'Forgive me, Father.'
'You shouldn't listen to Ebana. His ka is poisoned.'
'I won't listen to him if you won't,' Kysen said with a grin.
'Insolent colt.'
'About the priest. The wife, Ipwet, is but a girl, one of spirit and pleasing. And the lover seems to have been on his way to the royal workshops when the priest died. If Unas was murdered, we may never know whether it was because of his family or because of his service to you.'
Meren was listening to Kysen's view of the situation when Abu appeared, leading in the porter of the temple of Amun, Huni. The man fell to his knees and touched his forehead to the floor in front of Meren, who backed away as a pungent odor reached him. The man's hair was greasy and stuck to his scalp. His skin bore a layer of dust matted with grime. Beneath the smell of refuse Meren detected a whiff of cheap beer.
'Look at me,' Meren said.
Huni raised his head. The whites of his eyes were discolored with a network of red veins, and he blinked at Meren slowly, as if he'd just swilled a few buckets of beer.
'Did you see the pure one Unas fall from the statue of the king?'
'No, lor'. Didn't see nothin'.' Huni's fingers plucked at his kilt and his hair as if he were trying to repair his disheveled appearance.
'Because you were asleep,' Kysen said as he walked around to stand beside Meren.
The porter sat back on his heels and placed his hands on his thighs. Huni's glance slid away from them as he fell to studying his broken and dirty fingernails.
'I never,' he muttered, 'sleep on duty.'
'I have reports that it's your most skilled accomplishment,' Kysen said. 'I hear that if there were tournaments for sleepers, you would win the gold necklace.'
'False reports,' Huni whined.
Meren raised his glance to Abu, who instantly approached the porter, gripped his neck, and pulled him erect. He lifted the man by his throat until he balanced on his toes, gurgling and choking.
'I have no patience with mewling lingerers,' Meren said. 'Admit that you were asleep or tell me what you saw. Raise your right hand if you slept through the whole thing, porter. Ah, you slept. Then you will tell me who allowed you to serve as porter. Release him, Abu.'
Huni dropped to his knees again and crouched there gasping. Finally he was able to speak.
'Wasn' a porter no more 'til a few days ago. The chief of porters took me back an' put me on night duty.'
'Why?' Kysen snapped.
'Don' know, lor'. But now I'm banished forever to the refuse gangs. It's a terrible punishment. Terrible.'
A fresh whiff of the man's odor sent both Meren and Kysen back several steps. Meren put his hand over his nose and gestured to Abu. 'Get him out of here, and leave the door open.'
When the two had gone, Meren looked around the office for a fan, but found none.
'Damnation,' he said. 'I'll have to have the whole chamber freshened.'
'I think he was telling the truth,' Kysen said.
'With Abu choking me, I would. By the gods,
Mutemwia has been straightening in this room again. No wonder I can find nothing.' Meren left off his search for a fan. 'I must order circumspect inquiries about the posting of Huni to the god's gate at night.'
'Ebana isn't being forthcoming.'
'I should speak to him again,' Meren said.
Kysen agreed, but neither held much hope of prying anything from Ebana. Had Unas's death been an obvious murder, Meren would have requested from pharaoh the power to order his cousin's compliance. Without such power he could only request it, and Ebana's cooperation was doubtful where Meren was concerned.
If Meren pushed his cousin too hard, he could incite a quarrel that would embroil the entire court. His position would be precarious in such a battle. And perhaps that was what Ebana had wanted all along.
Meren and Kysen continued to discuss Unas's death and how to handle the priests of Amun throughout the afternoon. When a servant announced the arrival of Ahiram, Meren put aside the matter of Unas's death, for the moment.
'Come,' he said to Kysen. 'You should be thankful you weren't in the audience hall when Ahiram tried to strangle Rahotep.'
They met the first of their guests in the pillared main hall, where servants had set out chairs, cushioned stools, and low tables laden with baskets of fruit and bread. A maid was pouring wine from a tall jar into a goblet for their guest. Ahiram barely glanced at them and uttered no polite greeting. Meren could tell he was still angry: when disturbed, he had a distinctive habit of speech.
'I'm in no mood for revelry, me.'
Meren laughed. 'Then I won't send for my harpists and singers.'
'Ahiram, you jackal, how is it that you tried to choke Rahotep?' Kysen asked as he offered their guest a chair.
Meren shoved a basket of fruit into his son's hands and said, 'Not now, Ky. We've just spent most of the day quarreling. This meal is for the respite of my friends.'
'Respite!'
They all looked up to find Tanefer parading to the threshold, a cup of wine in one hand, a flagon in another. He moved loosely, with abandon and ease. As was his habit, he wore his dagger in a scabbard on his upper arm.
'Respite indeed,' Tanefer repeated as he came in and looked back over his shoulder. 'They're in here, Djoser.'
Soon they were all seated and being served roast goose accompanied by new-baked bread. Rahotep joined them last of all, taking a seat well away from Ahiram. Servants passed among them, refilling goblets with wine or beer from jars whose necks had been decorated with garlands of lotus flowers. Meren kept Ahiram distracted while Tanefer entertained Rahotep and Kysen. As usual, Djoser listened quietly to everyone and said little himself.
As dusk approached, a wine-heavy somnolence came over the group. Kysen engaged Rahotep in a game of senet.
'I'll beat you,' Rahotep said. 'I beat everyone. I'm the best senet player in the Two Lands.'
Meren saw Kysen press his lips together to prevent a retort. He'd warned Ky long ago about Rahotep's bragging. Rahotep considered himself the best at everything from swordplay to breathing, and saw to it that the entire kingdom knew it. Meren felt that his bragging covered an utter lack of faith in his own merit. And somehow he couldn't become annoyed with Rahotep for long. His rudeness and clumsiness were so childlike that when he offended someone, he was often bewildered at how he'd managed to offer insult.
Djoser, too, seemed indisposed to listen to Rahotep's blustering. He requested that musicians be summoned. When they arrived, he settled on cushions with a basket of pomegranates and grapes and listened to the harp, flute, and sistrum.
Tanefer left him to join Meren and Ahiram. The conversation drifted from the hunt to speculation about a newly widowed noblewoman, Lady Bentanta, who had taken an interest in Meren. Meren endured Tanefer's gentle teasing while his own thoughts pursued a different course. He didn't like the conjunction of the controversy among the king's advisers and this sudden death of a priest, and the currents of dissatisfaction at court seemed more disturbing than usual. This was one reason he'd invited Tanefer and the others to his home. Due to their station and birth, these men had great influence on those of lesser rank.
In addition, Ahiram commanded the Bows of Ra, an elite regiment of two hundred royal archers, and Tanefer's regiment of charioteers, the Golden Leopards, was second only to the king's own war band. Djoser nominally headed a squadron of infantry. No one expected him to remain its commander for long. Rahotep, however, had just persuaded the king to allow him a regiment of charioteers and supporting infantry. For these he was recruiting native and foreign soldiers, especially Mitanni, of whom he seemed to have acquired a good opinion while in Syria.
All of these men reported to General Horemheb. Any one of them, except possibly Djoser, possessed the knowledge, wealth, and skill to menace pharaoh should he choose. Meren's task was to know the character of each.
