Murder in the Place of Anubis (7 page)

 "I adjure thee," Mutemwia said, "by the holy names,  render up the murderer who has carried away this Hormin—Khalkhak, Khalkoum, Khiam, Khar, Khroum, Zbar, Beri, Zbarkom—and by the terrible names— Balltek, Apep, Seba."

 Kysen rubbed his ear and cursed the girl. She reached  out with a small wooden hammer and tapped him on the other ear. Yowling, Kysen scuttled backward.

"Render up the murderer who has carried off this Hormin. As long as I strike the ear with this hammer, let the eye of the murderer be smitten and inflamed until it betrays him."

 Nurse lifted the hammer again, but Kysen snatched it from her hand.

"By the phallus of Ra! Are you mad?" Kysen threw the little hammer into the pond and rounded on the girl. His ears stung, and now his head hurt as well. "Hathor gave you much beauty and no wits."

 Nurse Mutemwia crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at Kysen. "It is a spell to protect you and find the evil one, lord. Do you wear your Eye of Horus amulet?"

"Beaten by my son's nurse. Curse you, Mutemwia, I don't care if your family has served Meren's for generations, you shouldn't hit my ears." Kysen rubbed the injured organs. "Did you break the skin?"

 Mutemwia shook her head. A clap of her hands summoned servants bearing food. "This servant humbly begs pardon. She only has thy welfare before her eyes."

 Kysen cast a suspicious glance at the girl. When  Mutemwia was humble, he grew wary.

 "Nebamun is the physician and priest in this household. There's no need for you to do his work for him."

"I got the spell from him," Mutemwia said as she set a table before the couch. She dismissed the servants and began dishing out roast oryx. "I practiced the words of  power while Lady Taweret was here."

"Ha!"

 Mutemwia ignored Kysen and poured wine into a  goblet, her expression as calm as it had been since she entered the courtyard.

"You're jealous," Kysen said.

 "A humble nurse is too far below a descendant of a  living god to dare to be jealous of her."

 Kysen scowled at her again, sent pillows flying from  the couch with a swipe of his arm, and sat down. He bit into a joint of oryx. He chewed and glared at the same time. Bowing, Mutemwia picked up a tray and vanished in the direction of the kitchen. Kysen nearly bit the inside of his cheek, so violent was his chewing. As she vanished, his scowl turned to a grin. He'd have his own revenge tonight.

 In the house of Hormin, Meren approached the chamber  assigned to Djaper. A charioteer stood at the closed door. Meren had left Beltis intent upon examining Hormin's younger son, who'd nearly delivered a mutilating blow to the concubine earlier. He paused beside the charioteer before entering the bedchamber.

"What is he doing, Iry-nufer?"

"Reading, lord."

"Reading?"

 Iry-nufer nodded. Meren folded his arms and studied the tip of his sandals. Djaper felt comfortable enough to  read in this hour of evil and death.

"The watch has been arranged?" Meren asked.

"Yes, lord."

"One man should be enough. But I want him to stay out of sight. Find a rooftop across the street if you have to."

 Meren opened the door a crack and gazed into Djaper's room. The young man was propped up on a couch with a papyrus roll stretched in his hands. He clamped his teeth around a reed pen and frowned at the sheet in front of him. Meren slipped into the room. As he approached, Djaper looked up and released the papyrus roll, which furled into one hand. Removing the pen from his mouth, he dropped it on the scribe's palette on the floor beside him and knelt. The papyrus roll was  held at his side behind the folds of his kilt.

 Meren inclined his head at Djaper as he walked past  the couch to stand in front of a wall lined with shelves. Most were filled with papyrus rolls, old letters, freshly ground ink, sealing clay, and the other accoutrements of a scribe's profession.

 Meren returned to the couch and sat down. Djaper  was standing with his eyes on the floor in the proper attitude of respect. Meren held out his hand, and Djaper's head jerked up. He slowly held out the roll, waiting in silence as Meren perused it.

"This is an estimate of harvest. I understood that it was your brother who attended to your father's farm."

 Djaper's eyes widened, and he smiled. "Yes, Lord  Meren. Imsety plants things, plows things, herds things, but sometimes he's too busy to keep all the records. Like now. Harvest is almost upon us."

"What do you know of your father's death?"

