The Philistine Warrior (21 page)

“‘Delilah’?” the Princess asked.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Menena replied. “You see, that’s how your name is pronounced in Canaanite; it’s a popular name there. In Babylonian lore, there’s a night-ghost called ‘Lilith,’ and the word is echoed in ‘Laylah,’ which is one word for ‘night’ in the eastern dialects of
Canaan
. Well, and your own name, ‘Delai,’ is related to ‘Lay-lah,’ meaning something like a ‘soft web’—I don’t mean of material, but more like ‘the soft web of cool darkness as dusk falls—the peace and sweetness of evening.’ So that’s what ‘Delilah’ means: the ‘Sweet Web of the Night Air’….”

Delai interrupted his scholarly dissertation: “Why, that’s a lovely thought! I’d love to have a baby girl named after me. But

where did you learn about Babylonian and Canaanite names and lore?” she asked.

Rachel beamed with pride: “Menena’s so intelligent, I can’t keep up with him,” she said, and placed her arm around her husband. “Can you imagine? He learned Canaanite in a few months from a scribe—and it took me all of my childhood!” Menena smiled, as if to say that it was “really nothing.” After a little more chatter, Rachel suggested that Menena should take her and Delai for a chariot ride. “You can finish your old work later,” she told her husband.

Menena smiled again, and we followed him into his office to get his cap and riding whip. “You girls never get enough driving, do you?” he asked. I was a bit surprised by the familiar way in which he referred to the Princess, but Delai seemed unconcerned with such matters of etiquette. Menena then locked his desk and placed a seal on it. “The servants, you know,” he noted. “I have some money in there, and the seal scares them away, because they think it’s magic.”

We left Menena’s chamber; I had declined his invitation to ride with them, because I had to see Prince Ekosh in a half hour. So, I waved as the three of them mounted their chariot and rode off. Then, turning around, I noticed a dark, bald-headed man entering the Chamberlain’s office; it was that priest, Ibbi, and he clearly had not realized that I was on the porch, watching him.

I thought he was behaving in an extraordinary manner, so I moved quietly up to Menena’s door and peeked around the corner so as to spy upon the priest. Out of his pocket, he produced what must have been an exact replica of the cylinder seal which Menena had just used to impress the wax on his desk lock. Ibbi broke the sealed wax and picked the lock; he removed and studied a document from the desk; then, replacing the papyrus roll, he relocked and resealed the cabinet, imprinting his freshly heated wax with his cylinder seal. Seeing that his task was finished, I stepped back and hid behind a pillar until I heard his footsteps passing by.

I decided to follow him and, presumably, then proceed to report his conduct to the Prince. I was too puzzled even to guess what was going on. But to my surprise, it was Prince Ekosh himself whom Ibbi now sought—and found. I watched as he greeted the Prince: he

bowed, and then began to explain something to him, something obviously of great importance—I could tell that much from the look on the Prince’s face. Unable to contain myself any longer, I left my cover and walked into their company. Should I confront the priest now? I wondered; or wait until I’m alone with Ekosh?

The Prince solved my problem for me, however, by his first words: “Ah, Colonel Phicol—welcome! Priest Ibbi here has some very disturbing information for me which I want you to hear….” I’m not sure whether Ibbi was pleased by my entry, but he spoke on cue, beginning his story all over again. And quite a story it was.

It seems that Ibbi had met Chamberlain Menena some years before, when Menena was in the employment of the Priests of Amon—arch rivals of Pharaoh for the control of
real
, as opposed to theoretical, power in
Upper Egypt
. When Ibbi later joined Delai’s household, he could, of course, see how close Chamberlain was to Prince. The coincidence—employed by Amon and now Prince—aroused Ibbi’s suspicions; and so he did some detective work, using his friends in the priesthood of Hathor, for instance, as his agents…keeping tabs on Menena’s movements.

“The evidence,” Ibbi now told me, “as I had feared it would, soon pointed to contacts which Menena has maintained, to this very day, with the Priests of Amon; but I needed solid proof of double-dealing, and so—”

The Prince cut him off to shorten the story: “And so we planted some information among Pharaoh’s courtiers,” he explained, “which we knew the Amon priests would want to hear more about, more details. In turn, the only place the Amonists could learn more would be in my mansion, in my office!” He spoke with some indignation. “Well, then, if Menena was playing the spy—spying on me to gain information about Pharaoh’s advisors and our plans—and if Amon’s priests wanted details concerning our planted information…well, they must soon send instructions to Menena to learn those details from me, somehow; the he, himself, would have to send that new information back to them. Either way, we hoped to catch him in the act, preferably with a document….”

He paused, and Ibbi picked up the story: “And just now, Colonel, I saw that Menena would be gone for a while—he’s out riding with his wife and Her Highness, as you must know—”

I nodded: “Yes, I know.”

“And so I opened Menena’s desk on the chance that we might find what we needed there—and I found it: a document, his report to the Amonists on the very information we’d planted!”

Little did Ibbi know that I had spied on his spying on Menena’s spying! But I didn’t speak up about that, thinking it better to reserve my confidences for the ears of my Prince only—at least until I could be more certain of Priest Ibbi’s game.

After more discussion of the situation, we began to lay our plans for Menena’s arrest. “He’ll probably not be back until about sundown,” I guessed.

