The City of Refuge: Book 1 of The Memphis Cycle (15 page)

XXIV

“I am old enough to be your father, Commander,” Lord Nebamun said as they drove back toward Akhet-Aten along the broad, smooth path beaten by royal command when the city was opened. “And I am going to speak to you for a moment as though you are my son in fact.”

“Your Grace?” Khonsu asked. He had told Nebamun the entire sorry tale of Sithathor's flight, their divorce, and Sherit's illness. Now he was caught in the sense of ending a long sojourn through a land of grief and loss.

Nebamun pulled his horses to a halt and smoothed the reins through his hands He was frowning slightly. The frown lightened as he looked up from the chariot rail. “I mean this,” he said. “It is no use fretting over the past: it is gone beyond retrieving. You will just bruise yourself bloody going back again and again to the way things were, and how you might have been happy and your life unchanged if only you had done or said something differently. That is the way to bitterness and madness, and you must leave it behind you.”

“But Your Grace,” Khonsu began. He paused and then fell silent.

Nebamun waited, but when Khonsu did not speak he smiled and shook his head. “Just consider this,” he said. “You have seen what your wife was like. If you could turn time back, but know what you know now: would you want her back just as all was before? Do you think you would be happy?”

Khonsu looked down.

“I agree,” Nebamun said. “You were not suited to each other, and she left. You have told me that you have truly found no reason to blame yourself.”

“But I could have been a better husband,” Khonsu said, looking down at his knobbed, whitened knuckles where his hands gripped the reins.

“We all can think of things we might have done better or more thoroughly if we had known that they would go wrong,” Nebamun said. “We can all blame ourselves for mistakes we made. I don't mean the deliberate, bad actions. I mean the actions we took, meaning well, that turned out to be the absolutely worst things we could have done under the circumstances. In your case the point is to remember that you did the best that you could according to what you knew at the time. It is time to accept the fact that your marriage is over and be grateful for all that was good in it, and accept as well that the two of you will never meet again as husband and wife, and perhaps this is the best thing that could have happened for both of you.”

“It's hard, Your Grace.”

“Yes,” Nebamun agreed. His eyes were shadowed. “And yet I have found, myself, that when something is dead, the best thing to do is to bury it, mourn it for its proper season, and then go on with your life. And your marriage did, after all, leave you with a lovely little daughter, so all was not in vain.”

Khonsu looked at Nebamun. “You are right,” he said.

“I believe I am in this case,” Nebamun said. “It is time to move on and let your heart turn towards others again. And Commander-' He waited until Khonsu looked at him. “There are things I cannot discuss, but please believe me when I say that I am telling you what I have learned in my own life. I nearly lost my wife's love before I learned the lesson.”

“Your Grace has helped me more than I can say,” Khonsu said. He looked ahead of them and then pointed. “We're almost back at Akhet-Aten,” he said with a sense of loss. He faltered into silence, aware that for all Lord Nebamun's amiability, he was a greater lord than Khonsu had ever dealt with, even including Count Tothotep. What interest could Khonsu's problems have for such a man?

He raised his head. “Your Grace -”

Lord Nebamun looked at him.

Khonsu took a deep breath. “I want to thank you. For listening to me. I-I haven't been able to speak of this to many. I don't like to trouble people with my-problems... Least of all one like you with so many concerns that mine must seem so trivial...”

Nebamun smiled and set his hand on Khonsu's shoulder. “How could you think so?” he asked. “The happiness of Egypt is made up of the happiness of many souls. If I know and like another, his pain and joy touch me as well. I have smiled to see how your daughter's letters have eased your mind, and if my words have somehow spoken to this other grief of yours, then I am glad for it.”

“They have helped,” Khonsu said.

Nebamun tightened his grip on Khonsu's shoulder and then released it. “Good,” he said. “I am honored by your confidence. I promise you, it isn't misplaced.”

“No, Your Grace,” Khonsu said with a smile.

