Pilot Who Knows the Waters, page 8
Ammit take him! The old man’s in their pay! Maya thought, horrified.
The footsteps started down the stairs. Another man said in a quieter, higher-pitched voice, “We’re already in your debt.”
Maya couldn’t understand the rest of it and no longer cared. He scuttled for the door and fumbled up the bar, practically hurling himself outside. He brushed himself off, and to settle the terrified tingling of his hands and feet, he began to walk hurriedly, although he had no destination. It was all he could do not to speak, arguing with himself. Caught in the act! All you gods, I can’t credit my ears! Lord Hani will never believe me!
At last, he circled back to the neighborhood he had left, too preoccupied to have seen a thing. Just as he came around the corner from the direction of the market street, the door of the house where Lord Mery-ra had spent the morning opened, and Maya scampered back out of sight. In a moment, the old man passed by the intersection, oblivious to all around him, his eyes red but a big smile stretching his mouth into a happy crescent. He dashed at his nose and began to move up the slope toward the gate into the Upper City.
You look mighty pleased at having betrayed your country.
Maya slid out behind him, well covered by the crush of larger bodies. Mery-ra churned his way along, rocking from side to side, his broad back and coppery Theban skin making him an easy target, while Maya glided in his wake.
Act natural, he told himself. Maybe you can learn more.
At the gate, he called out, “Lord Mery-ra! Hold up!”
Mery-ra turned hastily and waved. “Maya, my boy. Where did you go this morning?”
“Oh, just around. Looking for details to go in my Tales. You know.” He watched the old man’s eyes closely as he added, “How about you?”
“Just sightseeing. Reliving my time here long ago.”
That’s a lie. You’re as guilty as a cat in the cream, my lord. “Willing to do whatever is useful” to the enemies of Kemet.
Together, they made their way through the Upper City, hailed litters, and began the slow ascent to the citadel. Maya’s mind was working furiously. He didn’t want Lord Mery-ra to be involved in anything. How could I ever tell Lord Hani what I suspect? But why else would the old man be meeting with the secretary of a high official? Why would he lie about his whereabouts all morning every morning unless he’s hiding something?
And why would he hide something unless he has something to hide?
⸎
Three days passed at the slow pace of negotiations, and on the fourth, Hani trudged once again up the ceremonial stairs to the throne room and made his way down the middle of the dark, flame-guttering colonnades. He prostrated himself and rose heavily to his feet to see Shuppiluliuma seated alone, without his queen. Instead, a tall, muscular youth stood at his side, one fist on his hip. Hani spotted the gift bracelets glittering on his forearms, the perfect complement to his blue tunic—he had obviously dressed to set off the cuffs. Just below the dais, Hattusha-ziti was positioned, his lean, ruddy face studiously expressionless.
The king fixed Hani for a long beat with his raptor’s eye. “Here is what we’ll do, emissary. My son Zannanza will accompany you to the border but will not set foot in Mizri until Hattusha-ziti has made his report to me. If I’m satisfied by what he says, Zannanza will cross the border with you and take his place beside your queen.” He slipped a sideways glance at the prince. “If not... we’ll see.”
He’s decided to do it, Hani told himself. No matter what the report reveals. He wants Kemet for his own. And who wouldn’t? “My Sun is wise. I’m sure Lord Hattusha-ziti will find the situation to his liking.”
Hani shot a quick look at the chosen groom. He was a good-looking young man with thin lips and a stubborn jaw—probably a little younger than Queen Meryet-aten—athletic and sun reddened. There was an absence of innocent excitement about him that worried Hani a bit. The boy already had the hard, smug look of a conqueror. Meryet-aten will have met her match.
“Give us a few days to prepare his escort and put together what he’ll need for an appropriate entrance. Then you can all head back to Mizri overland. Zannanza will wait for you outside Tsumur.”
Tsumur—Simurru—was the last major settlement before the border with Kemet. If they’re going to wait outside the city, it’s because there will be a huge number of people and carts. We’ll be moving at the pace of oxen. Hani felt he should be happier that his mission seemed to have succeeded, at least conditionally, but instead he experienced a dull sense of resignation.
