The City of Refuge: Book 1 of The Memphis Cycle (34 page)

LVII

Khonsu passed through the next week with the wondering serenity of a man who finds himself awakening from a distant dream of hardship and fatigue to the awareness of a beautiful dawn. He could feel his strength returning, and each new day seemed to bring new happiness. He was able to leave his bed in the High Priest's palace and move to a suite of airy, spacious chambers in the Second Prophet's smaller house under the care of the Lady Mayet and her remaining unmarried daughter, Sitra.

Sherit had been turned over to Lady Mayet's care upon her arrival in Memphis. She had been welcomed into the Second Prophet's family with as much warmth as a new daughter. She beguiled several days chattering to Khonsu of the things Lady Mayet had been teaching her about running a large estate, and she had even told him that His Grace, who doted on his daughters, had taken her to the archery course and taught her to shoot a bow and arrow.

“His Grace said he'd teach me to drive a chariot,” Sherit said early one afternoon, a week after Karoya's visit. She, Lady Mayet and Lady Sitra were sitting in the garden with him and enjoying the afternoon breeze while they sipped cups of cooled pomegranate juice. She smiled at Lady Mayet and said, “If Her Ladyship doesn't mind, I'll ask him to teach me when he returns.”

“There is no reason to think I would stop you, my love,” Mayet said with a smile.

“Some people say it's un–unseemly for a woman to drive horses,” Sherit said. She was dressed in pleated royal linen, and Sitra had carefully outlined her eyes with kohl and a little powdered malachite. Khonsu, seeing for the first time in his daughter's face the beauty that would belong to the woman she would grow into, felt a little sad.

Lady Mayet's soft, smiling voice moved gently into his thoughts. “The great queen Ashore, who was the wife of Serener the Brave, drove her chariot into battle against the Hyksos,” she said. “It was a time of terrible danger for this land, and no one dared think less of her for that. And no one will think less of you, either, my pretty one, for learning to drive a chariot.”

Sherit looked imploringly at Khonsu. “May I, Papa?” she pleaded.

“If Her Ladyship approves, you may,” Khonsu said.

Sitra had been sitting quietly, watching the others with a smile. While she had inherited her mother's gentle voice and smiling serenity, Khonsu had discovered a strong streak of her father's dry humor. She certainly favored him in appearance, though the faint slant of her eyes made her look kittenish, and her full-cut mouth was softened into charm with a dimple in her cheek.

She had taken it upon herself to be Khonsu's special warden, and had succeeded in taking so large a place in his heart he was beginning to wonder how he could live without her when the time came for him to leave.

It was good to enjoy the breezes blowing from the river and savor the afternoon peace and let worries of rank and occupation take second place to the tart-sweet taste of the pomegranate juice. He closed his eyes and listened to Sherit and Sitra discuss the activities that ignorant people considered unladylike as he drifted into sleep.

The sun was low in the sky when he opened his eyes again, and the garden was quiet, except for the sigh of the breeze and the distant sounds of the city. Khonsu yawned and turned on his side. For the first time that he could remember, the movement did not hurt. A light blanket of fine wool had been placed over him as a guard against the afternoon chill, and a jug and a cup sat beside him, along with a plate of sliced perseas.

The ladies were nowhere to be seen. It was no wonder, he thought, in view of the fascinating companionship he had provided over the past weeks. But the westering sun's golden light was pleasant, and the garden was no less beautiful for its silence. He settled back with a sigh and let his gaze rest upon the lattice of palm fronds before him.

A slight sound behind him made him realize he was not alone. He sat up, his hand to his side, turned, and met the wide, dark gaze he had seen sculpted in the workshop of Djehutymose the master sculptor and, at the last, in his dream on the night he was wounded. The hazel eyes lightened in a smile.

An answering smile warmed Khonsu's face. “Welcome back to Memphis at last, Your Grace,” he said, holding out his hand.

**   **   **

“His Majesty has been generous to me,” said Lord Nebamun. “He publicly approved my actions at Akhet-Aten. I need fear no ghosts from that place ever again. Other matters were dealt with in a generous and satisfying manner, including reopening the city of Sumneh. General Ramesses was there, by the way. He was interested in hearing of you, and Seti was happy to oblige him.

