Bak took a sweetcake, more for politeness sake than be cause he wanted it. “Did he ever speak to you of a scribe named Woserhet or a priest named Meryamon? Both men toiled in the sacred precinct of the lord Amon.”
“I don’t remember those names.” Irenena frowned at the cake crumbled in her hand. “He was not of a religious na ture, and he was certainly not interested in our gods. On the rare occasion when he felt the need for prayer, he spoke to the gods of his own land.”
“Did he mention a man named Pentu? He served our sov ereign as an envoy in Hattusa.”
“Pentu.” She threw the crumbs onto the open rooftop.
Several sparrows darted from the date palms to the low para pet, then hopped down for the treat. “I’ve no memory of the name.”
“He was and is now governor of Tjeny.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “How could I have for gotten? Yes, Maruwa did speak of him. He said the man had a viper within his household.”
Bak could barely believe his good luck. “When was this?”
“During his last visit to Kemet seven or eight months ago.”
“Did he explain himself?”
“No. I thought the words curious and pressed for details, but he said…” Suddenly her hand shot to her mouth and she looked stricken. “Oh, my!”
He leaned forward, laid his hand on her wrist. “What is it, mistress Irenena? What’s the matter?”
“He said he thought he knew the name, but wanted to make doubly sure before passing it on to Commander Min nakht when next he came to Waset. Why did I not insist he do so at that time? Why?”
Bak regretted the storm of tears that followed and prayed the release would be as valuable to her as was the informa tion she had given him. The odds were good that Maruwa had verified the name and had planned to give it to the sta blemaster the day he was slain.
Bak walked back to his men’s quarters along rapidly dark ening lanes filled with merrymakers. He had not been able to console Irenena, but had managed to convince her that she was in no way responsible for Maruwa’s death. The decision to remain mute had been his alone.
Besides, Bak was not convinced the so-called viper had slain the merchant. Maruwa had been in Waset for less than two hours when his life was taken. How would that vile creature have learned of his knowledge in so short a time?
True, Pentu’s traveling ship had reached the harbor not long before the cargo ship, but even if Maruwa had bumped into the man, he would not have been so foolish as to reveal what he knew.
Another thought nagged. What could stirring up trouble in the land of Hatti possibly have to do with the storehouses of Amon? Had he erred in thinking the three deaths were re lated? If someone was stealing from the god and smuggling the items to a foreign land, as he suspected, would it not be wiser for that individual to do nothing that might attract offi cial attention?
Bak stumbled over a mallet someone had left in the lane.
Cursing himself for not watching his step, he walked on.
Again his thoughts wandered. The hours he had spent in the foreign quarter, the many men and women he had walked among and talked to, some of them Hittites, had brought back memories of the one woman among many that he had never forgotten. A Hittite woman. He could see her smile, hear her voice, feel her courage and strength of will. No one had ever taken her place. No one ever would.
Had he been unfair to Meret, Pentu’s wife’s sister? Had he inadvertently led her to believe a relationship might develop between them?
Chapter Ten
“I’ve just come from the vizier.” Amonked glanced around the courtyard, empty so early in the morning except for Bak and a couple of sleepy-eyed Medjays seated at the cold hearth, eat ing pigeon left over from the previous evening’s meal and dunking hard bread into milk. Hori’s dog was standing over a bowl of water, lapping loud and fast. The majority of Bak’s men were sleeping off another night of merrymaking.
“I convinced him Maruwa’s death and those in the sacred precinct might well have been committed by the same man.”
Amonked pulled close a low stool and sat down. “When I told him one of the trails you’ve been following has led you to Pentu, he agreed that you must now look at the members of the governor’s household.”
Bak stifled a yawn. Unable to further his investigation af ter speaking with Irenena, he had taken advantage of the un expected but welcome freedom from duty to go with Psuro in search of a good time. They had found what they sought.
Amonked had not quite caught him on his sleeping pallet, but had come close. “Am I to actively search for the man who brought about Pentu’s recall or can I only look for a po tential slayer among them?”
A hint of a smile touched Amonked’s lips. “Discovery of the traitor would be an added bonus, so the vizier said.”
Bak frowned. “He gave no definite instructions to seek the snake?”
“He merely inferred, but I see no need to burden Pentu with that small bit of information.”
“Nothing was ever proven.” Pentu ran his fingers through his thick white hair, betraying his distress. “I felt cruelly used and still do. To accuse a man in such a way, to tear him from a task he knows he’s doing well… It was uncon scionable. Utterly unconscionable.”
Amonked exchanged a quick glance with Bak, who stood in a thin rectangle of early morning sunlight, facing the dais on which the Storekeeper of Amon had been invited to sit with the governor of Tjeny. “You yourself were not accused, surely.”
“Not as such, no. But to lay blame on anyone in my household is to blacken my good name.”
Letting pass a statement so clearly true, Amonked scooted his armchair half around so he could see Pentu without al ways turning his head. The dais occupied the end of the re ception hall, the room Bak had seen four days before bright with laughter, good food and drink, and beaming guests. A servant had placed a camp stool in front of the dais for his use, but he had opted to stand rather than lower himself to the level of the two noblemen’s knees.
“What were you told when you were recalled?” Amonked asked.
“No reason was offered.” Bitterness crept into Pentu’s voice. “Not until I reported to the royal house was I given an explanation. And then a poor one.”
Amonked’s tone turned hard, brutal almost. “Someone in your household had taken an active interest in the poli tics of Hatti. Was that not sufficient reason to withdraw you?”
A stubborn look came over the governor’s face. “I refuse to believe any man close to me guilty of so foul a deed.”
“Word was brought to our sovereign in an unofficial man ner, carried by the Hittite merchant Maruwa. Later, after you were withdrawn, your successor verified the accusation at the highest levels of power in Hattusa.”
Pentu’s mouth tightened, sealing inside a rebuttal.
“Forgive me, sir,” Bak said, “but did you ever seek the truth? Did you question those who accompanied you to the
Hittite capital?”
“I spoke with them, yes. Each and every one denied his guilt.”
“You believed them.”
“They are honorable men, Lieutenant.”
Bak wondered at the governor’s apparent blindness. Was he really so trusting? Or did he know they were innocent be cause he was the man who had dipped a finger into Hatti’s politics? Amonked appeared to take for granted Pentu’s in nocence, but perhaps he erred.
“Exactly who accompanied you?” Amonked asked, for
Bak’s benefit rather than his own, Bak suspected.
The governor spoke with reluctance, though he must have known the names were readily available to all who chose to inquire. “My aide Netermose. My steward Pahure.
My friend Sitepehu, who served at the time as my chief scribe.”