Nebamun shook the reins. “Now,” he said with a return to briskness. “Shall we see what can be done about these ghosts and robbers?”

**   **   **

Nebamun and Khonsu encountered guards from Seti's contingent when they reached the northern approaches to Akhet-Aten. The squadron stopped them in a brisk, efficient manner and checked them over, then passed them into the city and sent a messenger racing off to alert General Seti, who arrived at a gallop shortly after.

“All well, General?” Nebamun asked when the initial greetings were finished.

Seti's handsome face warmed in a welcoming smile. “Well enough, Your Grace,” he said. “And will be all the better now that you and the Commander are back. Which reminds me-' He took a message from his belt. “Lest I repeat an earlier error, let me give this to Commander Khonsu at once.”

“Another letter from your daughter?” Nebamun asked.

Khonsu looked up from opening the papyrus packet. “Yes,” he said. “Written the night before last.”

“It's good news, from what the messenger told me,” Seti said. “But I won't spoil it for you. Another courier came after he left. An engaging fellow named Rahu, who said that he's swinging back after taking a message to Mir, and he said he'd linger if you had some word you wished to send back to your daughter.”

“Excellent,” said Nebamun.

Seti's eyes went to Khonsu's chariot. “Where did that come from?” he demanded. “I'll be bound it isn't from this force! I wouldn't allow a four-spoked wheel among my people. They're dangerous!”

“It's sturdy enough, General,” Khonsu said, looking up from Sherit's letter with a smile. “A ghost drove it.”

Seti looked from Khonsu to Lord Nebamun.

“We met the “ghost',” said the Second Prophet. “He was driving this. He abandoned it after I shot him and killed one of his horses. It was interesting to see that ghosts bleed.”

Seti looked more closely at the chariot. “That's a piece of tomb goods,” he said.

“Yes,” said Nebamun. “We're dealing with robbers on one score, at least. And possibly more. What did Paser's patrol and inventory turn up?”

Seti reluctantly looked away from the chariot. “He plans to speak with you on that subject this evening, Your Grace,” he said.

**   **   **

“Nothing at all?” Nebamun repeated. He, his officers, and his contingent of priests had dined beneath the twilight sky. Now the Second Prophet was seated at his ease in what had once been the courtyard surrounding a reflecting pool. The night was dark, with rags of clouds drifting across the sky, parting from time to time to show patches of stars. “You surprise me, Paser. From what I have seen, I would have thought that this city is full of treasure to be salvaged.'

Ptahemhat shifted in his place.

“Nevertheless, Your Grace,” said Paser, glancing at the Ptahemhat. “There was nothing aside from the few trinkets we found.”

“I see,” Nebamun said. He sat back in his carved chair and looked around at the others. “The patrols have gone as planned, I understand. We'll be wise to post guards at the quarry and at all approaches to this city, especially those from the north.”

“It will be done, Your Grace,” Khonsu said.

“The patrols had better be alert,” Nebamun said. “I have reason to believe that our “ghost' looted a tomb.”

“That ghost wasn't the only one to do some looting, Your Grace,” Ptahemhat said. His voice was hard and cold. “There's another standing right in front of you!”

“What do you mean, Ptahu?”

“Your Grace should ask Paser,” Ptahemhat said.

Paser swung toward him. “You impertinent whelp!” he choked. “What do you mean?”

The younger man stepped forward. “You say you conducted a search of some of the houses.”

“That's right,” Paser replied, slanting an eye toward Lord Nebamun.

“And you say you found nothing?”

“There was nothing to find,” Paser said again.

Ptahemhat's smile turned suddenly savage as he took a bowl from one of his men and held it over his head for everyone to see. “Then you can tell me what this is!” he said.

Seti, standing closest to Ptahemhat, took it from him and turned it over in his hands.

Paser's expression was an odd mixture of rage and chagrin. “Where did you get that?” he demanded.

