“Hurry! Chief Priest! One of the men has been bitten by a viper! He is dying!”
We calmed down the men enough to tell us where we needed to go, since the two had exhausted themselves in seeking help and could not accompany us. Buikkhu grabbed his medicine bag and with me and Khenemet in tow, we half-ran and half-walked around the mountain to where the guardsmen were located. En route we met the group, carrying their comrade in their arms. They laid him down on the pebbly sands.
In the light from Ra’s silver disk, immediately I could see that nothing that Buikkhu was about to do would keep the soldier from his journey to the Afterlife. His lips were already swollen and the bite area, just above his calf, was blue and clotted with blood. He writhed in pain so that it took four men to restrain him. His breath came in spasms.
I watched Buikkhu hesitate and glance at Khenemet. They looked at each other for a moment and then Khenemet nodded his head. Buikkhu withdrew a small leather pouch from his bag and removed a pinch of its contents. He crushed it in his pestle, added some wine and instructed the men to lift the soldier’s head so that he would be able to drink it. Within minutes the soldier stopped breathing. His journey to his meeting with Anubis had begun.
The captain of the guards was furious. “What have you done, Buikkhu?” he shouted. “He might have been saved!” The other soldiers nodded their assent.
Buikkhu still knelt next to the dead warrior, his hand upon the soldier’s chest. Khenemet stepped forward. “There was nothing to be done. He was too far gone. Buikkhu simply eased him on his journey to the next world, for the bite of a viper is painful beyond endurance.”
It was then that I thought back to my studies of the ancient scrolls and I recalled the night that one of King Narmer’s soldiers was bitten by a viper. The Horus priest Anhotek and the shaman Meruka worked feverishly through the night to save the poor man and through their combined power and magic they were able to do so. He grew to be a valuable member of Narmer’s military. No such power resided in the two priests before me and they, themselves, realized this for they did not even make an attempt to intercede with the gods. I was shaken to my core, and not only by their powerlessness. Even more frightening to me were the poisons they carried within arm’s reach.
The entire camp was somber after the incident. For the next few nights, Khenemet placed fresh garlic around the encampment and said prayers and incantations to ward off the desert mut spirits. But no one, the King included, slept securely until we finally reached the Red Sea.
By time we arrived at the edge of the sea, most of the boats had been reassembled and the cargo transferred aboard. Within two days of arriving, we were gathered before the fleet of ships that were bobbing up and down in the waves that dashed the shoreline. On a platform before us stood the captain of the King’s fleet. He was visibly nervous.
“Men… and women,” he shouted above the noise, nodding to the two women priestesses of Isis from the temple of Nekhen who accompanied us. “Before we embark on our journey to Pwenet, I need to make some announcements.” He looked at Qa’a for permission to continue. “Most of you have never sailed on the Red Sea or the Great Green, so here are some things to remember. Unlike Mother Nile or the lakes of our oases in the Great Desert, the ocean is unpredictable. It is subject to strong winds, to the play of the gods that makes it rise and fall each day, to waves and swift currents.
“Many of you will fall sick while our boats sway this way and that, even the strongest among you. You must hold tight to the ropes when you stand or else risk falling overboard. Strange creatures roam these waters, some as fierce as our crocodiles.
“We will try to stay within sight of the shore, but if conditions make it dangerous to do so, we may venture out of sight of land. In that case have no fear, for we steer by Ra’s gold and silver disks.”
By now we were all fearful of embarking on the adventure. I, for one, had never sailed upon water as vast as that before me. The waves were relentless, and confusing, too coming as they did from slightly different directions. I had heard tales of sea monsters and how the gods hurled their wrath upon those who ventured too far from shore.
Buikkhu took a moment to explain that he had in his bags treatments for those getting sick. Then Khenemet stood to give us a short blessing. The soldiers waded out to their boats, while the rest of us walked warily along a temporary dock that had been built for the purpose of loading cargo. Within the hour the sailors cast off, hoisted their sails, and amidst the creaking of wood and reeds, and shouts from boat to boat, we were underway.
Life aboard the boats was crowded, but pleasant. For the bodily necessities, we either urinated over the side or else simply sat with our rear ends over the edge and held tight to the ropes for balance. The priestesses had a curtained area reserved for them. The sailors caught fresh fish for us, fish with strange shapes we had not witnessed before, even one frightening beast with eight arms and a bulbous eye that caused several from the Royal court to vomit in disgust. One of our cooks was from the Great Green and considered this horrible mistake of the gods a delicacy and when he prepared it using our spices, it was truly delectable.
On one day, as Buikkhu and Khenemet stood near the stern talking, a strange thing happened. A small fish simply landed in our boat with a thud and lay there flapping its fins. I looked skyward to see if a seagull had dropped it, but there were no birds nearby. A few seconds later, another fish landed on the deck. I looked around and others had noticed, too. Then a few more landed, one of them hitting Buikkhu in the shoulder. We had no idea what was happening. People looked in every direction, confused.
