Lynda Robinson: Drinker Of Blood

Meren waited until they were well inside before moving. In silence he slipped around the pillar and put himself between the two men and the doorway.

"Greetings," he said, causing the Nubians to whirl around and reach for their daggers.

As they moved, Kysen, Ebana, and the rest appeared, their weapons drawn. The Nubians froze in the act of drawing their blades.

"Hands away from your daggers," Meren commanded.

Abu relieved them of their weapons as Kysen joined Meren.

Ebana took a position at the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb, and watched the lane. "Whatever you're going to do, do it quickly, cousin."

"Aye, Father," Kysen said. "We can't stay long. And we can't drag them through the streets. I told Ebana we should have abducted them from their homes and secreted them somewhere."

Meren shook his head. "There's no need. A few words with these two should suffice to prove me innocent."

"A few words?" Kysen gave him a startled look.

Walking over to the silent Nubians, Meren looked up at them, for they were almost a foot taller than he. "Repeat these words. Majesty, life, health, prosperity."

Turi and Mose exchanged blank looks. Then Turi spoke.

"Majesty, life, health, prosperity."

Kysen gave Meren an inquiring look. "This makes no sense."

"It would if your heart wasn't weighted down with ignorance from being of common blood," Ebana said from his post by the doorway.

Kysen flashed a disgusted look at Ebana but said nothing.

Meren signaled to Reia. "Take him out and release him."

Reia escorted Turi from the shrine, and Meren faced the remaining Nubian.

"Royal bodyguards are like slaves at court, like furniture. Are they not, Mose?"

The Nubian said nothing. His features seemed as expressionless as those of a lizard.

"And furniture does not make noise," Meren continued. "Certainly a noisy guard is a worthless one. And chatter isn't the way of a Nubian warrior. Is it, Mose?"

Kysen drew nearer and breathed his words. "By the wrath of Montu, Father."

Meren nodded to his son, then whipped out his dagger without warning and touched the point to the ebony skin over Mose's throat.

"Say the words, or by the gods I'll make you scream them."

All he got in response was the same impassive regard he'd come to expect from any Nubian royal guard.

Drawing close to the man, Meren spoke softly. "Remember the time I captured the leader of the miserable Asiatics who murdered everyone at the fortress called Might of Horus? Remember how long it took him to die out in the desert?" Meren withdrew his dagger and tapped his fingers on the blade. "It's so easy to attract the creatures of the desert to a bleeding body-snakes, scorpions, ants… vultures."

Mose stared into his eyes and shook his head.

Meren smiled at him. "You have family, don't you, Mose?"

This time Mose blinked. Meren darted at him, placing the blade at his throat again. "Speak. In the voice you used in the tent that night, not with your usual accent."

"Too late," Ebana said.

Meren withdrew the dagger and joined his cousin in looking out the doorway. Soldiers with scimitars and shields approached down the lane. Dozens of bows pointed at the shrine from the corners of the grain magazines. Above all the others, Meren recognized the black head of Karoya.

"Curse it, how did Horemheb know? Abu, Kysen, bring the Nubian."

Meren stepped into the half-light at the top of the stairs. The approaching soldiers stopped. Motionless, Meren waited without surprise as the troops parted, revealing pharaoh. He was almost jolted from his composure when he saw who was behind pharaoh. Bener stood beside a guard, who was holding her arm. Once again she was dressed as an aged laundress.

Horemheb appeared at pharaoh's side. "Take them."

"No!" Tutankhamun said. Horemheb whispered to the king, but Tutankhamun shook his head and silenced the general with a slice of his hand.

The king walked toward the shrine, and Meren descended the stairs. They met in the empty space between the troops and the shrine.

"Golden one, you shouldn't have come."

Tutankhamun's smile was bitter. "I had to. I have to know the truth. Why did you do it? Have you been a traitor all this time?"

"No, majesty. I am as I always was, thy servant. I would give my life-"

"Don't. I'll hear no protests of loyalty. I'll commit you to trial in secret to save your family the disgrace, but I'll hear no protests of loyalty from you."

"Then will thy majesty hear proof of his servant's innocence?"

"What can you say that will excuse what you did?"

"I can say nothing, but there is one whose words will end this deceit."

Horemheb marched to them. "Forgive me, majesty, but it's growing dark."

Tutankhamun waved the general into silence. "I will listen."

Meren summoned Kysen, and Mose was brought out of the shrine between him and Abu. Ebana followed. Tutankhamun frowned as he recognized his guard, and he turned to Meren.

"Command Mose to speak the words I instructed him to speak before you came, majesty."

"What confusion is this?" Horemheb asked.

Raising his hand, pharaoh continued to stare at Meren without responding. Meren met the king's gaze directly. He hoped that some small remnant of faith in him still existed within this youth for whom he felt both the love of a father and the reverence of a subject. Tutankhamun still hesitated.

"Majesty," Meren whispered. "You hold my life. I beg you, don't crush it beneath your sandal."

For the briefest moment the boy closed his eyes, and his face contorted with pain. The spasm passed, and the king met his gaze once more.

"Mose, speak."

Mose's lips pressed together. At the silence, Tutankhamun's eyes widened. Meren gave the Nubian a nasty smile.

"Pharaoh is quite unaccustomed to disobedience, Mose."

Horemheb suddenly stalked over to the guard and said, "Yes. I suggest you do as the divine one commanded before I make you."

When the Nubian remained silent, Meren sighed and said, "I see I must remind you of our conversation in the shrine, Mose. The desert, your family? Speak."

His gaze darting from Horemheb to Meren, Mose opened his mouth. Ebana's dagger prodded him in the ribs from behind, and the words came out at last.

"Majesty, life, health, prosperity."

At first there was silence. Then the king took several steps that brought him closer to Mose, and Meren joined him.

"Say it again-no-say this. Say, 'Majesty, where are you?' "

As if the words were dragged from him like pyramid blocks on a sledge, Mose complied. "Majesty, where are you?"

Slowly the king turned to face Meren, his face pale. "Like you. His voice sounds like yours. There isn't even an accent."

"Yes, majesty. And now we must ask who bribed him to pretend to be me and feign that attack on you, and why. I think you'll find, Horemheb, that Mose has suddenly acquired much wealth."

"Mose," the king said. "I command you to respond."

But Mose wasn't attending to pharaoh. As Meren watched the Nubian, alarm writhed like a cold snake in his belly, for Mose's gaze was directed over the pharaoh's head, over the heads of the men surrounding them, at the rooftops. When the guard's eyes widened in terror, Meren moved. At the same time, Mose lunged at them. His hands fastened on the king, and the Nubian dragged the boy against his chest like a shield. Instantly Meren tore the king from Mose's grip and felt a stinging jolt in his side. Ignoring the pain, he twisted and plunged to the ground with the king beneath him.

Above him all was confusion and noise.

Horemheb shouted, "Not the one on the roof, the Nubian! Get the Nubian Mose!"

Dust flew into Meren's face as men ran by. He heard arrows whistling and blades clashing, but he was more concerned with lifting himself so that he could assess the danger to the king, who was swearing and spitting dirt underneath him.