Lynda Robinson - Murder at the God's Gate

His dark face expressionless, as if killing Ahiram meant no more to him than stepping on a beetle, Karoya glanced at Tutankhamun. The king's hand made a slight, sideways movement. Karoya sheathed the knife.

"Divine one," Ay said. "Lord Meren is right. Duties await thee."

"Very well," Tutankhamun said, and waved his councillors permission to retire.

Meren spoke under his breath to Tanefer. "Bring everyone to me. We all need a good meal and relief from this heat."

Tanefer nodded as he left.

"Lord Meren will attend my majesty."

He was surprised to find the king studying him intently. Ay passed him on his way out and gave him a look of sympathy. Karoya had retreated to his station behind the dais upon which the king sat. Approaching the king's gold and ebony chair, he dropped to his knees and bent his head.

"Oh, be done with that," the king snapped. "What use is it for you to kneel to me when you know well that I am the one who must obey, who must perform and follow tradition and orders?"

Meren straightened, but didn't get to his feet. He raised a brow. "What is thy will, divine one?"

"You've been quiet all day. When Ay argued for caution and pointed out how young I was for a campaign, you said nothing. When Horemheb and Tanefer scoffed and spoke of the ravages of the Hittites, you remained silent." Tutankhamun rose from his chair and threw up his hands. "Curse it, Meren. It's not like you to straddle a boundary stone. What do you think?"

Meren sank back on his heels and stared up at the king, who was pacing back and forth like one of his pet lions. At last he shook his head and spoke.

"It is my misfortune to think two things at once, golden one."

The king halted and stared at him. Meren rose.

"If we allow the Hittite menace to go unchallenged, we invite a powerful enemy to camp at our very borders. Our armies and allies have been neglected. Their faith fails them, for they have seen their pleas for aid ignored and have needlessly shed blood because of it. They need a warrior king to lead them."

"I knew it," the king said. "I knew you understood."

"And if you plunge into battle with them before your time and are killed, no victory, no amount of land or tribute, will make up for the evil that will befall Egypt."

"But you've said my skills are great."

"They are, as is your heart and courage," Meren said.

"But have I not also said that the span of a warrior's training is as the length of the Nile? Consider, majesty. How long is the reach of your arm compared to mine? Try to touch me."

The king reached out, and Meren darted forward, arm outstretched as if gripping a short sword. His hand tapped against the gold and lapis beads of the king's broad collar. He drew back in silence as Tutankhamun's gaze darted from his chest to Meren's arm. A flush crept over the king's cheeks.

"Damnation to you," Tutankhamun muttered.

"Had I been a Hittite, I could have sliced your heart in half."

"Get out!"

Meren bowed and backed away.

"Wait."

Tutankhamun gripped the back of his golden chair. Meren cocked his head to the side as the king pressed his lips together.

"I didn't mean to shout at you."

He had difficulty in concealing his admiration and his surprise. It was as close to a request for forgiveness as he'd ever heard from a living god.

"Thy majesty is much beset."

Tutankhamun came to stand before him. "My majesty wishes you to reconsider your advice." He touched Meren's arm briefly. "You of all of them should have faith in me."

"I do, majesty."

"Then consider well, for I'm not done with this matter, and neither are Horemheb and Tanefer."

"As thy majesty commands."

"Don't affect obedience in private, Meren. I know you're going to do just as you wish."

"I give you my promise, majesty. I will ponder long and well."

"And before you leave, tell me what mischief your cousin has been spreading. Ah, you didn't think I knew about his visit."

'Thy majesty is all-knowing," Meren said. He told the king of the death at the foot of the statue. "Such an affront to thy majesty's image must not go without inquiry."

"There's more," Tutankhamun said. He walked over to Meren. "Tell me the whole of it."

"It seems that Ebana imagines that this pure one was in my pay."

"And was he?"

"Only indirectly, majesty."

"Do you think they killed him for it?"

Meren shook his head. "I don't know. If Parenefer had the pure one killed, why bring the matter to my attention and risk my conducting an inquiry?"

"But you will anyway," the king said. "So perhaps they're attacking before you do, to distract."

"Aye, majesty. I'll know more after Kysen makes his examinations."

"Very well. I can see you wish to go, but don't forget my words. I want to lead my armies, Meren."

He left the king then, relieved to escape without having pushed the boy into fury with his defiance. As he went, he realized that this matter of the king's campaign was no longer a councillors' squabble. Now it was a matter of state-an affair of life and death.

Almost an hour after leaving the king, Meren stepped through the gate in the wall surrounding his town house in the palace district of western Thebes. The charioteers behind him took the path to the left around a reflection pool, through another gate in a wall, and past the house to the offices and barracks that lay to the rear. The porter closed the gate, leaving Meren standing alone in the shade of the first of a double row of acacia trees that lined the walk surrounding the pond in front of the house.

As he had left the king, he'd come face to face with the high priest of Amun in the throng outside. After the confrontation with pharaoh, he'd been in no mood to tolerate Parenefer. He could still hear the old man's high voice grating like a bronze saw against granite.

"Ah, the lord Meren, in secret conversation with the son of the god as usual. How great is the fortune of the Two Lands that its young lord should so depend upon the council of a servant."

He grew cold all over again in remembering the sudden quiet that had settled over the courtiers and government officials. The stares, most of them sly or calculating, none of them revealing the rankling envy and fear Parenefer had taken care to feed. Meren pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut.

Even Horemheb had looked at him strangely. But the damage was done. He had to remember that scorpions like Parenefer were always lurking, and they had yet to sting him fatally.

Opening his eyes, he shaded them and glanced at the small family chapel, shining white in the sun of the front courtyard, before walking down the path to the house. In the distance he heard the whinny of his favorite thoroughbred from the stables. Kysen might be back from the temple of Amun by now.

The morning's confrontation with Ebana still worried him. It wasn't like his cousin to make open accusations that led nowhere. He speculated that Parenefer had instigated the trouble, perhaps as revenge for the placing of that statue in front of his temple, perhaps for some other evil and obscure reason he had yet to discover. Parenefer would have known that Unas's death would attract his attention. It could be that the high priest had decided that an attack was better than waiting to be accused of eliminating a suspected spy.

In the house, Meren gave orders for the preparation of a large meal, then retreated to his apartments. He'd bathed, changed, and gone to his office behind the house by the time Kysen sought him out. He retrieved his juggling balls and was tossing the three leather spheres. His hands made soft padding sounds as the balls hit them.

It wasn't long before his son came into the room, carrying a pitcher of beer and two goblets. Setting these aside, Kysen picked up a fourth ball and tossed it at him. Meren grabbed for it and missed. Another ball hit his arm while the others fell and bounced at his feet.