'Aye, but I will still have to listen to him complain.' The king paused, giving Meren a sidelong glance. ','Um, there is another matter. There are-there are rumors of visitors to your house, Bedouin, Hittites, a bandit or two.'
'The High Priest of Amun must have heard that you touched me.'
The king's shoulders slumped. 'I'm sorry. I know I must be circumspect, and I wouldn't endanger you, but sometimes-'
'He has spread rumors before, majesty.'
Tutankhamun glanced at the portico, where darkness was fading into the gray light of dawn. 'He still hates me for what my brother did. Akhenaten should never have tried to destroy Amun and the other gods. The high priest, he liked not living in obscurity and going hungry and having his priests killed.' The king rose and rubbed his upper arms as if chilled, then met Meren's gaze. 'He's beginning to see that I won't be guided like a blind donkey. Meren, I'm sure he had my brother killed.'
At the desolation in the king's voice, Meren slid off the bed to stand beside him. Trying to ignore his own guilt, he dropped an arm about Tutankhamun's shoul ders. Startled, the king looked up at him, then relaxed into the embrace. Akhenaten's death had robbed Meren forever of peace, but he could still ease Tutankhamun's suffering.
'Listen to me,' Meren said. 'Every day, every mo ment, in darkness or in light, my eyes are upon you. The servant who empties your chamber pot, the boy who holds your bow, the chamberlain who announces your guests, the guards who stand beside you, I know them all. Were I to question their loyalty, they would be dead.'
The king's head dropped onto his shoulder for a moment. After a while the boy straightened, and Meren dropped his arm. The pyramid stone of guilt resting on his heart lifted. Tutankhamun held out his hand, and Meren grasped the boy's arm above the wrist, one warrior acknowledging another.
'It's just that I know how many enemies Pharaoh has,' the king whispered. 'There are so few I can trust. I wish my brother hadn't died.'
'Majesty.'
Meren couldn't help but wince, but the king hadn't seen or heard him. Meren could see that he was lost in old and sad memories.
'Majesty.' This time the king looked at him. 'For a long time now I have felt that I had two sons-Kysen, and you.'
He bore Tutankhamun's searching gaze without ap prehension, and at last the king smiled a genuine, carefree smile. It faded a little as he glanced at the growing light.
'I must go,' the king said. 'If anyone discovers that I've been here, you'll be in more danger than you are already. But you must come to me soon, for I'm anxious about this business in the Place of Anubis. After all my work restoring order to the kingdom, I won't have some criminal disturbing the harmony and balance of Egypt with this sacrilege.'
Meren nodded gravely, suppressing a grin at the king's peremptory tone. Much as he longed for the freedom of boyhood, Tutankhamun understood governance in ways that eluded the many spitting vipers who called themselves his courtiers. Meren preceded the king through his house, taking care that they met none of his household who might have risen early. At the front gate he watched Tutankhamun slink down the street in the direction of the palace, Karoya at his side. The boy would steal over the palace walls with ease. Having trained the king himself, Meren could hardly complain if he used his skills now; he could only hope that Pharaoh's visit had been indeed secret.
Calling to his steward, he readied himself quickly for a visit to the house of Hormin. It was time to descend upon the family and frighten them, now, before they were fully awake. Taking with him several charioteers and his aide Abu, he burst upon his victims as they dined. Striding swiftly into the house, he came upon Imsety and his mother sharing a small table laden with beer and bread. Servants scurried out of his path when he crossed the threshold. Meren glared at Selket.
'Mistress, your sons are thieves, and most likely murderers.'
Selket's mouth was full; she gulped, then choked. Imsety remained quiet and pounded his mother's back. Selket grabbed her cup and took several swallows. Gasping for breath, she shook her head.
'You deny my words,' Meren said. He squeezed his eyes almost closed and stared at her. 'Perhaps you have been behind this evil all along.'
Imsety rose, causing his chair to tip backward and land on the floor. 'No!'
Two charioteers brushed past Meren, drawing their scimitars. Imsety held his hands away from his body and stepped back a pace. At a word from Meren, the charioteers halted midway between their leader and Imsety.
'Please, lord, my sons are innocent.' Selket had dropped to her knees.
Meren glanced about the room, then stalked out with out a word. He remembered the way to Djaper's chamber. Thrusting the door aside, he charged into the room. At once he caught the stench. Behind him Abu sniffed and cursed. Meren felt his aide's hands on him. He was hefted bodily out of the chamber. Abu darted inside, weapon drawn. Meren prayed to Amun for patience while Abu searched the chamber, for he wouldn't be allowed to enter until his aide was convinced there was no threat to him.
'Enter, lord.'
The chamber's high windows cast a vague and dif fuse light. Opposite the door lay the bed, and on the bed, sprawled and still, lay Djaper. Beside the bed, a chamber pot had been removed from beneath its accompanying stool. Djaper had vomited in it.
Abu stood beside the bed. 'He is cold, lord.'
'Send for my physician and more men.'
Meren examined the body. Its stiffness told him that Djaper had been dead at least several hours, but not longer than a day. He'd learned long ago that the body protested the passing of the ka in this manner, as though death had frightened it into rigidity. Eventually the muscles became flaccid, and he'd often wondered if this signaled the arrival of the soul to some place of shelter. Djaper's soul had not arrived, it seemed. He'd died sometime during the night-too suddenly and conve niently, before Meren could speak to him.
Glancing at the fouled chamber pot, Meren noted that Djaper had emptied his stomach. From the congealed state of the contents, he would guess this had happened before midnight. His attention was drawn to the floor beside the bed, where a glazed cup lay on its side next to a small amphora. He picked up the cup. It had been drained, and only a few drops of beer remained. Meren sniffed and wrinkled his nose. Not the best-quality beer. He lifted the amphora from its stand. As he did so, a clay seal dangling from twine brushed his fingers. He smelled the contents of the amphora. Half full, it contained the same tart beer left in the cup, but the bitter smell was stronger.
Meren dipped his finger in the beer and touched it to his tongue. Grimacing, he set the amphora down. As he stood, a wave of dizziness lapped over him, followed by a sensation of floating that caused him to sway. He hissed as he drew a deep breath. Stepping away from the bed, he braced himself by placing his palm against the nearest wall. He waited, chastising himself for his dangerous curiosity. Gradually his body returned to its normal state except for a strange lethargy and a feeling of elation.
Folding his arms over his chest, Meren gathered his wits, then surveyed the room. Little had changed since he'd last been in it When he felt better, he lit a lamp and directed his gaze at the bed, the shelves of papyri, the chests. These he opened and found clothing, toiletries, jewelry. There was Djaper's scribe's kit, but he found nothing to indicate that the dead man had written anything.
Having searched the chamber, Meren returned to the room where Imsety and Selket were being held. Taking the master's chair, he regarded them silently. Imsety had relapsed into his habitual state of muteness. His mother, however, bit her lips in an apparent effort to contain her alarm and curiosity. She twisted her brown hands together unceasingly.
'Mistress, describe to me the happenings of yesterday and last night.'
'My son, he asked to be left alone and keeps to his chamber still.'
Meren didn't answer, and, given no choice, she went on. 'Yesterday was like any other for me. I have the household to run, meals to supervise, weaving and mending, making of bread, ointments to prepare, the cleaning. The slut Beltis gave no help, as is her wont.' Selket paused. Her gaze drifted away from Meren. 'The concubine quarreled with Djaper.'
'Explain.'
