“I have heard from my soldiers what you did,” Qa’a said over the last fire pit we lit before leaving the land of the Kushites. Nomti stared into the fire uncomfortably.
“I did nothing,” he replied. “It is your soldiers and the Kushite warriors who saved you.” Qa’a smiled.
“My soldiers listen to orders,” he said, “especially mine. Had you not acted, they might have stayed where they were and watched me being torn apart.”
“I hardly…”
Qa’a held up his hand. “No, my friend. I know what happened and that is all I wished to say.”
SCROLL EIGHTEEN
The Wedding Present
Merkha
The very next day we made to leave for Inabu-hedj, but it was not until the beginning of Proyet that Nomti returned to Inabu-hedj, a hero twice over. His role as Overseer of the canal was already well established, but now his exploits as a warrior circulated widely, for in its many retellings it had been suitably embellished. Nomti, to his credit, tried at first to squash the more elaborate stories, but he soon realized that it was to no avail. The people who lived the quietest, most traditional lives in the Royal family appeared to want to believe such tales more than the most hardened soldiers.
Qa’a threw a lavish party in Nomti’s honor, attended by governors from every nome, including those from the Delta, as well as foreign officials who by now knew Nomti well from his many large purchases and trades. I made sure to add to the list of invitees certain priests and officials that I had hopes of recruiting into my group of spies. Through those discussions at the party and afterwards, I learned of rumblings of discontent that were simmering throughout Lower Kem, discontent that could easily boil over if not addressed quickly by Qa’a.
One by one, those with whom I spoke in utmost confidence revealed to me how dissatisfied the wealthy families in the Delta were with the canal project. They had not been consulted on it, which alone they considered an insult. Yet there was more, much more.
The Delta businessmen believed that the canal would deprive them of trade or, at the very least, not allow them to participate in the potentially lucrative business opportunities that would be opened up in the territories to our south, far from the Delta. They saw Nomti’s trading successes as threats to their livelihood and exalted positions within the Delta communities. Priests reported to me that gifts to the Horus temples in the Delta had declined. The discontent was widespread and secretive meetings of like-minded businessmen and officials were reported.
Of course, I was not the only one to hear these reports, for Khenemet’s network of informants was far larger and more experienced than mine. He and Buikkhu could be seen in huddled conversation at every opportunity. In the evenings, a steady stream of people, strangers to me, could be seen entering the Temple of Horus and after they left, Khenemet and Buikkhu would closet themselves for long periods of time.
On the final evening of Nomti’s stay in Inabu-hedj, Qa’a threw a lavish party to celebrate the good floods and the canal’s progress. Groups of musicians playing lutes and drums and sistras were found in each of the main rooms of the palace and in the three large tents that had been set up outside overlooking Mother Nile. Beautiful dancers swayed to the music, their gossamer robes floating behind them in the gentle breeze. Officials from foreign lands nearly salivated at such displays of beauty and grace, for their practices did not allow their women, nor their men for that matter, to lose themselves in such abandon, let alone in such revealing dress.
The many tables of abundant, fresh food were filled by servants that busily rushed here and there, a supervisor barking directions that they quickly heeded. Many of the foreign guests could be seen picking at the food and grumbling, for their tastes ran to spicier fare, while we Kemians prefer fresh, but simply prepared items.
A continuous line of guests approached the dais upon which Qa’a and Amisi sat, he animated and gregarious and she but a desiccated corpse of the beautiful, sensual woman she once was. Some in the line spoke to the couple merely to reacquaint themselves, others to press a point under the King’s consideration, and still others to ask for the King’s intercession in some dispute. Buikkhu made notes on a large square of papyrus and promised to get back to them.
Khenemet noticed one of the guests in line and singled him out. He motioned for him to come to the front, excusing the intrusion to those ahead of him. The man was a giant amongst us. He was from a mountainous region in Canaan, fully bearded, with jewels sewn onto thin gold chains that adorned it. He laughed and spoke loudly, another difference from we Kemians.
