Scepter of Flint

by N. L. Holmes

  “I can’t see him making old bones anyway, frankly,” Maya said with a sniff. “Maybe Djau is so desperate for gold to keep his nephew from being strapped when he dies that he’s gotten mixed up in this business. I can’t imagine that a paint boy makes much compared to a chief draftsman.”

  “Hopefully, we’ll find out who’s guilty and who’s innocent as our investigation goes on,” Hani said.

  Maya recognized Hani’s bland tone as an effort to try not to defend the little draftsman before the truth came out. He likes him or feels sorry for him. But Lord Hani will remain impartial.

  They bumped at last against the quay, and while the boatman held the prow steady, Hani and Maya clambered out of the small boat and stood up on dry land. The night was coming on. Lights were appearing in windows and through high clerestories. A fluttering torch bobbed through the gathering darkness as the watchman made his rounds.

  “Let’s get on home before it becomes completely black,” Hani said, quickening his steps. The inhabitants of Waset were all on edge after nightfall, never knowing what mischief the discontented of their city might stir up.

  The two men walked briskly, Maya struggling to keep up with Lord Hani’s longer stride. It occurred to him that there was hardly anyone he’d rather have at his side in a dangerous situation than his father-in-law. Hani was a broad, thick man with a rolling gait and an air of power. He’d wrestled in his youth, and Maya had seen him flip an attacker or two even recently, despite his forty-seven years. Yes, whatever malefactors Hani couldn’t win over with gentleness and humor he could beat back by force. Maya always felt protected in his presence.

  They arrived at Hani’s home without incident. A’a let them through the gate, and the two marched up the garden path with a gravelly crunch of mismatched footsteps. At the door of the house, Nub-nefer met them, her face brightening with love at the sight of her husband, and Maya thought, May my wife ever give me that look when I come home.

  “Here we are, my dear,” called Hani. “Sorry we’re so late. There were three tombs to visit.” He kissed Lady Nub-nefer as he crossed the threshold.

  “We were starting to worry. Sat-hut-haru is here, Maya. She’s with the other girls in the salon.”

  The three of them entered together, and Maya melted to see his wife jump up and run toward him with all her grace and warmth. She stooped and fell on his neck, shrieking joyfully and kissing him.

  “Easy, my dear. We were only gone for a day!” He laughed, wrapping his short arms around her as best he could. She stood up, and hand in hand, they went to greet her sisters. Neferet had bounded up but, for once, summoned the self-control to wait until Hani entered the room before squeezing everyone else out of the way. At last, she descended on her father in a bone-cracking hug.

  “This is a more exuberant welcome than we get when we’re in Kharu for months!” Hani pried Neferet off with a chuckle.

  “We’ve heard sounds of rioting again, my love,” Nub-nefer said. “I sent Iuty out to bring Pa-kiki and Mut-nodjmet and the little one, in case there was going to be trouble. Be glad your mother is in Akhet-aten, Maya.”

  Maya was indeed glad his goldsmith mother had moved her workshop to the new capital. At first, his heart had been broken at the thought that she would sell the old house, the link with his childhood. But she’d surprised him by giving it to Sat-hut-haru and him. They’d fixed it up until it was a cozy little family home with a nice garden and a stable and possessions collected by dint of frugality. He hated to think of a mob breaking in and taking them.

  “Well, Pa-kiki and Mut-nodjmet will be here when they get here,” Nub-nefer said at last with forced jollity. “Why don’t we sit down at table before it gets any later?” She called to the servants to bring out the little tables, and the family took their places here and there in a rough circle.

  In the silence before everyone began to talk again, Maya could hear a distant knock on the gate. He caught Hani’s eye.

  “That must be the children.” Hani slipped off his stool with an alacrity that suggested he had been infected with his wife’s anxiety. It was true they’d been besieged in the house by a mob more than once since the new king took the throne.

  Hani disappeared into the vestibule. A moment later, Pa-kiki and his wife, with their little daughter in her arms, entered to joyous greetings, but on their heels was a pair of strange men in the garb of soldiers. Hani brought up the rear. Maya froze, not sure whether this was a social visit or a requisition. But Hani cried out in pleasure, “Look who’s here! Our old friend Menna son of Ibi-aw.”

