“That much I’ve heard.”
“He didn’t often come to my place of business. He had a family-a wife and children always in need-and he was seldom able to spare so much as a hare for a bowl of beer or a game of chance.”
Bak swore. Intef had a wife. Another woman who had to be told she’d lost the man who sustained her. “Where did he live, old woman?”
“In the oasis across the river. He had a plot of land, he once told me. While he hunted, his wife tended the fields.”
Sitting on the stool Nofery had abandoned, Bak described the alabaster jar he had found and the jewelry inside, going into such detail that she forgot the food in her hand. “The bracelets are old, very old. From the way they were made and the design, I believe they were brought to Wawat long ago, probably by an official serving the great sovereign Kheperkare Senwosret or one of his successors.”
“When Buhen was new,” she added, “its walls as yet untouched by time.”
“Yes.” He took a sip of beer, savored it. “Did he ever mention finding an old tomb? Or have you heard tales of him or anyone else trying to sell ancient jewelry in the market?”
“If he found anything of value, he’d have kept it to himself.
As for the market: only the most witless of men would think Buhen the place to sell goods plundered from a tomb.
The return would be too small, and you’d be there before the bargain was struck.”
“Greed sometimes warps the judgment.”
She slipped her foot out of the undamaged sandal, stood up, and tossed it to the lion, who caught his new plaything before it hit the floor. “In the dozen years I’ve lived in Buhen, I’ve never known ancient jewelry to come to light. I thought all the old tombs long ago robbed of their valuables.” Taking his arm, aiming him toward the door, she bared her teeth in a sham smile. “Now take me to the market. I need a new pair of sandals, and you’re the man to get them for me. Then take me to wherever you’re keeping the bracelets. I wish to see them for myself.”
“Sound the attack!” Lieutenant Kay ordered.
The herald raised the trumpet to his lips; its bell flashed in the sun and the sharp command blared from its throat.
The spearmen in Kay’s company, fifty men divided into two units, one facing the other, rushed forward across the dunes, breaking ranks as they ran. Reddish cowhide shields hiding all but leather-sheathed heads and sandaled feet racing behind a multitude of spears, their bronze points glinting. The two units clashed in what was the most dangerous game on the practice field, close combat. Soldiers shouted, spears clattered, maces thudded against leather armor. Scrabbling feet raised the dust in wraithlike veils, turning the air around the contestants a thin, sickly yellow.
Bak stood with Kay, the herald, and the company sergeant atop a low knoll, watching the men practice the arts of war.
Each time he observed an infantry unit toiling to improve its skills, he thanked the lord Amon for giving him the good sense to become a charioteer, his position in the army in days gone by.
He had taken Nofery first to the guardhouse. While she looked upon the ancient jewelry with a covetous eye, he had dispatched a Medjay to the oasis across the river to search out Intef’s wife and tell her of the hunter’s death. Pleading 110 / Lauren Haney a full day, he had sent Hori to the market with Nofery with instructions to get her a new pair of sandals.
“Stand at rest!” Kay ordered.
The herald raised his trumpet to blast the air with a single long note. The seething mass stilled. The sergeant lopped down the knoll to inspect. The herald glanced at Kay, who motioned him away, and sauntered after the sergeant.
“Now we can talk,” Kay said, his eyes locked on the dust-coated men below. “What I have to offer, I can’t imagine. I knew Mahu, yes, but you know how it is with traders: they come and they go. Friendships easily made, but with no depth.”
Bak had thought long and hard about how much he should reveaclass="underline" most of what he knew, he had decided, letting those he questioned reach their own conclusions. “Until a year or so ago, I’ve been told, Mahu sailed the waters above Semna.
Did you know him while you were there?”
“I did.” Kay tore his attention from his men, gave Bak a wry smile. “I was responsible for collecting tolls and conduct-ing inspections. A thankless task that is, I can tell you.”
“No wonder you transferred to Buhen!”
“This garrison suits me well enough,” Kay said with an indifferent shrug, “but I’d have preferred an assignment back home in Kemet.”
Bak could understand if not sympathize. Desolate Buhen may be, but he had found it a place of friendship and reasonable comfort. “As an inspection officer at Semna, where a man can stand on the battlements and look south into the land of Kush, you must’ve dealt with smugglers on a daily basis.”
“Every man who crosses the frontier has at least one item hidden away in some secret spot, thinking to avoid the toll.
And who can lay blame? The garrisons along the Belly of Stones are undermanned. The desert patrols are small, the area vast.” Kay’s tone hardened. “Difficulties we owe solely to our sovereign, Maatkare Hatshepsut, whose very indifference is an affront.”
His sudden anger was palpable, his outspoken attack on the queen spawned by the frustrations of a task not soon forgotten. He must have realized how he sounded, for he flushed. “I know, it’d be easier to hold back the floodwaters than to stop the flow of illicit goods.” He snorted, feigning indifference. “Anyway, what difference does it make? They’re all small items, objects of marginal worth. Certainly nothing the size or value of an elephant tusk.”
Bak, not yet ready to speak of the tusk, ignored what he suspected was an invitation to do so. “Did your men ever find contraband on Mahu’s vessel?”
“Never.” Kay glanced toward the harbor, much of it hidden from view by the high, towered wall. “He was an honest man, Lieutenant. In spite of what I said earlier, a few men cross the frontier with no intent to deceive. A very few. Mahu was one.”
“When my men and I arrived to search his vessel, you were standing on the quay, talking with him. Can you remember what you spoke of?”
Kay’s attention had wandered back to the practice field.
Five men, the leaders of each ten-man unit, stood off to the side with the sergeant, reporting on the exercise, while the spearmen under their command struggled to their feet to stand at ease, nursing their bruises. “We talked of the abundance of trade goods flowing from far to the south. I teased him, I remember, saying he and his fellow merchants would soon be wealthy men.” His eyes darted to Bak and he gave a sardonic smile. “Not a word was uttered about smuggling, I assure you.”
Bak let the jibe pass as if unnoticed. “The two of you-and others-played a game of chance at Nofery’s house of pleasure, I understand. The night before he sailed to Kor.”
Kay gave him a long, speculative look. “You surely don’t believe an evening of modest pleasure would lead one man to take another’s life!”
“One never knows what small detail might prove significant.” Bak spoke as if he had learned the lesson by rote.
A hint of a smile fluttered across Kay’s lips. “We played, yes. How could I forget? I drank almost no beer and I wa-112 / Lauren Haney gered with care, yet I came out the loser by far.”
“Who won the most?” Bak asked, not because he thought the winner mattered, but out of curiosity.
Kay glanced toward the practice field, stiffened. “One of my men’s been injured.”
The sergeant and a spearman knelt beside a man sitting on the sand, arms across his breast as if hugging himself.
The leaders of ten hovered close, while the rest of the men stood off to the side in clusters, watching. The spearman clutched the injured man’s arm and helped him to his feet.
He took a couple of unsteady paces, then they walked together toward the fortress gate.
Obviously relieved, Kay signaled the sergeant to reform the men for another exercise. “Mahu was a good solid gambler. His bets were conservative and far from extravagant, but he won consistently.” The officer’s eyes narrowed. “His winnings were modest, certainly too small to die for, so why…?”