The Right Hand of Amon (33 page)

In a single fluid movement, the boy dropped off the stairs, grabbed a$arpoon leaning against the wall, and held it ready to throw at the intruder. The youngest girl sucked in her breath and scooted closer to her mother. The other two stared wide-eyed and afraid. The woman, whose name was Nefer, he had been told, rose swiftly to her feet, scattering a lapful of peas across the floor, and stood over her daughters, a lioness protective of her brood. A childish hiss behind him warned Bak to look to his back. The boys carrying the water jars stood at the door, trapping him inside. He hastened to raise his hands, palms forward. "I'm Lieutenant Bak, head of the Medjay police from Buhen. Senu surely told you of me."

Nefer's mouth tightened. "You're not welcome here, Lieutenant. Go away."

Like her husband, she was no longer young. The years, the frequent pregnancies, had taken their toll on both body and face, but Bak could see she had once been a very elegant if not beautiful woman.

"I've no time to waste, Mistress. I need your help, and soon!"

"You're not to be trusted, Senu told me. You believe he slew that wretched Puemre, and he did not."

"Where is he?"

"Where do you think he is?" she asked scornfully. "He has a task to do, and he's doing it. He went to the fortress to make sure his men were prepared for Amon-Psaro's arrival."

Senu might well be doing exactly what she claimed, Bak thought-or he might already be positioning himself to slay the Kushite king. He glanced around the room, trying to think of a sure and speedy way to get her to reveal what lay in her heart. "Yours must be the one family in Iken going about its tasks as if this day was no different than any other."

She swept her hand in an arc, drawing his attention to the overflowing baskets. "If we don't prepare these vegetables for storage, they won't last through the upcoming months. We've worked too hard planting and tilling and harvesting to watch them rot before our eyes."

"These are newly harvested?" He frowned at the baskets, puzzled. "Couldn't the task have waited until tomorrow, giving you the chance to watch the procession?"

"I see you've never farmed an island," she scoffed. "We left the crops in our low-lying fields as long as we could. If we'd not harvested yesterday, we'd have lost them all to high waters today."

Bak recalled the neighbor speaking of a farmer knocking on the door. He almost laughed aloud. A fellow farmer on the island, no doubt. And a hasty departure, not to hide from a prying police officer but to save a crop. Could the explanation for their disappearance be so simple? "Did your husband go with you to help?"

Nefer glanced at the abundance of vegetables and laughed. "What do you think?"

"A big job," he admitted. Grabbing the stool, he set it upright and dropped onto it. "Go on with your work, Mistress. With luck, you'll finish in time to watch your royal kin march through Iken."

She signaled her children back to their tasks and knelt to pick up the peas she had scattered over the floor. The boys at the door brought the jars inside and, with the help of their older brother, unloaded them from the yoke and leaned them against the wall. They joined the older boy on the stairway to watch and listen. To protect if necessary, Bak felt sure.

"Someone's told you of my relationship to Amon-Psaro, I see," she said.

Her composure, her utter lack of concern were disconcerting, not the way a woman would-behave if she carried fear in her heart. "I've heard you're a woman of royal blood," he said, keeping his voice noncommittal, giving no hint of how little he knew.

"I'm his cousin, a daughter of his father's sister. I was eleventh in line~to be his queen." A smile played on her lips. "Too far away to threaten those near the throne, but close enough to be kept in his palace as a spare."

The quip was so unexpected, Bak grinned. "I'm impressed. I've never talked with a royal princess before." Nefer gave him a wry smile. "Save your awe, Lieutenant. The day Senu took me from the palace was the happiest I'd ever been, and I thank the lady Hathor each and every morning for the life we have together."

She wore her happiness like a linen robe, warm and secure in its folds. To what lengths would she and Senu go if their life together was threatened? He approached the question obliquely. "How'd you manage to get away?"

"When first Senu came to our palace, he was guard to an envoy representing Akheperenre Tuthmose, who ruled Kemet at that time. My cousin gave a feast for the party from Waset, and I was one of those chosen to attend. Though I sat with the other women far behind the king, Senu noticed me. He didn't know I carried royal blood; he saw only a woman who attracted him. So he asked AmonPsaro if he could have me."

