The Crocodile Makes No Sound Read online

  “Hani, my love! You’re back,” called Nub-nefer, who had appeared in the door from the rear of the house. Hani and Pipi fell apart, laughing and breathless. She fixed the two brothers with a wry smile. “I heard all the rumbling and thought we were having an earthquake.”

  Nub-nefer approached her husband, and they embraced warmly. “Pipi’s here,” Hani said with a grin, stating the obvious, perhaps to convince himself.

  “I know, my sweet. He’s been here for two days.”

  Hani turned to his brother. “Are Nedjem-ib and the children with you, Pipi? Are you here for long?”

  “To the first question, only Mut-nodjmet, and to the second, unknown. I’m actually here to ask you a favor, brother.” Pipi looked sheepish, like the little gap-toothed rascal he had once been.

  Nub-nefer interrupted. “Let’s converse over dinner, shall we, boys? The children are already in the pavilion.” She led the way, and the three men followed, still chuckling and jabbing playfully at one another.

  “They act like they’re six years old, don’t they?” Mery-ra said to Nub-nefer, but there was pride in his voice.

  “Yes, Father. You’ve clearly brought them up right.” She called out to the children, who were already seated, “Here’s your papa back, my dears.”

  Neferet bounced to her feet and skipped to them, throwing herself on her father. “Papa! Uncle Pipi’s here, see?”

  “So he is, my love.” Hani kissed her and, still dragging her attached to his waist, knelt at Baket-iset’s couch. “And how is my favorite oldest daughter?”

  “Wonderful, Papa. We’ve had such fun with Uncle Pipi and Mut-nodjmet.”

  “Am I your favorite youngest daughter?” Neferet demanded, hanging on him.

  “No question about it.” He disengaged her and embraced his niece then held her at arm’s length. “Mut-nodjmet! I hardly recognize you. You’re a grown woman!”

  “Sixteen, uncle. And soon to be married.”

  Hani was prepared to make congratulatory noises over this announcement, but he caught sight of Pipi’s face, which looked severely skeptical. Hani raised an inquiring eyebrow at his brother, who rolled his eyes. “We’ll talk all about that after dinner, though. Let’s see what Mama has prepared for us all.”

  “Maya and Sati and Pa-kiki should be here by now,” said Nub-nefer, her anxiety evident despite her bright tone. Her nerves were raw, Hani knew. After four years, the disaffected of the city of Amen-Ra could still erupt into violence, as the misery only deepened.

  Hani declined to feed her fears. Instead, he asked cheerfully, “Pa-kiki’s with them?”

  “Yes, son,” Mery-ra said. “Maya has generously taken over your lessons while you were away. Clearly, an antique like me can’t be trusted to substitute. Sat-hut-haru is pregnant, you know.”

  “Oh, Father,” cried Nub-nefer, exasperated. “You’re supposed to let her tell him.”

  “Oops.” Mery-ra ducked his head guiltily. “Well, I take that back, son. It was a very brief false pregnancy. You know nothing, all right?”

  “I know nothing,” Hani confirmed. I can’t believe it. My little girl, soon to be a mother. And what if her child is a dwarf, like Maya? It was in the hands of Ta-weret, the Great One. They would all love the baby just the same, he knew.

  They’d barely begun to eat when Hani heard voices in the vestibule—Maya and Sat-hut-haru and the deep voice he had to remind himself was that of Pa-kiki, who had mysteriously turned nineteen at some point, although Hani still thought of him as a boy in a sidelock. The young people burst into the room, and the diners rose. There were enthusiastic and loving greetings all around. Hani observed Maya and Sat-hut-haru clandestinely as they seated themselves at the shared table Nub-nefer had spread for them. Yes, they have a secretive glow about them. He braced himself for the announcement.

  As if on cue, Maya cleared his throat. “Lord Hani, we have a little good news to impart to you.” He and his wife shared an adoring gaze, then both of them stared proudly at Hani. “We’re expecting.”

  “Why, may Bes and Ta-weret bless and protect you, my children!” Hani found it easy to sound surprised. Every time he thought about his daughter being old enough to bear a child, it surprised him. “When is the happy date?”

  “Sometime early in the first month of Peret, Papa. We thought you’d never get home so we could tell you.”

