by Wilbur Smith
At last it was time to affix the seals. To a series of blasts on the rams’ horns Nefer pressed his cartouche onto the damp clay and Apepi did the same. It annoyed Nefer to see that the Hyksosian king had usurped the pharaonic prerogative by adopting the sacred cartouche.
While Naja watched, with an enigmatic expression behind his heavy makeup, the new co-rulers of the two kingdoms embraced. Apepi folded Nefer’s slim form in his bear-like embrace and the congregation exploded in loud shouts of “Bak-her! Bak-her!” Men rattled their weapons against their shields, or hammered the butts of their spears and lances on the stone flags.
Nefer found himself almost overcome by Apepi’s powerful bodily odors. One of the Egyptian mores that the Hyksos had not adopted was their concept of personal hygiene. Nefer consoled himself with the thought that if he found the odor repugnant, then Naja was in for a shock when the King bestowed his affection upon him. Gently he eased himself out of the arms of his co-pharaoh, but Apepi beamed down on him in avuncular fashion and placed one hairy paw on his shoulder. Then he turned to face the crowded courtyard. “Citizens of this mighty land, which is once again united, I pledge you my duty and my patriotic love. In token of these, I offer the hand of my daughter, Princess Mintaka, in marriage to the Pharaoh Nefer Seti who is my co-ruler of this very Egypt. Pharaoh Nefer Seti, who shares with me the double crown of the Upper and Lower Kingdoms, and who shall be my son and whose sons shall be my grandsons!”
There was a long moment of utter stillness in the courtyard as the assembly came to terms with this startling announcement. Then they burst out in even more enthusiastic cries of approval while the drumming of weapons and the stamp of armored sandals became deafening.
Pharaoh Nefer Seti had an expression on his face that in any lesser mortal would have been described as an idiotic grin. He was gazing across the courtyard at Mintaka. She was frozen, with one hand covering her mouth, as though to stop herself from shrieking or squealing, and her eyes were wide open with astonishment as she gazed at her father. Slowly a dark blush suffused her face and shyly she turned her eyes to meet Nefer’s. The two gazed at each other as if no other person were in the crowded courtyard.
Taita watched from the foot of Pharaoh’s throne. He realized that Apepi’s timing of the announcement had been masterly. Now there was no possible way in which anybody—Naja, Trok or any other—could stand in the way of the marriage.
Taita stood close to Naja’s throne. Under his makeup the Regent was plainly in a state of deep consternation, especially aware of his own predicament. If Nefer married the Princess he was beyond Naja’s reach. He saw the double crown slipping from his grasp. Naja must have sensed Taita’s eyes upon him, for he glanced in his direction. For a moment only Taita looked into his soul, and it was as though he had looked into a dry well filled with the live cobras for which the Regent was named. Then Naja veiled his fierce yellow eyes, smiled coolly and nodded in agreement and approval, but Taita knew that he was thinking furiously. However, those thoughts were so swift and complex that even he could not follow them.
Taita turned his head and sought out the burly figure of Lord Trok in the Hyksosian ranks opposite. Unlike the Regent, Trok was making no attempt to disguise his feelings. He was in a black rage. His beard seemed to bristle and his face was swollen with dark blood. He opened his mouth as if to shout an insult or a protest, then closed it, and placed one hand on the hilt of his sword. His knuckles glazed white with the pressure of his grip, and briefly Taita thought that he was about to draw his blade and rush across the courtyard to Nefer’s slim figure. With a huge effort he regained control of himself, smoothed down his beard, then turned abruptly and pushed his way out of the courtyard. The commotion was such that almost no one noticed him go. Only Apepi watched him with a cynical smile.
As Trok disappeared between the tall granite Hathor pillars, Apepi dropped his hand from Nefer’s shoulder and crossed to Naja’s throne. He lifted the Regent easily off his cushions and embraced him with even more vigor than he had Pharaoh. His lips were pressed to Naja’s ear when he whispered softly, “No more Egyptian tricks now, my sweet-smelling flower, or I shall ram them as far up your arse as my arm can reach.”