But in another few moments, as we stared in astonishment, a wall of flying fish descended upon us, a site never witnessed by anyone aboard, not even our captain. In the adjoining boat, the few Kings Guardsmen that were aboard ran to protect Qa’a and covered him with a blanket. Soon fish were pelting us non-stop and even a single step in any direction would mean slipping on the body of a fish. We were frozen in place. Then, in another moment, it was all over.
The look of stunned wonderment was upon everyone’s face. For several seconds no one said a word. Then we began laughing and shouting at each other, from person to person and boat to boat. The cooks pulled empty baskets from the deck and began shoveling the flapping fish into them by the handful. On the boats carrying the Kings Guard, they saw yet another opportunity to play and began throwing the hapless creatures at each other until each man was covered in slime and small cuts from the fins. That night we feasted on this gift from the gods with a stew that was thick with delicious fish meat. Khenemet pronounced the swarm a favorable omen from the gods. He told us he had a vision of Horus catching the fish in his talons and raining them down upon us.
So we spent the next days in good spirits as we sailed upon the calm waters of the Red Sea, steady breezes blowing us closer to Pwenet with every day that passed. We took showers from buckets of sea water, although the result was that our skin was covered in a salty residue. I noted that those of us who had never seen a sea before were becoming relaxed in its presence, enthusiastically enjoying the sailing. Some of the soldiers and merchants were getting sailing instructions from the sailors.
On most days, our vessel would tie up to the King’s boat and Khenemet, Buikkhu and I would climb aboard for discussions on matters of policy. Of course, I had nothing to offer in this regard, except for the rare question on precedents, since I was the one most familiar with the holy scrolls, from Anhotek to the present.
“And what would the purpose of this new tax law be?” Qa’a asked during one of these conversations.
“It would make the businessmen happy,” Khenemet replied.
“Well that’s obvious,” Qa’a laughed. “They would love for us to cut their taxes. But why should we do so and hurt our treasury?”
Buikkhu leaned forward toward Qa’a. “It is thus, my King. Since Unification, trade has increased immeasurably within Kem and with our neighbors. New caravan routes have bee
n established, both north and south. Temples have proliferated and towns have grown around them. The people have more confidence and are having more children, so that there is a steadily increasing need for even more goods. Since Meryt-Neith’s rule our ability to produce and store grain has increased greatly, so that the rekhi no longer fear famines as much. Our medical Horus priests continue to improve the health of our people, so they are more confident of living well.”
“And just what does this have to do with taxes?” Qa’a asked, drumming his fingertips on the arms of his chair.
“What it means is that if we were to lower the taxes, it would stimulate even more trade and with that expansion the treasury would gain as much money, or even more, despite the lower tax rate.” Buikkhu saw the skeptical look on Qa’a's face.
“Let us say, for example, that we exact a tax of one urn of beer for every ten that is produced. That would mean that for every ten urns, the treasury gets one urn to distribute to the priests and priestesses and the Royal family. Let’s assume that we lower the tax rate to one urn for every twelve urns sold. That would please the breweries, for they have now increased their profit. They could afford to hire more workers to make more beer to meet the needs of our expanding population, as well as the demands of our neighbors. The Royal treasury, in turn, is happy because the increased production means more goods for the King to either distribute or sell. In the end, all are happy.” Buikkhu sat back, a smile on his face.
“And you agree with this analysis?” Qa’a asked of Khenemet.
“I do, my King. It is something long past due.”
“If it is long past due, then I assume you tried to get my father to do so and he refused. Why is that?”
Khenemet did not answer immediately. Qa’a leaned forward, waiting. I, too, was eager to hear Khenemet’s response.
“I… I am not sure of his reasons. Perhaps he was too busy with other matters to give it proper consideration. Perhaps his illness diverted his attention.”
“And you, Merkha, what do you think of this tax idea?”
I could instantly feel Khenemet’s and Buikkhu’s stares penetrate me and I silently thanked Horus for the cool breeze that blew across the ship. “I do not pretend to understand taxes and trade, Qa’a. Yet, I will tell you this, for it is written in the holy scrolls of Anhotek. When King Narmer, may his name be blessed, conquered Lower Kem, he increased the taxes on commerce from the Delta to make them consistent with those of Upper Kem. This brought much unhappiness to the merchants of Lower Kem. That helped to foment rebellion in the Delta throughout his reign, even though those taxes went to improve their roads and build temples and other structures that benefitted them.”
“I see,” Qa’a said.
“Our system of taxes is something that makes us different from the kingdoms and nations that surround us,” I continued.
“How so?”
