Following her outside, he said, “Before you came here, where did you dwell?”
She raised her chin and her voice took on a note of defi ance. “I was not what you think, sir. I was a respectable woman, a widow. A burden to my eldest brother, a servant to his wife. When Maruwa said he wanted me, I accepted his offer gladly. A rash move, perhaps, a situation that could have ended as rapidly as it began, with me impoverished and alone. Instead our love grew and now here I am, a widow in my heart if not in reality. Unlike before, Maruwa left me suf ficient means to take care of myself.”
“I meant no offense, mistress. I’ve been told he usually re mained in Waset long after he delivered his horses to the royal stables.” Bak allowed a smile to touch his lips. “I doubted he stayed behind for the animals’ sake, nor would he have been long detained by a plaything.”
The rigidity went out of her stance, and she mirrored his smile. “Will you sit with me, sir?” she asked, nodding to ward a reed mat spread out beneath the pavilion.
After he complied, she set the cakes beside him and of fered a jar of beer. The breeze, as she had predicted, wafted gently across the rooftop, bringing with it the scent of flow ers.
“How can I help you?” she asked, seating herself on the opposite side of the bowl. “I wish justice done, punishment for my beloved’s slayer while still he lives as well as in the netherworld.”
Bak took a drink of beer, savoring the warm, rather thick but tasty brew. “Was Maruwa involved in Hittite politics?”
He no longer believed the merchant would have become so foolishly embroiled, but of all the people he had talked to, she would know best.
“What on earth gave you that idea? He was the least po litical man I’ve ever met.”
“Did he ever speak of the politics of Kemet, of our two sovereigns, one seated on the throne at Waset and the other occupying the royal house in Mennufer?”
“He thought the situation odd, but who doesn’t? Espe cially men and women from other lands, places where life is harsher and kingship more precarious.” She must have real ized he wished her to be more specific and shook her head.
“No, sir, he showed no more concern with the affairs of
Kemet than with those of his homeland.”
“On the day he died, I’ve been told, he never left the ves sel on which he brought the horses. Most of the sailors dis embarked, as did the captain, but he chose to remain on board with the animals.”
“He would have.” Rather than taking into her mouth the morsel of sweetcake she held, she dropped her hand to her lap as if she had lost her taste for the delicacy. “They were his responsibility. He’d have stayed with them until they were safely delivered to the royal stables.”
“You didn’t see him at all that day?”
“No, sir.” The words caught in her throat; she paused, re gaining control. “I never knew exactly when to expect him.
Sometimes upon his arrival he’d summon me, but not often.
He preferred that I wait here in the comfort of our home rather than wander around the market while he cared for the horses. If only…” She bit her lip, cutting short whatever she had intended to say, acknowledging the futility of regrets.
Bak took a sweetcake, more for politeness sake than be cause he wanted it. “Did he ever speak to you of a scribe named Woserhet or a priest named Meryamon? Both men toiled in the sacred precinct of the lord Amon.”
“I don’t remember those names.” Irenena frowned at the cake crumbled in her hand. “He was not of a religious na ture, and he was certainly not interested in our gods. On the rare occasion when he felt the need for prayer, he spoke to the gods of his own land.”
“Did he mention a man named Pentu? He served our sov ereign as an envoy in Hattusa.”
“Pentu.” She threw the crumbs onto the open rooftop.
Several sparrows darted from the date palms to the low para pet, then hopped down for the treat. “I’ve no memory of the name.”
“He was and is now governor of Tjeny.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “How could I have for gotten? Yes, Maruwa did speak of him. He said the man had a viper within his household.”
Bak could barely believe his good luck. “When was this?”
“During his last visit to Kemet seven or eight months ago.”
“Did he explain himself?”
“No. I thought the words curious and pressed for details, but he said…” Suddenly her hand shot to her mouth and she looked stricken. “Oh, my!”
He leaned forward, laid his hand on her wrist. “What is it, mistress Irenena? What’s the matter?”
“He said he thought he knew the name, but wanted to make doubly sure before passing it on to Commander Min nakht when next he came to Waset. Why did I not insist he do so at that time? Why?”
Bak regretted the storm of tears that followed and prayed the release would be as valuable to her as was the informa tion she had given him. The odds were good that Maruwa had verified the name and had planned to give it to the sta blemaster the day he was slain.
Bak walked back to his men’s quarters along rapidly dark ening lanes filled with merrymakers. He had not been able to console Irenena, but had managed to convince her that she was in no way responsible for Maruwa’s death. The decision to remain mute had been his alone.
Besides, Bak was not convinced the so-called viper had slain the merchant. Maruwa had been in Waset for less than two hours when his life was taken. How would that vile creature have learned of his knowledge in so short a time?
True, Pentu’s traveling ship had reached the harbor not long before the cargo ship, but even if Maruwa had bumped into the man, he would not have been so foolish as to reveal what he knew.
Another thought nagged. What could stirring up trouble in the land of Hatti possibly have to do with the storehouses of Amon? Had he erred in thinking the three deaths were re lated? If someone was stealing from the god and smuggling the items to a foreign land, as he suspected, would it not be wiser for that individual to do nothing that might attract offi cial attention?
Bak stumbled over a mallet someone had left in the lane.
Cursing himself for not watching his step, he walked on.
Again his thoughts wandered. The hours he had spent in the foreign quarter, the many men and women he had walked among and talked to, some of them Hittites, had brought back memories of the one woman among many that he had never forgotten. A Hittite woman. He could see her smile, hear her voice, feel her courage and strength of will. No one had ever taken her place. No one ever would.
Had he been unfair to Meret, Pentu’s wife’s sister? Had he inadvertently led her to believe a relationship might develop between them?
Chapter Ten
“I’ve just come from the vizier.” Amonked glanced around the courtyard, empty so early in the morning except for Bak and a couple of sleepy-eyed Medjays seated at the cold hearth, eat ing pigeon left over from the previous evening’s meal and dunking hard bread into milk. Hori’s dog was standing over a bowl of water, lapping loud and fast. The majority of Bak’s men were sleeping off another night of merrymaking.
“I convinced him Maruwa’s death and those in the sacred precinct might well have been committed by the same man.”
Amonked pulled close a low stool and sat down. “When I told him one of the trails you’ve been following has led you to Pentu, he agreed that you must now look at the members of the governor’s household.”
Bak stifled a yawn. Unable to further his investigation af ter speaking with Irenena, he had taken advantage of the un expected but welcome freedom from duty to go with Psuro in search of a good time. They had found what
