinson

  “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.

  Karnosi 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.

  “We seldom receive visitors so early in the day,” Tabes said with a yawn. She reached out with a languid hand and patted Meren’s thigh. “But for so handsome a visitor, I would rise before dawn.”

  “My thanks,” Meren said.

  “Oh,” said another, who had great painted eyes. “I would rise in the middle of the night.” She sat up on her cushion and smiled at him while plucking a lotus from a bowl and handing it to him.

  The third woman, small and with quick, darting eyes, touched his ankle with her toe. Meren moved out of reach.
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  “Good women, I’m here only for conversation.” He watched surprise give way to disbelief among the three, so he hurried on. “I understand Lord Nakht was here with several friends the night of the feast at Baht. Tabes, he was with you?”

  Silence. The small woman got up and left through the back door.

  “Was he here?” Meren asked.

  “A tavern woman with a loose tongue soon finds herself cast out of her village,” Tabes replied.

  Meren leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. “You may speak to me. I’m Lord Nakht’s brother.”

  “But he only has one broth—Gods!”

  “Shhh.”

  ‘Tabes, this is Lord M—”

  Tabes jerked the girl’s arm. “Be quiet, Aset. Let the great lord conduct his business in peace and with the secrecy he desires.”

  “You’ve an intelligent heart, Tabes.”

  “The lord is kind,” Tabes said with a bow from her sitting position. “The lord wishes to know if his brother was with us on the night of the feast. He came late and in a merry mood. He bought several jars of beer for the entire tavern, and we danced for him.”

  “He was here the whole night?”

  Aset began to chatter. “Oh, the whole night, great lord. He went upstairs with Tabes, Sheftu, and me. Ra is quite generous. He gave me a shift of fine Delta linen, and he gave Tabes a bottle of perfume from Byblos. He kept us busy far into the night. Ra is so funny. He even makes jests while we’re—”

  “Aset!” Tabes quelled her friend with a severe look. “Lord, we all have great affection for your brother.”

  “He was here until morning?”

  The two women glanced at each other, then at him.

  “I woke first,” Tabes said. “Around dawn, I think, and he was already gone.”

  “With Sheftu,” Aset chimed in.

  “Who is Sheftu?”

  “Our other friend,” Tabes said. “She’s the one who just left, lord.”

  “Where has she gone? I want to talk to her.”

  “There’s no need for alarm, my lord. Ra and Sheftu probably went to her house. Her grandmother is a wise woman known for her preparations of herbs to enhance pleasure. Sheftu often provides them to those who can pay, and Ra always has plenty of grain or other goods.”

  Meren’s heart battered in his chest like a war drum. He drew closer to Tabes and said, “Herbs, preparations. You mean potions?”

  “Aye, lord.”

  “Flowers, seeds?” Meren asked. “Berries?”

  Tabes looked at him curiously. “Yes, lord.”

  Closing his eyes against pain, Meren spoke again. “I want to talk to this Sheftu who deals in herbs and potions.”

  Chapter 15

  Meren kept his eyes closed as Tabes rose and disappeared into the back of the tavern. He opened them when she returned, leading Sheftu, who hung back and had to be pulled along. Recognizing her fear, Meren questioned the girl gently, assuring her that she wasn’t in danger.

  “Yes, lord. Ra woke me while it was still dark. He was drunk, but sober enough to want one of grandmother’s preparations. We went to my house, which isn’t far away.”

  “You gave him what he asked for?”

  “Yes, lord, and then we went to sleep again.”

  “Both of you?”

  Sheftu hesitated. “I fell asleep first, but I’m sure Ra did too.”

  “And he left the next morning?”

  The girl nodded.

  “When?”

  “I know not, lord.”

  “Why?” Meren asked quickly.

  “He was gone when I woke,” Sheftu said.

  “So he left you between the time you fell asleep and the next morning when you woke. Would anyone else have seen him go?”

  “There’s no one else except Grandmother, and she doesn’t see or hear very well.”

  “When did you wake, Sheftu?”

  “The sun was up, lord. We drank more than usual, and I had a terrible ache of the head.”

  “Then my brother left you before sunrise.”

  “I suppose so, lord.”

  “And my brother’s friends?”

  Tabes said, “Two live not far upriver. They stayed the night in the tavern and left that morning. The third? He’s still here. He sampled Sheftu’s preparations that night and has been using them ever since.” She pointed to the man who still snored on his pallet across the room.

  Meren got up and went over to the prone figure. Turning him over, Meren straightened, put his fists on his hips, and shook his head. He didn’t want to deal with this fool now.

  “Antefoker, Antefoker, wake up.”

  The man smiled in his sleep until Meren kicked him. Then he snorted himself awake and looked up at Meren with a slack-lipped leer.

  “ ’SMeren. How’re you? Howas th’ feast last night?”