Bak whistled. "That must've taken a lot of nerve." "No man but Senu would've been so bold," she said, smiling at the boys on the stairway, sharing with them her fondness for their father. "At that time, there were no horses in Kush. Amon-Psaro, who'd had a team and chariot while a hostage in Waset, wanted a herd with all his heart. So he told Senu that if he could deliver a fine pair, one stallion and one mare, I'd be his." Her eyes twinkled. "I was sure I'd seen the last of him. But the following year, he returned with two lovely white horses and a six-weekold brown filly. Amon-Psaro handed me over then and there."

Bak laughed with her, but soon sobered. Each answer she gave raised a fresh problem. "How did Senu, a common soldier, manage to lay hands on animals so costly?"

Footsteps sounded in the lane outside. Nefer transferred her smile to the doorway, adding the special warmth longwed men and women reserve for their beloved. Senu stepped over the threshold, spotted Bak, stopped dead still. He queried his wife with a glance.

Her smile never faltered, though she must have noticed how wary he was of the younger officer. "Lieutenant Bak and I were chatting about the past. I was just telling him how you won me."

Bak, who had begun to feel the warmth of Nefer's trust, was irritated by her husband's unexpected appearance. On the bright side, though, Senu was not in hiding, preparing to slay Amon-Psaro.

Senu eyed Bak, his expression hard, intractable. "Commander Woser told me to answer any questions you might ask, but he has no authority over my household."

Nothing would ever make him a handsome man, but, decked out in ceremonial garb, his muscular body oiled to a satiny sheen, he was striking. Short white kilt. Broad collar and bracelets made of bronze and blue and red beads. Bronze belt clasp, armlets, and anklets. Long spear shined to perfection, dagger sheathed in polished leather, and a golden tan cowhide shield. Golden fly of valor suspended from a gold chain around his neck.

Bak was very aware of the six small faces turned their way, the large, dark eyes locked on their father. He had no desire to lower Senu in his children's esteem, but time was too short for tact. He stood up, facing Senu squarely, his expression as hard as that of the watch officer. "I have the authority to ask any question I wish. Did not Woser make that clear?"

"You can ask." Senu's jaw jutted. "We don't have to answer."

Bak's voice challenged. "You claim you don't like to see men die in battle. Well, I'm trying to stop a war, and I intend to succeed with or without your help."

Nefer's eyes widened. She clapped a hand over her mouth and wraMed the opposite arm around the youngest girl.

Senu stepped back a pace, surprised and puzzled. "You're not here about Puemre's death?"

"Indirectly, yes, but his slaying is no longer my primary concern."

Senu looked at his wife, and an unspoken message

passed between them. He sat down on the stool Bak had vacated. "Go on," he growled. "I won't promise we'll answer, but try us."

"Will you see Amon-Psaro while he's here?" Bak asked Nefer.

"If we finish with these in time. . ." Drawing her arm from around her daughter, she nodded toward the vegetables. ". . . I'll go with the children to watch the procession to the harbor."

"Will you speak with him, I mean, while he's here in Iken."

She frowned, trying to understand his purpose. "If he summons me."

"But you won't go out of your way to approach him," Bak said, pressing the issue.

Senu leaned forward on the stool, his expression stormy. "Let me set you straight, Lieutenant. Nefer may be AmonPsaro's cousin, but before all else she's my wife and the mother of my children. She's no longer a woman of Kush, nor does she want any part of her homeland."

Nefer hastened to explain, to soften her husband's belligerence. "We've five sons, Lieutenant Bak. They're no closer to the throne than I was, but they'd be looked at as a greater threat because they're male children. Neither Senu nor I want them to be involved in any life-and-death struggle for the throne should Amon-Psaro die."

"Believe me," Senu added in a fervent voice, "we pray each day he'll live many long years, and that the priest Kenamon will heal his firstborn son. The boy is the only child he's sired on the queen, the only child whose claim to the throne is unimpeachable."

Bak glanced toward the stairway, where the three youths were watching and listening with unflagging interest. He wondered what they thought about the life they lived in Iken as compared to the way they would live in a palace in the land of Kush. He dismissed the urge to ask. Both

Senu and Nefer were too protective of their brood to tolerate questions directed to their children.