  And then Maya recognized the young officer who had nearly died defending his commander in Djahy. Menna owed his life to Lord Hani, who had given him a powerful amulet. Four years before, he’d turned up, quite by accident, at their doorstep, leading a unit of soldiers who had come to put down a riot. They hadn’t seen him since.

  Lady Nub-nefer rose and greeted the man with warmth. “Welcome, Menna.”

  He was a dark-skinned, bucktoothed fellow with his hair in little fuzzy caterpillars all over his head. He grinned around in a friendly fashion. “Forgive us for disturbing your dinner. I just wanted to pay my respects, and my friend Pa-aten-em-heb, standard-bearer of the Pacifier of the Aten company, asked if he could come along. He said he knew some of you.”

  The other man, a tall, martial-looking, serious youth whose chiseled visage reminded Maya slightly of a younger Lord Ptah-mes, bowed. His eyes slid to Mery-ra’s face, which was grinning widely, and a smile broke out on his own features. “Lord Mery-ra!”

  “Pa-aten-em-heb, my boy! And here I thought I’d never see you again after I retired!”

  “Both of you, sit down and share our meal,” Nub-nefer urged them warmly. “It’s nothing fancy, I fear, but my experience tells me young men are always hungry.”

  The family scooted together until more stools were fit around Hani’s small table. The two young officers seated themselves without further urging.

  “I apologize, my lord. I thought you would have eaten by now,” Menna said.

  “Normally, we would have, but Maya and I were in the Mountains of the West for an investigation.”

  Maya, who was seated at the next table, overheard and swelled with pride. He and Lord Hani were investigating.

  Pa-aten-em-heb nodded grimly. “I suppose it has to do with the grave robbings of late, eh? What an embarrassment, with all the foreign dignitaries around.”

  Hani raised his eyebrows in accord.

  The officer’s face took on an intent and bitter cast, and he said under his breath, “We’re the laughingstock of the nations.”

  Menna, looking uneasy, elbowed his colleague in the ribs. “Our host is an emissary of the king.” He glanced apologetically at Hani.

  “And I can tell you,” Hani said in a low, significant tone, “that we are the laughingstock of the nations.” He and Pa-aten-em-heb stared each other in the eye, and Maya could see understanding spring up between them.

  “Forgive me, my lord,” said the young officer, leaning toward Hani. Their tones had dropped so low that Maya had to strain to hear them. “My family are priests of Haru at Hut-nen-nesut. My name was and always will be Har-em-heb, but my commanding officer ordered his entire staff to change their names when the king—life, prosperity, and health to him—came to the throne.” He continued to stare Hani in the eye, as if willing him to comprehend.

  Nub-nefer leaned forward in her turn and said quietly, “And my family are priests of the Hidden One. My brother is third prophet.”

  “I’ve heard of him, my lady,” said Pa-aten-em-heb with burning intensity.

  Iy, thought Maya his neck hairs rising. Are they talking sedition right here at the table with an officer of the king’s army sitting next to them? But although Menna looked uneasy, he made no move to redirect the conversation. A tense silence settled over that table while laughter and conversation continued to swirl around those seated there.

  Finally, Hani sat back and said m
ore loudly, “My son has just been assigned to his grandfather’s post as a scribe in the infantry. He’s waiting to hear whose unit he’ll be seconded to.”

  Pa-aten-em-heb smiled, relaxing. “I can tell you that, Lord Hani. My unit. That’s one reason I wanted to come tonight.”

  Nub-nefer shot Hani a look of such delight that Maya thought she might spring up and kiss the young officer.

  “You say you’re from Hut-nen-nesut?” Neferet called from her table. “That’s where the House of the Royal Ornaments is.”

  “Yes, young mistress. My mother is lady-in-waiting to the queen when Lady Nefert-iti is in residence,” replied the young officer.

  “How do you know about Hut-nen-nesut, my dear?” Neferet’s mother asked her. Nub-nefer was flushed with happiness and very much warmer than she’d been before Pa-aten-em-heb had revealed his real name.

  “Lady Djefat-nebty has talked about it. She’s going to take me down there soon to examine the king’s harem.”

  Menna and Pa-aten-em-heb looked curiously at Hani, who explained, “She’s studying to be a sunet with the doctor of the royal ladies.”