  “I’m sure your mother has already started making the proper sacrifices.”

  “And my mother gave her a beautiful amulet,” said Maya proudly. He turned to Pipi. “She made it. She’s a royal goldsmith.” They passed the new amulet around—a tiny solid-gold Ta-weret, a match for Maya’s Bes, which had already saved his life when two would-be assassins had thrown him into the River.

  After she’d handled the amulet, Mut-nodjmet said wistfully, “I can’t wait until I’m pregnant.” She was almost the same age as her cousin but was a plump, plain girl with enormous breasts for someone so young. Hani could see her as a wet nurse for twins. In the background, Pipi mouthed a silent cry of anguish, raising his eyes to the sky.

  Hani carefully avoided any talk of the pregnancy out of deference to Pipi, for whom the topic was clearly unpleasant, but of course the happy couple couldn’t stop working it into the conversation, with a superfluity of medical details. Even Nub-nefer regaled them with stories of her own parturitions. Neferet showed more interest than her father had foreseen. He’d half expected to see her acting out childbirth at table, but instead, she asked all sorts of clinical questions, demonstrating that she had not yet lost interest in a career as a healer.

  Pa-kiki shot his father a look of writhing discomfort, and Hani suppressed a laugh. “I suggest that the ladies withdraw to the salon for their midwifery class and leave the men to drink beer in the pavilion,” he said, and his son looked immensely relieved.

  “That’s not fair,” Neferet objected. “I want beer too.”

  “Isn’t it past your bedtime?” asked her eldest sister pointedly.

  “I’m thirteen,” Neferet protested.

  Hani fixed her with a grave paternal eye. “I want to talk to Uncle Pipi, my dear. I haven’t seen him in years.”

  She halted whatever riposte had begun to form on her lips and, with surprisingly good grace, danced off, saying, “I’ll call the servants to carry Baket.”

  “That was unexpectedly easy,” said Nub-nefer breezily. “She must actually be growing up. Girls, let’s adjourn to the salon. Maya, you may want to tell us about your plans for a new room.”

  Maya followed her order and accompanied the women back into the house, although not without a longing glance back at his half-finished pot of beer. Pa-kiki decided he wanted to go out with his friends, and before long, only Hani and his father and brother were left in the near darkness, sucking their beer with lazy enjoyment. The crickets chirruped in the dark garden, and a whole perfumery of scents that were never perceptible by day drifted over them. Somewhere down the street, in an empty property, a nightingale began its sweet, melancholy song. Hani exhaled a deep sigh of contentment. By his former standards, a two-week absence was nothing, but homecoming was always sweet.

  “It’s good to be back here,” said Pipi after a while. “So many happy memories.”

  Touched, Hani glanced at his brother, but he couldn’t make out his expression in the twilight. “Yes. Thanks, Father, to you and Mother for giving us such a wonderful childhood.”

  “You owe most of that to your mother, may she bask happily in the Field of Reeds. I was away much of the time,” Mery-ra’s disembodied voice answered.

  “It seems so much harder to do right by our own children these days,” Hani mused. “Although I can’t complain now that Aha has come back into the fold.”

  “Was he out of the fold?” asked Pipi.

  “He went through a phase of, shall we say, excessive zeal for the king’s new religion.” Hani honestly didn’t know what Pipi’s position was on the Aten and his cult. He’d never showed much relig
iosity in any direction.

  “I told you about the tomb,” Mery-ra said.

  “Ah, yes. Children are always breaking your heart, aren’t they?” said Pipi, mournful.

  A solemn silence fell. Hani could practically feel Pipi itching to tell his tale. And sure enough, after a moment, he burst out aggrievedly, “Why couldn’t Mut-nodjmet have set her heart on some nice young fellow like your secretary?”

  “Come on, brother. Out with it. Why are you here?”

  Pipi sighed heavily. “Mut-nodjmet is in love with a sculptor who’s twice her age.”

  “A sculptor? That’s odd. How did she even meet him?”

  “He has family in our neighborhood in Men-nefer, but he actually lives in Akhet-aten. I think he works for some royal studio.”

  “Well, that could be worse. If she has to marry an artisan, at least he’s a royal artisan. He’s probably well paid.” Hani bent to take a slurp of his beer.