He bowed himself from the audience and headed back to the guest room to remove his jewelry. There, he encountered his father and Maya, who themselves seemed just to have returned.
“How did it go, my lord?” Maya cried eagerly.
Hani explained the arrangement. “If Hattusha-ziti likes what he sees, then Prince Zannanza will cross the border with us, and we’ll lead him to Waset to meet the queen.”
“Why Waset?” Maya scratched his head.
“Because we don’t want Lord Ay to know there’s a Hittite on his doorstep, planning to claim the throne,” Mery-ra, who had remained strangely quiet up to then, said with a chuckle.
“Here comes the civil war, then,” the secretary said gloomily.
Hani, equally glum and preoccupied, tried to sound cheery. “What were the two of you up to this morning?”
Maya’s eyes immediately grew round and evasive.
Mery-ra said, “Oh, just looking about. Seeing what’s new since I was here last.”
Hani noticed Maya shooting the old man a strange, skeptical look, but the secretary said with forced casualness, “Me, too, my lord. Just sightseeing.”
Something’s going on, Hani thought with amusement.
Mery-ra popped to his feet and said in a clear dismissal, “I think I’ll take a little nap, boys. I’m not as young as I used to be. All this tramping around takes it out of one.”
“Maya and I will leave you, then. We can go see if any diplomatic pouch has arrived.”
Hani drew Maya after him into the corridor and closed the door behind him. He wanted to get well away from the other staff before he said what was on his mind. Together, they headed toward the stone-paved courtyard and emerged into the blinding light of midday. Hani drew his son-in-law against the wall and asked in a low voice, “Why were you making that strange expression when Father spoke, Maya? Is there something I need to know? Are the two of you not getting on?”
Maya drew a deep breath as if to gird himself for something he’d rather not do, then all his words came out in a rush. “Lord Hani, I’ve been watching your father—quite by accident at first—and he’s not sightseeing. Every day, he goes directly to a house in the Lower City and spends the whole morning inside—with Lord Hattusha-ziti’s secretary! He’s in their pay and has promised to do whatever they need him to. Just before you arrived today, I saw him get out a clay tablet and a stylus and stick it under his bed. I’ll bet anything he’s in there right now, writing a letter in Neshite.”
Hani remembered the tablet his father had thrust behind his back before they had left Kemet. He pondered this new information, having no idea what to make of it but inclined to take it skeptically, given Maya’s jealousy. “He’s probably visiting some old acquaintance from fifty years ago.”
“But I overheard him, my lord. Silver changed hands.” At Hani’s look of surprise, Maya hastened to add, “It’s a long story. Only, think of it, Lord Hani. Why would Lord Mery-ra be so secretive about his whereabouts? Why would he keep telling us that he was sightseeing, when the only sights he could have seen were in the salon of that house? Why would he meet with that secretary—a royal official—of all people? It just looks strange to me.”
Hani laughed a bit uneasily. “Well, strange, perhaps. I’m sure there’s some harmless explanation.”
“I hate to say this, because I have the utmost respect and affection for your father, Lord Hani, but he’s said before he was a spy up here, remember? Is it possible he’s contacted someone and is... is spying again?”
What by the Lady Ma’at is the boy talking about? “Do you mean spying on us for Lord Ay? If he’s spying, it’s because the king has told him to, Maya. There’s nothing illegitimate about that.”
“Or reporting to the Hittites about us? They’re definitely involved. I don’t know.” Maya looked uncomfortable. “I’m not accusing him of any crime, but you’ve told him everything about the Haru in the nest’s real parentage, for example.”
“And I told King Shuppiluliuma, too—or almost everything. He would eventually find out anyway.” Hani stroked his chin, curious but not troubled. “I’ll ask Father this evening what was going on. And now, how about some lunch, or have you eaten?”
Maya admitted he had eaten some olives and bread, but he seemed eager enough to join Hani in another small meal.
Hani called one of the slaves who had been assigned to them and ordered some lentils and onions, which they devoured in the nearly empty staff dining hall.
