Lynda Robinson - Murder at the Feast of Rejoicing

He waited, staring impassively at Bentanta as Reia's pen brushed across the polished paper. She looked from him to the paper and back. Her eyes grew wide, and her hands dropped to her sides. He watched the muscles in her throat work as she swallowed. Other than this movement, her face was still. She'd learned to conceal her thoughts at the side of two queens.

"I've told you I've done nothing," she said.

"And I will have Reia record all your answers to me. I remember all of them. But now I will ask you what it was that Anhai and Sennefer held against you. And you will give me the truth."

Bentanta walked away from him. She paused beside a table laden with cosmetics-kohl tubes, unguent containers, spoons, tweezers, an ivory comb, and a bronze mirror. She touched the polished surface of the mirror. He could almost see the rush of her thoughts. Best not to give her too much time.

"Answer me," he said.

Her hand jerked back from the mirror. She clenched it and thrust it behind her back. Turning his way, she lifted her chin and gave him a slight smile.

"The Lady Bentanta answers thus. I wish to consult with my family."

"In time," he said. Bentanta's family was a powerful one. In one way or another she was related to Meren's friend, the royal treasurer Maya, to General Nakhtmin's wife, to the high priest of Osiris, and to the divine adoratrice of Amun.

"No, Meren. I want to consult my family now. Send for my father and for Maya. Both Anhai and Sennefer provoked anger from many people, and I'll not submit to your hounding without my family near me to help." She walked back to him again, her carriage erect, her manner confident.

Drumming his fingers on his chair arm, Meren leaned back and studied her. Suddenly he quit tapping the wood and closed his eyes. He summoned the spirit of warfare, that attitude that allowed him to face his own death and the deaths of friends and remain calm and battle-ready, When he opened his eyes, Bentanta blinked at his expression. Her lips moved soundlessly, but he spoke first.

"I had hoped to spare you humiliation and pain. You refuse to answer, and I will not allow this." He stood abruptly.

Using the advantage of his greater height, he looked down on Bentanta, unsmiling. "I've questioned those far greater than you. If you think I'll spare the whip and the cane because of our past, you're wrong. Someone is killing people in my house, and I'm going to find out who it is. I want the truth from you, Bentanta. It's your choice as to whether I use force to get it."

She was staring at him, eyes round, body rigid, like a startled ibex. At last he'd force her to take him seriously. He took a step toward her, and she backed away. Nodding to Reia, he went to the door.

"What are you doing?"

"A forced inquiry takes preparation," he said as Reia opened the door to reveal the sentry. "Perhaps by the time I return, you'll have realized you have no choice but to answer my questions."

He left quickly with Reia, before she could protest. For the first time there had been alarm in her voice; perhaps a night spent alone in fear would loosen her tongue. She would start each time she heard a footfall. Her fear would grow at every whisper, every raised voice. He had much to do to keep him busy in the meantime.

Besides, he had no great faith in confessions obtained by force. Often one got only what the victim thought one wished to hear. With his men on guard, there would be no more deaths. He would revisit the granary before dark, talk to Idut and Aunt Cherit. Yes, there was much to do, and he could afford to wait for Bentanta to lose her courage. But if she didn't, would his be as great when he had to follow through with his threats?

Not wanting to know the answer to this question, Meren left the guest house and walked toward his own. As he made his way through the trees that clustered around the high walls, he heard shouting. People crowded around the front gate, pointing and muttering. Reia strode ahead of him, parting the observers.

As the onlookers stepped aside, the shouting grew louder, then ceased. Abruptly those closest to the center of the commotion scattered, leaving Meren to stare at Kysen and Ra. At the same time, a roar erupted from his brother's lips. Ra sprang backward. A dagger leaped into his hand, and Kysen drew his own.

"I'll teach you manners, you lowborn son of a goat!"

Ra's arm darted at Kysen's gut. Kysen parried the thrust, and the blades clashed together. Metal slid against metal until the two weapons locked at the hilt. As the two pushed against each other, Meren jumped at them, grabbed Ra's dagger arm, and jammed his foot into his brother's chest. Ra flew to the ground, still holding his dagger. Meren stood between his son and his brother and glared at Ra.

"What demon possesses you that you dare attack my son?"

Ra wiped sweat from his upper lip with the back of his hand. "He tried to keep me from leaving. The cur told me to go back to my chamber as if I were some pubescent girl! He says I'm suspected of killing Sennefer and Anhai, the dung-eater."

Meren held his ground as Ra sprang to to his feet and walked toward Kysen. He grabbed his brother's forearm, immobilizing the hand that held the dagger.

"You don't want to fight Kysen," he said. "You want to fight me. Why don't you do it?"

Ra jerked his arm free and glared at Meren. Then his lips twisted into a smile. "By the wrath of Amun, I've wanted to do this for a long time. Come then, mighty Eyes of Pharaoh, great and powerful Friend of the King, fight me if you dare. I'll kill you before the sun sets."

Kysen hurried over to his father as Meren removed his gold collar, belt, and overrobe. "He came charging out of the house saying he heard you'd forbidden him to leave. I was nearby when he tried to bully the sentry into letting him out of the gate."

"Did you say he was suspected?" Meren asked. Reia took his jewels and robe.

"Of course not. I said no one was above suspicion, and he took offense." Kysen glanced at Ra, who was glaring at them from across the clear space formed by the crowd. "This isn't good, Father. Your wounds aren't completely healed. Let Reia and the men take him."

Meren took Kysen's dagger from him. "No. He has attacked you in front of my people and challenged me. Neither of us can go back, and taking him prisoner would deal him a humiliation he'd never forgive."

Kysen knew that set look on his father's face. Meren had made a decision from which he wouldn't waver. He stepped back, caught the eye of one of the sentries, and gave him a hand signal. The man nodded, pursed his lips, and whistled. Another whistle sounded inside the house grounds, then another.

At the same time, Meren and Ra began to circle one another. The sun hung low in the sky, just visible through the trees. Meren kept his back to it, working his way closer and closer to his brother while making Ra face the light most of the time.

More people joined the crowd-farmers, fishermen, servants. Several charioteers shouldered their way to the front of the throng. Kysen signaled again, and they spread out in a loose ring around the two fighters. Feeling helpless, Kysen moved with them, watching Ra's dagger. Meren was a warrior, but Ra was seven years younger.

The two drew close enough to strike, but Meren remained on the defensive. Crouched, balancing on the balls of his feet, Ra waved his blade back and forth in front of his brother. Meren refused to look at it, watching Ra's face instead. Finally losing patience, Ra thrust his dagger straight at Meren's gut. Meren hopped out of reach, almost forcing Ra to overbalance. He jabbed again, this time from the side. The blade caught Meren at the waist, drawing a thin line in blood.

The crowd gasped, and a woman shrieked. Kysen saw one of the charioteers holding Idut by the arm as she shouted at her brothers. Neither paid her any attention. Ra was smiling after his hit, but Meren ignored it and moved to keep his back to the sun. Ra darted at him, his dagger leading. At the last moment, he tossed his weapon to his left hand and struck. Meren ducked underneath the path of the blade, spun, and shoved Ra, causing him to stumble and fall to his knees.