“Seti sends his regards, as well, and asked that I tell you he is now the proud father of a new son, Ramesses, who did not repeat his sire's behavior on his first public presentation. He will be coming to Memphis in a month, and he's looking forward to renewing your friendship then.”

“I will be glad to see him,” Khonsu said with a smile. The smile faded after a moment. “I understand Lord Tothotep has appointed my second, Kheti, to command the Army in my place.”

“Yes, Tothotep told me himself,” Nebamun said. “Don't worry: it actually is good news for you. You'll see. As for you, I am happy to see you so far recovered. Sennefer tells me you're out of danger now.”

Khonsu's smile was reserved. “I was out of danger from the moment you slammed the doors of death shut that night,” he said. “No power in all creation could have claimed me after you did that.”

Nebamun's expression grew quizzical, but he did not speak.

“And I couldn't help but do well under Her Ladyship's care,” Khonsu added.

Nebamun's smile deepened. “She is a treasure,” he said. “How I missed her all this time! She kept me informed of your progress when I was in Thebes. Sherit wrote to me as well.”

“She has blossomed like a flower here,” Khonsu said. A touch of his sadness returned for a moment.

Nebamun understood. “Daughters grow up,” he said. “They can't remain children forever, but there are compensations, I promise.” He stretched out his legs before him. “I am back from Thebes,” he said, “And you're well on the way to recovery. Now it is time for me to redeem my promise.”

“Your Grace?”

“Don't you remember?” Nebamun asked. “It was the evening after Pharaoh sent his messenger, Achtoy, with the word that my past and future actions were all in accordance with his wishes. You came to apologize for what you termed meddling, and to urge me to be careful with my life. I think you had guessed by then what I was doing. I told you I couldn't turn aside, no matter what the cost might be. I also told you that if I survived, I would answer any questions you might have.”

“I remember,” Khonsu said. “I also remember saying Your Grace owed me no explanation.”

“Oh come now, Commander,” Nebamun said with the nearest approximation to a grin that Khonsu had seen. “You are a naturally inquisitive man. I can't believe you have no questions.”

Khonsu met his gaze and began to laugh. “You're right... Neb-Aten,” he said.

“Neb-Aten, son of the Prince and Vizier Nakht, son of Prince Ahmose, son of Thutmose IV by Princess Tadukhepa of Mittani,” Lord Nebamun said. “You established that almost effortlessly. And what else?”

“There's the matter of Paser's death,” Khonsu said. “I'm not sure I understand all that happened there.”

Nebamun lifted an eyebrow. “I don't think there is much you don't understand,” he said. “You know already why Paser was allowed to remain with the expedition. If I had it all to do again, I wouldn't change that. I think he had gone mad, and there was no help for him.

“You saw the bowl he had stolen. It was part of a set of silver bowls and platters sent as a gift to my father by King Shupilluliumash of the Hittites. There were no others like them in Egypt, and so when Paser admitted it was his, I knew he had found my father's tomb. I hoped to make it secure, a ticklish matter, since I was forbidden to speak of what had happened here at Akhet-Aten years ago.

“Things happened swiftly. Paser fought Ptahemhat and left Akhet-Aten. I knew he would return to my father's tomb and plunder it. I decided to stop him permanently. In addition to that, though, you were close on my trail. You had told me that Mersu would bring you to my tomb the next day. I knew I had to destroy anything that would tie me in with Neb-Aten. And so I drugged all my officers during the feast, which gave me time to destroy my 'corpse' and my portrait statue. If I hadn't been so pressed for time, I might have remembered the likeness that had been left in Master Djehutymose' studio.

“I knew I had to move swiftly. I disabled Ruia. I really should apologize to him for that tap on his skull, but I was careful. I then went to my tomb and entered the burial chamber. Though I hated the thought of it, I lit the fire atop the sarcophagus, and then went on to my father's tomb.