As Hani sopped up the last of the juice with his bread, Maya laid a hand on his forearm and said earnestly, “I hope you don’t think I’m being officious, my lord. I just don’t want anything, however innocently intended, to jeopardize your mission or... or endanger you.”
Hani smiled. “I can’t imagine what harm a spy could do to our mission, frankly, other than trying to block our discussions with Shuppiluliuma. And they’ve already taken place. Anyway, I think we can rely on Father to be an honest and honorable man, Maya. He would never hide from me anything except an order from the king. There’s undoubtedly a perfectly mundane explanation for his actions.” But he remembered the words his father had said before they left the farm: “There’s a lot you don’t know.” He rose. “Now, let’s go find the mail.”
When dusk had fallen, the three scribes met in the Upper City to share the evening meal at the garrison tavern with their escort. The common room was heavy with smoke and the
smell of roast goat from the central fire, where a kitchen boy turned a whole kid on a spit. From the low, soot-blackened ceiling, the laughter and talk of the soldiers echoed loudly. They sat at long tables, a dozen men or more on a side on heavy benches. Hani, his secretary, and his father found a space at the lower end of a table, where the obliging soldiers squeezed aside to accommodate them. It was rather compacted to be comfortable—and hard on the backside—but at least the level of noise in the room made it possible to converse privately.
“Let’s see those letters from home, Maya, my friend.” Hani held out a hand. He took one of the papyrus packets, broke the seal, and unfolded it. As he read, his stomach knotted with unease. Finally, he let his hand drop and faced the others, dry-mouthed. “Listen to this. Ptah-mes says war seems to be breaking out in the Two Lands.”
Maya gasped.
Mery-ra shook his head sadly. “It had to come to that, son. Ay was probably afraid to let his enemies grow any stronger.”
“Where does that leave us, then, my lord?”
Hani heaved a sigh. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. It depends on who wins the war, I suppose.” He picked up the letter again and continued reading. “He says it isn’t yet to the point of open battle, but the king’s troops have been patrolling the streets in Waset. People are under curfew. Lord Si-mut seems to have disappeared. Ptah-mes isn’t sure if he’s fled or...” He and his father exchanged looks of dire suspicion.
“We probably know the answer to that,” Mery-ra said darkly. “What about Little Shu?”
That was the old man’s name for Nub-nefer’s brother—after the male twin of the primordial gods—because of Amen-em-hut’s resemblance to his sister. He was Third Prophet of the Hidden One, right after Si-mut.
“I don’t think he’s going for the priests yet in any big way. I guess he can’t afford to alienate them, just after giving them back their jobs and winning most of them over to his side. But Si-mut was one of the leaders of the queen’s party.” Hani read to the end and laid down the papyrus, staring unseeing at the tabletop. “I just hope the family is safe.”
No one said anything, but their pensive and anxious expressions spoke eloquently of their agreement.
In resignation, Hani unfolded the next letter and saw with a warm swelling of the heart that it was from Nub-nefer, although the hand was Amen-em-hut’s.
Dearest Hani, he read. I can’t tell you how we long for your return. There are soldiers in the streets, and it’s a very chilling presence. I just hope the king doesn’t seal the borders. He read on, his heart stopping in his mouth as the words sank in. Something very sad has happened. Sati has lost the baby. He was stillborn just a few weeks before he was due. She’s inconsolable, as you may imagine, and seems to be sinking more and more into a kind of lethargy. She hugs Pa-miu and weeps all the time and cries out for Maya. Is there any chance he could come home? I know that by the time this letter reaches you, some weeks will have passed, and maybe she’ll be better, but I’m really worried about her. She’s almost to the point of neglecting the other children. I’ve brought her home so she can be around people, at least.
The letter continued, but Hani’s eyes kept slipping off the words. The thought of his little swallow weeping and mourning her baby without her husband’s comforting presence wrung his heart. At last, he handed the letter to Maya and said gently, “You’d better read this, son.”
Anxiety cast a sudden shadow over Maya’s face like a cloud sliding in front of the sun as he accepted the papyrus and bent to read it. Above the secretary’s head, Hani exchanged sorrowful looks with his father. “Sati’s baby,” he formed silently with his lips.