 Keeping his gaze on his hands, Djaper rolled the papyrus into a smaller tube. "Nothing, lord."

"You fought with him."

 "The lord refers to the small argument about Imsety  owning the farm." Djaper sighed and let the papyrus roll fall to the floor. "It's true. Father never wanted to give up any of his possessions, but Imsety is the only one who really cares about the farm. Father kept most of the wealth gained by it. Imsety got barely enough to keep himself, and neither of us has enough for a separate household. Father hated farming, and Imsety would have given him whatever share he wanted. So I spoke for my brother two days ago. You see, Imsety can grow anything, but he's no better than a monkey at speaking for himself."

Meren nodded and waved his hand to signal that Djaper could relax his formal posture. The young man  sat back on his heels with his hands folded in his lap.

 "All my eloquence went for naught. As I said, Father  was furious. I counseled Imsety to wait until after Harvest, to give Father time to get used to the idea. But now—"

"Now you and your brother will inherit."

 "Of course, lord. A man's sons care for his eternal  house. It is we who will see that prayers are said for his soul, that his
ka
is supplied with meat and drink. It's the proper way. Any dutiful son would do the same."

 Meren leaned back and placed his elbow on a pile of  pillows. "And what about Beltis?"

 An apologetic grin spread across Djaper's face. "I  beg forgiveness. The woman attacked poor Imsety, and I couldn't let her hurt him again. You see, lord, Imsety looked after me when I was small and weak. He put up with my tagging along with him, taught me how to shave and throw a dagger. And anyway, that woman has been stealing from us since she came. Last night she got careless and didn't bother to conceal her theft."

"But you didn't see her last night."

 "No, my lord. I worked at the office of records and  tithes all day, came home to get Imsety, and we spent the whole evening with friends." Djaper bent forward in a confiding manner. "In truth, I was avoiding Father. He was angry with me, and I didn't want to fight again. I left yesterday morning before he did, and spent most of my time in the archives room with two other apprentices. Luckily he went to the temple of Amun on an errand for master Ahmose and then had to chase after Beltis. Last night I made certain that Imsety and I were out until past midnight. I knew that Father would calm down if he didn't have to look at us for a while."

"And you saw nothing of your father last night?"

"Oh no, lord. We dined with a friend. Nu, son of Pen-amun, is his name. And then we all went to the tavern called Eye of Horus for beer and women. A pleasant evening."

 Meren rose, and Djaper scrambled to his feet. Strolling about the room, Meren let the silence stretch out.  Djaper was entirely too comfortable in his presence, but then, perhaps he was being unfair. Some men did possess a natural composure and openness that enabled them to face difficulties with aplomb. Ay was one. And he himself could face a horde of Nubian bandits smiling—as long as his family was safe.

 Meren glanced at Djaper and saw that Hormin's son  had risen and was now leaning against his work shelves. One leg was bent, and he'd cocked one foot over the other. He was toying with his wrist again, and Meren gritted his teeth. That mannerism annoyed him; it made him want to rub the brand that marred his own wrist beneath the gold bracelet.

 "Hormin was known as a contentious man. It is said  that he complained about his lazy, stupid sons to anyone at the office of records and tithes who would listen. Did he chastise you in front of others?"

 During Meren's speech Djaper had straightened from  his relaxed pose. His face flushed, and he lowered his eyes.

 "Father criticized everyone." The words were said  quietly, with deliberate lightness, but Djaper's face drained of its crimson hue until it was almost a paste color.

 "I wager he criticized you most of all, since you  seem to be quite intelligent. From what I understand, your clever heart would be a fly in an open wound to Hormin."

"He was proud of me," Djaper said.

 "He said so? You didn't hate him for disgracing you  in front of superiors and fellow apprentices?"

 Djaper was quiet for a moment before letting a tentative smile pull at his lips. He met Meren's eyes directly, humor making them sparkle.

"The lord is wise, but he forgets that a father can be harsh and yet love his sons. It was so with mine."

"I see. Then you were worried when your father couldn't be found this morning."

 "Not at first. We thought he was with Beltis, and she  thought he was with us. So it wasn't until the sun was up that we understood that he wasn't in the house at all. I was looking for him when I discovered the theft in his office. And then the priest came and told us he was dead."

