Lynda Robinson - Murder at the Feast of Rejoicing

"Yes, that's the one. I happened to decide to admire it when Anhai came over and sat beside Bentanta." Bener paused expectantly, only to resume when neither Kysen nor Meren urged her to continue. "Bentanta was angry. I could see the ire in her face, Father. Do you know what she said to Anhai? She said, 'It didn't work. He laughed at me, and when I tried to convince him, he got the idea that I was enamored of him, the fool.' Then Anhai said, 'You'll have to try harder.' "

"How interesting," Meren said without surprise. "Do you know who 'he' was?"

"No," Bener said. "But then Bentanta said, 'It's useless, as I told you it would be, so you'll just have to find another way. Now I've done what you said to do. Give it back.' " Bener gave Kysen a look of satisfaction and relish. "Anhai refused, and that was when Bentanta flew into a rage and left the room."

"Thank you, daughter. Now go help your aunt Idut."

"Father! Is this my reward? I want to know what has happened, and I want to help you."

"Your duties lie elsewhere."

Kysen's gaze went from Meren's stern visage to Bener's determined one. As he watched he could see Bener's disappointment vanish and knew that she'd come to some decision on her own, one that would get her into trouble.

"Father, perhaps Bener could help."

"You make a jest," Meren said. He shot Kysen a glance filled with warning. "I don't want Bener involved in an inquiry. There could be danger."

"But she could be our eyes and ears among the women."

They used women informants in their inquiries for pharaoh. At this moment there were several among the queen's household in Memphis.

"And if there is a murderer among the women?" Meren asked. None of them spoke Bentanta's name.

Bener scooted closer to her father. "Then I'm going to be in her company whether I'm trying to help you or not, and so is Isis; so is Idut. What if this is murder, and the guilty one is a woman? You'd better let me help you so we can catch her quickly. Poor Aunt Idut and Isis might be in danger."

"The gods have cursed me with an interfering daughter," Meren said. "You're only to listen, and use that clever wit of yours. Don't go off alone with anyone, especially Bentanta."

Bener jumped up and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be careful, Father."

Kysen remained silent until Bener left.

"Don't rail at me, Father. Bener was going to pry and meddle with or without your consent. I saw it in her face. At least now we might be able to control her."

"I don't understand it," Meren said. "In but a few months she's become headstrong and much too clever. And too curious. My only comfort is that she'll be too busy spying to seek the company of that young colt Nu."

"True. Then shall we pay a visit to Lady Bentanta?"

"Yes." Meren drummed his fingers on his thigh. "Last night she was quite adroit in telling me only part of the truth. I'll have to find out what it was she wanted back from Anhai."

"A document, perhaps?"

"It could be," Meren said. "But Bentanta isn't a fool or easily intimidated. I can't imagine her falling for any entrapment of Anhai's making."

A knock announced the entrance of Zar. "My lord, the Lord Nakht has been seen in a skiff nearing the dock."

Meren rose. "You see how Reia is progressing among the servants. I'll be back."

Kysen hid a smile when Zar looked as if he'd suddenly acquired an aching belly.

"The lord will wish to go to the docks in his red-and-gold sandals. I have a robe and the belt with the gold and red jasper beads in readiness."

"Not now," Meren said as he crossed the threshold.

"The lord has forgotten his walking stick. Again."

"I don't need it," came the answer.

Zar called after him in desperation. "The lord will need a sandal carrier and fan bearers!"

"No, I won't," came the distant reply. A door slammed, and Zar winced.

"Be of good cheer," Kysen said. "He'll let you attend him after he's seen his brother."

"I will be laughed at by chamber-pot carriers and field workers," Zar said with offended dignity. Bowing, the servant quietly closed the door in a manner that suggested that he would bear his suffering with fortitude and patience.

Kysen was left to consider his good fortune. He didn't want to be there when Meren confronted Ra and asked his brother if he'd killed Anhai.

Ra's skiff, rowed by two of his friends, was gliding down a small canal toward Baht when Meren found him. Ra slumped in the middle of the boat, his forehead pressed against the side of the craft, his eyes closed, his complexion almost as green as a papyrus reed. Meren signaled the skiff, crossed a field, and met the vessel as it settled against the canal bank. He watched in silence while Ra's friends hopped ashore, reached down, and hauled him out by his arms.

Landing unsteadily to hang suspended between his fellows, Ra kept his eyes closed during this maneuver. They flew open at the jolt of his landing. Meren was gratified that the first thing his brother saw was himself, standing with arms crossed and legs planted apart. Ra's eyes were red around the rims and in the whites. He gave Meren a bleary stare. Then his mouth went slack, and his throat muscles rippled.

"Oh, gods!" Ra's head went down. His body heaved forward, dragging his supporters.

Meren jumped back, and Ra vomited on the spot where he'd been standing. The north breeze wafted putrid smells at him. Glancing around, Meren noticed two fishing boats and their sailors, several women with water jars on their heads, laborers shoring up a breach in a dike, more women and girls on their way to the river with loads of laundry. One of the girls giggled before her mother slapped her. The boats sailed on, but not before Meren caught a glimpse of disgust on the face of an old fisherman.

Each witness found something to look at elsewhere when Meren's gaze fell on him. Ra's groans attracted his attention again. His brother had fallen to his knees over a pool of thick mess. Meren's lip curled as he turned back toward the house.

"Take him to his chamber at once."

Without glancing back, he returned to the house, leaving orders at the gate for Ra's friends to be questioned and sent back to their neighboring homes. Porters, charioteers, and doorkeepers gave him wary looks as he strode down the path between the twin reflection pools. Servants scurried out of his way when he charged through the reception room. In the central hall Kysen was talking with Reia.

As Meren stalked past, Reia saluted him, but Kysen stopped him from intercepting his father.

"I wouldn't, Reia," Kysen said. "Not now."

Vaguely aware of his son, Meren was through the hall and approaching his own apartments in moments. Thrusting open the door, he slammed it shut and bellowed for Zar.

"Where are you, you pompous nuisance?"

"Here, lord."

Meren whirled around to find Zar standing on the threshold of the bathing chamber, a stack of clean bathing cloths in his arms. Untying his kilt, Meren yanked it from his hips and hurled it to the floor.

"Call my bathing attendants," he said as he headed for the inner chamber. "And send for my barber. I want a massage with that Babylonian oil you praise so highly. And then I want my finest kilt and overrobe, my collar and wristbands of gold, and my best sandals."

Zar followed him into the bathing chamber, clapping his hands and calling for assistance. Meren sat on the anointing table.

"Send someone to Lady Bentanta for some of her pomegranate wine," Meren snapped. "And find my belt of gold beads with the red-gold clasp."

Zar bowed as slaves scurried into the chamber bearing soap pots, dousing vessels, and wide copper bowls in which rose lotuses floated. Meren was glaring at a frieze of papyrus painted on the wall when Zar's whisper reached him.