Lynda Robinson: Murder at the Feast of Rejoicing

Ra wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. As quickly as it had appeared, his humor vanished. "They won't punish me for speaking the truth, and the truth is that you won't share your power with me because you're afraid I might be better at serving pharaoh than you are. Just as I would have been a better heir to Father than you are."

"As long as we're speaking the truth," Meren said, "you should listen to a little of it yourself. Father and Mother provided well for you. I inherited so much for the reason anyone does; I'm the one who cares for our parents' kas. I see to it that their mortuary temples are attended by priests and supplied with food and drink. You see, dear brother, of the three of us, I'm the only one they trusted to do this duty forever."

Ra's mouth distorted with a sneer. "And you're so dutiful. The perfect son. But not such a perfect father, eh? Or the perfect husband. You let Sit-Hathor die, didn't you? And now you're too afraid of her ka's wrath to remarry, so you adopted a peasant."

"You know Sit-Hathor died in childbirth," Meren said after a long silence. "Speak of her again, and I'll give you the beating you've been inviting for years."

Ra lunged forward and jabbed a finger in Meren's chest, his words flying out like sparks of a fast-burning fire. "You'd rather spend time with your common son than play the dutiful father to your daughters. And what of your duty to the family? The rest of us might as well shut ourselves up in our tombs for all the care you show us. Gods, Meren, you make me want to puke."

Slapping Ra's hand aside, Meren suddenly realized he was gripping the hilt of his dagger as if preparing to draw it. Ra's mood changed again without warning, and he smiled.

"Take comfort, brother. You'll see even less of me than usual if I decide to marry."

"You're already married."

"Oh, I'll rid myself of my old wife if I take a new one. I'm not fool enough to try to make two women happy."

"Your wife's family is powerful at court. Don't make them angry. Who do you think you're going to marry?"

Without answering, Ra laughed in Meren's face. Turning his back, he sauntered into the central hall, stopped by Anhai's chair, and whispered something to her. Anhai chuckled, causing heads to turn in their direction. Meren swore silently. Ra had always enjoyed baiting him, but from the look in his brother's eye, it was obvious that Anhai appealed to him. Perhaps he admired a tongue even more cruel than his own.

Meren tore his gaze from the scene and unwrapped his fingers from their clench around the dagger. Then he forced himself to smile and entered the hall. At once he spotted Antefoker bearing down on him. He sidled behind a group of men watching the acrobats and plunged into another crowd gathered around a pair of jugglers. Taking a cup of wine from a servant, he slipped behind a column and took a long drink. When he lowered the cup it was too late to avoid the clawlike hand that descended to his arm.

"Ah, my dear host," said Wah. "What a beautiful feast this is. And what great fortune it is for me to be able to talk to you. I'll be Idut's husband soon, with your permission, and I'm sure you and I can agree on a suitable contract."

"But not tonight," Meren said.

"Of course," Wan said. He popped a date in his mouth and chewed while he talked. "But there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about. Much time has passed since the unfortunate-uh-heresy. I know you understand that I, like you, was only doing the bidding of pharaoh at Horizon of Aten. Much time has passed, much time."

"Wah, you personally took a chisel to the name of Amun in his great temple."

Wah glanced around before coming closer. The scent of his unguent cone nearly choked Meren as he whispered, "You know I couldn't refuse. Who among us would refuse the will of the living god? Others have been forgiven, and I have great skills."

"Silence!" Irritation caused Meren to speak so loudly that several men looked their way. He lowered his voice. "There is nothing I can do."

"Yes, there is."

Wah droned on, but Meren was too unhappy over his brother to heed him. He settled for smiling and nodding while Wah continued to make his case. Over the man's shoulder Meren could see Anhai fanning herself with her lotus flower and leering at Ra. Near them Bentanta seemed to be talking urgently to Sennefer, who was touching a fresh scent cone that was beginning to melt on his head.

Then Sennefer whirled around and stalked to his wife's side. Anhai ignored him and slipped away to join Bentanta, who was sitting on a couch. The two women began to speak. Bentanta threw up her hands. Meren couldn't hear what they were saying, but their speech was growing more and more agitated. Anhai leaned toward Bentanta and growled into her ear. Then Bentanta jumped up with an exclamation. Grasping Bentanta's robe, Anhai attempted to hold her in place.

Bentanta's voice rose above the music and chatter. "Let go, you foul bitch!" Her hand struck out, knocking Anhai's arm and freeing her robe. Heads turned as she fled, shouldering her way across the hall and vanishing into the reception room.

"So you will aid me?" Wah was saying.

"What? Oh, I'll think upon it."

"After all, I'm to be your brother."

"I said I'd think upon it, Wah. That's all I'll say."

He waved a hand in dismissal and threaded his way through the crowd toward the reception hall. Anhai was there before him. The two women stood in the shadows, toe to toe, breasts heaving. He heard Bentanta's voice, strained, quiet, menacing.

"I wish I had the courage to kill you."

Anhai's light laughter filled the room. "If my husband and his parents don't, why should you? Take heart, Bentanta, perhaps Antefoker will do the work for you."

"Stay away from me," Bentanta said. "Or you'll regret it."

Bentanta walked out of the shadows, saw Meren, and hesitated, her eyes wide with alarm. Meren approached her, but she hurried by him. He caught up with her as Ra passed them on his way to Anhai. Meren slipped around Bentanta and blocked her way.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "I thought you and Anhai were longtime friends."

"Anhai has no real friends," Bentanta said. "She has followers, worshipers, people who are enamored of her charm and haven't the wits to see beneath it and into her scorpion's soul."

"But what has she done to you?"

Uttering a little gasp of impatience, Bentanta said, "Don't you ever listen to your family, Meren? She wants to leave Sennefer and take his most valuable estate with her."

"I know, but what has that to do with you?"

"She wants me to help convince Sennefer to give in. Sennefer likes me and trusts my judgment, possibly because I'm one of the few people who know what Anhai is really like."

"But still, to ask you to interfere in such a matter- why would she demand such a thing of you?"

"I know not," Bentanta said, throwing up her hands. "If you want to know more, ask Anhai."

"You're not telling me everything. You're worried. I can see it in your eyes. If I didn't know you better, I might think you were afraid. Of what?"

Bentanta gave him an incredulous look and laughed. "I didn't know you had a storyteller's imagination, Meren."

Meren didn't return her smile.

"You're right about Anhai. Beneath that humor and charm lies the ka of a netherworld fiend. Don't anger her."

"Oh, go away, Meren. You make too much of a simple quarrel."

"Then you won't mind if I talk to Anhai and Sennefer."

"I care not, Meren, only leave me alone."

She brushed past him, but he caught her arm. She looked up at him with dark, startled eyes as he whispered to her.

"What is it that has you so disturbed, Bentanta?"

Bentanta looked away and shook her head. Meren released her, and she walked away. Not quickly, but calmly, with an unfaltering step that belied the fear he'd seen in her eyes. Meren stood frowning at her retreating figure and musing over the last few moments. Bentanta was a formidable woman, one capable of making him feel like a newly circumcised youth. But tonight she'd lost her composure as he'd never seen her do. And she'd threatened to kill Anhai. Anhai was malicious, but hardly worth killing.