 "I want a list of the missing possessions," Meren said. He was pacing slowly in front of a table stacked with flat sheets of papyrus. He stopped beside it and glanced at the top sheet. It was a record of taxes from the Hare Nome. "You're diligent in the service of Pharaoh, to work at night."

 "It is nothing, lord. The sheet was damaged, and I  was copying it for Father. It is finished and must be returned to the overseer tomorrow."

 Meren lifted the sheet to reveal a copy of an old collection of wisdom handed down from scribe to scribe for centuries. He let the papyrus fall.

 "You say nothing of your father's death. Earlier you  were ready to blame Beltis for that and for the theft."

 "Ah, Lord Meren, forgive me, but I never blamed Beltis for Father's killing." Djaper furrowed his brow. "But as I think upon the idea… Beltis might…"

 "I don't like maidenly fluttering," Meren said.  "Speak plainly."

Again Djaper's wide-open eyes lowered, and he blushed. "Beltis is a woman of great appetite. She has come to my bed seeking pleasure of me, and—forgive me, lord—but it is distasteful to speak of such a thing. But Lord Meren has perhaps discovered the concubine's nature himself."

Meren only stared at Djaper.

 "It may be," Djaper said when he realized he wouldn't get an answer, "it may be that Beltis decided that she wanted Father's goods and a younger man at the same time. Oh, not that I am fool enough to think she'd want me without the goods."

 Djaper laughed, and Meren couldn't help smiling.  The young man was laughing at himself, and such humility was admirable. Meren turned away from Djaper.

 "You may arrange proper care for your father's body soon." With a nod he left Djaper. He closed the door behind him, then opened it again. Sticking his head inside the room, he caught Djaper as he was collapsing, loose-limbed, on the couch. "You know I will examine the copy of your father's will that rests in the House of Life."

 Djaper rolled gracefully to the floor on his knees and  bent his neck. "Yes, lord, I know."

"I'm not surprised."

 Meren slammed the door shut and stood looking at it  while he rubbed his chin. He would have to send men to check on the activities of the two brothers, but he didn't think Djaper had lied. Not about things that could be proven false. No, Djaper was much too clever to lie unless he lied well. But Meren wasn't convinced that the young man was as tranquil as he seemed. How could he be, having a father like Hormin? His
ka
should be shriveled with the heat of anger at being humiliated constantly by a man less intelligent than himself.

The scent of heavily spiced perfume intruded upon Meren's thoughts. He sniffed and looked at Iry-nufer.  The man was watching him, waiting for an opportunity to speak.

"The concubine was here," Meren said.

 "Yes, my lord. She hovered about, but left when she  saw me."

"Anyone else?"

"No, lord."

"Then come."

 Meren set off for the chamber of Imsety. One last examination and he could go home. Kysen might be waiting for him with his news of the questioning of those of  the Place of Anubis. It could be that Hormin's murder had nothing to do with his family and instead was related to one of the priests or embalming workers. It was just this possibility that had sent the old Controller of Mysteries into a fit and made him appeal to Meren in the first place.

 Imsety was also guarded. As he left Iry-nufer and the other man at the door, Meren heard the scrape of metal  against stone. Iry-nufer heard it too. The guard slipped past Meren, putting his body between his master and Imsety. He drew his scimitar and shouted at Imsety. Meren stepped to the side and saw Hormin's oldest son squatting on the floor, a whetstone and knife in his hands. He was gaping at Iry-nufer.

Iry-nufer hefted the scimitar. "I said drop the knife."

 The blade clattered to the floor, but Iry-nufer wasn't  satisfied.

"Your forehead to the floor. Spread out your arms."

 When his victim was prone, Iry-nufer picked up the  knife. He looked at Meren, who jerked his head toward the door. Iry-nufer left, uttering a threat in Imsety's direction.

"You may rise," Meren said.

Imsety raised himself to a sitting position and stuttered an apology.

"Where did you get the knife?"

 'There are many in that pot, lord." Imsety pointed to  a pottery jar by his bed. "Household knives, I hone them. The work—my hands." Imsety stopped; Meren waited, but the man had evidently said as much as he could or would.

"You like to work with your hands?" Meren asked.

 "Yes, lord. Father, this house, the fighting." Imsety's  big shoulders heaved with a sigh.

 Meren waited, again in vain. "The work takes your  thoughts from sorrow and anger."