While his body servant arranged the folds of a fresh kilt around him, Meren wondered how Kysen was faring at the village of the tomb makers. He had encour aged his son to return to the place many times, only to relent in the face of the boy's pain. This murder had offered an occasion to insist that Kysen confront old Pawero and leave behind old and haunting memories.
Meren felt his body servant tug on his wrist. He held it out so that the boy could fasten a studded wristguard in place; his warrior's garb would further intimidate the hulking Imsety. When the last tie of his gilt leather corselet had been tightened across his chest, he slipped a dagger in his belt and held out his hand for a gold-handled chariot whip.
He had contemplated wearing a short sword, but dis carded the idea. He wouldn't need it with his aides in attendance, and the sword would be too much. He preferred subtlety, though it would probably be lost on Imsety. Meren touched the gold band that held his head-cloth in place and dismissed the body servant. It was time to play the cruel aristocrat and strike fear into the heart of Imsety.
The barracks was a long, low building with a central hall. Meren entered the hall flanked by two aides to find several charioteers. Two guarded an interior door, while
102 Lynda 5. Robinson another sat by one of the support columns, mending a whip. Meren nodded at the sentries. They threw open the door, and one ducked inside the dark chamber. Imsety stumbled into the hall, shoved by the charioteer. Propelled by the guards, he lumbered over to Meren and fell to his knees when two hands shoved on his shoulders.
Meren slapped the coiled whip against his thigh de liberately. Imsety glanced at it. Meren caught his expression-one of dull resignation. He remained silent, his plan suddenly altered by this perception. Who had always obtained Imsety's cooperation? Not the brutal Hormin, but the clever Djaper. Meren gazed at the man on his knees while he held out the whip. An aide came forward to take it, while the other brought a chair.
He sat, never taking his gaze from Imsety. The man was obsessed with his farm. He wanted to go home. This Meren believed. What had Imsety been willing to do to obtain the farm and go home? Did he have the courage or the rashness to rob his own father? Meren drew his dagger. Laying it flat against his palm, he pretended to contemplate the iron blade. He'd taken it from a Hittite in a skirmish near Tyre. The handle bore a turquoise inlay and the pommel was of rock crystal. He watched the crystal reflect dim colors while he thought, then began to tap the flat of the blade against his palm.
"You're a fool, Imsety, and a stubborn one."
Imsety stirred, but he had regained his ability to keep silent.
"Yes, stubborn. But how stubborn will you remain if I give Djaper a taste of my whip instead of you?"
His jaw stiff, Imsety widened his eyes and stared at Meren, who smiled at him.
Meren looked at the aide beside his chair. "Abu, bring Djaper, son of Hormin, to me at once."
Murder in the Place of Anubis 103
"No!" Imsety stretched out a hand to Meren, only to have it knocked aside by one of the guards. The other hit him on the side of the head, and he subsided back onto his heels. "Please, lord, I beg of you. Don't hurt Djaper."
Concealing his surprise, Meren watched Imsety strug gle with some inner perplexity. The effort distorted the man's fleshy features. His thick lips skewed to the side, and great furrows appeared between his brows. Meren decided to push him again. He nodded to Abu, who turned to leave.
"I will tell you all!" Imsety said.
Meren glanced back at his victim as if in surprise. "Well?"
"We quarreled with my father." Imsety paused and wet his lips. "He would never have given me the farm. Not if he gained ten times the wealth he already had. We took the collar."
"When?"
"The night-the night he was killed."
"Come," Meren said. "Don't lose your newfound el oquence or I shall begin to think of sending for Djaper."
"That night, we had gone to the house of a friend to let our anger cool. We came home and went to our beds, but later-Djaper had thought of a plan. We would devise a false robbery."
"You looted Hormin's room," Meren said.
Imsety nodded.
"And were to sell some of the booty."
"I would have purchased my own farm." Imsety said this last with a shrug. "But the necklace was broken and needed repair."
At a look from Meren, Abu produced the necklace, the beads cascading into Meren's hand. Most collars had end pieces made in the shape of animal heads that fastened together, but each edge of this one instead bore only the thin, smooth gold pin by which the finial should have been attached. Also missing was the metal counterpoise that should have hung down the wearer's back to hold the heavy collar in place.
Meren handed the collar back to Abu, then snapped at Imsety. "You saw Hormin leave the house late after going to his concubine. That is why you did your stealing then."
"How-?"
"Djaper is too clever for his own health, and you are not so stupid that you'd fail to reward yourself through his cleverness. Perhaps you decided stealing was too much trouble and killed Hormin instead."
"No!"
Abu spoke for the first time. "Let me take a cattle brand to him, lord. I'll make him confess."
"Merciful Amun," Imsety groaned.
"The whip is faster," said a charioteer. "No need to build a fire and heat the brand."
Meren held up a hand for silence. "Which do you prefer, Imsety, the whip or the brand?"
Imsety's face had turned the color of the whitewashed walls. He licked his lips. His mouth worked, but no words came.
"I have said the truth. Djaper told me the collar was the solution to all our troubles. It's so valuable. By the powers of Maat, goddess of truth, I have spoken no lies."
Meren rose. Folding his arms over his chest, he stared at his gilded sandal, then glanced at Imsety.
"You may go."
Imsety gaped at him.
"Go, fool."
A charioteer hauled Imsety to his feet and shoved him toward the door.
"Imsety."
Hormin's son turned back as Meren called to him.
"Think not of running away. I would find you, and then you would have both the whip and the brand."
Imsety dipped his head and trundled out of the hall to the accompaniment of the laughter of Meren's charioteers.
Meren snorted, then said to Abu, "His tale, it is proven?"
"Yes, lord. They spent some hours after the evening meal in the company of an assistant overseer of the Temple of Amunhotep III, then went to a beer-house and shared a woman. The woman described both Djaper and Imsety. Imsety went first and then left the beerhouse. After that, either could have killed Hormin, or both."
"But first they robbed him."
"Yes, lord."
"Why rob him if they planned to kill him?" Meren asked himself.
None of his men answered. Rousing himself from his speculation, Meren noted the deep gold of the sunlight coming through the open door. The day was waning, and he had no answers to the murder of either Hormin or Bakwerner. He thought about paying another visit to Hormin's family, but he wanted to give Imsety plenty of time to alarm Djaper. Tomorrow morning he would descend upon them without warning.
Shadows fell across the threshold as his steward ush ered in two visitors. Meren recognized the keeper of wills of the House of Life, Seb, who had held the post before Meren was born. Seb's dry, yellow-nailed hand rested for support on the shoulder of a youth round eyed with excitement and curiosity. Meren accepted Seb's greeting and waved a hand. A charioteer brought a stool, and when Seb had settled on it, Meren resumed his stance, leaning against a column.