He dropped Naja back on his cushions, then took the throne that had been placed alongside for him. Naja blanched and held a linen pad soaked in perfume to his nose while he gathered his wits. Wave after wave of applause swept over the courtyard. As it died away Apepi slammed his huge paws on the arms of his throne to encourage them to fresh efforts, and the cheering began all over again. He was enjoying himself hugely and he kept them at it until they were almost exhausted.
With the deshret crown of lower Egypt on his head, his was the dominant figure. Beside him Nefer, even under the authority of the tall hedjet crown, was a mere stripling. At last, after a final burst of applause, Naja rose to his feet and held up both arms. A grateful silence at last descended.
“Let the holy virgin come forward!” Led out in procession by her acolytes from behind the carved screen of the chancel, the high priestess of the temple advanced to the double throne. Before her, two priestesses carried the pshent crowns of the double kingdom. While the temple choir sang praises to the goddess the venerable old woman removed the single crowns from the heads of the co-rulers and replaced them with the double crowns, signifying the reunification of Egypt. Then she pronounced her quavering blessing on the two pharaohs and the new land, and retired into the depths of the temple. There was a short pause of indecision, for this was the first time in the long history of Egypt that a ceremony of reunification had been held and there were no established protocols to follow.
Adroitly Naja seized his opportunity. Once again he rose and stepped in front of Apepi. “On this auspicious and joyous day, we rejoice not only in the joining of the two kingdoms, but also in the betrothal of Pharaoh Nefer Seti and the beautiful Princess Mintaka. Therefore, be it known throughout the two kingdoms that the marriage will take place in this temple on the day that Pharaoh Nefer Seti celebrates his majority, or fulfils one of the conditions to ratify his claim to the crown and rules in his own right without a regent to protect and advise him.”
Apepi frowned and Nefer made a small gesture of dismay, but it was too late. It had been announced in full session and, as regent, Naja spoke with the authority of both crowned heads. Unless Nefer captured his own godbird, or succeeded in running the Red Road, thereby ratifying his claim to the throne, Naja had effectively prevented the marriage taking place for a number of years.
That was a masterly stroke, Taita thought bitterly, but he admired the political acumen behind it. Naja had averted disaster for himself by his quick thinking and timely intervention. Now, while his opposition was off-balance, he went even further. “On an equally happy note, I invite Pharaoh Apepi and Pharaoh Nefer Seti to celebrate my own marriage to the princesses Heseret and Merykara. This joyous ceremony will take place ten days from now, on the first day of the festival of Isis Ascending at the temple of Isis in the city of Thebes.”
So, in ten days’ time Lord Naja will be a member of the Tamosian royal family, and will stand next in succession to Pharaoh Nefer Seti, Taita thought grimly. Now we know, past all doubt, who was the cobra in the nest of the royal falcon on the cliffs of Bir Umm Masara.
By the terms of the treaty of Hathor, Apepi’s seat would remain at Avaris and Nefer Seti’s at Thebes. Each would govern his former kingdom, but in the name of the biumvirate. Twice every year, at the beginning and the end of the inundation of the Nile, the two kings would hold a combined royal assize at Memphis where all matters concerning the two kingdoms would be dealt with, new laws enacted and legal appeals considered.
However, before the two pharaohs parted, each to take up his seat in his respective capital, Apepi and his train would sail upriver in company with Nefer Seti’s fleet to Thebes. There they would attend Lord Naja’s double wedding.
The simultaneous embarkation of both trains from the wharf below the temple was a
chaotic affair that took up most of the morning. Taita mingled with the throng of boatmen and dockers, slaves and important passengers. Even he was amazed by the mountains of luggage and equipment piled upon the beach, waiting to be loaded on the lighters, feluccas and galleys. Rather than drive the long, rough road back downriver, the regiments of both Thebes and Avaris had broken down their chariots and were loading them and the horses onto the lighters. This contributed greatly to the confusion on the riverbank.
