Lynda Robinson - Murder at the Feast of Rejoicing

What had Anhai done to anger Bentanta so? Meren drummed his fingers on the side of his wine cup. He was worried, and to his great surprise, he was worried about Bentanta. Her mysterious predicament had thrust the quarrel with Ra out of his thoughts. Astonishing.

Just as he began to ponder this development, Antefoker called his name. Too late he realized the man had planted himself in front of him and was waving a joint of beef as he launched into a litany of complaints about Anhai's grasping and cheating nature.

"Oh, Antefoker, not now," Meren said.

"Can't you make her pay me?" Antefoker asked.

Kysen walked up and saluted them with a wave of his wine goblet. "There you are, Antefoker. Sennefer was looking for you over there by the musicians. He wants to talk to you about some matter of a contract or something."

Antefoker rushed off, and Meren gave his son a grateful look.

"I'm in your debt, my son. Was Sennefer really looking for him?"

"No. Now let me speak to you before someone else comes near. Nento has left, complaining of an ague. By now he's at the barge. The poor man is frightened near to pissing with this unexpected feast. He was quite brave until he saw all the guests. Then he realized the risks. I had to find him a stool and pour two cups of wine down him."

"Then I'm glad he's already gone. We'll meet him as soon as the house quiets down for the night. Gods, I could strangle Idut for disobeying me."

"She's not thinking of you, or anyone else but herself. Look at her. She's enamored of Wah."

Meren glanced at his sister and her proposed husband and shook his head. "But why would she want to marry that snake?"

"I overheard him flattering her just now," Kysen said as they gazed at the couple in disbelieving curiosity. "He's as obsequious to her as he is to you, and with much more flattery in the mixture. Don't worry about it now, Father."

"Do you know how many things I have to worry about? There's our secret guest-enough to turn my hair white. There's Bener and her scribe. There's this warfare between Sennefer and his wife. There's Bentanta's fight with her too, and then there's Nebetta and Hepu. Did you know they tried to blame me for-never mind. Oh, and there's Ra, who is going to get himself killed if he doesn't keep away from Anhai. And all this has to happen on the one night I can least afford to have it happen."

"The family will fight whether you're here or not." Kysen handed Meren his wine cup. "Here, taste this. It's spiced pomegranate wine. Lady Bentanta brought it from her own vineyards."

Meren took a sip and gasped. It was like drinking liquid gold. He'd never tasted anything that so resembled the tales of wine in the perfect netherworld. Fruity, light, but not too sweet, it made him feel as if he were bathed in cool night waters in a pool in the north breeze.

"Ky, I think I hear the music of Hathor."

"I told you."

"I'm going to have more of this. But not tonight, nor should you."

"There you are!"

Meren jumped as his sister caught his arm and began dragging him toward the dais at one side of the hall.

"You're supposed to be in the host's seat, not skulking among the lesser guests. Great-Aunt Cherit was asking for you."

Idut herded Meren and Kysen to the dais, where they sat on either side of the aged lady. Thus ceremoniously ensconced, they watched a line of women dance to the accompaniment of harp, double pipes, flutes, and drums. Bener and Isis persuaded one of the women musicians to teach them to use sistra. A loop of metal attached to a handle, the instrument bore small wires suspended across the loop. The bars held small metal disks, and when the sistrum was shaken, it produced a light rattle. Meren was admiring his daughters' agility with the instruments when Cherit poked him with her elbow.

"Pay attention, boy."

To his disbelief, Hepu stood before him, a roll of papyrus in hand. He glared at Meren, cleared his throat, and began to read.

"Instruction of the Lord Hepu for his nephew, being the teachings for existence, instructions for wellbeing, every rule for conduct with elders…" Here Hepu paused to give Meren a significant glance. "For conduct with magistrates; knowing how to answer one who pleads, to reply to one who sends a message…"

Now Meren wished he'd drunk four or five glasses of Bentanta's wine. He fixed a pleased smile on his face, pretended to look at Hepu, and watched Isis instead. His thoughts strayed to the work ahead of him until he noticed that his daughter wasn't among the musicians anymore. He found her in the midst of a group of young men, some of those who had come with Ra. Jolted into alertness, Meren sat up straight and directed a severe glance at Kysen.

Kysen rose, left the dais, and strolled over to the group around his sister. The young men welcomed him with jokes and smiles. Kysen smiled in return as he spoke quietly to them. They turned as a group to cast apprehensive glances at Meren. Kysen was already making Isis laugh as he smoothly guided her away from them. In a moment he had deposited Isis on a cushion at Meren's feet.

Unaware of almost being the cause of her friends' near-demise, Isis began to listen to Hepu's endless recital.

Kysen rested his arm on the back of Meren's chair. "Harmless."

"Ra's friends aren't harmless, they're unwholesome, lazy, and in need of flaying. Where is he? He should be keeping watch on that bunch of drunken colts."

"You're not going to be pleased."

"Tell me anyway."

"He's gone to the village of Green Palm. At least he took Antefoker with him." The village lay between Baht and the haunted temple.

"Green Palm. Damnation, Green Palm."

"With more of his friends. They were going to a beer tavern, to visit the women. Now, Father, I know what you're thinking, but there is no chance Ra knows what we're doing. And he wouldn't dare interfere if he did."

"I'm not so sure anymore," Meren said. Gripping the arms of his chair, Meren pretended to be pleased with Hepu's reading. "He's worse than ever, Ky, and losing what little judgment he ever possessed. If he's heard something or suspects what we're about, he might try to ruin the plan just to thwart me."

"I don't think he knows."

"I pray to the gods he doesn't."

They lapsed into silence, each pretending to enjoy Hepu's speech. He noticed Sennefer propped against a column, yawning, his head drooping, causing his unmelted scent cone to hit the pillar. Stifling his own yawn, Meren almost smiled when Hepu let the papyrus roll close. Then a servant handed him another. Meren sat back, eyes wide.

"Section twenty-one," Hepu said.

"Uncle, how many of these wondrous sections are there?"

Hepu inflated his chest and beamed at Meren. "You're most fortunate, nephew. There are fifty-seven."

"Fifty-seven!" Isis exclaimed.

Meren gave her a surreptitious kick. He settled back in his chair and whispered to his son, "Ky, get me a cup of that pomegranate wine, a large cup, the largest you can find."

Meren walked along the riverbank, careful not to go too near the water, where crocodiles were likely to be lying in wait for the unwary. Kysen had gone ahead with most of the charioteers to assist Nento. Meren was following the giant Nubian, who was a darker shadow against the moon's silver illumination. As far as he could see up and downriver, the fields were deserted. Baht wasn't even visible at the edge of the desert. A few boats had been beached for the night, their owners having gone home to the scattering of modest mud-brick houses overlooking the fields.

The Nubian stopped abruptly, glanced back at Meren, and pointed. Ahead, its long body running parallel to the bank, lay a modest yacht. They were approaching the mooring stake when several men rose up from concealment behind the tall reeds by the shore. The Nubian ignored them. They studied Meren, then returned to their hiding places. Before he walked across the plank connecting the ship to the bank, Meren spotted half a dozen other watchers disposed behind palms or huddled behind dropoffs and irregularities in the shoreline.