Amethu glanced around, assuring himself that no one would overhear. "Ineni," he said, lowering his voice. "It's his fault, his alone. He disobeyed his father, refusing to rid the estate of horses. Now Djehuty plans to disinherit him."
Bak, raising an eyebrow, knelt to scratch the cat's head, making it purr. "I thought he made an agreement at the time Ineni wed Khawet."
"He did, but he vows to have it set aside."
Bak's voice turned cynical. "What does the governor mean to do? Plead his case before the vizier?" A man he's known for years, he thought, one he counts among his friends. Bak's heart went out to Ineni, who stood little chance of retaining his due.
"I see you understand." Amethu eyed the shard in his hand, sighed, and dropped it into a basket. "I've known Djehuty since childhood, and I seldom question his actions. But at times he goes too far." His eyes darted toward Bak and his mouth snapped shut, as if he suddenly realized his anger had carried him into the opposing camp. "Stress. That's what's bothering him now. The reason he's being so contrary, so irrational. Must you come to this villa day after day, poking and prodding and prying as if we were all vile criminals? Must that Medjay of yours always hang around, asking impertinent questions of the household staff and guards?"
Bak took a seat on a mudbrick bench that ran along the wall. He doubted the questions were rhetorical, but he chose to take them as such. "You must've heard by now of my interest in the soldiers who vanished in the sandstorm five years ago."
"I've heard you seek to blame Djehuty for their loss." The steward scratched his prominent belly, frowned. "Well, let me tell you, young man, he came as close-to death as any man can and still survive. He owes his life to the gods, to the lord Khnum. They alone saved him. Those of us who stayed behind in Abu knew not what was happening out on the desert or how greatly our prayers were needed."
"I was told you lost someone in that storm."
Laughter sounded through a door leading into the rightmost storage magazine, scribes finding humor in the most mundane of tasks. The cat jumped into a basket of scrolls and curled up for a nap.
Amethu failed to notice. "You probably don't realize, Lieutenant, but the residents of this household talk to me. They confide in me as they would a respected uncle. I know you suspect one of us closest to Djehuty of slaying all who've died thus far, and I've been told you're aware that we each lost someone dear in the storm. You yourself have made it clear you think Djehuty's death the ultimate goal." He paused to get his breath.
Bak bowed his head in acknowledgment. "Go on." "From what I've been told, you've caught several of us at a time when our shoulders were bowed beneath the weight of anger or resentment. As a result, you've unearthed a multitude of personal reasons for wishing Djehuty dead." "None of which would've resulted in the death of five innocent people," Bak pointed out.
"Exactly!" the steward said, smiling triumphantly. "Unless the one who slew them believed the storm a path that would lead me astray. Or unless the dead are bound by some other tie I've failed to discover. Or unless the slayer's wits are so addled he's developed a taste for murder." Amethu's smile faded. He opened his mouth as if to disagree, but could think of no opposing argument.
"Did you lose someone close in the storm?" Bak repeated.
"My only brother perished in the desert. He was much younger than I, but a man I held in high esteem. To this day, I miss him." Amethu hastened to add, "Let me assure you, I don't blame Djehuty. If I thought blame was due, I'd be the first to accuse. But I know him. I know him well." His eyes probed the area outside the colonnade, searching again for an eavesdropper, and he lowered his voice to a murmur. "Djehuty is usually a man of strong will, but he can sometimes be manipulated. I'm convinced someone offered poor advice and he, rattled by the tempest, heeded words he should've rejected."
Bak could see he was getting nowhere. Amethu either sin cerely — liked Djehuty and could find no wrong or feared for his lofty position-or he was an accomplished liar. "Because your tasks meshed with those of Hatnofer, you must've been as close to her as anyone. Other than mistress Khawet, of course."
"Me?" Amethu shook his head. "I'd not use the word `close.' Nor, I suspect, would Khawet. The woman ran this household in an admirable fashion, but she was as cold as a night can get on the desert."
"As the confidant of all who toil in this villa day after day.. " Bak could not help smiling. "… you've surely heard that I'm seeking a connection between her and those who died in the storm, or those who survived."
"She was a foundling-as I believe you already knowand her husband died many years ago, leaving her childless."
Bak allowed impatience to enter his voice. "Few men or women exist alone, Amethu, and Hatnofer was no exception. She was mistress Khawet's wet nurse, which would've drawn them together as close as mother and daughter, at least when Khawet was a child. And I've heard rumors that many years ago Djehuty took the woman into his bed."
"He did, yes. As did I." Noting Bak's surprise, Amethu gave a wry smile. "It's difficult to imagine, I know, but I had hair then…" He patted his bald pate and his paunch… and the lithe body of one who spends his days at sports and hunting."
Bak tried to picture a well-built and handsome Amethu; the task was formidable.
"She was cold even then." Amethu surprised Bak with another smile, this filled with humor. "I thank the lord Khnum she held no warmth. I was young and ardent at the time, tempted by lust and a dream of home and family. If she'd offered the slightest encouragement…" He shuddered. "It was my good fortune that she remained aloof. I soon wed another, a good-hearted, gentle woman who showed me the true meaning of love and marriage. She filled my life to the brim, and she's with me yet."
Bak had to give credit where credit was due. Not many men would admit so freely to their youthful delusions, nor confess their gratitude for so narrow an escape. "I've heard Hatnofer harbored jealousy in her heart for Djehuty. Was that as true the day she died as when she was young?"
"You've been talking to Ineni, I see. He's told you of his mother." Amethu noticed the cat sleeping in the basket, scowled. "No, she hadn't shown him any special affection for some years, not since.." His voice tailed off and a new thought registered on his face, a memory come to life.
"Tell me, Amethu, what've you recalled?"
"Something I once heard…" The steward's eyes darted toward Bak and he hesitated. "A rumor. But even whispers in the wind ofttimes contain some truth."
"Tell me."
"I heard…" Amethu paused again, shrugged. "Exactly how long ago I don't remember, but I was told by a man I knew at the time, the garrison quartermaster, that one of the survivors of the sandstorm was whispered to be her lover. A man named Min, a sergeant. He sailed north soon after the incident, which made me doubt the tale. Would he not have taken her with him if they were close? Or did the lord Khnurn smile on him, as he did me, and allow him to escape a free man?"
"You will pay for your transgression!" Djehuty's voice thundered across the audience hall. "You've taken four men from my fields north of Abu, men whose task it was to clean the irrigation channels and rebuild the dikes, and you've set them to work on your own fields. You must free them today and send them back to me, and you must reimburse me for the time they've been within your power."
"But sir!" The man on his knees before the governor's dais, his body bent until his head touched the floor, was so frightened he trembled from head to foot. Bak, standing at the back of the columned hall beyond the reach of long shafts of midafternoon sunlight, could clearly see his fear.
"Silence!" the guard commanded, stepping forward to prod the offender with his foot.