Chapter 22
Memphis, reign of Tutankhamun
Meren was dreaming in a foreign land. He could see himself, for his ka had left his body and floated above the sunlit chamber in which he lay. The room was painted like the sea-swirling waters of blue and green, cresting white waves-and his golden couch floated in the middle of it all. Around him swam the voices of those he knew-Kysen, Bener, Ebana, even Ay. They were talking about him. He wanted to join in the talk, but no one saw fit to wake him. He tried to wake himself without success. His eyelids were fastened together as if with carpenter's glue. His ka drifted from one person to another and tried to make each listen to no avail.
Then he heard a voice that shouldn't have been there-he heard the voice of pharaoh. At the sound of Tutankhamun's voice, Meren's ka plummeted back to his body, and his eyes fluttered open. His gaze fastened on the person nearest him, his physician, Nebamun, who nodded at him with satisfaction. Next he found Kysen staring down at him with a tense look of apprehension, and beside him hovered Bener, whose clasped hands showed white knuckles. Near the foot of his bed stood his cousin, arms folded over his chest. Ebana smiled slightly and nodded at him.
On the other side of the bed Ay waited, leaning on his staff of office and shaking his head. A movement beside him attracted Meren's attention. He turned his head and was jolted fully awake at the sight of pharaoh in blood-stained kilt, wrist guards of leather and gold, and uraeus diadem. Meren shoved himself upright and cried out at the stab of pain in his side. The king, Nebamun, and Kysen grabbed his arms and helped him lie down slowly.
Ebana merely lifted a brow. "You know better than to move like that with an arrow hole in your side."
Meren looked down at himself and found his torso crisscrossed with bandages. Nebamun inspected the padding over the wound and determined that it was still in place while Meren discovered he was in his room in his own home.
"The fresh meat poultice will remain until tomorrow," the physician said to Kysen and Bener. "Then I'll replace it with oil and honey. There will be a fever, but it should pass in a few days if he rests."
"Well done," Bener said to the physician. Nebamun bowed and began gathering his instruments.
"I trust Nebamun," the king said, "but I'll send one of my physicians so that I may have a report of his condition daily."
Kysen and Bener bowed.
"Thy majesty is the embodiment of kindness," Kysen said.
Bener nodded. "I'll watch over him day and night, golden one.
"I'm not dying," Meren said, knowing he sounded like a querulous babe. "I'm grateful to thy majesty-" He flicked a glance from the king to Ebana to Kysen.
"Where is Mose?"
"Horemheb is still looking for him," Ebana said. "I'll see if there's word." Meren, furious to be trapped in his bed, watched his cousin leave.
Bener was talking to Nebamun, and Kysen joined them. Shifting his weight, Meren found Ay's staff sailing over him to lay across his legs.
"You're not getting out of that bed."
Meren scowled at him. "I've had worse wounds than this. The arrow went clean through."
Sighing, Ay removed his staff and turned to the king. "I leave him to you, majesty."
"Yes," Tutankhamun said. He waved his hand in an economical gesture that sent everyone retreating from the chamber.
Once they were alone, pharaoh drew a chair over to the bed and sat. After a small hesitation, he put his hand on Meren's arm.
"I must beg your forgiveness. I should never have believed-but I heard your voice, and there was your dagger." Tutankhamun shook his head and fixed a sorrowful look on Meren's bandages.
"Majesty."
"Hmm."
"The divine incarnation of the god does not beg forgiveness."
"Goats' dung!" The divine incarnation bit his lip. "Perhaps not, but the mortal in him does. I hunted you like an escaped slave."
"Does thy majesty beg forgiveness often?"
"Fear not. Ay is the only other of whom I've asked it."
"My heart is glad."
The king jumped to his feet, shoved the chair aside, and stalked up and down the length of the bed. "This isn't the time to lecture me on royal dignity and divinity." He stopped at the head of the bed and stared down at Meren. "I know it all. When I sent for Kysen, he told me about Nefertiti."