For once Taita was not the center of attraction: there was work to keep everyone fully occupied. Occasionally a man would look up from what he was doing, recognize him and ask for his blessing, or a woman would bring him a sick child to tend. However, he was able to work his way gradually along the beach, casually looking out for the chariots and equipment of Lord Trok’s regiment. He recognized them by their green and red pennants, and as he approached he made out the unmistakable figure of Trok among his men. Taita edged closer and saw him standing over a pile of equipment and weapons, haranguing his lance-bearer: “You brainless baboon, how have you packed my kit? That is my favorite bow lying there unprotected. Some oaf is sure to drive the horses over it.” His mood of the previous day had not improved, and he stamped away down the wharf, lashing out with his chariot whip at any unfortunate who stood in his way. Taita watched him pause to talk to another of his sergeants, then take the path up to the temple.
As soon as he had disappeared, Taita approached the lance-bearer. The trooper was stripped to breech clout and sandals, and as he stooped over one of the chests of Trok’s equipment and staggered with it to the waiting lighter, Taita saw the distinctive circular rash of the ring-worm on his naked back. The lance-bearer handed up the chest to a boatman on the deck of the galley, then came back. For the first time he noticed Taita standing nearby and touched his own breast with a clenched fist, saluting respectfully. “Come here, soldier,” Taita called him across. “How long have you had the itch on your back?”
Instinctively the fellow twisted up one arm between his shoulder-blades, and scratched himself so vigorously that he drew blood. “Cursed thing has been bothering me ever since we captured Abnub. I think it’s a gift from one of those dirty Egyptian whores—” He broke off guiltily. Taita knew that he was speaking about a woman he had raped during the capture of the city. “Forgive me, Warlock, we are allies and fellow countrymen now.”
“That is why I will attend to your affliction, soldier. Go up to the temple, ask at the kitchens for a jar of lard and bring it to me. I will mix an ointment for you.” Taita sat down on the pile of Trok’s luggage and equipment, and the lance-bearer hurried away down the beach. Among the luggage were three war bows—Trok had been unfair in his accusations, for each of the bows was unstrung and carefully wrapped in its leather cover.
Taita’s seat was a stack of wooden chests. This was not by chance, for he had seen that the top chest bore the seal of Grippa, the Avaris fletcher who made arrows for all the high-ranking Hyksosian officers. Taita remembered that he had discussed Grippa’s work with Mintaka. He slipped the little dagger from the sheath under his chiton, cut the cord that secured the lid and lifted it. A layer of dry straw protected the arrows, and under it they were packed alternately, flint head to gaudy red and green feathers. Taita picked one out and turned it in his fingers.
The carved signet leaped out at him, the stylized head of the leopard with the hieratic letter T held in its snarling jaws. The arrow was identical to the ones he had found in the quiver at the scene of Pharaoh’s murder. It was the last thread in the fabric of treason and treachery. Naja and Trok were linked inextricably in the bloody plot, whose whole shape as yet he could only guess at.
Taita slipped the incriminating arrow under the folds of his chiton and closed the lid of the chest. Deftly he retied the cord, and waited for the lance-bearer to return.
The old soldier was volubly grateful for Taita’s ministrations, then went on to plead for a further favor: “A friend of mine has the Egyptian pox, Magus. What should he do about it?” It always amused Taita how the Hyksos called it the Egyptian pox and the Egyptians returned the compliment. It seemed that no man ever contracted it himself but always had a friend suffering from the disease.
The wedding ceremony and feast to celebrate the marriage of Lord Naja to the two Tamosian princesses was the most lavish ever recorded. Taita recalled that it far exceeded in splendor any of those of either Pharaoh Tamose or his father, Pharaoh Mamose, both divine sons of Ra, may they live forever.
To the common citizens of Thebes, Lord Naja gave five hundred head of prime oxen, two lighters of millet from the state granaries and five thousand large clay pots of the best beer. The feasting continued for a week, but even the hungry mouths of Thebes could not devour such quantities of food in so short a time. The remains of the millet and the meat, which they smoked to preserve it, fed the city for months thereafter. However, the beer was another matter: they drank it in the first week.
The wedding was celebrated in the temple of Isis before both pharaohs, six hundred priests and four thousand invited guests. As they entered the temple each guest was presented with a commemorative carved jewel, ivory, amethyst, coral or some other precious gemstone, with the guest’s own name engraved upon it between the names of the Regent and his brides.