“I’m not certain whom I can trust, even in my own household,” Prince Ekosh remarked, thinking aloud—although it was obvious that he trusted Ibbi. Then he turned to me: “So, Phicol, what I want is for you to meet me at Menena’s door at sunset—with one of your Philistine soldiers…and have him come armed.” (I had brought some soldiers with me to
Egypt
as aides.) “We can count on them,” he concluded.

“Yes, sir,” I replied. “I’ll have one of them arrive with a javelin, as if coming off guard—that way, no one will think anything of it.”

“Good,” he approved, and we went our separate ways for the remainder of the afternoon.

As evening approached, the Prince and I—and my soldier—found Menena’s chamber empty. Had he come back already, and discovered Ibbi’s tampering with his desk seal—and fled? Ibbi had seemed so confident that his wax and seal were exactly like the Chamberlain’s. Besides, I’d posted one of my soldiers near the Prince’s chariot barn, to alert us to Menena’s return. That soldier then showed up: Menena and the ladies had just arrived back from their drive, he informed us.

“There’s no point in playing cat and mouse,” Ekosh opined. He went to Menena’s desk and broke open its drawer; he found the incriminating document; we scanned it briefly—and it was just as

Ibbi had said it was. Next, we learned from a passing butler that Rachel was headed for the female servants’ quarters, doubtless to make further arrangements for our trip to
Philistia
. Menena, this butler added, was last seen going in the direction of Delai’s apartments.

We went there at once, and we mujst have arrived only moments after he did, because, as we approached her door, we could hear Delai saying, “Please, Menena, come sit with me. Most of the packing is finished and I’ve little to do. The Prince is in conference.”

Ekosh motioned for me and my soldier to stop, and we stood just beyond the doorway listening to Menena’s reply: “We’re all anxious to depart, Your Highness. At last I’ll get to see
Canaan
! Tell me, please, Highness, what does Pharaoh think of your royal husband’s sudden removal from the scene? Who will replace him in the Army? Egyptian politics are so interesting, don’t you think? And all I ever get from the Prince are house hold and estate matters.”

Ekosh and I exchanged knowing glances. It was obvious that the Chamberlain was attempting to glean political secrets from our unsuspecting Delai.

“They say, Menena,” she answered him, “that Pharaoh is very gloomy….”

“I wonder who will take the Prince’s place?” Menena asked—more pointedly this time.

At that moment, Ekosh signaled that he’d heard enough; we entered Delai’s chamber, my soldier right behind us.

Menena jumped up from a couch he’d occupied next to Delai’s. Perhaps it occurred to him that sitting there was a bit presumptuous.

But then he saw the look on Prince Ekosh’s face, and saw the armed soldier—and he must have guessed the truth.

“You’re under arrest,” the Prince told him—and Menena bolted for the window! “Throw!” Ekosh commanded, and my soldier hurled his javelin just as Menena’s foot reached the window sill. The weapon hit with tremendous force, its point passing under his rib cage and out through his stomach; the blow lifted Menena part way over the sill, and he collapsed half outside the window, making horrible noises in his throat. Delai fell back on her couch, unable even to scream. “Don’t look!” her husband ordered.

“But why?” she cried.

I’d reached the body by then. “He can’t speak, Your Highness,” I told him. “He’ll be dead in a minute or so….”

“Toss him out the window,” the Prince ordered. My soldier lifted Menena’s feet and tumbled him out; it was one story down, and the body landed with a crash, javelin still inside him.

“That must’ve killed him,” I remarked to my soldier; “the way he landed on your spear!” It wasn’t much of a drop, and clearly Menena could have made good his escape if he’d jumped before being hit.

“Go make sure he’s dead,” Ekosh told our soldier. Then he added: “That was a good throw!”

Certainly Ekosh—and I—had a right to feel satisfied with the death of a traitor, especially one who was using Delai as an unwitting ally in his treason. But in more sober reflection later, I was sorry that we could not now force Menena to tell us everything he knew about the Amonists’ schemes. We should have considered the possibility that Menena would risk a broken leg by making a jump for freedom; but our plans had been made in haste, and with only a few soldiers whom we could trust—nor had we expected to find him in Delai’s apartment in the first place.

At any rate, he was dead. I know the Prince never regretted Menena’s demise. Already the affairs of
Egypt
were getting crowded out of his mind by the problems which lay ahead in
Philistia
. Besides, Menena had been only a pawn—and probably would have had little to tell us that we didn’t already know by then. As I looked down into the courtyard at the broken body, my heart ached for Delai—and Rachel, even more.

“I don’t understand,” I heard Delai say between sobs.

Ekosh explained the horror to his wife: “Menena was a traitor,” he began. “He was recruited by the Amonists to spy on me—and through me, on Pharaoh. He got a huge sum for it—and he’d been promised more for spying on us in
Gath
….”

Delai put her hand to here mouth: “My Lord,” she cried, “I’ve told him all sorts of things—gossip and news from Pharaoh’s court, for months!”

“I know,” Prince Ekosh answered. “I’ve seen one of his reports—we just got it out of his desk. He referred to you as the source of some of his information; and me as well…I’ve stupidly said things to him—tidbits that may cost some of Pharaoh’s friends their careers—perhaps even their lives. We know a few of his contacts, anyway; they, at least, will be eliminated before I leave Pharaoh.” He took Delai into his arms. “I’m sorry you saw it happen….”

I thought of her earlier remark about not looking forward to
Philistia
’s troubles.

“It was horrible,” she sighed. And then: “Oh, Goddess!” Ekosh recoiled at her exclamation, so agonized it was. She looked up at him with eyes wide open and lips trembling: “What about Rachel?”