  Pipi groaned. Hani was surprised his feckless younger brother even cared if his daughter married an artisan. Pipi had never shown much pride in his birth or, indeed, respected his exalted profession. He and his family lived in cheerful disregard of the fundamental scribal virtue of arrogance.

  “It’s not that he’s an artisan, Hani. It’s that I’m not sure he’s a good man. I don’t want my little girl falling in with someone who won’t treat her right. If he takes her off to Akhet-aten, how will we even know?”

  “Mmm,” Hani grunted somberly.

  “She doesn’t legally need my permission to marry him, so I try not to seem too opposed to the fellow lest they just run away together. She’s fixated on the idea of marrying this bastard.”

  Although some men would find the amply endowed Mut-nodjmet very much to their taste, Hani wondered if she weren’t a bit desperate to find herself a husband. There was something lackluster and unattractive about her, he was forced to admit—dulled, apologetic, as if she assumed no one would find her appealing. Still, she was a good-hearted girl. His pity went out to his brother, who was desperately trying to ward off the shipwreck of his daughter’s life.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Kha-em-sekhem,” Pipi said glumly. “He specializes in making plaster models of highly placed people—including the king’s family—so the master of the workshop can use them for stone statues without them having to sit for months.”

  “That sounds important.”

  “Oh, he’s apparently pretty rich. And that’s what makes it so hard to say no. He’s offering a right royal bride price.”

  “And there you have one thing that makes us all suspicious,” Mery-ra chimed in.

  “Maybe he’s in love with her.” Hani said. “An older man like that—maybe he feels he’s not much of a catch and he has to sweeten the deal.”

  “He’s thirty,” Pipi said dully.

  “Oh. I pictured an old toothless man your age,” Hani said with a twinkle, hoping to cheer up his forty-one-year-old brother.

  But Pipi didn’t even rise to the bait. “He’s been married before. His wife left him. That worries me.”

  “Well, maybe she was at fault...”

  “Or maybe he was a terrible husband. Mut-nodjmet thinks he’s a victim, of course. Like you, she thinks it was all the awful wife’s fault.”

  “Might be worth it to find out the story,” Hani said, realizing as the words left his mouth that he had just taken on a job.

  “That’s exactly why I’m here, Hani. Mut-nodjmet wants to visit her swain in Akhet-aten, and Aha lives there now, right?”

  Hani could see a flash of Pipi’s little eyes as he turned toward Hani and the house, from which light glowed softly through the clerestories. Nub-nefer and the servants were still up.

  “He does,” Hani said. “I guess Father has kept you abreast of such things.”

  “Maybe we could stay with him for a few days while I try to find out something about this fellow, Kha-em-sekhem. What was this divorce all about? I’d like that bride price, but is he really somebody I want my little girl to marry?”

  “Who ever pays a bride price, other than some grandee contracting an arranged marriage? I find that strange. Normally, both sides bring whatever they can to the union. This sounds like he’s trying to bribe you.” The more Hani heard, the more of a bad taste the whole affair left in his mouth. He reached out through the darkness and laid a hand of solidarity on his brother’s knee. “If you want me to look into this a bit, I can do that, Pipi.”

  “I told you he’d say yes,” Mery-ra said smugly.

  “Thanks, brother. I was counting on that. I don’t know the new capital or have any contacts in royal circles.” Pipi shifted his heavy body on his stool with a squeak of wood and said in a quieter voice, “I hope... I hope he’s upright. I certainly could use that bride price.”

  Hani was caught by the wistfulness in his brother’s words. Pipi wasn’t a man who cared about wealth. “Are you in trouble, brother? Do you need gold? Why didn’t you say so? Father and I can surely help you out—”

  “No, no,” Pipi cut in hurriedly. “We’re not in need. It’s just nice to have a little cushion, you know?”

  Hani did indeed know. He’d always been a responsible father of a family, sacrificing and setting aside against an emergency. And thank the gods, he had provided for Baket-iset’s care, no matter what happened to him. There was a tidy silo of grain put away for whichever son took her in after Hani and Nub-nefer were gone. It was precisely over the virtue of such economies that he and Pipi had always fallen out. His brother immediately spent every bread loaf of pay that passed through his hands on trivia, and he never troubled to try to advance himself, even when it might bring his family greater comfort and security.