“Paser didn't trust many people. One of Huni's people from Khebet was standing guard outside. An arrow in the throat did him in, and he couldn't shout for help. Once he was dead, I set my bow and quiver in a safe spot and entered my father's tomb. Paser was there, striking at the barrier to the sarcophagus chamber with a maul. A few more blows and he would have broken through.

“'Stop this at once!' I commanded, advancing. I had set my bow and arrows aside because the tomb was too crowded for archery and I wanted to question Paser. I had my dagger with me, and I knew, none better than me, where other weapons could be found in my father's tomb.

“Paser saw me and tossed the maul aside. He was far gone with greed; he didn't know I was Neb-Aten and I was protecting my father from insult. He thought I wanted the treasure for myself. “So the temple-rat's not the saint everyone thinks him!” he jeered, advancing. “Find another cache: this one's mine!”

“He drew his knife with a snarl and lunged for me.

“'You thief!' I said through my teeth. 'You have traded long enough on my compassion! I am going to stop you once and for all!” I parried the blow, but I didn't want to hurt him yet. He had some information I needed. He was a good fighter, but he was no match for one who had been trained to arms in a king's household from his youth. He realized this quickly, and it infuriated him. Soon he was striking wildly.

“I questioned him as we fought, and his answers didn't surprise me. Huni had corrupted him. It hadn't taken much effort. He offered him a share of any treasure taken from Akhet-Aten. 'It's all mine!' he panted. 'You want your share, temple-rat? You'll get it right now: a dagger between the ribs!'

“He had told me all I needed to know by then, and it was time to make an end. I seized the mace from the hand of my uncle's statue at the entry to my father's sarcophagus chamber, and closed with Paser in earnest.

“He realized his time was up. He tried to flee me, crashing up against boxes, flinging chests in my way as I advanced. I came closer, laying myself open for his blow, which I'd anticipated, but giving me clear scope for a sweeping stroke. It broke Paser's forearm. He crashed to his knees, screaming with pain.

“'You bastard!' he shrieked as I raised my mace again. 'Why did you have to get in my way? There's plenty for everyone! You can't—'

“'This is why,' I said, tossing him a ring I'd taken from my tomb: a ring with the name 'Neb-Aten' on it. It clattered to the ground before him, flashing gold in the torchlight, and he scrabbled it into his hand, greedy to the last. As he stared white-faced at it, I brought the mace down on his head and killed him.

“I left the ring clenched in Paser's fist. I thought it would give Huni something to think about when he found the body. I dragged him and his accomplice to the northern track, where he told me he had arranged to meet Huni's people just at dawn.”

Khonsu nodded. “You were wounded, yourself,” he said. “Was it then that you returned to Neb-Aten's tomb?”

“Then or never,” said Nebamun. “I only had one night to do everything I needed to do. I found the strength I needed, but it was hard to take Paser's maul and deface that beautiful statue my father had commissioned. I can still remember him standing there and smiling at it. And that splendid granite sarcophagus split into a thousand pieces when I poured the water on it.” He fell silent.

“And then you, wounded and exhausted and, I think, heartsick, wrestled the coffins out of the wreckage and opened them?”

“Yes,” said Nebamun. “It was hard. I opened the coffins, took out my 'body'—that was one of the strangest moments of my life, lifting my own corpse in my arms, carrying it clear of the debris, and setting it afire. I found I hadn't the stomach to watch it burn.”

“Mersu found blood on pieces of the sarcophagus,” Khonsu said. “You went to the northern palace at some time the next day and released Ruia, as well. You must have been in terrible pain by then.”

“I have had worse in my time,” Nebamun said. “It was bearable.”

“Perhaps so,” Khonsu said. “But...”

Nebamun lifted his eyebrows.

“You were protecting Paser's daughter with your silence.”

“Yes,” Nebamun said. “And it was worth it. Her father died a hero, and the thought comforts her. Poor little girl! She will never know otherwise.” He thought for a moment, his fingertips tapping against his knee. “It is proper, I think,” he said at last. “Paser tried, and it is not altogether his fault that he failed.”

“I heard you and Huni,” Khonsu said. “You went to Akhet-Aten to avenge your father's death. How did it come about?”