Lynda Robinson - Murder at the Feast of Rejoicing

"See! See those fishermen? They've been with you for hours, and their nets are empty. Why do you think that is, Paser? I'll tell you why-because they're not fishermen. They're charioteers. Meren's charioteers, you worm-witted son of a dung beetle."

Paser jerked his arm free, gave the fishermen a derisive sniff, and returned to his chair with his guest dogging his footsteps. "I care nothing for those spies. My diligence has been rewarded. I saw Kysen on that trading flotilla, and I've been following him instead of Meren."

"You're following Kysen? Why?"

Tapping his guest with the fly whisk, Paser asked, "The question is, why is he traveling on a trading ship? He was going with the king to Memphis."

"He's going to Meren's feast of rejoicing, you fool."

"Who is a fool? Would you abandon a place at the side of the living god to attend a paltry feast?"

"Kysen isn't like those of us with noble blood. He knows nothing of what is proper for the son of a Hereditary Prince and Sole Beloved Friend of the King."

"But that's it," Paser replied. "What if he's learned? What if he's pursuing the duties of a Sole Beloved Friend of the King? What if he's doing that right now?"

There was a long silence in which his guest stared at Paser. Having put this rude interloper in his place, Paser settled back in his chair with a smirk.

"If what you suspect is true, then I have to ask again why you would follow Meren's son in a bright yellow boat in full daylight."

"I know what I'm doing. Say!" Paser gasped as a knee landed on his stomach and the tip of a dagger pricked the linen of his robe over his heart.

"Now you listen to me. I know Meren far better than you do, and I know Kysen. Neither will be fooled by your clumsy machinations. I'm going to the feast of rejoicing, which is where Kysen is going. You, conversely, are going to turn this green-and-yellow gourd of yours around and sail back to Memphis, or I'll dump you in the mouth of the next hippo we pass."

Paser slapped the dagger away. "I'm not your minion. I'll do as I wish."

"You'll do as I say." The guest stepped back, releasing Paser. "I've lost much because of Ay and Meren and the changes that came with the new pharaoh. But Meren is going to alter his opinion of me, and I'm not going to let you ruin my chance for gain. Go back and report to the prince. I'll follow when I've finished with Meren."

The guest sheathed the dagger. "Do what I say, Paser. Any other choice would be unhealthy."

Meren felt better after bathing and having Zar rub his skin with oil. At least in his apartments he was safe from annoying relatives and unexpected guests. And he enjoyed his rooms at Baht. They had once been his father's, but Sit-Hathor had had them refurbished.

Patterned friezes decorated the tops of the walls, long series of lotus blossoms in blue, white, and green. Brilliant blue faience tiles bordered the bottom of the walls. In his bedchamber there was a mural of a papyrus marsh depicting ducks, geese, and herons in flight. The remaining walls were plastered and bore a wash of pale blue.

He and Sit-Hathor had shared a love of simple, cool beauty. He remembered feeling so grateful to her for this gift when Djet brought him home after the nightmare of Horizon of Aten. To these rooms he would retreat if he began to lose his temper at the feast tonight.

Meantime he would slip out of the house and go spearfishing. That way he wouldn't have to play host when the trickle of arriving guests became an invasion. He was particularly anxious to avoid his neighbors in the district, most of whom-knowing that he had the trust of pharaoh-tried to ingratiate themselves. He hated unctuous sycophants. Once he was on the river, he'd send for the girls. And he'd take the opportunity to explore further Bener's relationship with Nu, for it now seemed likely he wouldn't have the chance to see the boy before the feast.

"The lord's robe is ready."

Meren glanced at the long garment with its waterfall of pleats. Zar had laid it on the gilded bed, along with a broad collar, belt, and bracelets consisting of thousands of tiny lapis, gold, and turquoise beads.

Meren frowned at the servant. The years had eroded away his hair in two scoops on either side of his head, leaving a sparse fan of gray hair like a tongue in the middle of his forehead. In contrast, the hair of his eyebrows grew in abundance, as if to make up for its laziness elsewhere. His body was short and compact, his stomach slightly rounded from excesses at the table. He was giving Meren one of the disapproving looks that made him look as if he'd just smelled a chamber pot.

Since Zar and his family had served Meren's for generations, he considered himself an authority on noble demeanor and appropriateness. No one knew more about court ceremony, proper address and manners, appropriate dress and protocol. And he cared about these things, for Meren's distinction and importance added to his. When Meren succeeded his father, Zar's life became a series of trials, for Meren would rather avoid the luxury, ceremony, and formality that Zar considered the embodiment of a happy life.

"Zar, I'm going spearfishing."

The body servant rocked back and forth on his heels while studying the heavy, luxurious wig he'd just removed from its box. "Noble hosts do not vanish upon the hour of their guests' arrival."

Meren waved a hand at the servant, walked to the door of the bedchamber, and cracked it open, listening.

"His honored visitors will expect the gracious hospitality and manners of a Friend of the King, a Sole Beloved Companion, a Fan-bearer at the Right of the King, one who should not disgrace his heritage, one who-"

"I don't hear anything. Zar, go out to the hall and also to the front porch and see who's about."

Zar replaced the wig in its box and left with an aggrieved expression. He returned while Meren was shoving a dagger in his belt.

"The noble Hepu and Nebetta are taking their leisure beside the garden pool, along with the noble Sennefer, Lady Anhai, and Lady Cheritwebeshet, my lord. Mistress Idut is giving instructions in the kitchen, and your noble daughters attend her. There is no one in the forecourt or at the gate."

"Good. Send word to the overseer of fowling and fishing, then send Reia to me at the riverbank, and bring my daughters to me without letting the entire household know where they're going." With great care, Meren pushed the door open and slithered into the corridor. Hugging the wall and walking swiftly, he reached the central hall, which was filled with servants lugging in great jars of wine and beer and maids bearing flower garlands. He sped through the reception room and, without stopping, rushed out onto the columned front porch.

He should have been more careful, for he dashed into the open in full sight of a group coming up the Meren almost ran into a lanky figure draped in a Upper Egyptian linen robe.

"Ah, Lord Meren, how good of you to come before lady, your sister, to greet me."

Meren backed up, glanced to either side for an then realized he was trapped. "May the favor of Amun be with you, Wah."

While Wah began a long-winded inquiry into the health of his family, Meren cursed his ill luck. Had he been a bit quicker, he'd have been out of the house before Wah arrived. Now he would have to play the host, because Wah was Idut's new suitor.

A glance at the guest left Meren wondering for the hundredth time how Idut could contemplate marrying one who had the reputation of being the kingdom's premier toady. When Meren had been a youth at Horizon of Aten, Wah had been one of the new men who rose to pre-eminence through their espousal of the Aten heresy. He still remembered the day he'd walked into the office of pharaoh's accounts to find Wah poring over a vast papyrus roll on the floor.