Bak followed as far as the door. 'I know how proud Djehuty is that he's one of a long line of men who've governed this province. Until now, until he decided to disinherit Ineni, he must've bent a knee daily before the lord Khnum, praying his son would take his seat, and his son's son after him. On through eternity.'
Simut chuckled. 'He did for a fact..'
The decision, then, was serious, one not lightly made. Was Ineni's refusal to get rid of the horses so important to Djehuty that he would end his family's long tenure'as provincial governors? Or had he concluded for some reason that his adopted son was the man who wanted him dead? Or did he believe he could convince his daughter to divorce her husband and wed another, a nobleman, perhaps, who might give him a grandson worthy of his ancestors?
Simut pulled a reddish jar from the wooden frame, broke the plug that sealed it shut, and sorted through the documents. 'Ah, here it is. Min. Sergeant of a company of spearmen.'
Bak hastened to intercept him, to herd him toward the single lamp that'burned at chest level atop a tall reed tripod at the back of the room, where privacy reigned. 'Should Djehuty die today, would Ineni petition our sovereign, Maatkare Hatshepsut, to take his father's seat as governor?'
'He'd accept the task if she gave it to him. What choice would he have? He wouldn't seek it. He wants nothing more than to walk the fields of that estate in Nubt.' Simut chuckled, but with a minimum of humor. 'Ironic, isn't it? Djehuty adopted a son to succeed him and carry on the family line, but all the prayers in the world could neither give Khawet a child nor mold Ineni in his own image.'
For the latter, all who dwell in the province must be thanking the lord Khnum, Bak thought.
'Unfortunately,' Simut went on, 'not another man in Abu is well enough known in the capital to get a nod from — the queen.' His expression turned gloomy, and he shook his head. 'No, if Ineni is disinherited, our next governor will be a stranger, one who knows nothing of this province and its needs.'
'Does Djehuty?' Bak asked.
Simut gave him a wry smile. 'Lieutenant Amonhotep does. As you saw for yourself this morning.'
Bak grinned. He had never expected to like this irascible little man, but he found himself warming to him. Then he chided himself for a fool. He had begun to like or respect every man on the governor's staff, men he had to consider as possible slayers. The only one he could not warm up to was the governor himself, the man he must keep alive.
The chief scribe broke the seal with his thumbnail, released the string and unrolled the scroll, and held it close to the lamp. Aloud he said, 'Min came as a young man from Wawat, I see, the fortress of Kubban. Son of a soldier.' His finger moved slowly down the right-hand edge of the column. 'Hmmm. Rose through the ranks. Attained the level of sergeant.'
Bak craned his neck, trying without success to read the document for himself. 'Does it say anything about his surviving the storm?'
Simut unrolled the scroll a bit farther, adjusted it so he could see better, and his eyes darted to the top of the next column and downward. 'Hmmm, here we are. Caught in a sandstorm. Returned from the desert more dead than alive.
Saved his commanding officer's life. Recommended for the gold of honor for… Yes, for behaving in an exemplary manner.'
'Where've I heard that before?' Bak asked in a dry voice. The statement was oft used, worn and frayed with age, a way of saying nothing when something needed to be said. 'Did he ever get the fly?' The golden fly was a coveted award given to soldiers who distinguished themselves above all others.
'I see nothing here.'
'Maybe he received it after he left Abu.' Bak tried again to read the document, but Simut held the scroll closer to the lamp, not about to lose the upper hand. 'What does it say of his speedy transfer north?'
The chief scribe raised an eyebrow at this fresh information and the added cynicism. He unrolled another segment of scroll, revealing a new and very short column. 'Reassigned to the garrison at Mennufer.' He glanced at Bak. 'There the record ends.'
'Mennufer.' Bak scowled. 'I, too, served there five years ago, but as a charioteer, not an infantryman. We seldom crossed paths. Usually only on the practice field, and in such great numbers we didn't know names or recognize individual faces.'
