"A man better trained in violence than grooming," Meren breathed.
"A soldier," Reia added.
"From Yamen," Meren muttered.
Abu nodded. "Or a mercenary."
"Employed by Dilalu," Meren said on a sigh. "By the wrath of Amun, we must find this barber."
"He's disappeared, lord," said Abu.
Meren held up his hand. "What of this new steward of mine at the delta estate, Reia?"
"Your sister hired him by letter on the recommendation of a friend, lord. I talked to the steward, who is arrogant beyond his station and a fool. I think he's puffed up by having gained such an influential position with a great one. He assumed you conducted your affairs as did his last master, cheating where you could. He takes credit for obtaining necessary labor for you and faults the priests of Amun for objecting to a slight delay in getting the conscripts."
"So you're not certain whether the timing of this discovery is purposeful or just ill luck," Meren said.
"As you say, lord."
"Who was the friend of my sister who recommended this steward?"
Reia's smile was knowing. "Prince Hunefer's sister, my lord."
As if by signal, Meren and Abu cursed at the same time. Slowly Meren sank to the ground, crouching on the backs of his heels. He felt as if the tentacles of some hideous netherworld demon were closing around him, blocking his every escape attempt, squeezing him until his chest collapsed and he strangled. Don't give in to the fear. Confusion of your wits is a greater danger than this unseen enemy. He drew in a long breath and let it out. Lowering his head, he traced patterns in the dirt at the base of the tree trunk while he thought. Neither Abu nor Reia spoke. Both were accustomed to his long silences.
Finally Meren raised his head and stared at the patterns of light and dark shadow in the courtyard. "We will never catch these small fish who swim among the millions in the Nile. Like a good spear fisher, we ignore minnows and must stand still and wait for a giant to swim by."
"But, lord," Abu said. "We haven't much time. Pharaoh's troops are searching for you, and eventually-"
"Watch Dilalu and Yamen," Meren said. "This barber may return to one of them."
"Yes, lord."
"And don't try to send news of me to Kysen. My family mustn't be dragged into this any more than they already have been. I know they are worried about me, but they're safer in ignorance."
"Lord Kysen will try to help you."
"Curse it, Abu, he should do nothing. If I could risk it, I'd send a message ordering him to remain idle."
"But then he could be accused of concealing knowledge of a traitor if the messenger was discovered."
"Exactly," Meren said. "See if you can discover how my family does without endangering them." They lapsed into a morose silence.
Eventually Reia asked, "Shall we meet here again, my lord?"
"Not too soon, or we'll be noticed. Return in two days. Come."
Meren took them to a door in the wall that surrounded the courtyard and knocked on it. The portal swung back to reveal a muscled and looming doorkeeper.
Abu followed Reia through the doorway, then turned to Meren. "Are you certain you're safe with the pirate, lord?"
"As safe as anyone can be when hunted by the forces of the empire."
"And General Horemheb," Abu said.
"There is the danger." Meren shook his head wearily. "Horemheb knows me too well."
Reia appeared behind Abu. "Lord, flee the kingdom. Go to-"
"Where?" Meren asked. "It must be out of the empire and not to any ally of Egypt. Would you have me throw myself on the mercy of the Hittite king? Or shall I become a Greek pirate in earnest?"
Reia lowered his gaze, and Meren put his hand on the younger man's shoulder.
"I am grateful for your loyalty, Reia."
"You allowed me to become what I most wanted, lord. A charioteer. Even though I was a clumsy boy whom no one thought clever enough not to get trampled by his own stallion."
The sentry drew near, made curious by their prolonged leavetaking.
Meren stepped back into the courtyard. "May Amun protect you."
"And you." Abu glanced at the sentry and left off Meren's title.
The door swung shut, leaving Meren alone in the garden. Two days. He must wait two days, hiding and worrying and feeling helpless. As he turned his steps toward the Divine Lotus, Meren realized he'd go mad if he didn't do something. Yet he couldn't go out during the day. There was too great a risk that someone would recognize his face, even beneath this exotic wig.
