Forgetting about Dilalu and the army officer Yamen, Meren lost himself in wonder as Tefnut guided his hand to feel the kick of his second grandchild. Only two. He was thirty-four and had only two grandchildren. Men his age usually had many more. But Tefnut had been slow in conceiving, and Kysen was divorced from his wife. Bener had so far refused to marry the candidates Meren had suggested, and Isis wasn't ready. Meren was discussing likely husbands for his middle daughter with Tefnut when the summons came from the palace. The king commanded the presence of the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh.
The king was touring the royal workshops near the palace when Meren responded to his summons. As he left his town house, the scribe Dedi had thrust a thick set of documents in his hands and requested that he read them. Meren held them now as he strode down the avenue between long lines of workshops. The air was filled with the din of hammering and the shouts of workmen. He walked around a stack of cedar logs that had just been delivered from Byblos. The long, straight wood was valued in Egypt almost as much as gold. It was used in rich furniture and in the great warships and royal barges that made Egypt the maritime power that she was.
Although the stack of logs was high and represented a royal fortune, Meren paid it no heed, for he had glimpsed what Dedi had written on the first document. It was a summary of his and Bek's searches into the career of the officer Yamen. The man was the son of a minor noble of Imu, a nome capital in Lower Egypt. Being a younger son and not possessed of a fortune, he'd spent most of his life in the army. Yamen had been fortunate, however, in that his father was a friend of General Nakhtmin, and the general had promoted the young man's interests, assigning him to important jobs in his service.
Yamen had held titles such as scribe of accounts of the division of Amun and scribe of recruits before being assigned to the general's staff. Meren leafed through the documents behind Dedi's summary. The last ten years or so had seen Yamen's rise in importance. He now regularly undertook missions of inspection as a royal envoy to foreign vassals of the empire. Yamen was now a 'king's messenger to all foreign lands,' but still attached to General Nakhtmin's staff.
Meren pulled an old report from the stack of documents, his footsteps slowing as he walked past a joiner's workshop. The report was a list of rewards. Yamen had received plots of land, gold cups, even the Gold of Valor, yet there was no indication that the officer had ever taken part in battle.
Returning the summary, Meren read that Yamen often had been sent to assess the need when an Asiatic vassal requested gold, troops, or weapons to defend his city. Bek had noted in the margin of the summary that three times out of five, Yamen affirmed the need for pharaoh's generosity to the vassal. And when the aid was sent, the trouble always vanished immediately.
Meren curled the set of papyri into a roll and tapped it against his palm. In his experience the majority of requests for aid were unjustified, the result of the acquisitive nature of pharaoh's vassals. If Yamen was sending so much aid, there was a good chance of collusion with the vassal prince or governor. Which meant that the envoy was getting paid for his favorable reports.
And there was something else odd about Yamen's career: he always seemed to land in positions with access to valuables, or to information about the movement of goods or men. Most interesting of all, Dedi reported that Yamen was being considered for the position of royal herald and might be granted the right of
'Pharaoh!' He'd forgotten what he was doing.
Meren came out of his reverie and looked around the workshops. Rolling the papyri tighter, he set off in search of the king. He walked swiftly, turned a corner, and saw the king standing in front of a shoulder-high weighing scale set in front of a guarded building-a precious-metals storehouse. Only Karoya, pharaoh's chief bodyguard, accompanied the boy. To the right of the scale stood a scribe recording amounts of gold and silver. Meren joined the group and bowed to pharaoh as the scribe's assistant steadied the plumb bob with one hand and the balance beam with the other.
The scribe piled rough yellow nuggets on one pan, while the chief goldsmith added weights to the other. On the ground lay a basket of extra weights. Some were shaped like domes, others like ox heads. One was formed in the image of a hippo. Meren watched the goldsmith add an ox head to his side of the scale. The pan was still higher than the gold.
'Not enough,' the king said. He reached for a stone ox head and put it on the pan next to the other weights. The pan tipped, then slowly settled into balance. 'Excellent.' Tutankhamun turned to Meren. 'Ah, there you are. You're late, Meren. It's not like you.'
'Forgive me, majesty.'
Around them the hammering, sawing, and yelling rose, and the king smiled. 'I forgive you, Meren, because it's not often I catch you in even a small fault.'
The king signaled for Meren to walk beside him as he left the gold storehouse. Leading Meren and his guard, Tutankhamun crossed a path to the other side of the workshop district. When they reached a particularly noisy area near the main workshop of the master stone carver Thutmose, pharaoh stopped. Karoya turned his back and moved a few paces away to stand with his legs braced apart. He folded arms the size of oxen over his chest and glared at anyone who came within forty paces.
'Come closer,' Tutankhamun said to Meren. 'I don't want anyone to hear.'
'Yes, majesty.'
Meren moved as near as he dared, within a small stride of the king. To go closer risked arousing curiosity and provoking gossip. His efforts were foiled when the king closed the distance between them to half a pace.
In a loud whisper, the king said, 'Maya says that all the secret tombs are complete and that my brother's whole family is safe in the royal cemetery in Thebes.' Tutankhamun glanced around, his eyes guarded, his jaw muscles twitching with tension. 'I put Akhenaten and Nefertiti with my mother. You were right. It was the only place that might be safe from those who would destroy them.'
'Thy majesty is wise.'
'You think it a good choice?'
That strained look had come into the boy's face. Meren felt a pang of sympathy for the king. It hadn't been long since someone had broken into Akhenaten's tomb in Horizon of the Aten and desecrated the king's body.
The news had devastated Tutankhamun. His memories of Akhenaten were of a somewhat eccentric brother old enough to be his father. Nefertiti had been a second mother. The idea of someone hacking at Akhenaten's body was horrific. If his body was destroyed, his soul would have no place to lodge, and it would wander, homeless and desolate. Eventually it would perish. It was this possibility that impelled Meren to conceal from Tutankhamun the extent of the damage done to the heretic pharaoh's body-and the fact that Nefertiti had been murdered while the boy lived with her.
'Thy majesty has made the best of choices, for Queen Tiye was revered by all. Few would look for Akhenaten in her house of eternity, and no one would think of desecrating it.'
Meren was rewarded for his assurance by seeing the fear and tension drain from the king's young features. Letting out a long breath, Tutankhamun resumed his tour of the royal workshops. As they passed, artisans paused to kneel and touch their foreheads to the ground. By pharaoh's order, however, they resumed their work immediately. Tutankhamun was constantly trying to avoid ceremony, to the dismay of Ay and his courtiers.
'I have just had more reports of people absconding with conscripts,' Tutankhamun said as they walked up to a jeweler's studio. Dozens of artisans sat before stone slabs, cutting inlay from chunks of lapis lazuli, turquoise, and other precious stones. 'The priests of Amun waylaid thirty-two laborers bound for the temple of Ra in Heliopolis. There were more reports, but I am more troubled about something else.'
'The stolen gold, majesty?'
'Maya told you.'
'He said that the Nubian gold expedition was attacked in the desert and lost much of its shipment.'
Pharaoh scowled at Meren. 'And if I'd been on that expedition, I could have gotten that battle experience you've been promising me for months.'
'It's too near the time of the feast of Opet, golden one.'
'You always have a good excuse to keep me away from battle, Meren, but I'm not going to be patient much longer. As soon as I have report of a suitable opportunity, you and I are going on a raid against bandits.'
'I know thy majesty wishes to prove himself in battle, but-'
'I won't listen, Meren. You've trained me yourself. Am I not a good warrior?'