"Would you not feel safer with your family in Kemet?" he asked.

"Why should we run away?" Nefer, her eyes flashing scorn, flung a handful of peas into a bowl. "You haven't been listening to my husband, Lieutenant. I'm not a woman of Kush. I've lived in this land of Wawat since I was fourteen years of age. I've a different name, one common to women of Kemet. I dress and cook and live like the women of Kemet. Amon-Psaro has no claim on me, nor has the land of my birth."

"This is our home," Senu said, giving his wife a supportive nod. "Oh, I grumble about a stalled career, claim bitterness at being assigned to this godforsaken land of Wawat, blame my youthful error for a lifetime of assignments on this vile frontier." He clasped his hands between his knees, smiled at Bak a bit sheepishly. "The truth of the matter is that my boyhood mistake, one I regret bitterly, had no influence on my career. To rise through the ranks I had merely to move north to Kemet. But we'd have had to leave this land of Wawat, a place our children have always known, a place Nefer and I love as much as life itself."

Bak had no doubt Senu would kill to protect his familyand so would Nefer. But neither would do so, he was convinced, unless he or she had no other choice. "I know nothing of the customs of the land of Kush," he admitted, his eyes on Nefer, "so my next question may seem foolish. Would Amon-Psaro ... Could Amon-Psaro reclaim you, take you back to his palace as his own?"

"If he's the same man he once was," Nefer said with a laugh, "he thanks the lord Amon each night and morning that he had the good sense to trade me for those horses."

Bak and Senu laughed with her, dissolving the tension and the mutual mistrust. The children, most of whom were too young to understand, began to laugh, too, cautious, tentative, relieved.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Senu said, "You spoke of preventing a war, and you question us about AmonPsaro. There must be a connection between the two."

Can these people be trusted? Bak asked himself. Yes. They've nothing to gain by the Kushite king's death, nothing to lose while he lives.

"Puemre was slain because he discovered a plot to slay Amon-Psaro." He forced himself to go on, to voice the unthinkable. "Inyotef, I now feel sure, is the man I seek."

The full force of the pilot's betrayal struck him. For a betrayal it was. A personal betrayal because a man he .had liked and trusted had deceived him with lies and smiles and had then tried to slay him. The larger betrayal, that of Inyotef turning his back on the land of Kemet and the company of gods, was no less hurtful.

"I'd not have thought it of him." Senu, hurrying along the lane beside Bak, shook his head as if to deny Inyotef's treachery. "We've never been close, but I've always believed I could trust him."

"My conscience prodded me each time I considered the possibility." Even now, after accepting the pilot's perfidy, Bak felt deceitful in voicing his mistrust. "He used that, I'm sure, to blind me to his wrongdoing."

In the distance, a trumpet blared. Three long blasts. It was the second signal they had heard since leaving Senu's house. They could see nothing from the lower city, but Bak pictured a herald standing high on the twin-towered southern gate of the fortress, his eyes on the distant caravan, invisible except for a huge yellowish cloud of billowing dust, making its slow way north along the desert track. "How much farther to his house?" Bak asked. "A few blocks, that's all."

Men, women, and children hurried along the street, not yet a stream but a steady trickle making for the path that would take them up the incline to the fortress. Eager and excited voices, laughter ringing out, an impatient mother yapping at her children. The crack of a whip, rapid hoofbeats, and the raucous braying of a train of donkeys made to hurry against their will. A gentle breeze stirred the air, easing the heat without raising the dust.

"From what I've heard, his anger can flare in an instant and only a quick retreat can save the one closest to him from the fury of his fists." Senu ducked away from a snapping donkey. "But for the life of me, I can't think why he'd want Amon-Psaro dead. As far as I know, they haven't met for years. I see no flame there."

"I think a long-dormant ember has come back to life." Bak stepped over a greenish pile of fresh manure, launching a cloud of flies. "Do you recall any special happening, anything unusual or suspect, when your paths crossed in days gone by?"

"We seldom met. I spent too much time traveling, guarding shipments of precious objects moving downriver or escorting envoys laden with gifts for tribal kings far upriver. He, too, spent most of his time on the water, but on warships rather than merchantmen. As far as I know, he never sailed much farther south than Semna."