'Yes.'
'And his speech was slurred.'
'Yes, yes. Can't you do something?'
'I fear not, lord. These signs are grave, and…'
'Nebamun, you're trying not to say something. I've no time for vacillation.'
'I think he's been poisoned, lord.'
Meren looked down at Sennefer. 'Poisoned?'
'This illness is too sudden to be an illness, and we've found no signs of magic, lord.'
Meren waved a hand for silence. He walked back and forth by Sennefer's bed, thinking rapidly. If Sennefer had been poisoned, there was more danger than he'd thought. But why would someone poison Sennefer? And how could it have been done? Sennefer ate the same food everyone else ate. It was prepared in the kitchens and served from large containers, with several people sharing the same portions.
Meren went back to Sennefer, knelt, and touched his cousin's arm. They hadn't been close. Meren and Djet had been like brothers, but Sennefer had been older and had his own friends. They shared blood and childhood memories, nevertheless, and now Sennefer was dying.
'How long?'
'His ka will fly to the gods before sunset, lord.'
Feeling as if he had stumbled into a nightmare, Meren smoothed the sheet that covered Sennefer and stood. 'I'll have to tell his parents. You will remain here, Nebamun.'
At the door he paused, wishing he didn't have to perform this ugly task. Beside the door sat a tall jar with a clay seal around its top. Another sat beside it, its seal broken. Meren's glance fell on the writing that had been incised into the clay before it dried. Abruptly he turned around and searched the room. His gaze fell on a small table bearing a flagon and cup.
Nebamun darted out of his way as Meren rushed across the room. He picked up the flagon and inhaled its fragrance. Setting it back down, his fingers touched the pool of liquid in the cup.
'Wine, Nebamun.'
'Wine, lord?'
Meren picked up the flagon again. His fingers drummed a rhythm on its side.
'Yes, wine,' he said. 'Lady Bentanta's special pomegranate wine.'
Lord Paser was once again satisfied with the cleverness of his heart. Indeed, he was practicing more guile even than his recent unwelcome visitor. He sat beneath the awning near the bow on the small freighter while one of his retainers plumbed the depth of the water as they sailed south. A sailor manned the rectangular sail, and at the stern another man steered with a long, narrow paddle.
This boat wasn't yellow and green. It had no paint at all to distinguish it from the dozens of other small craft that swarmed with it upstream. Having been chased away from his pursuit of Kysen, Paser had pretended to sail north toward Memphis. But on the way he'd spotted this little freighter. It belonged to a small temple of the ram- headed god Khnum in an insignificant town near Elephantine. The complaints of a small temple in such a paltry town wouldn't be listened to, so he commandeered the freighter.
The captain and his crew hadn't been happy, especially when Paser shoved the three oxen that comprised their most valuable cargo onto the riverbank and sailed off with their feed. Now he was headed south. Surveying the baked fields, Paser estimated that Meren's estate wasn't far off. He rose and went to the prow where the pilot was pulling his pole from the water.
'We will lower the sail,' Paser said. 'What is that village, the one in the midst of those palms?'
'It is called Green Palm, my lord.'
'Ah, yes. Not far from Baht. There will be a shore market near the village. We'll beach there.'
Paser walked back to the awning, rubbing his bare upper lip. He'd made a great sacrifice, all in order to concoct a clever disguise. No one was going to accuse him of not being quick-witted. Still, it was hard to accustom himself to having no mustache or sophisticated pointed beard. He ran his palm over his skull. He'd even shaved his head. But what he missed the most was his fly whisk, the mark of a man of rank.
What he went through for advancement! He prayed to Amun, Osiris, and Ra that all these discomforts would be rewarded. Once ashore, he would send a sailor to the village to make discreet inquiries, to listen to the news of the great feast of rejoicing held for Count Meren. It would be one of the signal events of the year for those lesser beings.
No one was going to tell him to go home. No insufferable know-all was going to tell him that Kysen would leave pharaoh's side for a mere feast. He knew deep in his bones that Meren would only leave court to spin plots in secret. Something was going on in that peaceful country estate. And he was going to find out what it was.
All he had to do was be patient. Sooner or later Meren would make a mistake, one Paser could use against him at court. After all, the path to power lay over the bodies of one's enemies. And Paser's path to the favor of
Tutankhamun, may he have life, health, and prosperity lay in the rise of Prince Hunefer and the fall of Lord Meren.
Chapter 12
The door to Sennefer's room opened to reveal Nebetta and Hepu huddled over their son's body. Nebamun stood beside the table with the flagon of pomegranate wine. Meren stepped into the corridor and closed the door. With his back to it, he appraised the sea of startled and agonized faces. Everyone was crowded into the narrow corridor-servants, his sister, his daughters, even Wah.
Great-Aunt Cherit occupied the threshold to the hall in her carrying chair. And Kysen stood near Bentanta. Meren gave him a wordless signal and glanced at Bentanta. Kysen nodded in response.
'Well?' Idut asked, her eyes shining with tears. 'His ka has flown to the netherworld?'
'Yes. We'll have to send him to Abydos with Anhai tomorrow morning.'
As Nebamun had predicted, Sennefer had died before dusk. Long before this Meren had given confidential orders to his men that the entire estate be searched and all the pomegranate wine confiscated. Their task had been made easier since all the family except Ra, who was still asleep, were keeping vigil in the guest house.
The family began to talk together in that quiet way people employed at a death. As at Anhai's death, none of the women fell to wailing and moaning. The only noise of that kind came from Nebetta. The others were too frightened to think of the proprieties.
A hand slipped into his. He glanced down at Isis and saw fear in his daughter's eyes. He pulled her against him, and Bener slipped beneath his free arm.
She pressed against his side and whispered, 'This is terrible. There's some evil loose among us.'
'I'm scared,' Isis said.
Meren frowned at Bener. 'You mustn't frighten your sister. Both of you take heart. I won't let evil come near you. I'm here. Your brother is here, and we have a dozen charioteers to protect us.'
'They haven't done Anhai and Sennefer any good,' Bener said. She seemed to have lost her enthusiasm for mystery.
'I didn't tell them to protect Anhai or Sennefer, but I am going to order them to protect you. You will be safe.'
Wah thrust his way past a couple of serving women to approach Meren. 'Perhaps I should leave.'
'No,' Meren said.
'Oh, of course,' Wah said smoothly. 'You need my assistance in this time of difficulty. I am honored to be of aid to my future brother. You have only to tell me what I may do for you. Anything-'
'Wah, not now.' As he spoke, Meren glanced at Reia, who squeezed past Cherit and saluted him.
'Idut,' Meren said. 'Will you take everyone back to the garden? There's nothing to be done here.'
'There's much to be done,' she said. 'I have to look after Aunt Nebetta and Uncle Hepu. They'll want mourners and ashes, and Sennefer must be prepared for the journey to Abydos. I must summon priests.'
'Not now, Idut.'
