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Lynda Robinson: Murder at the God's Gate

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Lynda Robinson Murder at the God's Gate

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Meren took a sip of his wine. "That's not what they disagree about."

"Oh? What is it, then? Because we have to do something about the Hittites."

"Indeed, but Ay doesn't think the king should go on the campaign."

"Too young yet?"

Meren inclined his head.

Maya, whose easy temperament and skills at organization had endeared him to the king and the vizier, turned toward Meren and frowned. "And what do you say? You've trained him."

"No boy of his age, however godlike, can master a warrior's skills in so short a time. Perhaps in another year. Until then…"

"And our beleaguered Horemheb says the empire can't wait that long."

"He could be right."

"Then one of the other princes can provide a royal presence."

Meren shook his head. "You know it's not the same for the troops."

He took another sip of wine and surveyed the audience chamber. Huy, who served as one of the viceroys of Nubia-those lands to the south over which Egypt maintained dominance-stood talking with the Nubian prince Khai, who also helped govern the south. Nakhtmin, general and royal scribe, had joined in the discussion with Ay and Horemheb.

He was surprised to see Ahiram, a foreign prince, in attendance. Ahiram was the son of Rib-Addi, the king of Byblos, one of the ally princes whom Akhenaten had failed to support against insurrection. Rib-Addi had succumbed to the depredations of rebels incited by the Hittite king Suppiluliumas. Poor Ahiram had been sent to the Egyptian court to be educated, only to find himself fatherless and without a city or a throne to which he could return. Perhaps Ay had requested Ahiram's presence, since the foreign prince was familiar with the country around Byblos and Tyre.

Everyone suddenly snapped to attention when the royal guards burst into the room, spears tapping on the floor tiles. Tutankhamun entered, marching smartly as only youth can, and clapped his hands.

"Yes, yes, get up, everyone. My majesty consents to dismiss ceremony. We'll deal with Nubia first. Huy, what happened to that expedition to the gold mines?" The king dropped into a chair covered in embossed sheet gold.

Before Huy could answer, the overseer of the audience hall swung open the double doors and poked his head into the chamber. Meren came to alert immediately, for the old man's eyes gleamed as he sought the gaze of pharaoh. Tutankhamun nodded, and the overseer stepped aside to allow Kysen into the room. Upon seeing his son, Meren knew something had happened.

He'd left Ky in charge of the daily ordering of the affairs of his office-reading summaries of disturbances throughout the kingdom and receiving reports from their various intelligencers-while he attended this audience. Now Kysen hurried forward to cast himself at the king's feet. He lifted his face from the floor, and Meren's unease vanished. Kysen grinned at the king.

"O living god, divine and golden one."

Tutankhamun swiped his hand to the side. "Please, Ky."

"Majesty." Kysen was grinning broadly. "They're home!"

Tutankhamun thrust himself out of his chair and clapped his hands again. "Where are they?"

Kysen turned and nodded at the doors. Through them burst a noisy group of young men followed by musicians playing music to which several foreign women danced. These were followed by servants bearing inlaid treasure boxes.

The king burst out laughing and shouted, 'Tanefer!"

The call was repeated by everyone in the hall. Meren ducked aside as a woman whirled her body at him. He smiled as he watched the young men stride toward the king. Disheveled, stained, and dusty, their leader nevertheless walked into the king's presence easily, as if he frequented the houses of kings every day, which he did.

Prince Tanefer knelt before the king, who raised him. To Meren, the resemblance between Tanefer, who was older by fourteen years, and the king was apparent, especially in the large, rounded eyes and full lips. They had gotten them from their father, the pharaoh Amunhotep, but Tanefer inherited the darker skin and softly curling black hair of his foreign mother.

The king and Tanefer exchanged a rough hug. Then Tanefer shouted an order, and the music rose. Drums beat out a sensual rhythm as Tanefer whispered something to the king. Then he began to clap his hands and sway.

Meren recognized the traditional warrior's dance of the royal charioteers. He folded his arms and smiled as Tanefer snatched a goblet of wine, raised it to the king, and kept on dancing. Tutankhamun laughed and answered by swinging into line with Tanefer. The king grabbed Kysen, who obliged by falling into step and dragging another new arrival, Rahotep, with him.

Around the room they swirled, stamping and leaping, until Tanefer ran into Meren, who ducked under a flailing arm and swung into line beside him. He whirled quickly in a circle, then kicked out with one leg. Tanefer jumped over it, but Meren snagged his ankle and yanked. Tanefer dropped to the floor, yelped, and rolled as the line of men ran into him.

Tutankhamun offered his arm as he passed, and Tanefer grabbed it. Leaping to his feet, he bent over, planted his hands on his thighs, and puffed to catch his breath. The line broke up as everyone guffawed at Tanefer and sucked in air.

The king pounded Meren on the back. "That will teach him to parade before us like a Babylonian king."

Tanefer raised his head and grinned at Tutankhamun. "But, majesty, in reality I should be a king, king of Mitanni after my deposed uncle. I would be if I didn't find the Two Lands the chosen place of the gods. And besides, the divine one needs mirth and pleasure. It's my task to provide them as a solace in his days of care for the empire."

This last comment attracted Meren's attention, as it was meant to. He stared at Tanefer, who was bowing to the king. As he straightened, Tanefer glanced at Meren, who read his meaning and faded out of the group. He circled around to Ay and whispered to the old man. Ay nodded. Leaning on his staff, he penetrated the crowd of young men and spoke to the king.

"Perhaps thy majesty desires to speak privately with his envoy to Palestine and Syria?"

Tutankhamun paused a moment, glanced at Meren, and said, "Yes, my majesty desires it at once. Huy, Khai, Maya, go away for a while. We will summon you again."

In a short time only a few confidants were left-the vizier, Horemheb, Prince Tanefer, and his companions, Prince Rahotep and Prince Djoserkarenseneb, called Djoser. Prince Hunefer stalled beside the king.

"Why must I go?" he whined.

Meren raised his eyes to the ceiling. Hunefer possessed the wits of a beer vat, but suffered from the fantasy that he deserved rewards and honors though he'd done nothing to earn them.

Tutankhamun gritted his teeth and scowled at Hunefer while he tapped his sandaled foot. "You have to go, half brother, because I told you to."

Meren slipped to Hunefer's side and smiled at him. Hunefer started at his sudden appearance, refused to meet Meren's gaze, and sidled out of the room. Meren made sure the overseer of the audience hall had closed the doors and that the royal sentries were in place beside them. When he returned, Tutankhamun had taken his chair again. Tanefer, Rahotep, and Djoser stood in front of him with the others gathered behind, all except Ay. The vizier's age and revered status allowed him to sit on a stool near the king when in private. Meren joined the group as Tanefer began.

"Majesty, Karkashar has fallen to the Hittites."

Tutankhamun gripped the arms of his chair and cursed. "You're sure?"

"Aye, divine one," said Rahotep. "We scouted the ruins ourselves. They burned and razed the city and carried off the women and children."

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