After he disappeared, she glanced across the room. Her gaze settled on Bak and Ineni, and she hurried between the columns to stand before her husband. "Father's been looking for you." Her* voice had turned chilly, the warmth it had held for Antef lost. "He's seeking an explanation as to why you haven't brought another young steer to Abu for slaughter."
"I told him…" Ineni glanced at Bak, grimaced. "My father knows nothing of farming."
Khawet gave her husband a too-sweet smile. "You know something of plowing and planting, I grant you, but my father has ten times ten more worldly experience and knowledge."
Flushed with anger, Ineni pivoted on his heel and stalked to the rear door, aping Antef in every way though he probably had no idea he did so. Khawet watched him go, her expression almost wistful. Did she in fact love him? Bak wondered, or was she merely wishing she had someone else, the troop captain, maybe?
The smile she turned on Bak was soft, gentle, friendly rather than flirtatious. "Yesterday I was too upset to thank you properly for coming, Lieutenant, but today… Well, I can't tell you how relieved I am that you're here. My father has told me of the pattern you saw in the slayings. That you, a stranger to Abu, should notice what no one else could see gives me a confidence I thought never to feel. I'm certain you'll lay hands on the slayer before he can…" She hesitated, added, "… before he can go on with whatever he plans."
Bak liked her smile, her pleasant manner, but cautioned himself to be wary. Whether she had noticed her husband in the room initially he had no idea, but she had certainly shown Antef more warmth and consideration. If her behavior had been intentional, if she made a habit of using one man to anger the other, no wonder the pair could not get along.
Bak remained in the anteroom, waiting for Djehuty to finish with the daily reports of the men on his staff and to hear the last of the petitioners. If he was to pry the truth from the governor, he could not do it with an audience hall full of onlookers.
To speed the passage of time, he reviewed the day thus far, ending with the confrontation between Antef and Ineni, two strong men who disliked each other enough to fight yet were very much alike. Both greatly resented Djehuty for disrupting the tasks to which they had devoted their lives. He had been thinking of them, as with all who stood close to the governor, as potential victims, men who might have died if Hatnofer had not been selected by the slayer. Should he be thinking of them instead as men who might harbor so great a hatred in their hearts they would slay Djehuty?
Chapter Five
Djehuty sat on the dais, hands resting on the arms of his chair, posture erect. He looked down at the man on his knees before him. "Speak up, Ipy. What favor do you want this time?"
The petitioner, a man of medium height with broad shoulders and muscular arms, shiny with sweat smudged by smoke or ashes, scuttled forward half a pace. He reeked of sweat, filling the audience hall with his sour odor.
"Oh, please, most kind sir, if you deem it right and proper to give me a favorable judgment, I'll honor you more than I honor our sovereign, that I swear to the lord Khnum."
"I'm sure you will," Djehuty murmured, more to Lieutenant Amonhotep, standing beside his chair, than to the craftsman.
Bak stood near the massive double doors through which supplicants entered the audience hall, amused yet sympathetic. Men like Ipy abounded along the Belly of Stones, and from long experience he knew that dealing with them required infinite patience as well as a firm hand.
Few people remained in the hall. Most of those who had come seeking judgment or wise counsel — had gone. The scribes who were no longer needed had returned to Simut's lair to document the day's proceedings. Antef had made a perfunctory report and left some time ago, as had several other members of the governor's staff. The guard standing nearby in front of the doors, impatient to be on his way, constantly patted his bare leg, as if keeping time to a tune he alone could hear.
Ipy inched forward. "I'll go each day to the shrine of the hearing ear behind the mansion of the lord Khnum, sir, and I'll pray on bended knee for your well-being for ever and ever. I'll make offerings of food and drink, of flowers and incense. Then I'll go to the other shrines of Abu, each and everyone, seeking for you and yours all the good things of life. Health, wealth, happiness…"
"We know, Ipy." Amonhotep glanced toward Bak but made no sign of greeting. "You've vowed to pray for the governor each time you've approached this dais. You've no need to repeat the promise.',"
Scooting forward again, Ipy bowed his head. "I sometimes backslide, sir, forgetting to pray as I've said I would." His head shot up, his voice rang with sincerity. "But this time, I'll not break my word. I'll throw down my tools and leave my workshop, letting my customers wait for the pots I've promised. I'll let my wife wear rags and my little children suffer hunger. All so I can spend half of each day on my knees. So I can…"
Djehuty's eyes darted around the room, as if seeking relief. He noticed Bak, grimaced, looked back at the petitioner, and his voice turned testy. "What is it you want, man?"
"You're wise and noble beyond your years, sir. I trust you always to make a right and proper judgment, to aid all who need help, to.. "
Amonhotep stepped forward. "That's enough, Ipy. Either make your petition or leave us."
"But, sir, I was just trying to…"
"Guard!" Djehuty stood up and pointed. "Take this man away," he commanded. "I've no time to listen to foolishness." He gave Ipy a venomous look. "A few days' imprisonment should teach him the value of short and concise speech."
A guard hurried up, grabbed Ipy by the arm, and jerked him to his feet. The craftsman's sly smile faded. His eyes darted from Djehuty to Amonhotep to the guard, registering confusion and fear.
"Sir," Amonhotep said, "Ipy's been here before, more than once. You know he meant no harm. If you let me speak with him, I'm certain he'll tell me the reason he's come again, and he'll do so with no further nonsense. Why lock him up if there's no need?"
Djehuty, his mouth tight and determined, waved his hand, signaling the guard to take the craftsman away. The guard stood where he was, looking from the governor to his aide as if unsure what he should do. Bak guessed from his failure to respond immediately that Djehuty's quick anger and Amonhotep's attempt to moderate were not new to those who stood in the audience hall day after day, watching the proceedings.
Djehuty glared at the officer, the guard, and finally the craftsman. Not until Ipy began to whimper did he drop back into his chair. "Alright, Lieutenant, if you want to waste your time with this spawn of a dog, you may do so."
The guard released Ipy's arm and pivoted. As he did so, he winked at his colleague standing before the double doors, verifying Bak's guess that Amonhotep often tempered the governor's hasty decisions.
"They try my patience, Lieutenant." Djehuty closed his eyes and rubbed the lids, a man utterly exhausted by the pressure of duty. "If I could sit on this dais and judge matters of importance brought before me each day by men of substance, I'd feel my task of some use. But all too often, a week will go by-a month even-and no one comes before me with any petition more weighty than that of that dolt Ipy."
"Yes, sir." Does the man believe justice thrives solely for those of lofty birth and position? Bak wondered.
"My father sat in this chair, as did his father before him and his before him. I often wonder if they had some special way of maintaining patience."
Bak shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unable to think of an appropriate response. In fact, he was not sure the governor expected one.