By the time Meren had threaded his way through the groups of customers that packed the main chamber, he'd reached a decision. He would commit what he knew of Queen Nefertiti's murder to writing. He was in so much danger now that it wouldn't matter if the record was discovered. He could destroy it at any time, and the act of writing might quicken the memories he'd tried for so long to kill.
Meren spent a while in the crowd watching a pair of acrobats before going upstairs. He ascended the winding staircase to emerge on the roof. Crossing to the exterior stairway, he surveyed the surrounding buildings and streets before descending. Once on the ground, he avoided a pair of drunken sailors who had collapsed against the wall of the tavern, and slipped into the dark alley once more. He hated traveling in the dark, for it was almost impossible to avoid unspeakable puddles and noxious deposits of goat or donkey dung. Once he nearly landed flat on his back when his sandal skidded on a fresh pile.
As he stepped into the Street of the White Ibex, Meren stopped abruptly. Behind him he heard a footfall, and then nothing. Hardly breathing, he listened. He could hear the distant sound of laughter from the Divine Lotus. Calming the voice of his heart by slowing his breathing even further, Meren heard the slight breeze as it floated into the city from the north. Once he heard the hoot of an owl.
His senses stretched painfully, Meren waited. Sweat began to form on his brow. He hadn't been mistaken. He'd heard a footstep. The question was whether to go on, hoping to reach Othrys's house before he was attacked, or attempt to elude his pursuer before his hiding place was revealed. At last Meren moved, away from the pirate's house, back into the Caverns. If he was going to die, he would do it without endangering the man who saved his life by giving him refuge.
Chapter 15
Memphis, reign of Tutankhamun
When a nobleman went to the palace of pharaoh, he approached down an avenue designed to impress with its great length and the opulence of the ram-headed sphinxes-each larger than three men-that lined the way. The nobleman progressed with stateliness toward the soaring gate in the battlements and passed through massive doors whose thickness was enveloped in electrum. The myriad courtiers, officials, and hangers-on who filled the avenue, the gate, and the courtyard beyond all witnessed the great one's progress and noted that he was important enough to be allowed beyond the monumental barrier of the gate.
In such a manner had Kysen entered the palace previously. But on this night, he was driven by chariot away from the ceremonial avenue with its public facade of cloud-high carvings to a heavily guarded sally port. He caught only a glimpse of the interior of the battlements, and sensed a great weight of masonry over his head.
At that moment fear enveloped him. Rather than reveal it, he summoned the expressionless mask Meren had drilled into his heart long ago. Then he stumbled into the open and found himself behind a phalanx of service buildings in the narrow space between them and the defensive wall.
Overhead guards on their rounds paused to stare down at him in the light of torches carried by some of his guards. He glared back, but one of his escorts pushed him, and he tripped. Hands reached for him, but he shoved them away, rose, and hurried after Mose. He swung around the end of the service block, into an open area between two sets of barracks, and stopped.
Standing in the light of enormous lamps mounted on stands, shining like Ra from the reflected brilliance of electrum jewels that covered his head, neck, arms, and ro
bes, pharaoh stood conversing with Ay and Maya. The king's war band formed a half circle to his right and left. Other than the two ministers, there were no other courtiers.
A hard shove propelled him into the half circle. Before he could be shoved again, Kysen went to the king and lowered himself to the ground. Touching his forehead to the packed earth, he remained as he was; he couldn't speak until pharaoh permitted it. Would he be allowed to defend himself, or would Mose simply impale him on that gold-tipped spear?
An officer stepped out of the ranks beside the king and boomed, "As pharaoh commands. Kysen, son of the traitor Meren."
Something inside Kysen broke; he remembered Meren's lifetime of devotion to Egypt, and boiling oil poured into his heart. "My father is no traitor!"
Mose poked him with the butt of his spear. Kysen swore, grabbed the haft, and jabbed the Nubian in the stomach. As guards rushed at him, Kysen released the haft and lifted his hands away from his body. He was surrounded by spear tips, but pharaoh raised a hand laden with gold rings. The spears snapped back, and Kysen found himself in a tight circle of Nubians.