If he hadn't been in pain and weary from the ordeal of being a hunted criminal, Meren wouldn't have burst into a blasphemous tirade of curses before pharaoh. As it was, he mastered himself only when too violent a movement made him gasp.
"You can't blame Kysen," Tutankhamun said. "He was trying to save your life."
A curt nod was all Meren could manage through the pain.
The king smiled ruefully. "You must have come close to your quarry. Whoever commands Mose must be the murderer of-" He glanced around the room but didn't finish. "I haven't told anyone. Not even Ay. Especially not Ay."
"I'm glad, majesty." Meren shifted his weight so that it didn't press on his wound. "The evil one must have had Mose followed with orders to kill him when the opportunity occurred. Majesty, thus far, almost everyone I've suspected, or about whom I've inquired, has died."
"Then you must keep this safe," pharaoh replied. He held out the packet Meren had slipped beneath his tunic-the record of his inquiries and memories.
Meren took it from the king. It was stained with blood and crumpled, but still intact. "I suppose there is good in Kysen's blunder. It will be a great deal easier to pursue my inquiries now that I don't have to conceal them from thy majesty."
"You shouldn't have-no, I understand why you kept this secret." Tutankhamun closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. "But you can't protect me from the truth. I was there, too. I may have been a child, but I remember some things."
Meren waited for the king to continue, but he could see that Tutankhamun had retreated into a silent realm of unhappiness, where dwelt many of his memories of Akhenaten and Nefertiti. Then the grieving boy vanished, to be replaced by the young king.
"You must end this soon, Meren. Find the demon responsible. Do it quickly, but secretly. I want no public airing of this crime. It will give the priests of Amun an opportunity to renew their campaign to vilify my family."
"Aye, majesty, but-"
The chamber door burst open. Horemheb stalked into the room, followed by Kysen.
Bowing quickly to the king, he said, "Majesty, we chased Mose across the city. He was trying to reach the docks, but someone killed him before we could recapture him."
"How?" the king asked.
Horemheb nodded at Meren. "Another arrow from above, through the back. Several, that is. Someone wanted to make certain the Nubian wouldn't live to be captured." The general wiped sweat from his brow. "With the golden one's permission, I must direct the search for this murderous bowman."
When Horemheb was gone, Tutankhamun pulled the chair back to the bed and sat again. Kysen stood on the other side of the bed. All of them contemplated Horemheb's report. Finally the king spoke.
"You weren't surprised that Mose is dead."
"No, majesty," Meren said. "Remember what I said of the evil one. And I've had time to think since I've been a fugitive. As the Eyes of Pharaoh, I've dealt with many evildoers, both petty and great. But in all my experience, this killer is the most demonic. He spares no one; he trusts no one. And because he butchers all who can identify him, he remains safe, untouched, unknown. I wonder how long he's been preying upon the unsuspecting among us."
Kysen knelt beside Meren, and his glance rested on his father's wound. "Indeed. He has no remorse, no allegiance to anyone but himself. He is a drinker of blood."
Meren rested the back of his arm on his forehead and sighed. "Majesty, you were a child when the queen was killed, but you were in her household. Do you recall what happened to any of her servants?"
"No." The king leaned forward in his chair. "Wait. I think I remember… After Akhenaten, Nefertiti, and Smenkhare died and I bec
ame king, Ay mentioned the disposition of servants from the royal households. He was talking to one of his underlings. I remember that many retired with estates granted by me, and Ay said it was for the best. I suppose he meant that some of them were stained by their fanatic service to my brother and that to keep them would create strife and factions at court when we needed desperately to heal and forget."
Tutankhamun's brow furrowed with the effort to recall more. "Many of the highest in Nefertiti's household retired-the steward, of course, the captain of the queen's guards, her overseer of vineyards, her priests, the overseer of horses, her personal maids." The king spread his hands wide."I can't remember anything else."
"I've had to be most clandestine in my inquiries regarding them," Meren said.
"Aye, Father, but we still leave a trail of bodies wherever we search."
"Mother of the gods," Tutankhamun whispered.
Meren and Kysen looked at the king. He turned an incredulous stare on them.
"The guard."
