Lynda Robinson - Murder at the Feast of Rejoicing

Sennefer stared at his wife's body and repeated her name on a questioning note. Then he began shaking his head.

"I don't understand. I don't understand. I don't understand."

Meren noted the dazed look in his eyes and the way he slumped against the side of the granary. As Sennefer's knees buckled, Meren quickly slipped an arm under his shoulder and helped him back down the stairs. He handed his cousin over to Kysen.

"Take him to his chamber-no-take him to my chamber and have Zar attend him."

Kysen gave him a quick look of comprehension that assured Meren that Sennefer would be guarded as well as attended and that his and Anhai's chambers would be quietly searched.

Meren went back up the steps and resumed his examination of Anhai. She almost looked as if she was asleep, except that her body was cool to the touch. The pallor of death was upon her, and he noted that her blood had seeped down to the portions of her body that rested on the grain pile.

Her clothing was arranged perfectly. Even the knot in the lengths of her robe that reached under her breasts was neat. The portion of her wig that was visible seemed free of grain, but there was grit on the back of it. The back of her gown was slightly dusty, but its pleats were smoothed and followed the bend of her torso and legs.

Meren lifted his face to the growing heat of the sun as he thought about what he was seeing-the odd resting place, the lack of marks on the body. The eastern sky was alight. Returning to his task, he reached inside the granary and tugged on Anhai's cool left arm. It moved, but was growing stiff with that strange paralysis that Nebamun, his physician, attributed to the shock of death and the flight of the ka from the body. He would have to get Anhai out of the granary soon, or she wouldn't unbend enough to fit through the opening.

Straightening, Meren rubbed his sore eyes, then took another look at the body. The overall impression was of neatness and peace. He glanced over the rooftops, into the distance over the trees. The scene around him seemed so mundane-the granaries, the workers and their tools, his daughters' pet cats. Not a place in which one expected to find the dead body of a noblewoman. The contrast between the prosaic scene he'd witnessed regularly as a child and the presence of death almost made him shiver. A sibilant whispering distracted him, and he glanced down at the servants hovering below.

"Kasa, take note of who was here at the discovery. Have them wait. The rest of you go about your chores."

Lapsing into thought once more, he evaluated the possibility of danger to his family. There didn't seem to be a threat at the moment, but he would have to be on guard. He glanced at the forecourt and saw Kysen standing in the gateway. Confronting him with excited irritation were Idut and Nebetta. Behind them stood Bentanta, silent, her lips pressed together. Kysen was shaking his head. Idut whirled around and stalked back to the house. Nebetta shook a finger at Kysen and followed her, but Bentanta delayed. Raising her eyes, she met Meren's gaze. Her face was impassive, yet severe, like a mortuary statue. Without acknowledging him, she turned and headed toward the main house.

Brushing away flies drawn to Anhai's body, Meren resumed his examination. He searched her for wounds and found none. He even removed the rigid bronze bracelet on her left arm. Drawing back the retractable pin, he bent the hinged half-cylinders and pulled it off. It bore an Eye of Horus inlay of white frit and lapis lazuli. Her arm was undamaged.

Meren was about to replace the bracelet when he noticed something stuck in the hinge, a small fragment of linen from Anhai's dress. He tugged on the tiny scrap, and it came free. Once he held it, he realized it wasn't linen but papyrus, a corner of a rectangular piece. Slipping the fragment into the folds of his kilt at his waist, he replaced the bracelet.

He noted the congealed unguent from the scent cone Anhai had worn last night. It had melted into her wig and streaked the broad collar of ivory and turquoise beads on her shoulders. The back of the collar, like the back of her gown, was covered with a fine layer of dust, yet it remained in place on her shoulders with the counterpoise positioned perfectly at her back.

While Meren studied the body, Reia and Iry entered the courtyard along with Kysen, who closed the gate to the forecourt. Backing away, Meren lapsed into thought while he glanced behind him to the rear of the courtyard. An awning was attached to the courtyard wall and two support posts. Beneath this shelter lay a row of seven concave querns of varying colors. Oblong grindstones lay on top of each quern. Nothing remarkable. Shaking his head, he motioned to Reia and Iry.

"Remove the Lady Anhai."

The two men extracted the body, whose left side was dark from pooled blood, and laid it on the platform. Meren knelt and lifted Anhai's robe, but could find no sign of the cause of her death. Kysen stepped past him and began to examine the interior of the granary where Anhai had lain.

Meren descended the steps to the ground. A knot of pain was growing in the space between his brows. Rubbing the furrows there, he ordered Anhai's body removed to one of the storage rooms in the service building before the back gate. Then he turned to the unfortunate Hray.

"Very well, tell me what happened."

Grimacing to reveal his yellow teeth, Hray bowed and said, "I came into the court with those men, the grinders, as I do every day, lord. I had my measuring container and went to the last granary, which is the one with the oldest grain, and I opened it and-and found her."

"So the cover was in its place?"

"Aye, lord."

"And did you notice anything unusual or see anyone who shouldn't have been here?"

"No, lord. There was only us, and all appeared as it should."

Hray indicated a group of men standing beneath the awning in a furtive clump. To Meren they looked apprehensive, but humble laborers tended to appear so when faced with situations that brought them unhappy notice from their lord. One of them shuffled backward and nearly stumbled against a yellow quern with a black grindstone resting on top of it. He looked down at it, scowled, and shoved another laborer, and a shouting contest ensued.

"You took my grindstone!"

"Liar! I never touched your foul grindstone."

"You did. I see it on your quern right there, you jackal."

Kasa rushed over to them and bellowed for order. Meren turned back to Hray.

"If you remember anything else, tell the steward." He motioned to Kasa, who hurried over to him. "You did well to come to me at once."

Kasa bowed. "Yes, lord."

Waving Kasa away, he began a circuit of the granary court. The ground was hard, packed earth covered with a layer of dust. Hundreds of footprints, both bare and sandaled, broke the surface of the dust. Useless to try to decipher them. Too many curious servants had trampled the area.

Much of the courtyard was empty space, left bare to allow donkeys to pass through, carrying grain from the threshing floors between the fields and the house. Baskets, sacks, and bowls were stacked near the grinding area. The day's requirement in grain was measured out and recorded by Kasa and Hray, then given to the laborers. These men first crushed the tough wheat in mortars, then sifted it to remove the bran. After this, the grain was ground on the quern. Then the rough flour was taken to the kitchens, where maids ground it further.

Meren walked around the perimeter of the courtyard, seeing nothing but ordinary equipment-stacks of extra winnowing fans, yokes for oxen, grain baskets. Under another shelter near the awning hung water jars. One of them rested askew within the ropes used to suspend it.

At last he came to the awning, beneath which still hovered the grain grinders. As he approached, he glanced at the querns. The yellow one now bore a grindstone that matched its color, and the black grindstone had been put on top of a black quern. Each set rested on a woven rush mat.