Another signal from the king parted the circle. Breathing heavily, Kysen dared not move as the king came toward him, followed by Maya and Ay. At a wave of Tutankhamun's hand, he rose from the ground.
Pharaoh stopped three paces from Kysen. "Look at me."
Kysen had been avoiding just that, fearing his anger still showed. Slowly he lifted his chin. Meeting the gaze of a living god took courage. Meeting the gaze of this pharaoh took more than courage; it took a surrender of will.
Why this was so, Kysen couldn't tell. Perhaps his youth only magnified pharaoh's innate personal dignity. Perhaps the sadness that was never gone from the king's eyes for long evoked the feeling that Tutankhamun knew far more about the chaos in his soul than Kysen could bear to admit. At last pharaoh released Kysen from the prison of dark, heavy-lidded eyes.
"I will not ask you to tell me where your father has gone," the king said. "I know you well enough to imagine what I'd be forced to do to you to get the answer."
"My father is innocent, golden one."
"They found his dagger in my tent." Tutankhamun held up a bandaged arm. "My blood is still on it. Shall I show it to you?
"Majesty, someone stole the dagger and pretended to be my father," Kysen insisted.
Tutankhamun shook his head. "I heard him. I'd put out the lamp because my head hurt from drink. The tent was black, and he awakened me. He said, 'Majesty, where are you?' and I called to him." The king rubbed the bandage on his arm. "If I hadn't felt his movement as he sprang at me, his dagger would have found my heart instead of my arm."
What could he say against the word of the living god?
"Majesty, you know my father. He has come close to death countless times in thy service, to save thy life."
Fidgeting with his bandages, the king asked in a distracted voice, "Why did he do it, Kysen? It makes no sense-unless these charges against him are but the surface of a deep and secret poison."
"He is innocent, golden one."
"Is he possessed? My magician priests tell me that evil demons can occupy the ka of an upright man and drive him mad. Meren hasn't been himself of late. Is he possessed?"
"No, majesty."
Without warning the king grabbed Kysen's arm and jerked him. "Then why did he try to kill me, damn you!"
Feeling the hand of pharaoh on him banished Kysen's thoughts. His heart blank with shock, he could only stare at the hand on his arm. The fingers were long, and one bore a ring with a bezel carved with the royal cartouche. As Kysen blinked at the hand, Ay whispered to the king. Tutankhamun's hand dropped, and he stepped away from Kysen.
"My majesty is grieved beyond bearing at this treason," he said quietly.
As Kysen watched him warily, a change came over pharaoh. Grief faded, washed away by a tide of cool resolution and an aristocratic ruthlessness. The king clapped his hands. The war band parted to reveal two guards standing behind them, carrying a lidded basket between them. They brought it forward and set it in the middle of the war band.
The king walked over to it. "Bring him."
The Nubians hauled Kysen to the basket. At pharaoh's command Ay opened the container. Within lay hands. Right hands. Kysen counted eleven pale gray extremities, each with its dressing of blood and chopped veins.
Kysen had been in battle. He lifted his gaze to the king's and raised a brow. Tutankhamun clapped his hands again, and another basket was set beside the first.
"Lift the lid," pharaoh commanded.
His body numb, unable to refuse though he feared what he would find, Kysen fastened his hand on the wicker lid and opened it. A face stared up at him with parched eyes. Thin lips drew back over dry yellow teeth. Puckered skin covered the stalk of a neck that had no body to go with it.
Kysen almost smiled at the horror. "I know him not."
Pharaoh moved around the head sitting in its wicker nest in a cloud of sweet-smelling linen to stand close to him and speak as softly as a concubine in a private garden. "This is but a thief, the bandit leader we defeated before your father tried to kill me." The king leaned closer and whispered. "I cut off his head myself, Ky. I wanted to know what it felt like, to hack at flesh with an ax. Tell me where your father has gone and why he tried to kill me, or by the gods I'll do the same to you."