“In other lands, the people are forced to pay tribute to their rulers. That money benefits only the king and his family. In Kem, we collect taxes. Yes, the Royal family benefits, but so does the lowest rekhi. We use your Treasury to build temples for them to pray in, to build roads to make travel easier, to construct granaries and fill them with grain. All people in Kem benefit greatly.”
Qa’a leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped under his chin. “Yes, I can see that this would be true. I can now see the wisdom in your suggestion,” he said, looking at Khenemet and Buikkhu.
“Thank you once again, my teacher, for an important lesson. I wish I were a better student when I was younger,” he said, turning to me and laughing. He instructed Buikkhu to draft the new proclamation for his approval.
As evening approached and we were back on the boat, Buikkhu took me aside. “Well done, Merkha.”
It took me a while to understand what he meant. “I simply related the contents of the scrolls.”
“Well, it is of no matter. It worked.” Buikkhu looked deeply into my eyes, before turning away. I wondered, as probably did he, what I might have done had the lesson from Anhotek’s scrolls been completely different.
That night I slept with troubled dreams and in the middle of the night I awoke, paralyzed with fear. As I sat up I felt the boat heave up upon a huge wave and come down with a thud. With that, everyone on the boat awoke.
In the darkness, save for the dim light of Ra’s silver disk behind ominous clouds, all we could see were the waves that arose in front of us like looming, menacing shadows. The captain shouted commands to his crew to pull up anchors and to raise the rearmost sail and head into the wind. One of the sailors shouted for us to hold ourselves tight to the deck.
Khenemet raced to the side of the captain. “What is it?” he yelled, loud enough so that all heard him above the roar of the water and wind.
“We are being hit by a storm. We have to get away from shore.”
“But we are in a protected cove, you idiot!” Khenemet shouted.
The captain whipped his head around to see if Khenemet was serious. “Protected you say? See those rocks along the shoreline? If we do not move this moment, priest, we will be dashed upon those damned rocks!” With that he pushed Khenemet roughly out of his way and took control of the rudder, muttering curses under his breath.
On either side of us the other boats struggled to head into the wind. In the distance many lightning strikes lit up the horizon. The wind blew in ever stronger gusts. As the boat plunged into the trough of yet another wave, the sea crashed over the decks in a foamy deluge, drenching us. In a matter of minutes we were shivering uncontrollably. I no longer felt my fingers gripped tight upon the rope that I clung to for my life. The boat plunged forward, but as it rose again it swayed unsteadily from side to side.
On the next wave, as we rose with the swell, the boat tipped ominously to the right. One of the sailors holding a rope attached to the sail lost his grip and fell overboard. I tried to reach out with one hand, but in the darkness all I could see was his head sinking below the water. In the next instant I had to hold on with both hands. The sail had drooped and the captain yelled for another man to hoist the sail higher. When no others responded, Buikkhu jumped up and grabbed the line. As he pulled with all his strength, he was whipped from side to side by the rocking boat. His hands bled from the chaffing rope.
I could see Khenemet trying to peer over the side to see if the King’s vessel was beside us, but a crashing wave banged his head against the rail and a cut appeared along his cheek. Blood poured down his face and neck.
As we watched in horror, the storm quickly worsened. Bolts of lightning appeared ever closer, lighting up the surface of the water. The fierce rain pelted us mercilessly so that we had to close our eyes or be blinded by its attack. With the next lightning bolt, through squinting eyes I saw a boatload of soldiers suddenly appear to our left, with sailors and soldiers battling to keep the boat headed into the wind. Just as a swell rose us in tandem, a gust of wind hit the other boat and turned her broadside to the storm. As the boat plunged down to the trough, it rolled over onto its side and that was the last we saw of her and her crew and passengers.
Urns and sheafs of wheat now floated on the water around us, banging into the side of our vessel. The clouds hung low in the sky, black and roiling, and I knew then that we faced the chilling chaos of Nun. I prayed fervently to Horus to save our piteous souls and looked to see Khenemet on his knees, holding tight to a rope, bobbing up and down in obvious prayer.
With lightning crackling all around us, there was a slight lull in the tall waves and I made the mistake of looking up. In the distance I saw a wall of blackness and as my gaze reached upward I realized in horror what it was I saw. A gigantic wall of water, taller than ten ships, rolled toward us. As a bolt of lightning hit the crest of the wave, I saw the King’s ship atop that towering wall.
In a moment I hoped never to experience again, our tiny ship was sucked to the bottom of the trough and in a roar that not the mightiest god could have made, the massive wall of wate
r crashed down upon us. We were pushed under the water, down and down. I felt the boat dragging me under and the arms and legs of men pushing and kicking against me. I could hold my breath no longer. My arms flayed frantically to get back to the surface and I realized that I still held fast to the rope. At last I let go and in a moment surfaced and drew a quick gasping breath before being crushed by another wave.
Qa'a (The First Dynasty Book 3) Page 9
