"Djehuty adopted you as his son, and that you remain." Inebny sat at ease, comfortable with his task. "As his sole heir, the estate is yours by right, and so is the governorship. The latter includes, as you well know, the two villas in Abu and the cultivable land at the north end of this island. You're also entitled to a percentage of the provincial taxes and a share of the tolls paid by passing traders."
The viceroy wore a simple white kilt, a short wig with tight curls, a broad collar of gold and carnelian and turquoise beads, with equally elegant bracelets, armlets, anklets, and rings. A large and muscular Kushite servant stood behind him, stirring the air with a magnificent ostrich-feather fan. The onlookers were suitably impressed, Bak felt sure.
Ineni would not be swayed. "I'm a farmer, sir. I have neither the patience nor the knowledge to sit on that dais and make lawful and wise decisions. Why should I be given a task I'd do poorly when I'd much prefer the task I do well?"
Inebny's mouth twitched as he held back a smile. "Your honesty alone recommends you for the position."
"But, sir..:"
The viceroy raised a hand, silencing him. "The province will suffer from your abdication, I've no doubt, — but I wish you a long and happy life on the estate in Nubt, and many children to succeed you."
Ineni stood still and quiet, slow to comprehend. Then relief wiped away the confusion, the surprise, and set his face alight. "Thank you, sir. Thank you!"
Flashing a brilliant smile at Bak, he swung away and strode in among the crowd, whose startled silence grew to a clamor. Men reached out to clap him on the shoulder, women to squeeze his wrist or hand. They voiced disappointment at the defection of a man whose family they had served for many generations, yet at the same time they showed their delight that this man they liked had been allowed the life he preferred. Inebny looked on, his face expressionless, his eyes aglitter with satisfaction.
As the tumult died down, the scribe responsible for the smooth functioning of the proceedings called the next man on the viceroy's list. "Troop Captain Antef!"
The officer, who had been shocked to hear Khawet was the slayer and appalled by her death, had begun to grow accustomed to the idea that she would never again smile upon him. He stood as straight as Ineni had, as much in command as always. Helping him along, Bak suspected, was the thought that Djehuty would no longer order his troops to inappropriate or degrading tasks.
"This province needs a governor, Troop Captain." Inebny studied the man standing before him with interest. "Is it a position you've ever coveted? Or do you, like Ineni, prefer a task more suited to your talents and training?"
If Antef noticed the viceroy's gentle teasing, he gave no hint. "Sir, may I be bold enough to make a suggestion?" Inebny leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Go on, Troop Captain."
"Lieutenant Amonhotep has served as Governor Djehuty's right hand for almost five years. He knows far better than… Forgive me, sir, but I must speak with candor." Antef paused, waited for the viceroy's nod. "He knows the laws of our land better than Djehuty ever did, better than I do, better than anyone in this province. And he has the wisdom to uphold those laws in a true and just manner. He, not 1, should be appointed governor."
The recommendation silenced the onlookers and took Bak's breath away. He, too, had told Inebny he believed the aide would be a superior governor, much better than Djehuty. But to hear the words uttered by a man such as Antef, who far outranked the young lieutenant, was startling. And refreshing.
"He's very young for so demanding a position," Inebny pointed out, as he had to Bak.
"I'd do all I could to smooth his path, as would the chief steward and chief scribe." Both Amethu and Simut, standing to the right of the dais, voiced enthusiastic agreement. "Of equal importance, he has the respect of the people of this province, that I know for a fact."
A murmur swept through the crowd, grew to a din equaling that for Ineni.
Inebny threw Bak a wry smile. "Can we compromise?" Antef was slow to answer, suspicious of the viceroy's intent. "Yes, sir?"
"In addition to your present position as commander of this garrison, Troop Captain Antef, I'm appointing you acting provincial governor." Inebny raised both hands, palms forward, staving off the many objections he saw on the faces before him. "Lieutenant Amonhotep will serve as your aide. if you choose to seat him in this chair while you're otherwise occupied at the garrison, so be it."
All who heard understood. The viceroy believed Amonhotep should se Xe as their governor, and he would take the belief to the vizier in Waset. In the meantime, an older and wiser man must sit on the dais, guiding the younger until the appointment was blessed in the capital. The onlookers cheered outright, not solely for Amonhotep's good fortune and theirs, but for the viceroy as well.
Bak was well satisfied with Inebny's decisions, but he had mixed feelings about the fate the gods had chosen for Khawet and Djehuty. Somehow the punishment seemed not to fit the scale of their crimes. Khawet had slain five people, yet the gods had taken her life in a single, swift moment. Djehuty had slain not only Min and Nebmose, but his nonsensical order to his men to hold their places in the caravan's line of march had led to the death of over one hundred soldiers. Now here he was, returned to childhood, with no greater care than passing the remainder of his days in ease and comfort.
Inebny's warship, its mast and yards stripped, sails stdwed belowdeck for the long voyage downstream, rocked gently on the swells, bumping the landingplace. Mat-like fenders hung along the hull, preventing the wood from rubbing the stone. Fittings creaked, pennants fluttered in the chill breeze of daybreak. A caged leopard, the viceroy's gift for the queen, snarled at its confinement. The captain stood at the head of the gangplank, counting the oarsmen filing aboard. At the stern, the helmsman knelt to examine lashings that held rudder and tiller in place. The drummer tapped a soft, nonsensical rhythm on his instrument.
The viceroy, standing at the foot of the gangplank, smiled at Bak. "You've done a fine job, Lieutenant. The outcome isn't all rd hoped for, but you can't be held responsible for the whims of man and the gods."
"Thank you, sir."
"You've long been due the gold of honor. I'll see that word reaches the proper ears."
Bak sneaked a wink at Imsiba. He had earned the coveted golden flies three times before for laying hands on men who had upset the balance of justice, offending the lady Maat. He had never been given the reward. For him, more than duty above and beyond the norm would be necessary. He would some day have to appease a sovereign he had inadvertently angered. A woman who quickly forgot, but rarely forgave.
The viceroy raised his baton of office, saluting Commandant Thuty, smiled at Bak and Imsiba, and marched up the gangplank. A sailor pulled the ramp onto the ship, others released the hawsers attached to the mooring posts and leaped aboard. The drummer settled down to serious rhythm, and the oarsmen rowed the vessel away from the landingplace.
Bak looked at Djehuty's traveling ship, tethered to mooring posts driven into the riverbank a short distance downstream, the same vessel on which he had sailed to Abu, loaned to Thuty for the journey upriver.
"May we now go home to Buhen, sir?" he asked. "Why the hurry, Lieutenant?" Thuty eyed the closepacked structures across the river. "I've not set foot in a civilized city for close on a year. Didn't you say the trader Pahared, who once plied the waters of the Belly of Stones, has opened a thriving place of business in Swenet? A house of pleasure?"