  At that point, a commotion at the door announced the arrival of Pa-kiki and Mut-nodjmet. The young couple advanced, smiling, and Neferet darted over to her cousin Mut-nodjmet, who was carrying their year-old son.

  “Let me see that ado-o-orable little man!” Neferet cried, pinching the baby’s fat cheek. He shrieked with laughter and reached out for her. Mut-nodjmet, beaming, handed him over and unwrapped his little cloak. Maya could remember, only a few years before, how Mut-nodjmet had pined for marriage and children. She’d been a drab, shy, overweight girl with—well, memorable breasts. The latter was still true, but she’d taken on the beauty of contentment and a new sense of her own desirability under the attentions of her husband. Maya smiled to himself with the tolerance of one who knew all about the transfiguring effects of love.

  “Sorry we’re late, everyone,” said Pa-kiki once he’d kissed his mother and sisters, “but just as we were leaving, a messenger arrived with a letter from Uncle Pipi.”

  “Guess what?” Mut-nodjmet cried. “He and Mother are going to move back to Waset so they can be near their grandson!”

  Lord Hani and Lord Mery-ra exchanged a look of delight and surprise. Mery-ra said with a chuckle, “Without any horses, I hope.”

  Pipi had nearly bankrupted himself to buy a pair of horses a few years before, only to find out they were stolen goods. Lord Hani had barely managed to sell them for him. Maya told himself to expect more eye-rolling moments once Pipi returned. Hani’s younger brother was an impulsive fellow, a boy who had never grown up.

  “Does he have a job in mind? If not, maybe we can inscribe him for Pa-kiki’s old post in the foreign service,” said Mery-ra.

  Hani agreed that that was an excellent idea. “My dear,” he said to Nub-nefer, “tell the servants to bring in more stools.”

  But Menna and his companion rose hastily, and he said with some embarrassment, “It’s time for us to leave, my lord. We don’t want to impose on your family get-together.”

  Before they turned to go, Pa-aten-em-heb smiled at Hani. “Is this your son, Pa-kiki?”

  “I am, my lord,” answered the boy.

  “Then I welcome you to the Pacifier of the Aten company. I’m Pa-aten-em-heb. You’re to be my scribe.”

  Pa-kiki, all eager and wreathed in smiles, directed himself toward the soldier. “It’s you, my lord?” he cried.

  “It is.” The officer clapped fist to chest in a salute, and Pa-kiki returned it, beaming.

  Good for Pa-kiki. He has a nice young officer to serve—with congenial political views. Let’s hope the man doesn’t get the lad in trouble. There was something intense, almost fanatical, about Pa-aten-em-heb.

  “Permit me to introduce my wife, Mut-nodjmet, and my son,” Pa-kiki said proudly.

  The girl, pressed against her husband’s arm, nodded with a shy smile.

  Pa-aten-em-heb looked surprised and pleased. “That’s my wife’s name too.”

  The two soldiers took their leave, and the family settled in to the rest of their dinner. Maya couldn’t help noticing the radiant grin that lit up Lady Nub-nefer’s face. But Lord Hani looked thoughtful and was quieter than usual.

  CHAPTER 3

  THE NEXT MORNING, HANI settled himself on the floor of his salon with Maya at his side, prepared to write on a big potsherd. “So far, we’ve spoken to Djau and learned that a certain Bebi-ankh may be the man involved in the tomb robberies.”

  “How is it no one went after him as soon as they had that information, my lord?” said Maya. “It’s been over a week since Djau reported him, and he still seems to be at work on Lord Ptah-mes’s tomb.”

  “I suppose they were afraid to tip him off before they found out who his collaborators were. But I’m not sure we’ll get any further unless we question him.” Hani’s face darkened. “I just hope Mahu doesn’t reach him first and torture him to talk. You can’t trust what anyone says under torture. They’d incriminate their own mother to make the pain stop.”

  The two men sat for a moment, and Hani pondered the touchiness of their situation. Into the silence came the distant bang of the gate. A’a entered the salon, his mouth open to make an announcement, but even before he could speak, a loud, jolly voice called out from the vestibule, “Hani, my friend? Are you home?”