For a brief moment Kysen's eyes closed as revulsion claimed him. Then he opened his eyes, knelt, and exposed his neck.
"Thy majesty must deal with me as he has with the bandit, for I don't know where my father has gone."
A barrage of curses startled him. The king's air of viciousness disappeared in a fit of rage. Guards scuttled out of his way as Tutankhamun stalked back and forth, hurling epithets. Abruptly Kysen lowered his gaze to conceal his suspicion that the king had been engaged in a ruse that had failed. When the stream of curses ceased, pharaoh pointed at him.
"Meren told you I promised not to punish his family, didn't he?"
Confused, Kysen could only shake his head.
Tutankhamun stalked to him, halting but a pace away. "I am pharaoh, and pharaoh keeps his word. But I shouldn't have given such a promise. I see that now." Crossing his arms over the electrum-and-turquoise broad collar on his chest, Tutankhamun eyed him. "But I never promised not to question his family. Shall I question your sisters, Kysen? Ah, fear at last."
"Majesty." Kysen's voice shook, and he paused to control it. "I beg to speak to you privately."
Maya spoke for the first time. "Impossible."
"Go away, Maya." The king glared at his escort. "Stand at a distance, all of you."
When they were alone the king sighed and said, "Get up, Ky. I hope what you have to say will ease my grief. To lose Meren…" Tutankhamun looked away. "Speak."
"I swore to my father that I would never reveal what I know," Kysen said. "But his life is forfeit if I don't speak. Many weeks ago Lord Meren and I discovered an old and evil secret, one that will cause more grief to thy majesty."
Tutankhamun gave him a sharp glance. "Out with it."
"We discovered that Queen Nefertiti did not die of the plague but was poisoned."
To Kysen's admiration, pharaoh gave no hint of astonishment or outrage. The cloak of royal dignity remained, and the only indication of the king's distress was the great stillness that came over him. At the boy's slight nod, Kysen continued.
"Lord Meren has been trying ever since to discover the evil ones who were responsible, for he knew at least one still lived. We searched for the queen's favorite cook, but she and her husband were murdered before we could question them. Only a short time ago, we obtained the names of three men known to have the power and the opportunity to devise such evil. My father contacted two of them, and as he was about to summon the third, these evil rumors began. Then someone tried to destroy Lord Meren with this attack upon thy majesty."
The king had been watching Kysen closely. "You're lying to save your father. If this story was
true, the evil one would have simply tried to kill Meren."
"No, majesty, for my father is hard to kill, and even if he was killed, I would still remain." Kysen smiled bitterly. "And if they killed my father, I would hunt the evil ones from here to the lakes of fire in the netherworld. And if I was killed, Abu would take up the task. No, disgrace is far more effective. Is thy majesty not separated from the one man who can tell the truth?"
Tutankhamun shook his head wearily. "The murder of a queen, a fantastic tale that seems conveniently designed to relieve Meren of his guilt. And if he wishes to tell me the truth, why is he not here? And why have most of his charioteers vanished?"
"Golden one, Meren has served loyally thy whole life-"
Kysen stopped because the king suddenly narrowed his eyes and drew a sharp breath.
"Yes," Tutankhamun said softly. "He has. When I was a child, he was appointed as one of my tutors and guided me faithfully-once Akhenaten and Nefertiti were dead."
Dread enveloped Kysen's heart. "Thy majesty doesn't suspect my father of murdering either."
"To be pharaoh, Ky, and stay alive is to suspect where one least wishes to. Your father taught me that."
The king eyed him silently for a moment. "Your father was with Queen Nefertiti a great deal in his capacity as Ay's aide, was he not?"
"Yes, majesty, but-"
"And if she'd lived, the queen would have been regent and Lord Meren but one of many who served her father. She would have been first in my heart, and she would have had power until I came of age."
"If thy majesty would but send for the three men my father suspected-" Kysen began.
"Let your father give himself up to my majesty," the king said. "Convince Meren to surrender, and I will listen to this wild tale again." The king turned and signaled to Ay and Maya.
Drinker Of Blood lm-5 Page 17