The two brides came to meet their groom on one of the state carriages drawn by the sacred white humpbacked oxen, driven by naked Nubian coachmen. The road was strewn with palm fronds and flowers, and a chariot drove ahead of the wedding coach throwing rings of silver and copper to the deliriously happy crowds that lined the way. Their enthusiasm was due in no small measure to Lord Naja’s largesse of beer.
The girls were clad in cloud-white linen of gossamer quality, and little Merykara was almost weighed down by the gold and jewels that covered her small body. Her tears had cut runnels through the kohl and antimony makeup. Heseret squeezed her hand tightly to try to console her.
When they reached the temple they were met by the two pharaohs as they disembarked from the great state coach. Nefer whispered to Merykara, as he led her into the nave of the temple, “Don’t cry, little kitten. Nobody is going to hurt you. You will be back in the nursery before your bedtime.”
To register his protest at the marriage of his sisters, Nefer had tried to avoid the duty of leading his little sister into the sanctuary, but Taita had reasoned with him. “We cannot prevent it happening, although you know how we have tried. Naja is determined. It would be cruel of you not to be there to comfort her in this, the most dread episode of her short life.” Reluctantly Nefer had acquiesced.
Close behind them Apepi led Heseret. She was as lovely as a nymph of paradise in her snowy robes and glittering jewelry. Months ago she had come to terms with the fate the gods had apportioned her and her initial dismay and horror had slowly given way to curiosity and a sneaking anticipation. Lord Naja was a magnificent-looking man, and her nurses, handmaidens and playmates had discussed him in avid detail, endlessly pointing out his more obvious virtues and, with breathless giggles, speculating in salacious detail on his hidden attributes.
Perhaps as a consequence of these discussions Heseret had recently been experiencing intriguing dreams. In one she had run naked through a lush garden on the bank of the river pursued by the Regent. When she looked back at him over her shoulder she saw that he also was naked, but that he was human only as far as his waist. From there down he was a horse, exactly like Nefer’s favorite stallion, Stargazer. When he was with the mares, she had often seen Stargazer in the same amazing condition as the Regent now exhibited, and she had always found herself strangely moved by the sight. However, just as the Regent caught up with her and reached out a bejeweled hand to seize her the dream ended abruptly and she found herself sitting bolt upright on her mattress. Without realizing what she was doing she reached down and touched herself. Her fingers came away wet and slippery. She was so disturbed that she could not sleep again and pick up the dream where it had brok
en off, although she tried hard to do so. She wanted to know the outcome of this enthralling experience. The next morning she felt restless and irritable, and took out her bad temper on all those around her. From that time onward her girlish interest in Meren began to fade. She saw him seldom, these days, anyway: since the death of his grandfather at Lord Naja’s hands his fortune had been forfeit, and the family had fallen into disgrace. She came to realize that he was an impecunious boy, a common soldier without favor or prospects. Lord Naja’s social rank almost matched hers, and his fortune far exceeded her own.
Now she kept a demure and chaste demeanor as Apepi led her down the long hypostyle gallery of the temple to the sanctuary. Lord Naja was waiting there for the bridal party, and although he was surrounded by courtiers and officers in fine costumes and magnificent uniforms, Heseret had eyes for him alone.
He wore a plumed headdress of ostrich feathers to emulate the god Osiris and stood tall above even Asmor and Lord Trok, who flanked him. As Heseret approached him she became aware of his perfume. It was a blend of essences of blooms from a land beyond the Indus and also contained the precious ambergris, found only rarely on the seashore, a bounty from the gods of the ocean depths. The aroma stirred her, and she took the hand that Naja offered her without hesitation, and looked up into those fascinating yellow eyes.
When Naja offered his other hand to Merykara she burst into loud sobs, and it was all Nefer could do to comfort her. She sobbed softly at intervals during the long ceremony that followed.
When at last Lord Naja broke the jars of Nile water to mark the culmination of the ceremony, the crowds gasped with amazement: the waters of the great river, on whose bank the temple stood, turned a brilliant blue. Around the first bend Naja had caused a line of barges to be anchored from bank to bank, and at a signal relayed from the temple roof they had released jars of dye into the waters. The effect was breathtaking, for blue was the color of the Tamosian dynasty. Naja was declaring to the world his new pharaonic connections.
