Lynda Robinson - Murder at the Feast of Rejoicing

Kysen said smoothly, "She was missing from the feast? And you said nothing of her disappearance so late at night?"

"Would you bruit your wife's absence when the last person she was seen with was Ra?" Sennefer asked.

Kysen glanced at his father, but Meren didn't react to this news and continued to study his cousin with deceptive concern and sympathy. If he were the object of that kind of attention from Lord Meren, Kysen would be as uneasy as a gazelle at a watering hole. "She was with Ra?" Kysen asked as he leaned down to strain beer into an empty cup. "But you just said Anhai was jealous of you. Why would she risk scandal and disgrace with Ra if she coveted you?"

Sennefer hesitated, hardly blinking. "To make me jealous. Anhai liked to return blow for blow. Everyone knows that. Women like Anhai want you totally for themselves. I can't count the number who've shown their claws over me. That's when I tire of them. So many times I've seen a pretty woman, one with perfection of body and a delicate ka, turn into an underworld demon once she inhabits your bed."

"Who are these women?" Kysen asked. "I never seem to find them."

"Nor I," Meren said.

"Neither of you knows how to attract them as I do." Sennefer smirked at them.

"Do you know," Kysen said, "considering your habits, one would think you the more likely person to be killed and stuffed in a granary."

Sennefer only smiled at him.

Kysen smiled back and asked gently, "So why would someone want to harm your wife?"

"I don't know, unless…"

Kysen waited. Meren had taught him not to jump into silences. Patience and silence often forced people to talk when questions wouldn't. Sennefer was rubbing his forehead. He seemed to succumb to a spasm of grief before going on.

"I don't know of anyone who hated Anhai enough to kill her unless…" He glanced at Meren, then stared at the leg of the table, which had been carved in the shape of an elongated duck's neck and head. "Unless she decided she had no further use for Ra and dismissed him You know Ra, Meren. He holds grudges, and he's hot bellied when aroused. I didn't want to say anything."

Meren raised his gaze to Sennefer's. "But you have, haven't you?"

"Only because you both pressed me."

"It's important that we find out when Anhai was last seen alive," Kysen said, thinking it best to interrupt; his father was eyeing Sennefer as if he were a pile of dung. "You say she had vanished before Hepu finished reading his Instruction. We'll see if we can't find someone who saw her later than that."

"And you went to bed after the feast and remained there?" Meren asked. "Without knowing where your own wife was?"

"Don't play the royal inquiry agent with me, Meren."

"I'm only curious."

"You do want to know what happened to her, don't you?" Kysen asked. "Unless you're the one who caused her death."

"I didn't, and you know it," Sennefer said as he stood up. "And now, cousins, I'm going to my own room, if I've satisfied your suspicious curiosity. As I understand things, all we know is that my wife died, and then someone put her in the granary. A strange thing to do, but not necessarily a sign of murder. Am I not right?"

"Perhaps," Kysen said.

"I'm going to arrange for Anhai to be taken to Abydos to the Place of Anubis there," Sennefer said. "I've much to arrange before she's taken to her house of eternity." He turned to go, but paused beside Kysen. "And if I were you, adopted cousin, I'd refrain from casting suspicions on the innocent. You don't even know what killed Anhai, much less if it was murder."

Kysen watched him leave. "Do you believe him?"

"I'm not sure."

"Do you know what I think?" he asked, taking Sennefer's chair. "I think he doesn't seem to have cared enough about Anhai to murder her. But he's likely to get himself killed if he isn't careful about women. Has he always been such an ass?"

"No," Meren said, thinking of the past. "When they were small, he and his brother lived in terror of Hepu. You know how big Hepu is. Well, to a child, he seemed a horrifying giant. And Sennefer was little for his age. Hepu would come at him roaring with such violence, and poor Sennefer would cringe and whimper. I remember how Hepu would beat him, and beat Djet too. There was no need to hit them so hard. We were less than eight when he beat Sennefer and Djet with a staff so hard that they bled. He would call them stupid, worthless, other things, and Nebetta never tried to protect them."

"Stop," Kysen said faintly.

Meren put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. It reminds you of your father."

"I didn't know."

"If I'd been older, I would have taken that staff from Hepu and beat him worse than he beat my cousins. I wanted to."

Kysen was hardly listening. He was fighting off memories of his own blood father, blurred visions of fists coming at him, of being thrown across rooms. "Can we speak of something else? The past is dead."

"Very well," Meren said gently. "Reia and the men can question the servants and slaves about Anhai, but you and I will have to speak to the family."

"I haven't much hope. They're not afraid of you or me. To them we're only Meren and Kysen, not the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh. This won't be the usual inquiry."

"Gods, I'd rather question a dozen princes and spies than try to get Aunt Cherit to answer me."

A knock interrupted them, and Zar opened the door to allow Bener into the room. She hurried over to them and stood between their chairs.

"I've been looking for you, Father. I've heard about Anhai. Did she really drink poison standing on top of a granary and fall into it?"

Meren groaned. "The rumors have already started. No, Bener, she didn't drink poison and dive into the granary. At least, I don't think that's what happened. Now run along."

"I want to help, Father. Are you going to conduct one of your inquiries? I want to see how it's done."

Kysen almost gasped. "Bener, you're mad." Women didn't hold government office, much less insert themselves into murder inquiries.

"But I'm curious."

"No," Meren said. "Now run along, I'm going to bathe, and then I've much work to do. We'll play a game of senet tonight."

"Senet is boring. I always beat you, Father." When Meren only gave her a stern glare, she sighed and adopted a look of mock regret that alerted Kysen. "As you wish, Father. I suppose I'll just have to resume my studies under the steward, with Nu."

"You will not," Meren and Kysen said together.

"Then I'll just have to help Aunt Idut with the household. She's in such a state because of Anhai's death. It is a shame though," Bener said with a sly glance at her father. "I was looking forward to telling you all about the argument Bentanta had with Anhai at the feast. Ah, well, counting stores and learning the uses of herbs is more urgent, I suppose."

Kysen grabbed Bener by her shift as she tried to walk out of the room. She turned around and grinned at him.

"A girl with an intelligent heart is a curse," Kysen snapped.

Meren reached out, pulled up a stool next to him, and pointed at it. "Sit down and curb your impudence."

"She doesn't know anything" Kysen said. "She's only pretending."

Bener punched his thigh as she sat down. "Don't be a fool. No one would be stupid enough to do that to Father."

"Tell me what you know, my child."

Calmly arranging herself on the stool, Bener said, "You remember how Anhai and Bentanta quarreled at the feast? They didn't notice that I was nearby." At Meren's skeptical look, she tossed her head. "It may have been that I was looking at the flowers in that arrangement Aunt Idut had me design."

"You mean the one that was taller than I am?" Kysen asked. "The one behind which a squad of soldiers could hide? The one near the couch Bentanta was sitting on?"