"Mose, golden one?"
"No-Bakht. The one whose death you kept forgetting to investigate. Remember, I favored him because he would tell me wonderful stories of times past."Tutankhamun wet his dry lips. "And the ones I loved best were those from the years of my childhood, when he served as a guard in the household of Queen Nefertiti."
Meren turned to Kysen. "Where is Abu?"
Kysen left in search of the charioteer. The king made only one remark while they waited.
"I liked his stories because he never mentioned the heresy or the strife. He talked of our adventures sailing skiffs on the Nile, of the festivals, of the kindness of Nefertiti. And I remember trying to see the queen when she fell ill. I insisted on dragging my nurse to the queen's chambers, even though she told me I couldn't visit. Bakht was on guard that day, and he wouldn't let me in her apartments. He was most kind and promised to pass on my prayers for her health."
Abu arrived, out of breath and disheveled. He prostrated himself before the king, but rose on Tutankhamun's command.
With great care Meren propped himself up on his elbows. "Abu, before I was forced to flee, I had you inquire into the death of that royal guard."
"Bakht, lord."
"Yes. What have you discovered?"
Abu glanced at the king.
"You may speak freely," Tutankhamun said. "Lord Meren and I are completely reconciled."
"Did you not speak to the overseer of the royal menagerie?" Kysen asked.
"Aye, lord. He insists that the baboons wouldn't have attacked a man who fell into their enclosure. The males would scream and bare their teeth and make a great noise, but he is most adamant that they wouldn't try to kill him."
"But he's dead," Meren said.
The king threw up his hands. "And the report said he had many wounds."
"Did you progress no further?" Kysen asked.
"Many perilous days have passed since the lord gave the command about the royal guard." Abu rubbed his chin. "I think I may have asked Nebamun to look at the body." He paused, then nodded. "Yes, I did ask him, because I remember that we weren't sure if it was too late and Bakht had already gone into the natron in the place of Anubis."
Nebamun was summoned, and he remembered his journey to the place of Anubis.
"I was able to see the body, majesty, but before I could write a report for Lord Meren-" The physician stopped with his mouth open.
"Continue, man. I know what intervened."
"The wounds that killed the royal guard were from a knife. An extremely sharp knife, not the ragged tears that one sees in animal attacks. Certainly the bite of a baboon would never make a wound so deep as to hit the spine."
Meren thanked the physician, dismissed him, and lay down on his back again.
"Bakht was knifed and then pushed into the animal pen," he said.
Kysen went to a table, poured a cup of water, and brought it to Meren. "Surely there would have been blood where he was attacked."
"There may have been," Meren replied, "but I was too distracted to examine the menagerie. Majesty, I have failed thee."
Pharaoh took the cup from Meren and helped him drink. "Only a god wouldn't have been distracted by the burden you've been concealing. And you must remember, the evil one made certain you had little opportunity to do anything but flee for your life."
"Thy majesty is certain it was Bakht who was on duty when the queen was ill?" Kysen asked.
"Yes. I liked his stories and used to pester him for a tale almost every day."
"By the gods," Kysen said suddenly.
Meren propped himself up again, and he and pharaoh regarded Kysen with inquiring looks. Kysen looked from one to the other.
"Mose," he said, turning to Abu. "Was Mose on duty the night Bakht was killed?"
Abu shook his head. "No, lord. He wasn't among-wait." Abu narrowed his eyes. "There was a youth, barely out of training. He was most disturbed by Bakht's death but had little to contribute that would help solve the mystery of his death. I remember him lamenting that he hadn't heard Bakht cry out for help, so of course that means the killer didn't strike until the boy was gone. But the boy said he had to return to the menagerie for his sandals, which he'd left near the gate. As he was leaving, he noticed Mose approaching from the palace."
Meren dismissed Abu. Still propped up on the bed, he searched for something to say to the king. He'd tried so hard to keep the danger away from pharaoh, and it had slithered into the palace through the menagerie gates. No, the danger had been closer than that all along.