  But at no point had Hani ever understood that Pipi was in want. Hani was pierced with sorrow at the thought. It was like a brand of shame burned into his skin—to let his brother suffer without extending a hand. “You’ve never said anything, Pipi. We’d gladly help. Forget that scoundrel and his bride price. How much do you need?”

  “No, no, Hani. We don’t need gold. If you could help me investigate this business with the sculptor, you’d have given me all I want of you. And Nedjem-ib too. It’s eating her up. You know how mothers are.”

  “Luckily, you boys never gave your mother any heartaches when you were young,” Mery-ra said acerbically into the darkness.

  “I tell you what,” Hani said. “The next time I’m in the capital, I’ll look into this fellow’s background. Someone there must know him. That will save you making a trip for nothing if he’s really so unsavory you want to nip the relationship in the bud.”

  “Thanks, big brother.” Pipi reached over and groped for Hani’s hand. When he found it, he squeezed it, and Hani could feel that the gesture was full of emotion. “You’re still looking out for me.”

  ⸎

  As it happened, Hani had a reason to return to Akhet-aten the next week. It was the grand occasion of introducing his second son to the Hall of the Royal Correspondence. Pa-kiki was scheduled to begin his new job as a clerk in the foreign service. Hani left him at the reception hall, with an embrace and a proud smile, and watched the boy walk straight-backed through the door into the copying chamber. He remembered his own first day as an army scribe, at just about Pa-kiki’s age—the pride, the eagerness, the determination to excel—and the bowel-loosening fear. He shook his head fondly. Gone was the unruly lad who had earned the nickname “Monkey.” A young man passed through the dark doorway now—into the rest of his life, with all its unknowns. He would live with Aha’s family in the capital, his first time away from home.

  Hani tore himself away from the lingering afterimage of his son’s broad white-clad back, and he approached the scribe on duty at the desk to announce himself to Lord Ptah-mes.

  The man said, with his usual sour expression, “He’s waiting for you. Enter, my lord.”

  Hani made a tentative scratch at the door.

  “Ah, Hani,” said L
ord Ptah-mes, opening it. “Come in.” The high commissioner in charge of the northern vassals gestured Hani into his office and closed the door quietly behind him.

  A cool, elegant scion of the old Theban aristocracy, Ptah-mes seated himself with grace and bade Hani take a seat as well. “How are you enjoying your new assignment?” he asked, a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

  “Wonderfully, my lord. I can’t thank you enough. I feel I can look at myself in the mirror again.” Hani grinned. “Not that that was ever much of a treat.”

  A smile warmed Ptah-mes’s severe face, then he grew serious. “I’m sorry to say that I have a new assignment for you, Hani. It won’t take you away from home, but it will be an inconvenience, I fear. I felt I had to do this, though. The king has begun to notice your absence from the mission roster.”

  Hani’s neck prickled with hairs rising. Nefer-khepru-ra is watching me that closely? Am I the object of such suspicion?

  “Whatever my lord commands,” he said neutrally. “I didn’t realize I was under active observation.”

  Ptah-mes looked down at his ringed hands pressed flat on his knees. “Your brother-in-law’s disappearance is being interpreted in a variety of ways. There are those who see it as an attempt by you and the family to hide him from the royal police.” He looked up again, and his dark eyes locked with Hani’s. “I’ll repeat what I have said on other occasions: I think you need to be careful to be seen as actively furthering the king’s policies, Hani. Please take this advice seriously.”

  Hani took a deep breath and swallowed the stubborn refusal that wanted to come out of his mouth. “Absolutely, my lord. I appreciate your insights. What can I do for our sovereign—life, prosperity, and health be his?”

  Lord Ptah-mes leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands in his lap. The pleats of his immaculate linen remained as perfect as those of a statue, despite these maneuvers. “I’m sure you haven’t forgotten our friend Aziru.”

  Hani had to chuckle. “No, indeed, my lord.” He had spent the last three years of his life in the overseas service, trying to deal with Aziru, the leader of a group of nomads and social outcasts called the hapiru. Despite the man’s repeated requests to be admitted as a vassal, ruling over the area of A’amu, torn from nearby Kebni, the king had left Aziru dangling so that he was dangerously close to going over to Kemet’s enemies. “Has he ever shown up at court?”