Nesa. He had another stable midway between there and the port city of Ugarit, where he kept a fourth stable. As for men he could trust, his wife had four brothers. Each managed a stable, tending to the animals and assuring their safety.”
A sensible arrangement, Bak thought. “Did you ever meet him after your return to Kemet?”
“I’d hoped I would, but our paths took different direc tions. He knew we dwelt in Tjeny, and the cargo ships carry ing his horses had to have passed us by, but he never stopped.” Netermose scratched the head of one of the pup pies. “I guess he couldn’t convince the ship’s master to take the time.”
“Or he believed he’d be unwelcome. After all, he was the man who brought word to Kemet that someone in Pentu’s household was causing trouble in the land of Hatti.”
Looking unhappy, Netermose gave the puppy a gentle shove, pushing it toward its brothers, and folded his hands in his lap. “So Pentu told us when he learned of the reason for our recall.”
“Did Maruwa ever hint that something was amiss?”
“Would that he had!”
“What would you have done?”
“I’d have warned Pentu, of course.”
A futile effort that would have been, Bak thought. “Who do you believe the traitor was?”
“The tale was untrue, I’m convinced.”
The resolute look on Netermose’s face told Bak that no less a being than the lord Amon himself would alter the aide’s conviction. Whether such certainty had come from deep within himself or had been born as a result of Pentu’s denials, he could not begin to guess.
Having followed that path to its end, he asked a question he had neglected to ask Pahure. “Pentu, like all provincial governors, must share the bounties of the land with our sov ereign and divert a portion to the lord Amon. Products gath ered yearly from his own estate and the fields of all who dwell in the province. Does he also send to the sacred precinct a share of the excess items made by the women of his household and the craftsmen who live on his personal es tate? Luxury items, to be specific.”
Netermose looked puzzled, as if unable to find the con nection between the governor’s obligation to the lord Amon and the murder of Maruwa. “We expect all who reside in the province to do so, so we can do no less.”
“Have you ever had occasion to meet any of the priests and scribes responsible for storing such items?”
“A senior priest comes each year to this house to thank
Pentu for his generosity, and other men at times come with him, but I’ve taken no interest in their exact duties.”
“I speak specifically of Woserhet, a senior scribe who toiled for the lord Amon, and of the young priest Meryamon, who dwelt and toiled in the sacred precinct.” Again he de scribed the two men.
“They may’ve come at one time or another, but I’m not especially observant. To me, one man with a pious de meanor looks much like all the others.” Netermose flung
Bak another perplexed look. “Why do you ask, sir?”
Bak glanced up at the lord Re, whose solar barque had journeyed at least two-thirds of the way across the brilliant blue sky. He had become so involved in what was beginning to seem a futile exercise that he had missed the midday meal. “What of a Hittite trader named Zuwapi? Do you know him?”
The aide frowned, further deepening the wrinkles on his brow and at the corners of his eyes and mouth. “I may’ve heard the name, but in what context I can’t say.”
“While you dwelt in Hattusa, Pahure obtained items from him for the women of your household. Objects imported from Kemet, difficult to find in the land of Hatti.”
Shrugging, Netermose pulled another puppy close and tickled its belly. “I knew he satisfied their needs for costly and what were, in Hattusa, rare items, but I’ve no memory of the man who supplied them.”
“The political situation in the land of Hatti is always pre carious.” Sitepehu waved a small bee away from a bowl of plump purple grapes sitting on the low table beside him.
“Kings come and go in regular succession, with fathers and brothers being murdered for the crown. Only the most adept in the art of survival cling to power.”
“Not a pleasant nation in which to dwell,” Bak said.
After convincing the cook to give him a loaf of bread and a bowl of cold mutton stew, he had sought out the priest.
They had settled themselves beneath the portico atop the dwelling’s extension, thinking the breeze would make it the coolest place to be in the burning heat of midafternoon.
“The land itself is most agreeable much of the year.” The priest smiled. “Oh, it’s not easy to accustom oneself to the cold season, especially when snow blankets the land, but the other seasons are most pleasant. The mountains are tall and impressive. The plain southeast of Hattusa goes on for ever, far beyond the distant horizon and not a sand dune in sight. Water is plentiful, falling from the skies in sufficient quantity to make the land bountiful. Magnificent trees, glori ous flowers, people of kindness and good humor who strive mightily to survive cruel laws, harsh gods, and weak kings.”
Breaking off a crust of bread, Bak dipped it in the stew, which tasted strongly of onions, celery, and pepper. “Your praises outweigh your criticisms, Sitepehu.”
“I was sorry we had to leave.” The priest’s expression grew bleak. “I wanted very much to help those good- hearted and generous people, yet I could do nothing for them.”
Bak eyed the priest with sudden interest, the well muscled body, the scar on his shoulder. A man who felt as he did might, with the best of intentions, have become involved in the politics of the land. “Were you surprised to learn of
Pentu’s recall?”
“I was dismayed when I was told we were to return to
Kemet, shocked when I learned the reason, and mystified by the charge.”
After licking the stew from his fingers, Bak reached for his beer jar. “You had no idea you dwelt side by side with someone who had more than a passing interest in the land of
Hatti?”
“None.” Sitepehu gave Bak a cynical smile. “If I dwelt there with a traitor, I do so to this day. Every man and woman who went with Pentu to Hattusa lives with him still.”
“You included?” Bak asked, surprised.
Sitepehu bowed his head in acknowledgment. “The lord
Inheret is a modest god, with few properties to support him, none of which include a house, and my duties for him are not demanding. Pentu provides a place where I and my son-my wife died of a fever two years ago-can live in comfort, and in exchange I help with his accounts.”
Bak nodded his understanding. While offerings flowed in vast quantities to the lord Amon and other major deities, the lesser gods were not so fortunate. Few of their priests were able to survive solely on the generosity of their followers.
“Who among you would be the most likely to dabble in the politics of Hatti?”
“I’ve asked myself that question time and time again. The present king, like those before him, occupies an unstable throne, but to side with anyone-the king or a contender would be foolhardy. Any of them could vanish overnight and another take his place.”
Bak thanked the gods of the land of Kemet that he had not been born into the uncertain and dangerous world of the Hit tites. “Did you know the slain merchant, Maruwa?”
“I knew of him.” Sitepehu absentmindedly rubbed the scar on his shoulder. “Netermose befriended him, so he al ways dealt with him, passing the necessary scrolls back and forth when need be.”
A gust of warm air swept along the portico, carrying the scent of flowers. Fallen petals chased one another across the rooftop.
Bak took a sip of beer, savored its slightly bitter taste.
“Did you ever meet the trader Zuwapi? He exports items from Kemet and transports them to Hatti. The usual trade goods: pottery, rough linen, small tools, and so on. He also deals in luxury items such as aromatic oils and fine linen.”
“He’d have to have come to me for a pass, allowing him to travel freely in Kemet, but the document is so routine I’d not remember. As for the items he exported from Kemet, they’d have been listed on the manifest of the
