Lynda Robinson: Murder at the Feast of Rejoicing

He remembered being very small and living here with his mother. He remembered days of quiet, of peace, listening to his mother's gentle voice directing the servants, listening to the rhythmic shushing sound of the winnowers as they bent, scooped grain into winnowing fans, and tossed it in the air. He still dreamed of hot, silent days like today, in the season of Drought, when the harvested fields baked into dust and there was nothing to fear but the bite of the desert wind.

A cry jolted him out of his reverie. A fisherman had recognized Wings of Horns. His call was taken up by laborers making mud bricks on the east bank and passed on to farmers and servants. From all directions he could see scurrying figures. Isis danced on her toes and waved until Bener scolded her. She maintained her dignity for a moment, then tugged on Meren's hand.

"There's Tetiky, Father. He's even more prosperous than when you left." She pointed at a farmer trotting alongside a canal toward them.

"Yes," said Bener, "and you mustn't speak to him, for he has brought a complaint against Pemu, and he'll have you sitting in judgment on the dock."

Meren grinned as he nodded to the fast-growing crowd. "Old Pemu, lazy as a male lion and still moving boundary stones when he thinks no one's looking."

Isis began chattering again, and she was still talking when they stepped onto the dock. But the moment he lifted a hand for silence, she closed her mouth. She and Bener dropped behind him, suddenly acquiring the dignity of princesses. The wind caught the diaphanous folds of his overrobe and swirled it around his legs. Zar, his body servant, had insisted he wear court dress for the arrival, when all he wanted to do was hop off the ship and run all the way to the house. He hadn't had the freedom to do that in many years.

Instead he stood receiving the obeisance of laborers, fishermen, servants, and fanners while his golden wristbands, rings, and broad collar captured the sun's heat and burned his skin. He fingered the hilt of the dagger in his belt as he listened to humble greetings from men who remembered him as a naked child. He tried to conceal his impatience and make a gracious reply. These were the people whose labor was his to command, but he'd learned long ago that their industry depended much upon their contentment. Still, he was glad when his steward, Kasa, arrived with a chariot and a band of servants to assist in transferring his belongings to the house.

He left Kasa to handle the arrangements with Zar and drove with the girls down the road beside the main canal. It soon turned into a graded path that left the fields and ended up at the white-plastered and painted gates of Baht. The tree-shrouded house was an oasis of cool shade in the blistering heat. A group of naked toddlers and children shrieked at them from the protection of a palm near the entrance. Bener waved, and the young ones burst into a run behind the chariot. Porters had already swung the heavy gates open and were bending low as they drove inside.

Meren walked the horses down an avenue of sycamores. To either side lay twin reflection pools shaded by trees older than he was. Geese swam in the pools while herons stalked across them. He breathed in warm, water-sweetened air. Bener slipped her arm around his waist, and he looked down at her. In her eyes he saw his own pleasure reflected. Abruptly he realized that she shared his love of simple pleasures of the senses-the smell of freshly harvested grain, the sound of water lapping against the side of a reflection pool.

Her expression changed as she glanced toward the loggia that sheltered the entrance to the main house. The corners of her mouth drew down, and her eyes widened. Then the frown was gone behind a mask of pleasant wel-come, and Meren was left to wonder just how much more he had in common with this daughter who had transformed herself into a woman without his permission. Bener knew when to conceal her thoughts to suit her own needs. Of this he was certain. But then, she'd always been quick of wit.

Vowing to solve this small mystery, he pulled up to the loggia and descended from the chariot. This was the moment he'd been dreading since the girls had broken the news of the feast to him. He'd expected all three of his uncles and their families, their children-except for his enemy-cousin Ebana-and his aunt Nebetta and her husband. None of them stood on the steps waiting for him. Was it too much to hope they hadn't come? Only Idut, her son, and his great-aunt in her carrying chair waited for him, along with a half-dozen servants.

He handed the chariot reins to a groom and received a welcoming kiss from his great-aunt. The old woman laid a dry hand grooved with crevicelike wrinkles on his cheek and studied him with mottled, nearsighted eyes. Cheritwebeshet was ancient, older even than his grandmother. Her shift hung around her frail body like a slack sail, and her hands shook as she touched him. But her voice was sharp.

"So, they haven't killed you yet. You're smarter than your father was."

"May the gods protect you too, Aunt Cherit."

"And still too pretty for your own good. Not married, adopted a plain-blooded son of a butcher, consorting with that fool Ay."

"Kysen wasn't a butcher's son, Aunt." He bent down and kissed her wrinkled cheek. "I've missed you."

"Why couldn't you marry again and produce a son, that's what I'd like to know? It's not as if you lack for women in your bed. Ah! You didn't think I knew, did you? These old ears hear like a hyena, and I have lots of friends at court. Now don't put on your offended prince's face. I'll be quiet. For now." Cherit tapped one of her bearers on the shoulder. "Carry me back to my chamber. It's too hot out here. Welcome home, boy."

Bener was still standing beside him.

"I remember promising myself not to harangue my children that way," he whispered to her. All he got in response was an eloquent lift of her brows.

"Meren, Meren, you're a day late," Idut said.

He hugged his sister and ignored her complaint. Idut was a head shorter than he and several years younger. His gaze took in her grave countenance without surprise. Idut had always been something of a mystery to him. She seldom smiled, except when entertaining, and was given to long silences that disturbed him. She always seemed to be brooding about something, but he could never figure out what she was brooding about.

Like Isis, Idut had the fragile facial structure that so reminded him of Nefertiti, but her chin came to a decided point. When they were children he used to tease her that she could poke holes in a copper target with her chin. He noticed a fan of tiny lines radiating from the corners of her eyes, and she still had the habit of curling her toes under when she stood for any length of time.

"Idut, I want to talk to you about this feast."

"Imset, come here and greet your uncle."

He frowned at his sister, but accepted Imset's speech of welcome. Idut was proud of her son, and Meren had to admit that he was brilliant of wit. He had managed to acquire the skills of a scribe twice his age at the school in the temple of Osiris in nearby Abydos. But Idut confused intellect with maturity.

The youth stood goggling at him with the heavy-lidded stare of a frog. Bener ignored her cousin, and Isis had disappeared. He tried to engage Imset in conversation as they all walked inside, but the youth had exhausted his social talents with the completion of his memorized speech. Idut saved him.

"I know what you're thinking, Meren, and you're wrong."

"What am I thinking?"

"You're thinking I'm going to pester you about an appointment for Imset, but I'm not." Idut lifted her chin and gave him a triumphant look. "My suitor, Wah, has found a post for Imset with the viceroy of Kush. That's something you, his own uncle, should have been able to do, but wouldn't. He's leaving at once and only stayed to give you greeting."