mats covered the floors and floral paintings decorated many walls. In the larger rooms, flowers of every color imaginable were massed in pottery jars, perfuming the air. Deeper in the dwelling, a series of corridors took them past smaller, plainer chambers containing sleeping pallets and storage chests.
Leaving the building through a rear door, they hastened across a bare patch of sand, passing a row of four tall, conical granaries built alongside the house. A gate through a waisthigh wall took them into another sandy yard, which fronted the long, low building housing the kitchen and servants' quarters. The yeasty scent of fresh bread vied with the aroma of roasting meat, reminding Bak of the midday meal he had missed. The tangy odor of manure drifted from a building hidden behind a wall; the whinny of a horse identified its occupants.
Within another, smaller enclosed yard, he saw the well, a wide-mouthed round hole surrounded by a low wall, with a flight of steps leading downward. Beyond a higher wall, date palms whispered in the breeze and birds fluttered among the leaves of a sycamore: the garden he had seen earlier in the day.
As they passed through yet another gate, this in a wall much too tall to see over, Nefer's feet began to drag, telling Bak they had entered the grounds of the neighboring villa. The passage had been opened between the two propertieswhether at Djehuty's command or sometime in the past he had no way of knowing-to provide a shorter path between the two dwellings, eliminating the need to walk around to the formal entrance at the front. The house, he saw, was about half the size of Djehuty's but palatial compared to most of the dwellings in a provincial city such as Abu.
After passing four granaries and an empty stable, they stepped through a door Nefer had left open in her haste to
get help. Beyond three small rooms filled with sealed storage jars, they entered a hall whose high ceiling was supported by two papyrus-shaped columns. The room was bright and cheerful, a place designed to please visitors of lofty rank. The musty smell of an empty dwelling underlay the odor of fresh paint.
Another door led to a spacious room furnished with wooden chests, stools, and even a chair. Thick rush mats covered the floor. The walls were white, with a simple lily motif running around the room near the ceiling. This had once been the private reception room in the master's suite. The quarters were far too grand for Bak's purpose and taste, far too sumptuous for himself and his Medjays, and with the governor's villa so close, far less private than he liked. A problem Hatnofer's death had solved for him.
A slender woman with hair curling around her shoulders sat in the chair, staring at nothing. An untidy pile of sheets lay on the floor nearby, bedding she or Nefer must have dropped, now forgotten. In her early to mid-twenties, she had the same prominent cheekbones and jaw as Djehuty, the same long and slim body, but the whole softened by femininity. No man would call her beautiful, nor could she be called plain.
When Amonhotep and Bak stepped into the room, she started as if awakened from a nap. "You've come at last." She rose to her feet and walked toward them, her eyes on the newcomer. "You must be the officer from Buhen."
"Lieutenant Bak," he said, nodding. "And you're mistress Khawet?"
"You couldn't have come at a more opportune time." She formed a smile, but her voice trembled, - making a lie of the attempt at humor. "I'm sorry. I fear I'm not myself."
Bak took a quick look around the room. Two open doors revealed small chambers containing folded sleeping pallets, a few stools, and woven reed chests. A third led to a far more spacious chamber containing a bed made up with fresh linen, wooden chests, and several stools standing on a carpet of woven reed mats.
He stood in the doorway, eyeing an opening in the wall at the far end. "You found mistress Hatnofer in the bath, Nefer said."
She gave the open
Leaving the building through a rear door, they hastened across a bare patch of sand, passing a row of four tall, conical granaries built alongside the house. A gate through a waisthigh wall took them into another sandy yard, which fronted the long, low building housing the kitchen and servants' quarters. The yeasty scent of fresh bread vied with the aroma of roasting meat, reminding Bak of the midday meal he had missed. The tangy odor of manure drifted from a building hidden behind a wall; the whinny of a horse identified its occupants.
Within another, smaller enclosed yard, he saw the well, a wide-mouthed round hole surrounded by a low wall, with a flight of steps leading downward. Beyond a higher wall, date palms whispered in the breeze and birds fluttered among the leaves of a sycamore: the garden he had seen earlier in the day.
As they passed through yet another gate, this in a wall much too tall to see over, Nefer's feet began to drag, telling Bak they had entered the grounds of the neighboring villa. The passage had been opened between the two propertieswhether at Djehuty's command or sometime in the past he had no way of knowing-to provide a shorter path between the two dwellings, eliminating the need to walk around to the formal entrance at the front. The house, he saw, was about half the size of Djehuty's but palatial compared to most of the dwellings in a provincial city such as Abu.
After passing four granaries and an empty stable, they stepped through a door Nefer had left open in her haste to
get help. Beyond three small rooms filled with sealed storage jars, they entered a hall whose high ceiling was supported by two papyrus-shaped columns. The room was bright and cheerful, a place designed to please visitors of lofty rank. The musty smell of an empty dwelling underlay the odor of fresh paint.
Another door led to a spacious room furnished with wooden chests, stools, and even a chair. Thick rush mats covered the floor. The walls were white, with a simple lily motif running around the room near the ceiling. This had once been the private reception room in the master's suite. The quarters were far too grand for Bak's purpose and taste, far too sumptuous for himself and his Medjays, and with the governor's villa so close, far less private than he liked. A problem Hatnofer's death had solved for him.
A slender woman with hair curling around her shoulders sat in the chair, staring at nothing. An untidy pile of sheets lay on the floor nearby, bedding she or Nefer must have dropped, now forgotten. In her early to mid-twenties, she had the same prominent cheekbones and jaw as Djehuty, the same long and slim body, but the whole softened by femininity. No man would call her beautiful, nor could she be called plain.
When Amonhotep and Bak stepped into the room, she started as if awakened from a nap. "You've come at last." She rose to her feet and walked toward them, her eyes on the newcomer. "You must be the officer from Buhen."
"Lieutenant Bak," he said, nodding. "And you're mistress Khawet?"
"You couldn't have come at a more opportune time." She formed a smile, but her voice trembled, - making a lie of the attempt at humor. "I'm sorry. I fear I'm not myself."
Bak took a quick look around the room. Two open doors revealed small chambers containing folded sleeping pallets, a few stools, and woven reed chests. A third led to a far more spacious chamber containing a bed made up with fresh linen, wooden chests, and several stools standing on a carpet of woven reed mats.
He stood in the doorway, eyeing an opening in the wall at the far end. "You found mistress Hatnofer in the bath, Nefer said."
She gave the open
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