Simut eyed the scroll, thinking back in time. 'I vaguely remember a Sergeant Min. Not an especially admirable individual, I seem to recall, but no worse than some I've met.' He rolled the document into a tight, neat cylinder and retied the string around it. 'If you tell me what you wish to learn…'
'I've heard he and Hatnofer were close, and I'm trying to prove the rumor true or false.'
'If he was the man I remember, he used to hang around this villa more than his duties in the garrison warranted. Not because of her, I'd've thought. There was another man, one who came often to see Djehuty, a Sergeant Senmut…' 'The man who was slain.'
Simut nodded. 'The pair were close. Too close, if you ask me. I heard they often caroused together, played throwsticks and knucklebones, won more than they should in games supposedly honest. However, Senmut was a favorite of Djehuty-a sentiment well beyond my understandingso I said nothing.' Deep in thought, he tapped the scroll on a leg of the tripod supporting the lamp. 'If Min came also to see Hatnofer, I never noticed.'
Bak let out a long, disappointed sigh. Another dead end. Who could he turn to next? He needed Nofery, a skilled collector of gossip. But she was ten days' journey to the south, too far away to summon. Who, of all the people he had talked with since coming to Abu, would be the most likely to have his ear to the wind, gathering whispers as a hearing ear gathered prayers?
Bak found the guard Kames seated in the shade on the uppermost step of the family shrine in front of Nebmose's villa, head and shoulders supported by a column, mouth open, snoring. The wiry guard had been there for some time. Birds chirped overhead, so accustomed to the raucous noise he made that they had grown indifferent. Frogs croaked in the small, shallow pool, trying to compete. His spear lay on the ground, and a mother duck and her young waddled back and forth across the shaft, tearing apart the remains of a loaf of bread he had dropped near his feet.
Bak walked close. Quacking a warning, the duck led her chicks to the far side of the pool. The frogs grew silent. He peered inside the small building. As before, a fresh offering of flowers lay at the base of the ancestor bust. Whoever tended the shrine was faithful indeed.
He tossed the remains of the bread to the ducks, picked up the spear, and frowned at the sleeping man. Kames continued to snore. With guards like this, he thought, any number of outsiders could slip within the walls and slay five people. This one needed a lesson he would not soon forget.
Bak turned the spear around, point backward, and placed the butt end of the shaft under Kames's chin. Abruptly he lifted it, jerking the guard's head up, waking him with a start.
'Wha…?' Kames's eyes focused on the shaft, widened in terror, darted to Bak's face. 'Sir!' He pulled his legs close, meaning to scramble to his feet, but dared not rise.
Bak kept his head pinned against the column. 'Five people have been slain and this is the way you stand guard? What kind of man are you? One who naps while others die?'
'Sir.' Kames tried to swallow, moaned. 'I never sleep on duty, sir. Never!'
'Has it not occurred to you that the slayer might find you with your eyes closed and you, too, might forfeit your life?' 'Please, sir. This is the first time. I swear it!'
Bak did not believe him for a moment, but he had come for information, not to see him punished for idleness. He withdrew the shaft from beneath the guard's chin. 'When first I met you, Kames, I thought you a man of good sense. I searched you out to talk, not to accuse you of neglecting your duty.'
The guard's face paled as the implied threat struck home. He scooted forward, well away from the column. 'I've already told you all I know, sir.'
'Where's your partner, Nenu?'
'He went to Lieutenant Amonhotep, thinking to gain advantage for himself by complaining about me.' Kames stared at his clasped hands, his expression aggrieved. 'He told the aide that I amble around like a cow in a pasture, paying no heed to my surroundings, thinking only of food and rest. Now, while I patrol this empty villa, he comes and goes, running errands for those of lofty status who toil for the governor.'
'Who told you this?' Bak demanded. 'Not Amonhotep, surely!' _.
'Nenu. He had to brag.' Kames looked up at Bak, worry clouding his face. 'Do you think I'll be punished on his
