'We just came from the king, and he's furious with you. I've never seen him furious with you.'
Tanefer gave Maya an irritated glance. 'You know he's not going to tell you, nor should he. Did you find Ahiram?'
All this interest in Ahiram was only natural. Still, Meren watched both men as he responded. 'I found him.'
Both men gazed at him with frank interest, which told him nothing.
'Well?' Maya said. 'What was his reason for fleeing the court? Have you made him talk? Gods, Meren, you'll have to tell us sometime, and if you don't, we'll find out anyway. I'll get it from Ay.'
'Ahiram is dead.'
Maya fell silent, staring at him, while Tanefer sighed.
'What did you think would happen?' Tanefer asked the treasurer. 'Only the guilty run away. The innocent have no reason to flee. Therefore Ahiram was guilty of something, some great evil. He wouldn't take flight for a lesser crime.'
Tanefer paused and glanced at Meren, who kept his expression benign.
'Did you find him dead somewhere, or did you kill him?' Maya asked. 'Were you able to question him?'
The treasurer still regarded Meren with anxious curiosity, but Tanefer smiled as he directed an assessing gaze at him.
'He's not going to tell you,' Tanefer said. 'Peace, Maya. You'll have to wait, for something of great import must have happened, or our divine one wouldn't at this moment be storming about the royal apartments in a temper and refusing to begin his royal duties. I'll wager Meren found Ahiram and learned something none of us is going to like.'
'Look at him,' Maya said to Tanefer. 'I might as well try to talk to a stela for all I can read in that face. Has someone turned you to granite, Meren?'
The golden doors of the palace swung open, and Ay appeared from the shadowed interior, followed by a flock of scribes and servants. He waved them back inside and joined the three men in the courtyard. At the same time, Meren's chariot arrived. The groom hopped out of it and stood holding the reins.
'There you are, Maya,' Ay said. 'The golden one has summoned you again. Tanefer, go with him.'
'What's wrong?' Maya asked the vizier. 'I should be told, you know. I'm a king's councillor too.'
'Then go council the king,' Ay said.
Maya was growing red with annoyance. Meren remained silent even though he knew his friend was taking offense. But the risk was too great. He wanted no one to know how much or how little Ahiram had said before he died. And if everyone assumed he had killed the prince, well, it didn't hurt for people to fear him. Not if there was some plot against the king brewing between the court and the temple of Amun.
Tanefer pulled Maya away toward the palace. Meren took the reins from the groom and dismissed the man. Ay clutched his arm and they began to walk across the courtyard, the horses pacing slowly beside Meren.
'You mustn't be angry with his majesty,' Ay said.
Meren glanced around the courtyard, but all the sentries and grooms and arriving courtiers were out of hearing range.
He spoke to the vizier without glancing his way. 'Gods, spirits, and fiends preserve me from your admonitions.'
'I know he's being unfair, but he will calm. You see, he's heard the rumors about Horemheb.'
Meren slowed, then stopped and turned to face Ay. 'What has he heard?'
'That Horemheb thinks he'd make a better pharaoh. That he could lead the army now, march all the way to Carchemish, and kick Suppiluliumas back to his frozen Anatolian mountains. So you can see why Tutankhamun is fearful. If his generals are dissatisfied, he is indeed in danger. And he thinks the only way to fight this threat is to make war himself.'
The rumor hadn't died as he thought it would. Most flew about the court like a desert breeze and then vanished; this one hadn't. Instead, it had grown, whirling around, gathering intensity, feeding on the refuse it picked up in its wanderings. He glanced at Ay, who was examining the golden head of his walking stick.
'Horemheb is a commoner,' he said. 'He'd never even imagine himself on the throne.'
'Any man who marries the royal heiress can come to the throne. You know that. It has happened.'
Meren shook his head. 'He saved my life when we were youths in the charioteers. It was a skirmish against Libyan rebels at the el-Kharga oasis. I fell from my chariot when it hit a rock, flew up like an arrow, and hit the ground like a boulder. Got the wind pounded out of me, and while I was dazed, a Libyan pounced on my chest and would have slit my throat if Horemheb hadn't chopped his head off.'
A squad of infantry marched toward them, parted, and flowed around them as Meren and Ay stared at each other.
'I don't want to believe the rumor either,' Ay said. 'But neither of us can afford to ignore it.'
'He would never betray the king.'
'We must discover what is going on soon.'
Meren patted his horse's muzzle as he thought. 'Look at what's happening.'
'I have been,' Ay replied.
'No, I mean, what the result has been. Pharaoh no longer trusts two of his most intimate advisors.' He brushed his cheek against the softness of a big muzzle. 'Horemheb, and me. Someone is trying to separate the king from his closest and most trusted friends. Why? Not just to gain influence over a boy who is king, but possibly to render him-'
'Vulnerable,' Ay said.
Meren nodded. 'And to force him to put his trust elsewhere, in the wrong people, who will then betray him.'
'Which is why I've warned Karoya and put the king's war band on guard duty at the palace. I've asked Tanefer to stay in Thebes and add his men to those at the palace. He was going to his estate near Bubastis. Hasn't been home in nearly eight months and wanted to see his wife before he was sent away again on some campaign. But he'll stay as long as we need him.'
'Good.' Meren got into the chariot and leaned down to Ay. 'I can do no good here while the king is so unreasonable.'
'It's only the fear.'
'Nevertheless, it's as if Kysen had accused me of trying to kill him. No, don't say anything more. Since the king no longer listens to me, I'll work on solving these murders. Someone powerful has committed this great evil, and I'd better find out who it is before he strikes again, at the king, directly.'
The man spoke only the language of the Mitanni.
Kysen studied the prisoner. Although near him in age, the prisoner wore a beard and curled locks. A once-fine robe of red and green, interwoven with gold thread, was wrapped around his body, but it had been torn in, combat. It was stained with sweat and blood from a gash in the young man's upper arm.
He had been called to the barracks, a long, low building with a central hall, cells, and quarters for the charioteers. Two weary men had brought the prisoner in after chasing him down the Red Sea road. Evidently, after the skirmish he'd circled around and tried to reach the coast. They had tried to question him, only to find that he spoke no Egyptian.
Kysen walked back and forth in front of the man, impatient and worried. This man might know who was responsible for Ahiram's death and for the desecration of Akhenaten's tomb, and he couldn't understand him. The longer they remained in ignorance, the greater the danger to pharaoh and to the Two Lands.
His guards had thrown the Mitanni to the floor at Kysen's feet. Now he was crouched there as if ready to spring. His date-shaped eyes reflected the golden light and black shadows created by a lamp sitting on a wooden stand that reached almost to Kysen's shoulder.
High rectangular windows let in little light to aid that cast by the lamp. The prisoner darted glances at the guards standing to either side of him and at Kysen. Abu and Reia waited near the columns between Kysen and the door.
'The lord Meren was right,' Abu said. 'Mercenaries. We had heard that soldiers of the Mitanni were fleeing in the face of the Hittite invasion.'
