Lynda Robinson - Murder at the Feast of Rejoicing

"Tell Father what you said."

Isis shoved her sister back. "Don't push me, and don't tell me what to do."

"It might be important."

The younger girl smoothed the skirt of her shift and patted a stray lock of hair into place. "You think you're so quick of wit, but you're just trying to be important.

Father, she's been annoying Aunt Idut and Great-Aunt Cherit all morning, and now she's pestering me."

"I haven't time to settle arguments, girls."

"Father," Kysen said. "I think Bener is serious."

Bener gave him a grateful smile. "She saw Bentanta and Anhai go out the front door while Uncle Hepu was speaking his Instruction."

Kysen knelt in front of Isis. "Is this true?"

"She should have let me tell it."

Throwing up his hands, Meren said, "Then do so."

Having gained everyone's attention, Isis bestowed upon them one of her sunrise smiles. "I was standing near the door to the reception hall pretending to listen to the Instruction."

"She was staring at one of Uncle Ra's friends," Bener said. "The one with the long face of an ibex."

"I was not!"

Kysen poked his sister's arm with a finger. "Pay her no heed, Isis. Go on."

"I was standing by the door," Isis said with a defiant look at Bener. "And Anhai came swooping by. You know her manner. She looked as if she owned our house and everything in it. She sailed by me with her nose lifted. She never noticed me, but I noticed her because she looked angry, and Bentanta was following her. Bentanta looked sick. I don't think Bentanta likes Anhai very much anymore."

Kysen glanced up at Meren, who seemed unable to speak. He looked back at Isis. Her small face was alight with curiosity, a childish version of Queen Nefertiti without the air of dignified concern.

"Did you see where they went?" Kysen asked.

"They went through the reception room and out the front door. That's all I saw."

Bener put her hands on her hips. "I would have followed them."

"That's because you spy on your elders," Isis retorted.

"Enough!"

Meren's sharp exclamation made Kysen hurry the girls toward the door.

"Our thanks, sisters. You've been of great help. Thank you, Bener, but Father is beset at the moment."

Bener went out the door and turned back to him. "I know. Aunt Idut has ruined our peaceful visit. That's all Father wanted, and now he's going to have to solve this mystery instead of spending his time with us."

"If Aunt Idut hadn't invited Anhai here, she would have gotten herself killed somewhere else," Isis added.

"We'll find a way to be together," Kysen said. "I promise."

Bener put her hand on the door to stop him from closing it. "Lady Bentanta is in the garden. I heard her say she'd promised to meet Sennefer there and give him more of her pomegranate wine."

"Thanks, sister."

Kysen shut the door and faced his father. Meren was toying with a scribe's palette from a table near his chair. When he lifted his gaze, Kysen nearly winced at the pain he saw exposed and then concealed.

"I don't want it to be her. We were children together, Ky, and I don't want it to be her."

As he walked into the garden where the family had gathered for an afternoon meal, Meren decided that he'd rather face desert bandits than question Bentanta. He paused inside the gate to survey the tree-shrouded enclosure. Idut was presiding over a small feast under the branches of an old willow. With her were Nebetta, Aunt Cherit, and his daughters, who kept giving him sly glances. Hepu seemed to be giving one of his lectures to the entire group as they ate.

Everyone had a desperate look, a sure sign that Hepu had been speaking for some time. Only Wah had escaped. He lay on a couch, fanned by a slave, and snored, his food discarded on a tray beside him. Across the garden in a grape arbor sat Sennefer and Bentanta.

"It must be done," Meren muttered to himself as he directed his steps toward the arbor.

"Here he is, come to accuse me of murdering my own wife again," Sennefer said with his face in his wine cup. His speech was slurred, his eyes wide. "Don't let him belabor me, Bentanta."

"I haven't come to accuse you of anything," Meren said. "I would like to speak to Bentanta privately."

Sennefer lifted his head, and it wobbled on his neck. "Be most happy to leave you, cousin. Pleasure. Beware, my lady. He's playing the inquisitor."

Standing, Sennefer blinked sleepily at Meren.

"Don't stand there staring at me, go eat something," Meren said. "Look at you. You're red from drinking, and you can hardly stand."

"I'm thirsty." The wine cup fell from Sennefer's lax fingers.

"Drink water," Meren said as he signaled to a servant, The girl hurried over to pick up the fallen cup and retreated.

"Water?" Sennefer said, as if he'd never heard the word before. "Yes, water would be good." He embarked on a wavering course toward the group under the willow.

Meren watched him stagger over to a chair and almost fall into it. Then he went back to Bentanta, who had remained silent since he entered the arbor. She was sitting on a couch and seemed to be undisturbed when he took Sennefer's chair and trained a silent gaze on her. She lifted a brow in inquiry, but when he didn't speak, she turned her attention to the harpist who was playing music for the diners.

"You were seen leaving the feast with Anhai last night while my uncle read his Instruction."

"I'm sure many people left."

Irritated at her composure, Meren raised his voice. "But only one died, and she was last seen with you."

"Don't bark at me, Meren. I remember you when you were a naked, uncircumcised little boy."

"You don't seem to understand what has happened. Someone has murdered Anhai, and you fought with her and threatened her life."

At last Bentanta's gaze swung to him from the harpist. "You think I killed her?"

"We may have played together as babes, but that was long ago. We're almost strangers now, and all I know for certain is that Anhai died shortly after you said you wished you had the courage to kill her."

"I spoke to her on the front porch. Then I went for a walk under the trees by the reflection pools."

"Alone?"

"Yes, Meren. I'm not a fool. If there was someone who could vouch for me, I would have said so and saved myself the ordeal of this inquisition." She stood and walked around the couch so that her back was to him. "I don't suppose you'll believe me if I say I didn't kill her."

"I would like to."

"Then do so."

"Help me by explaining why you quarreled with Anhai."

She looked over her shoulder at him. "I've already told you why."

"Bentanta, I know there's more to this quarrel than you've said. She had something of yours, something you wanted back desperately. And she was trying to make you do something you didn't want to do. You failed, and she was furious."

For the first time, Bentanta's composure broke. A flush crept up her neck to settle in her cheeks. Then it faded, leaving her pale and making the kohl that darkened her eyes stand out.

"Do you always spy on your friends?" she asked.

"No," he said, hoping the heat in his face wasn't noticeable. "I came by this knowledge by accident. Tell me what was between you and Anhai. It was a grave matter, or you wouldn't have threatened her."

"It was a private thing, and I'll not spew out my secrets to you, Meren. I've heard the talk. Idut says you don't know what killed Anhai. And since you don't know, you shouldn't go about making false accusations. You've become a suspicious and evil-minded wretch. And you used to be so sweet-natured."

Meren rose and walked over to the couch. They glared at each other across it.

"This ruse of yours won't avail you," he said quietly.

"What ruse?"