Lynda Robinson - Murder at the Feast of Rejoicing

Meren touched his finger to the powder and was about to taste it when Reia lunged and caught his hand.

"No, lord!"

Meren pulled free but wiped his fingers on a cloth taken from a pile on a shelf.

Sheftu was eyeing them, her brow sweating. "You fear that our preparations are harmful?" She found a cup and poured water into it. Dumping the powder into the cup, she stirred it with a stick, then gulped it down.

"You see? I'm unharmed."

Sighing, Meren said, "We're looking for tekau."

"Oh, you should have asked, my lord."

Sheftu found a stool, mounted it, and reached up among the herbs. Her hand came out with a bundle of dried, ovate leaves and flowers that might once have been violet. This she handed to Meren. Then she found a round clay pot with a wavy red pattern painted on it. Shriveled brownish-black berries filled the vessel.

"Grandmother says the stems can be used to treat bad breathing, catarrh, and aching bones."

Meren took the pot from Sheftu. His hands had grown cold, and he felt as if he were in a waking dream.

"Demons and fiends," he muttered. Reia took the pot from him, and he collected the leaves as well. "Sheftu, I must take these."

The woman picked up a tall jar and hugged it to her breast as if it would lend her protection. "Have I done something wrong, lord?"

Meren looked around the dark, cramped little kitchen, at the sparse quantity of grain for bread and wood for fires. A few shriveled onions rested in a bowl.

"Did you give my brother some of these berries or leaves?" he asked.

"No, lord. Your brother was quite healthy except for sickness from drinking."

"You know this plant can be dangerous."

"Of course, but everyone knows better than to put more than a little in a potion. Who would be so foolish as to-" Sheftu wet her lips. "Oh, by all the gods, lord. I've done nothing!"

The woman crumpled to the floor at Meren's feet and babbled protestations of innocence.

Meren backed away. "Be calm. Sheftu, listen to me. Be calm. I have no reason to think ill of you. At the moment. But I must ask you if any tekau is missing."

Sheftu straightened. Using the table for leverage, she stood and looked at the herbs Reia was holding. Biting her lower lip, she shook her head.

"I don't know, lord. We haven't used it for a while, not during the whole Drought season."

"Very well," Meren said. "I will send my steward with payment for the herb. You will remain in the village, Sheftu."

"Of course, lord. Where would I go?"

Meren left Sheftu's house scowling and muttering to himself, with Reia striding behind him. The charioteer knew better than to ask questions, and Meren was left to deal with his agitation without interference.

At first he'd been pleased to know that Ra had been indulging in his usual excesses. But Sheftu had ruined his pleasure. Ra could have left the girl in her beer stupor, taken some of the herb, and stolen back to the estate to poison Sennefer's pomegranate wine. He then could have returned to meet his friends at Green Palm. There he could have feigned sickness so that they would offer to bring him home. When questioned, his friends had said they met Ra at the riverbank the morning after the feast. They had assumed he'd come from Sheftu's house. He might have, but if Meren couldn't find someone who saw him there..

In a nasty mood, Meren reached the skiff that had brought them to Green Palm. He got into the boat and snapped at Reia.

"Hurry. I've done an excellent job of implicating my brother in murder, and now I'm going home to threaten a woman with the whip and the brand. Sometimes I disgust myself, Reia."

Back at the main house, Meren went directly to the servants' block to the rear of the compound. It was here that the charioteers had been housed, and it was here that he'd ordered Bentanta brought before dawn. She had been waiting for him there in a narrow, dark room with no windows and no lamp. The building consisted of a row of similar rooms meant for storage, and one long common chamber with half a dozen beds. In the common chamber Meren put on a leather and bronze corselet that wrapped around his chest, wrist guards of the same materials, and a belt into which he shoved a dagger. Still distracted by his discoveries in Green Palm, Meren failed to hear Reia when the charioteer addressed him.

"Lord? Lord, are you well?"

Meren lifted his gaze from the floor to find Reia holding out a charioteer's whip.

"You asked for this, lord."

"Oh, yes. Where are the others?"

"Outside waiting, lord."

"Yes, yes." He cleared his throat. "You've given them their orders? Good." He looked down at the whip to find that his hand was trying to strangle it. He loosened his grip. "Yes, well, it's time, is it not? Come."

Outside waited the four tallest and brawniest of his men. With legs like palm trunks and chests as wide as pyramid blocks, they made even Meren feel slight. He walked down the row of doors to the last one and signaled to Reia. The charioteer pulled back the latch silently, then took a step back and kicked the door open with a crash.

Sunlight pierced the dark void within. Reia took a lamp from one of the men and strode inside. Next Meren motioned for the remaining charioteers to enter. They marched in with spears, nearly filling the room. Only then did Meren follow, stalking in slowly, tapping the coiled whip against his leg. He had drained himself of compassion, separating his ka from all softness, forcing himself to meet this woman as a stranger and an enemy. It was the only way he could carry out this task.

Bentanta stood inside against the back wall, her arms at her sides. He usually preferred not to notice her appearance, as it further disturbed his comfortable, removed perspective of her. But she wasn't in the usual elaborate dress of her station, and he was left with nothing to regard except her unadorned appearance. Without heavy paint on them, her eyes still glinted with that annoying look of calm amusement. They were large and tilted up at the outer corners, adding to the impression of cool humor. Her long, heavy hair was loose except for a thick lock at her temple. Unlike many women he'd questioned, she didn't catch her full lower lip between her teeth to attract attention to her mouth. She simply faced him with the dignity of a Great Royal Wife.

Acknowledging a salute from his charioteers, Meren took a position opposite Bentanta, directed a frigid stare at her, and almost felt his jaw unhinge. Bentanta's expression had changed as his men crowded into the small room. Now she was glaring at him as if he were a slave who had disturbed her in a nap beside the reflection pool.

"I've had enough of this bullying, Meren."

Recovering from his surprise, he asked, "Are you ready to tell me the truth?"

"I've told you the truth."

All at once his shoulder sagged, and he let out a long breath. Touching the bridge of his nose, Meren thought for a moment.

"Oh, Bentanta," he said gently. "Forgive me."

Bentanta shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. "For what?"

"I am so, so very sorry." He lowered his gaze to the whip, then wearily looked at Reia. "I must leave this to you."

"I will be careful, lord."

"I know you will, but it's difficult."

"What is difficult?" Bentanta demanded.

Reia took the whip from Meren. "It would be best if you went to your chamber, my lord."

"You're right."

"Wait a moment," Bentanta said.

Meren hung his head. "I must leave, Bentanta. I regret this. I truly do."

"I'll be careful, lord," said Reia.

"Very well. I've decided you may use the fire."

"What fire?" Bentanta asked.

Meren glanced back at her. "Fear not. I'll send my physician at once. He's excellent at treating burns. There might not be scars at all."