  “It’s Mane!” Hani cried, climbing to his feet. “What’s he doing in Waset?”

  The ambassador to Naharin entered, a jovial, round figure beaming from ear to ear. He opened his arms to Hani, and the two men embraced. Hani had to laugh—one would think that years had passed since they’d last seen one another. But that was Mane’s exuberant way.

  “What brings you to my humble abode? All the excitement is in the capital,” Hani said, motioning his friend to a stool.

  Mane sat with a puff of breath. “I’m here in Waset to pack. It’s off to Wasshukanni again for me. It may be a long time before we see each other, and I just wanted to say goodbye.”

  “How are things up there?” Hani asked, more serious.

  “Between the Hittites invading and a civil war, not good. A certain Artatama, a brother of Tushratta, is trying to take his throne.” Mane’s eyes were graver than his smile might suggest. “Tushratta repelled him once, but Artatama seems suddenly to have acquired vast numbers of mercenary troops.”

  “How’s he paying them?” Hani asked.

  Mane looked sly. “That is the great question, is it not? Presumably, some foreign power is paying. Kheta Land is high on my list of probabilities.”

  “So, you’re being sent up there to look things over, are you?”

  “Yes, indeed.” Mane smiled more brightly. “Oh, and Keliya is getting new attachés—a pair of young scribes named Pirissi and Tulubri. It would be appreciated if you could show them some hospitality, Hani. Other than Keliya, they don’t know anybody here.”

  “Of course. I’ll have to brush up my Hurrian.”

  Mane chuckled, his belly bouncing.

  “How is the King’s Beloved Wife doing these days?” Hani asked.

  Mane’s eyebrows quirked sadly. “Oh, my friend, after all the work you did to help our little Kiya, the king has lost interest in her. She’s parked with all the other royal wives in Hut-nen-nesut, at the House of the Royal Ornaments.”

  Hani nodded his sorrowful understanding. “If only she had borne a son instead of the queen. And now, of course, her father, Tushratta, sits on an increasingly tottering throne. She’s lost all her political value. Our king cares nothing for our treaty with Mitanni, or he would have gone to Tushratta’s aid long ago.”

  “Well, that’s the world we live in.” Mane stood up with a sigh, and Hani followed suit. “My mission is to evaluate which candidate for kingship to support.”

  Hani was overcome with a wave of disgust and nausea. Is it so light a thing to turn on an ally? But he knew only too well that it was. “Thanks for sto
pping by before you left, Mane.”

  Mane looked around him conspiratorially then said in a lowered voice, twisted with anguish, “The king wants our girl to go back home to Naharin. But, Hani, that’s like murdering her. The instability of the situation up there—it’s as good as throwing her into a den of lions.”

  “When our king is finished loving someone, he’s finished,” said Hani caustically.

  “Unless we can change Our Sun God’s mind, she’ll be going back home with me. Soon.”

  Hani eyed him skeptically. “I hope you don’t expect me to do anything about it, friend. As you know, I’m so far from having influence with the king that my patronage would be likely to hurt her cause.”

  “She trusts and respects you, Hani. Would you at least go up to Hut-nen-nesut with me to talk to her? She’s desperate to stay, because they’re going to keep her daughter here when she goes.”

  Hani made a noise of contempt. “Gods help the woman whose father is a king.”

  “Say you’ll come.”

  But Hani was firm. “I’m in the middle of a big investigation here. I don’t see how I can get away. The round trip up there and back takes weeks.”

  Mane shrugged, looking saddened. “They’ll rip her little daughter from her arms and drag her off to a ship, and she’ll be sent back to a war-torn country where she’ll probably be put to death—’’

  “Stop it, you manipulative bastard!” Hani cried, laughing in spite of himself and holding up his hands in surrender. He’d been head of the mission to claim Kiya as the barely adolescent bride of the late Neb-ma’at-ra, and she still thought of Hani as a father figure. He, in turn, felt enough affection for the girl to be too easily swayed to help her. “But all I can do is try to make her feel better about going. You know that. I can’t change the king’s mind if he’s decided to do this.” It occurred to Hani that his own Neferet was due to go to Hut-nen-nesut soon to attend the ladies of the royal harem. “Perhaps I can accompany my daughter when she goes down there.”