  “You seem to have lost a day, Antefoker. You’d better go home.”

  “Lost a day? What day?” Antefoker yawned, smacked his lips, and began to snore again.

  Meren threw up his hands and went back to Tabes and her friends. Feigning a casualness he didn’t feel, he said, “Sheftu, I’m curious about your grandmother’s preparations, especially the ones my brother might have obtained. You will take me there at once.” To Tabes and Aset he said, “You’ve been helpful. I’ll have my steward send the three of you a length of cloth. However, I expect your mouths to remain closed about my visit. If I hear differently, I will be displeased.”

  He and Reia followed Sheftu out of the tavern after fending off the entreaties of its keeper. The woman lived down the street and off an alley formed by the walls of two-story houses. At the end of the narrow lane, Sheftu’s house clung to a much larger structure. Its walls were cracked, and the roof sagged as if it was about to fall in. The grandmother was asleep in the front room on a pallet. As he passed her, Meren paused and clapped his hands several times, causing Sheftu to start. The old woman slept on.

  The young woman led them through the sparsely furnished chamber to the kitchen in the back. From a rickety frame suspended from the ceiling hung bundles of roots, leaves, flowers, and berries. Dozens of pottery jars covered the only table and much of the floor. There was a stone mortar and pestle, along with wooden spoons, strainers, and stirring sticks. Meren gestured to Reia, who began opening jars and inspecting their contents.

  Touching a bundle of feathery dried leaves, Meren asked, “What are these?”

  “Dill, my lord,” said Sheftu. “And those are acacia pods, and these are chervil seeds. This is celery. Grandmother crushes it and applies it to burns.”

  He picked up a bowl of hard kernels. “Balanos?”

  “Aye, lord.”

  Reia left the kitchen to search the rest of the house while Meren opened a square basket. In it were more dried leaves, rough, with five lobes.

  “Those are white byrony, lord. To purge the stomach or to relieve an ache of the head, but it mustn’t be used more than once.”

  “Poisonous?”

  “It can be, lord.”

  Reia reappeared. Meren raised his brows, but the charioteer shook his head.

  Meren set down the basket of white byrony. “Now, can you show me the preparation my brother took?”

  Sheftu plucked a small bag from a pile on the table and handed it to Meren. It contained a quantity of finely ground powder that smelled slightly of black pepper.

  Meren touched his finger to the powder and was about to taste it when Reia lunged and caught his hand.

  “No, lord!”

  Meren pulled free but wiped his fingers on a cloth taken from a pile on a shelf.

  Sheftu was eyeing them, her brow sweating. “You fear that our preparations are harmful?” She found a cup and poured water into it. Dumping the powder into the cup, she stirred it with a stick, then gulped it down.

  “You see? I’m unharmed.”

  Sighing, Meren said, “We’re looking for tekau.”

  “Oh, you should have as
ked, my lord.”

  Sheftu found a stool, mounted it, and reached up among the herbs. Her hand came out with a bundle of dried, ovate leaves and flowers that might once have been violet. This she handed to Meren. Then she found a round clay pot with a wavy red pattern painted on it. Shriveled brownish-black berries filled the vessel.

  “Grandmother says the stems can be used to treat bad breathing, catarrh, and aching bones.”

  Meren took the pot from Sheftu. His hands had grown cold, and he felt as if he were in a waking dream.

  “Demons and fiends,” he muttered. Reia took the pot from him, and he collected the leaves as well. “Sheftu, I must take these.”

  The woman picked up a tall jar and hugged it to her breast as if it would lend her protection. “Have I done something wrong, lord?”

  Meren looked around the dark, cramped little kitchen, at the sparse quantity of grain for bread and wood for fires. A few shriveled onions rested in a bowl.

  “Did you give my brother some of these berries or leaves?” he asked.

  “No, lord. Your brother was quite healthy except for sickness from drinking.”

  “You know this plant can be dangerous.”

  “Of course, but everyone knows better than to put more than a little in a potion. Who would be so foolish as to—” Sheftu wet her lips. “Oh, by all the gods, lord. I’ve done nothing!”

  The woman crumpled to the floor at Meren’s feet and babbled protestations of innocence.

  Meren backed away. “Be calm. Sheftu, listen to me. Be calm. I have no reason to think ill of you. At the moment. But I must ask you if any tekau is missing.”

  Sheftu straightened. Using the table for leverage, she stood and looked at the herbs Reia was holding. Biting her lower lip, she shook her head.

  “I don’t know, lord. We haven’t used it for a while, not during the whole Drought season.”

  “Very well,” Meren said. “I will send my steward with payment for the herb. You will remain in the village, Sheftu.”

  “Of course, lord. Where would I go?”

  Meren left Sheftu’s house scowling and muttering to himself, with Reia striding behind him. The charioteer knew better than to ask questions, and Meren was left to deal with his agitation without interference.