All at once his arms lost their strength, and he fell back on the linen-covered mattress. Kysen rushed to him with a damp cloth, but Meren shoved it away. He was already clammy. The king stood over him, threatening to summon Nebamun.
"I beg thy majesty not to," Meren said faintly. "I'll rest. All I need is rest."
"It's unreasonable to be so furious with yourself," Tutankhamun said. "How could you know the extent of the power of this drinker of blood, as Kysen calls him?"
"Thy majesty should set me to solving petty thefts. It's all I'm good for."
"All you're good for is rest at the moment, and I'm not going to listen to such absurdities. Kysen, set a guard around Lord Meren. It's reasonable to expect an attempt on his life now."
Meren opened his mouth, but the king was gone before he could protest the order. Kysen followed, leaving Meren to fume by himself. He must have drifted into sleep soon after, for he woke to find Bener and Kysen engaged in a whispered quarrel over his bed.
"I wouldn't have been discovered if it weren't for that stupid Lord Irzanen," Bener hissed. "I vow he has the wits of a mollusk."
Kysen poked a finger at his sister. "You promised not to stir from the house!"
"I was doing well until that fool Irzanen saw me in the street. Can I help it if he gawped at me as if I were a three-headed hippo? He stopped me and demanded what I was doing, and by the time I made him go away, one of the king's spies must have seen us."
"And followed you and summoned the king," Kysen said with brotherly contempt.
"I concealed myself well," Bener protested. "None of you saw me."
"None except pharaoh.'"
"You two are squalling like cats in the night," Meren said.
Bener's face appeared before him as she bent over the bed. "Father, are you well?"
"I'll deal with you tomorrow."
"But my leading pharaoh to you was a most fortunate occurrence," his daughter said brightly. "You were able to reconcile by saving his life."
Kysen groaned, but Meren didn't feel well enough to argue.
"Go away, both of you. You're making me feel worse."
When they were gone, Meren allowed himself to smile. Bener was by far the cleverest of his daughters-at least when it came to matters of reasoning. In this she reminded him of Nefertiti. Nefertiti. She had been a great queen, and had she lived, Egypt would have benefited from her regency during Tutankhamun's childhood. She might even have q
uelled the wrath of the priests of Amun, so great had been her power to charm and compel obedience.
Memories of her were becoming clearer now, especially those in which Akhenaten had no part. He recalled one day in particular at the queen's palace in Horizon of the Aten. He had brought correspondence to her from Ay, and she received him in one of the pleasure gardens. Nefertiti was seated beneath an embroidered canopy beside a reflection pool filled with glittering fish. As he knelt before the queen, she was finishing an interview with Prince Smenkhare.
The prince left, and Meren was discussing with the queen a message from the Egyptian garrison at Qatna regarding the recent machinations of the Hittite king. Their discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Tutankhaten, who had plagued his governor until he was allowed to seek out Nefertiti. Meren had grown used to the royal family's informality-the constant presence of children, the freely expressed affection. It was yet another of Akhenaten's innovations, one that scandalized traditional Egyptians used to the divine dignity from their living gods.
Tut made his obeisance to the queen. Meren was astonished that a child of six could adopt so formal a demeanor.
The child said his greeting perfectly, and he moved with a grace that spoke of Nefertiti's influence. After managing the greeting, however, all courtliness disappeared under the weight of a happy smile.
"Nefer!" Tut crowed. He laughed and threw himself at the queen.
Catching the boy, Nefertiti swung him in a circle. She hugged Tut and laughed at his chattering. Before she could answer one question, he was asking another.
Nefertiti stood Tut on his feet and smiled as he danced with excitement.
"Why can't I have a crocodile? We could build a pool for it."
"We'll talk about it later," Nefertiti said, and she gave the boy a bowl of dates. He didn't want them, so she took his hand and strolled with him beside the pool. Meren found the interruption a nuisance; he had little patience for waiting while the queen was distracted from business far more important than a spoiled prince. He almost sighed aloud when Nefertiti summoned him to walk with her and the child, and was no more enthusiastic when she took refuge in a kiosk in one of the smaller palace gardens.
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