Lynda Robinson: Heretic's dagger

At Kar's house Meren noticed right away that the family's circumstances had changed. Wall hangings brightened the walls, food was more abundant, and Kar's father appeared almost cheerful.

Wersu greeted him with a sad smile. "You honor us, Lord Meren."

Glancing around the living area Meren nodded at a large wine jar on a stand. "I see many improvements since I was last here."

"Ah, yes. I am ashamed that I had to conceal many of my possessions from Kar, my lord. He would take things and trade them for beer and wine. His mother had to hide her jewels, her clothing, even her linens."

"Where is Mistress Qedet?"

"I will fetch her.'

Meren shook his head. "We will go to her."

"She is upstairs, lord."

In the master chamber Qedet was busy putting clean sheets on the bed that her son once occupied. When Meren entered she hastily tucked a sheet under the mattress and stuffed more folded linens into a box at the foot of the bed.

"I want to ask you if Kar ever said anything about his work at Hathor's Ornament," Meren said.

Wersu and Qedet glanced at each other.

"Not much, my lord," said Wersu. "He didn't like Uthi, the overseer of doorkeepers and porters. But Kar never liked anyone who had authority over him. That was why he failed as an unguent maker."

"And what about his sudden wealth? The gold bracelet, the other things?"

Wersu flushed, and Qedet burst out, "We were so afraid he'd stolen them. Onuris told you about those things, I know. What were we to do? Give our son to the police? I couldn't bear the shame. Please, my lord, we're old and humble, and have been good subjects all our lives. May the gods witness how we tell the truth. We didn't steal, and Kar didn't tell us anything."

No matter how he approached the matter, Meren couldn't alarm or trick Wersu or his wife into admitting being involved in their son's crimes. Further intimidation would be necessary, and that meant dragging the old couple to the barracks at his house. That could wait until he'd finished with the people at Hathor's Ornament. Then he would send men for Wersu and Qedet. Being summoned at a late hour to appear before him often was enough of a shock to loosen tongues. Meren eyed Wersu as the older man made more excuses for his son's crimes. Qedet added her own litany when Wersu ran out of breath. Losing interest in their justifications, Meren's attention strayed. His gaze drifted from the ceramic lamps distributed about the room to the small alabaster and faience tubes and trays used to hold eye paint and kohl eyeliner.

That nagging irritable feeling was back. He was about to interrupt Qedet when his eye caught the newly made bed. Light streamed in from a window set high in the wall and caught the sheen of the linens on the bed. Such fine cloth, almost the quality of royal linen-soft, smooth, tightly woven. It was then that Meren remember his first visit to this house. He'd been talking to these two in the kitchen, and Qedet had been scrubbing a spot off a sheet, an ink spot. Only now Meren realized it hadn't been a spot. It had been a laundry mark, and that mark had been from the laundry at Hathor's Ornament. Meren suddenly shoved Wersu aside, walked over to the bed and pulled at the sheets.

Wersu followed him, wringing his hands. "My lord!"

Meren turned to him with the corner of a sheet in his hands. "Your wife couldn't remove the mark entirely. I can still see the name of the owner, Wersu. Your son stole this from Princess Iaret. It's time for the truth, unless you'd rather wait for the attentions of the city police."

"No! No, my lord, please, I'll tell you what I know." Wersu licked his lips and clasped his trembling hands. "Kar brought home a large box of linens, and these are some of them. He-he wasn't stealing-"

"I should have brought my whip," Meren snapped.

"No, please, lord. Kar told me what he was doing one night when he was drunk. He knew a secret, a secret about one of the ladies, and she was giving him valuable things so that he would keep the secret."

"Out with it, Wersu. The woman was Princess Iaret. What was the secret?"

"It was that Princess Iaret had fallen in love with Lord Roma. She met him while performing her duties in the temple as a singer of the great god Amun. Kar saw them meeting secretly late one night in the garden of Hathor's Ornament. He went to the princess and threatened to expose the affair if she didn't pay him."

Meren's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. It was worse than he'd imagined. Roma was the grandson of the Paranefer, the high priest of Amun. He had just stumbled onto what could be a plot to take the throne of Egypt. It had been done before. A man of great ambition could marry a royal princess. If he had enough backing from the powerful temples and nobles, he could seize the throne and legitimate his claim through his wife. This was why so many princesses remained within the royal women's household where pharaoh could keep an eye on them. Iaret was the daughter of Akhenaten. Roma was a young man of great skill as a warrior, having won battles against the wild tribes of Nubia and rebellions Asiatic vassal princes. He had a large following in the army. Together Roma and the princess could be a real threat to the immature Tutankhamun, especially with the richest temple in Egypt, that of Amun, behind them. Cursing, Meren left Wersu and Qedet pleading for leniency and making excuses for themselves instead of their son. As he stepped out of the house he heard Qedet screeching at Wersu, blaming him for their misery. His last sight was of Wersu, his flaccid skin pale, his eyes watery, staring after Meren like the shade of one without a tomb doomed to wander lost forever.

Instead of going to Hathor's Ornament, Meren returned home and sent for Kysen and his men. He spent a few hours in preparation before dispatching a messenger with a polite invitation for Lord Roma to visit him. The young man arrived near dusk. Meren received him in the reception hall of his town house, a graceful room with a high ceiling supported by eight slender columns in the form a water lilies. Wearing an intricately pleated robe of royal linen, a gold broad collar set with carnelian and turquoise, and matching armbands, Meren was seated on the master dais in a gilded chair. Kysen and Abu stood beside him.

Roma strolled into the reception hall resplendent in his own jewels and fine linen. He was one of those men who, despite being rather plain, exuded an air of power and confidence. "An invitation from the great Lord Meren. An unexpected honor." He bowed slightly, the salute of one equal to another.

"Welcome, and may the gods bless you, Lord Roma. May I inquire as to the health of your grandfather?"

"He's well, considering his great age." Without being invited Roma sat in a chair near the dais and helped himself from a bowl of dates on a nearby table. "What's the purpose of your invitation, Meren? I'm due at the temple for the evening ritual. I'm a lector priest, you know."

"A learned man and a skilled warrior," Meren said softly. "Admirable accomplishments for one so young. The ladies at court must find you irresistible."

Something flickered in Roma's eyes, but he answered easily. "No more irresistible than you, Meren. You should have remarried by now, if you'll pardon me. You wife has been dead many years."

"True, Roma." Meren rose and stepped down from the dais, ending up beside his guest. He bent down and hissed, "But I don't have a princess besotted with love for me." As he spoke Meren pulled Roma's dagger out of its sheath and rested it against the hollow of his throat. Leaning close, he said, "I don't appreciate being attacked from behind in my own home, Roma. I ought to gut you just for that."

Roma had frozen when Meren drew his dagger. He met Meren's eyes, lifted his chin and spat, "So you know. I've done nothing wrong."