Lynda Robinson - Murder at the Feast of Rejoicing

"Excellent. You're the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh. You'll discover the cause and the one who is responsible, and I'll be here to see it all."

"Majesty, you don't understand. I like not this sudden and mysterious death coming hard upon our concealing the… the king and queen at the haunted temple. There is danger, and you must be away from here."

Tutankhamun folded his arms over his chest and drew his brows together. "No. I can come to your house to visit. I'll disguise myself as a foreign nobleman."

"Divine one, my family would recognize you, and even if they didn't, well-"

"Out with it, Meren."

"The golden one, if I may speak with frankness, does not behave like an ordinary nobleman, foreign or not."

"I don't?"

"No, majesty. Unlike the rest of us, you behave like a king of Egypt. How can I explain? Majesty, you don't even know the cost of a loaf of bread. You would be shocked if a nobleman addressed you without permission. And majesty, even without the crowns of Upper and Lower Egypt, you walk across the earth as if you owned it and the sky, which you do."

"Then I'll stay here."

Desperation crawled on scorpion's legs up Meren's spine, and he leaned toward the king. "If the golden one cares nothing for his safety, I beg him to consider mine. If you come to harm, Ay and General Horemheb will blame me."

He met the king's searching gaze without flinching. Tutankhamun was headstrong, but he wasn't callous. If Meren was found responsible for allowing the king to be harmed, his life would be forfeit.

"I don't want you hurt, Meren."

"Thy majesty is kind."

Pharaoh gave him a sidelong glance. "After all, you've promised to take me on a raid as soon as you're back in Memphis."

"A neat trap, majesty."

"I learned from you."

"A raid, then. Bandits or nomads, whichever occurs when I return."

"I'll be leaving as soon as the men can ready the ship." Meren bowed to the king. "The divine one is as wise as he is strong. I will wait to see pharaoh embark."

Kysen hurried toward the front gate, feeling as if he was wading through steaming honey. He'd gotten less sleep last night than his father.

"I'll have you disciplined, you son of a tavern woman!"

Hepu shook his walking stick at an impassive charioteer. The guard stood, feet apart, a spear planted in the ground, its tip tilted in Hepu's direction.

"Uncle, what's wrong?"

Hepu rounded on him, puffed out his chest, and squawked. "You! You're the one who dared to keep us here. What right have you to treat me like an unruly child? My wife and I wish to go home. Tell your minions to get out of my way at once."

"I'm sorry, Uncle, but I must ask you to stay awhile. Anhai's death is most mysterious, and we must discover the truth about it before anyone leaves."

Hepu turned carnelian, moved closer to Kysen, and growled out his words. "You-you, with your polluted commoner's blood-dare hinder me in any path I wish to take? Get out of my way, and don't address me in that familiar way."

"Guard your tongue," Kysen snapped.

"Meren was always wayward. Never would do his duty the right way. What man refuses to remarry and won't even keep concubines? And shames the family by adopting such as you!"

Kysen had spent too many years under his father's tutelage to reveal the humiliation and rage he felt. Using his hard-learned courtier's manners and warrior's composure, he merely sighed and took a step backward while glancing at the charioteer. The man banged his spe?. r into the packed earth with a loud crack. At once, two more of his kind appeared from outside the wall to stand on either side of Hepu. Hepu was a large man, a fact he'd always used to intimidate his wife and his sons when they were small. But Hepu had never been a warrior. The sight of three spears hefted expertly finished him.

Hepu brandished his walking stick at Kysen. "Miserable cur! You'll regret this." He stalked back to the main house.

Kysen considered that it was almost worth enduring Hepu's insults to see him all puffed up like a pigeon and as red as a virgin at a feast of Hathor, goddess of love. Hepu and his wife had always resented Kysen. Which was why he'd enjoyed sending guards to the small house next door where they and Sennefer and Anhai had been staying along with Bentanta.

"An unfortunate exchange, my son." Meren walked through the gateway, and Kysen fell in step beside him.

"You heard?" Kysen said. "Hepu is a pompous old hyena."

"And you're a lion cub amusing himself by playing with him. Is he the first to try to leave? That's interesting."

"But it may mean nothing, as you're so fond of pointing out. I examined Anhai's room and found naught out of the ordinary. Neither she nor Sennefer have any papyrus with a missing corner."

"It was only a possibility. I'm probably being overly particular. Has Nebamun examined Anhai?"

"Yes, and he agreed with what you said. No marks of violence, no signs of poison or of magic."

Shaking his head, Meren said, "I was hoping he would find something I had overlooked. Come, it's time we spoke to Sennefer."

Sennefer was sitting in one of Sit-Hathor's chairs, a small table laden with food before him. A flagon of wine sat near his hand, which held a full cup. He glared at them as they entered, ripped a piece of bread off a loaf with his teeth, and chomped on it.

"You look as if you wish the bread were my leg," Meren said. "I see you've recovered from your grief at Anhai's death already."

Washing down the bread with a swig of wine, Sennefer wiped his mouth. "A man doesn't weep and wail like a woman. You know that."

"Yes, I know that," Meren said as he drew a chair near Sennefer's and sat down. He glanced at Kysen, who nodded imperceptibly.

"A terrible misfortune, nonetheless," Kysen said. He noticed that the wine flagon was half empty.

"We were having a disagreement, but that doesn't mean I'm not sorrowful, Kysen. We were married a long time."

Kysen placed a hand on the back of Sennefer's chair and filched a piece of date loaf from the tray. "But that was soon to end, was it not?"

"Gossip. You should know better than to listen to it. Anhai said she wanted a divorce, and she wanted to take my best land with her, it's true." Sennefer shrugged. "I wouldn't give her the land, and she wasn't leaving without it."

Sennefer moved the table aside and stretched his legs out in front of him. "You don't know women like I do, either of you. Anhai was jealous, and she was trying to punish me and get my attention at the same time. They're all alike. They cling to you and demand your undivided and total affection. Anhai had this strange notion that I should limit myself to her alone."

"And we all know you'd find that prospect unappetizing," Kysen said, "when there are so many other men's wives and concubines to raid."

Smiling, Sennefer said, "Why are we talking about the past? I want to know why you stuck me in your chambers and put that fool Zar to watch me like some criminal."

"You weren't yourself," Meren said. "I could see Anhai's death was a terrible shock to you, and I worried about you."

"She was my wife, Meren. Of course I'm upset. If

Bentanta hadn't brought me some of her magical pomegranate wine, I'd be most distraught right now. Have you found out what happened to her?"

"Not yet. I've ordered my physician to examine her. Can you think of any reason why someone would want Anhai dead?"

"No." Sennefer dipped his hands in a bowl of water and wiped them on a cloth. "Oh, Anhai was headstrong for a woman, I know. She was grasping and annoyed people, but not so much that they'd want to kill her. I don't understand what happened. Last night she seemed well. Too well. You saw how she behaved with Ra. And when everyone started to leave, I went searching for her and couldn't find her. Then I realized I hadn't seen her since before Hepu stopped torturing everyone with his Instruction."