Lynda Robinson - Murder at the Feast of Rejoicing

"Respected elder," Meren said. "What have you to tell me?"

Nedjmet held up a finger. Its joints were swollen, the skin cracked, but it was steady. "Great lord, I am Nedjmet, a rekhet, a knowing one. Thy brother has come to me seeking testimony that he was in my house late on the night of the feast of rejoicing, and into the early morning. This I cannot do, for I slept without hearing anything that night. But a manifestation of the goddess Maat came to me when Lord Nakht entered my dwelling and asked for my help. Maat, goddess of truth, is with thy brother. His ka is untouched by the sin of murder."

"There," Ra said in triumph. "You see?"

Meren clasped his hands behind his back, lowered his head, and walked back and forth. It was well known that the gods manifested themselves to people in situations of great import. Once he'd seen a man swear his innocence in the matter of a theft, only to recant when visited with a manifestation that struck him blind. Knowing ones in villages throughout Egypt served as intermediaries between humble Egyptians and the gods, dispensing wisdom and aiding in judgments. It was a comfort that he had this additional testament to Ra's honor.

"I am grateful for your help, knowing one. The wisdom of Amun already has revealed the truth of my cousin's death. However, this manifestation is a further sign of my brother's innocence. Kysen, have someone take the respected elder home, and tell Kasa that Nedjmet and her granddaughter are to be provided with a regular portion of grain and beer."

The old woman bowed repeatedly as Kysen backed away from Meren and guided her out of the hall. The charioteers followed, leaving Meren alone with Ra. He met his brother's accusing gaze, feeling like a criminal watching his miserable heart weigh down the feather of truth on the celestial balance scales before the gods. Forcing himself to speak, he told Ra the official version of the murders.

"Damn you, Meren. You wanted me to be guilty."

"I didn't. I know you, Ra. If you'd discovered that Anhai was using you… Don't you see? You could have wanted revenge against them both, and you made things worse for yourself by refusing to be clear and honest with me."

"I should have known you would blame me for your mistakes."

"No, no, I don't. I was wrong. I suspected the worst of you." Meren drew closer to Ra, who maintained his rigid stance and scowled at him. "But I never stopped trying to find another explanation for these deaths. Do you think I'd have done that if I hadn't wanted to absolve you?"

Ra's scowl faded a bit. "I suppose not."

"I have asked for forgiveness, brother. Will you bestow it?"

"The mighty Lord Meren, Friend of the King, is asking my forgiveness? I should sacrifice an ox in honor of this day. Oh, don't glower at me. I'll forgive you if you'll get me appointed captain of charioteers."

"Gods, Ra, don't you ever learn?"

Ra turned on his heel with a smirk. "I knew you didn't feel that guilty. I'm going home, brother. Don't invite me to your next feast of rejoicing."

Retreating to his office, Meren tried not to think of the ruins into which his relationship with Ra had fallen. Since most of his men were busy elsewhere, he sent to Kasa for a scribe to take down his report for the vizier. To his surprise, the boy Nu arrived with a scribe's palette slung over his shoulder.

"What are you doing here? I need a scribe."

Nu bowed low. "Master Kasa sent me because I'm faster and more accurate than his sons, lord."

"Is that so?" Meren said. "We'll see."

Nu sat on the floor and took out his writing supplies. Meren plunged into the formal address of the report without pausing. When he reached the end of the long salutation, he stopped. Nu kept writing for a moment, then dipped his rush pen in fresh black ink and waited. Frowning, Meren walked over to gaze down at the papyrus stretched over Nu's crossed legs. The address was perfect. The cursive hieroglyphs were clear, the words accurate.

"You're talented for one so young," Meren said.

"The lord is generous."

"I must find some post for you where your skills can be honed. You're wasted in a country house."

Nu flushed with pleasure, and Meren gave him a slight smile. He intended to find a post that would keep him busy for a decade and in a place far away from his daughter. Perhaps he wouldn't care. Service to the viceroy of Kush, far to the south in Nubia, would be most appropriate for Nu.

A knock interrupted him as he began to dictate again. At his response, Bentanta came into the room alone. Meren stuttered over a phrase, then hesitated.

"Leave us, Nu."

"That isn't necessary," Bentanta said. "I came only to tell you I'm going home."

"Leave," Meren said to the boy, who was already on his feet. When they were alone, Meren offered Bentanta a chair, but she refused.

"You could have told me you'd solved Sennefer's murder instead of sending a servant to tell me I was free. And I had to get the tale of Sennefer's death from Idut," Bentanta said.

"Forgive me. I was distracted."

"You were ashamed."

He looked at her wordlessly. That familiar feeling of annoyance he often experienced in her presence was growing again.

"And I hear Wah is dead of an accident. Such a number of mishaps. One is tempted to suspect them when they come in so great a quantity."

"I ask your forgiveness," Meren said as he stooped to pick up the unfinished report. "I'm sure you can see that my conclusions were reasonable, given what we knew."

"Oh, of course. Quite reasonable, but you're a greater fool than I thought if you expect me to believe this tale of suicide."

Pretending to peruse the report, Meren said lightly, "People seldom question my judgment."

"That, my lord, has had a noxious effect on your character."

Lowering the report, Meren asked, "Are you here to take your leave or to quarrel?"

Bentanta alarmed him by closing the distance between them and taking the papyrus from his hands.

"You're in retreat," she said, tapping his arm with the papyrus. "Routed and on guard against attack. Don't you realize I didn't want you to know about Djet any more than you wished to be told? Do you think I wanted to be dragged here to expose my foolish mistake, one of which

I'm ashamed? We should find some way to measure mortification to see whose is greater."

Meren snatched the report from Bentanta and walked away from her. "I can't speak of this now."

"All I want is your assurance that you'll stop trying to find ways to be rid of me in order to save yourself pain."

"You think I'd accuse you of a crime for such a reason? Why would you need consolation from my cousin for, for…"

"Don't confuse the past with the present, Meren."

"Don't confuse what I do as the Eyes of Pharaoh with my private actions."

"We haven't spoken privately, not about Djet."

He waited, but she didn't continue. Keeping his back to her, he said, "Go home, Bentanta. There's nothing for us to discuss."

"Merciful gods, you really would rather face a horde of nomad bandits unarmed than-"

Turning quickly, he faced her with his courtier's impassive mask in place. "Please don't force me to be any more discourteous than I have already been."

She met his gaze with a gasp of exasperation, then stalked out of the room. The last thing he heard was her voice sailing to him from the stairwell.

"Coward!"

Kysen came in, staring over his shoulder in the direction of her voice. He didn't comment.

"Nento is hiding on the barge and refuses to return to the haunted temple."

Fighting an onslaught of confused emotions he didn't want to face, Meren finally responded. "What? Oh yes- well, we won't be using the temple much longer. I've just received word from pharaoh."

"Nento will be overjoyed. You're distracted. Is something wrong?"