Maya gave a cry of anguish and stared up at the two men, tears wetting his lashes. “She needs me, and I’m not there!” he choked out.
“I don’t see why you can’t go back right away, Maya. Our negotiations are finished, and we’re just waiting on the king’s preparations. But that could take a while. Go.”
Maya, unable to speak, swung his legs around and slid off the bench. He ran from the mess hall under the curious eyes of some of the soldiers.
“Maybe I should go with him,” Mery-ra said under his breath. “He’ll need to book a passage, and his Neshite is still shaky. Then I suspect he’ll have to transfer somewhere in Kharu. Surely we aren’t letting Hittite vassal ships into our harbors. We don’t want him to end up in Keftiu or someplace.”
“If you want, Father. I’m sure he’d be grateful.”
The old man hauled himself up from his seat. As he passed his son, he clapped him on the shoulder with compassion, and Hani gripped his hand for a moment. Together, they could get through the family sorrow.
⸎
Summer was closing down there in the north, and while the heat was still oppressive on the sunbaked plains, the atmosphere became pleasanter once they reached the mountains. If the donkey train that had borne Queen Meryet-aten’s gifts had been impressive, Prince Zannanza’s cortege of luxurious household items and rich clothes took up an even more breathtaking space, packed on oxcarts. Ten of his young companions accompanied him—each with his own baggage—and innumerable slaves and guards. There must have been hundreds of people. Hani wasn’t sure how they would be received at the border, even with him and the two officers to pave the way.
While the prince and his friends rode in two-wheeled carriages pulled by matched white mules, Hani and Hattusha-ziti traveled together on one of the baggage carts. Unlike the prince, the diplomats were not to be accompanied to Kemet by so much as a secretary or a body servant. Theirs was an utterly confidential mission, and Hani’s staff and military escort would remain at Simurru until they all made their definitive journey home together. They couldn’t risk an indiscretion—or worse—that might alert the king to the Hittite’s presence in the Two Lands.
At first, neither of them spoke much. From his pensive silence, it was clear that Hattusha-ziti had personal reservations about the royal marriage, but like the professional he was, he never said a word critical of his king. Hani forced himself to act cheerful about the union and optimistic regarding the political situation at home, but it struck him painfully what a lie both performances were. In fact, he wasn’t sure how to conceal from the chamberlain how violently divided things seemed to have become in the Two Lands.
Lady Meryet-aten wouldn’t be happy either. Before he had set out from Hattusha, Hani had sent the queen a message by fast courier to apprise her of the coming of Shuppiluliuma’s emissary and to suggest that he be quartered in Waset rather than flaunted under Ay’s nose at the capital. She would be disappointed that Hani didn’t return with the prince in tow—perhaps worse than disappointed. The queen had been champing at the bit for years to arrange the union, and she would have to postpone her victory once more. Hani resigned himself to being a scapegoat for both sides.
CHAPTER 5
At Simurru, the capital of the Hittite border state of A’amu, the prince’s party along with Hani’s staff made camp to wait for their emissary’s word, while Hani and Hattusha-ziti continued alone. Just south of Batruna, the two men crossed the border into Egyptian territory. After a few more iterus overland, they picked up a ship at Gubla and set sail. Between dread of his meeting with the queen and grief at Sati’s sad plight, the voyage was a gloomy one for Hani.
⸎
For Maya, too, the journey home was grueling—not because of any mishaps but because the days seemed to be swelling and boiling all over like water in a pot left too close to the fire—multiplying, pullulating. Time had ceased to have any particular proportions. Maya could believe that he would never set foot on the Black Land again and that the rest of his life would be a featureless cycle of simmering sky and heaving water.
He thought miserably of Sat-hut-haru, inconsolable over the loss of their son—a son—and deprived of the support of her husband. He had failed her, just as he had failed his mother. Oh, neither one of them will reproach me. They’ll generously repeat the same excuse I’ve made for myself—how my work for the king is so much more important than their little concerns. But his heart told him he was at fault. How can I make it up to them? His eyes prickled with tears.