“It was found among your personal effects, thief!” Ptahemhat hissed. “By someone who had a right to look! You talk of our incompetence, you slander my loyalty with your innuendoes about intruders, you sneer at your betters and try to undercut their commands, and all the while you're nothing but a thief! Hoarding treasure-”

“Treasure!” Paser scoffed. “Look at it: it's worthless! It's dark and filthy!”

Seti lifted his eyebrows and then frowned at the bowl. “This is some sort of metal,” he said as he rubbed a fingertip against it. “It's worth something at least for that.' The black overlay of tarnish thinned beneath the motion of his hand to reveal white metal.

Seti stared and then looked up. “This isn't quite worthless, Captain Paser,” he said, holding up the bowl. “It appears to be pure silver.”

Nebamun, who had been sitting back at his ease, his eyes moving ominously from Paser to Ptahemhat, started, leaned forward and stared as the rest of the group jostled and murmured.

Seti turned the silver bowl over in his hands, weighing it, and frowned down at the incised decorations before passing it to Khonsu. “You may want to look this over, Commander,” he said. “This is Hittite work, by the decoration. It's solid. I'd estimate it at eight deben of silver, wouldn't you? Enough to feed a poor family for half a year.”

“I agree,” Khonsu said, looking down at the bowl. He nodded to one of the priests beside him. “Give this to His Grace,” he said. The slight smile faded from his lips as he turned back to Paser. “You don't deny that it was among your belongings,” he said. “Your only excuse for taking this is to claim that it's “worthless', which anyone with eyes can see it's not! Was there more like it where you found it?”

“I resent your-”

“Did you take it, Paser?” Perineb asked.

“I thought it was worthless!” Paser protested.

“But did you take it from where you found it?” Perineb persisted.

“It was worthless-' Paser began again. He met Perineb's level stare and lowered his eyes. “I– Yes, I took it. No one knew whose it was!”

“Worthless enough to hide away from everyone's gaze!” Ptahemhat said contemptuously.

Paser lifted his head with the abrupt motion of a striking snake. “And that's a fine thing!” he hissed. “You pawing through my belongings!”

Nehesi had been watching the scene with his eyebrows raised. “Let it go!” he rumbled. “I know what happened: the temple servants were charged with taking an inventory of supplies for quarrying. It was at my orders. They went through everyone's belongings, my own included, and I think that must have been when they found that!”

“You meddling-' Paser began.

Nehesi pushed himself to his full, impressively muscled height and folded his arms.

Paser took a step back.

“Now answer the Commander's question,” Nehesi said.

Paser's face contracted. “No,” he said after a pause. “There was just this one thing.”

“Hmm,” said Khonsu. He looked around at his officers and then over at Nebamun.

The Second Prophet was seated in as upright and ordered a position as though he were a statue carved from the fine-grained limestone that Nehesi had shown Khonsu the morning before. He was holding the silver bowl with both hands and gazing at it as though it contained a message that only he could read. As Khonsu watched, his eyes lifted from their contemplation of the bowl to rest on Paser's face and narrow, but his expression and posture remained otherwise unchanged as he handed the bowl to Perineb.

Interesting,
thought Khonsu. “I await Your Grace's orders,” he said.

Nebamun's expression was an odd mixture of disgust and grief as he wiped his fingers on the hem of his robe and then looked at Khonsu. “The man is under your command,” he said. “You have heard the accusation and his response.”

“Theft of Pharaoh's property is a serious crime, Your Grace,” Khonsu said. “I recommend that he be reduced in the ranks and placed under guard. His case will be heard by Pharaoh's magistrates when we return to Khemnu.”

“So be it,” said Nebamun. “And what of the bowl?”

Khonsu took the bowl from Perineb and turned to Paser. “You stole this,” he said. “And now you're paying the penalty for your theft. But-' he turned to Nebamun. “Your Grace, there's a way for him to mitigate his wrongdoing if it came from an honest misunderstanding, as he says.”

Nebamun's expression was unreadable, but he inclined his head. “Continue, Commander,” he said.