“King Qa’a, may I introduce to you an emissary from the hill country of Canaan, with whom we trade. His name is difficult for us to pronounce. We simply call him Kus.” The man immediately bowed low to the ground in suitable deference to the King of the Two Lands.
“Arise, Kus, and welcome to the Two Lands of Kem,” Qa’a said. Kus arose smiling broadly. “We are honored to have you here with us tonight.”
“You are an ass,” Kus said in heavily accented Kemian, beaming. Suddenly everyone around us became deathly silent. Brows were lined seeking an explanation, while others cast their gaze to the ground. Kus’ interpreter ran to his side and whispered in his ear.
“I mean you are honored… as… as I am honored. Is that right? Did I say it right?” he whispered loudly to the man at his side who was as red as a ruby. By now we were all laughing heartily, including Qa’a.
“What brings you here, Kus?” Qa’a managed to say when he recovered.
“I am the Minister of Trade for my people, King Qa’a,” the man said through his interpreter. “We know you have a project that needs many trees and we have an abundance of that in our land.”
Qa’a laughed. “Yes, we do have a project, as you say, and from what I have heard it does need a lot of timber.” The King looked around for Nomti, who was conferring with one of the canal architects and an engineer. “Khenemet here would be happy to negotiate with you for those trees you speak of. Is that not right, Chief Priest?”
“Yes, of course it is, Master. We would be happy to do so,” the Chief Priest said with a slight nod toward Kus. After listening to his interpreter, Kus seemed confused and the two spoke softly, but animatedly, to one another. Kus began to speak, but changed his mind and took the man by his arm and placed him by his side. Then he instructed him on what to say.
“King Qa’a, master of the great Two Lands of Kem, my master asks me to… he wishes to have a private audience with you for but a few moments.” The interpreter was sweating as he looked from the Minister to the King.
“Tell Kus that he may speak freely here. I have nothing to hide from my trusted advisors.” The King nodded to Khenemet and Buikkhu. Again Kus and his interpreter conferred.
“My master wishes to tell you,” the interpreter said, stepping forward and speaking in a low voice, “that he will only do business with the man known as Nomti.”
Qa’a was dumbstruck, but it was Khenemet’s reaction that surprised me. He opened his mouth as if to speak, closed it, tried again to speak, then shut it tight. He did not look at the King. I could see that Buikkhu was uncomfortable with Khenemet’s embarrassment.
The King was the first to recover. “May I ask your master why he makes such a demand?”
With Kus speaking fast in his language, the interpreter worked hard to keep up. “He says that throughout Canaan people who have met this Nomti have spoken well of him. He listens to their side and trades fairly. My master says that even in Lebanon, they speak well of this Nomti. One merchant claimed that Nomti paid him more than his asking price because he wanted him to make enough profit to keep supplying him with his higher quality goods.” The interpreter made a gesture asking Kus to slow down, which he did.
“My master says that with such a businessman we will happily trade. He will mortar our ties with Kem. He has nothing against the Chief Priest, but he is more comfortable doing business with a businessman.”
Kh
enemet listened without saying another word, but as the interpreter spoke, I watched Khenemet use the time to draw himself up and regain his stature.
“Then it is decided,” Qa’a said, still unbalanced by the exchange. “Buikkhu here will take you to Nomti.” Buikkhu shot a glance at Khenemet, who nodded and tilted his staff in the direction of Nomti. As soon as they were gone, an uncomfortable silence hung in the air, but a line of people waited to speak with the King and Khenemet motioned to one of his priests to allow the next person to come forward.
Over the next several ten-days, life in Inabu-hedj returned to normal. Farmers toiled in the now green fields under Ra’s searing, yet life-giving heat, merchants hawked their wares in the dusty markets, and mothers scurried about, children in hand. The King’s farms and workshops, under the direction of the Minister of the King’s Estates, all worked up to capacity and even hired more than the usual number of workers due to four straight years of generous floods.
Yet there was one exception to the return to normalcy and that involved Irisi’s visit with King Qa’a.
“And what brings you here for an audience? Qa’a asked, somewhat kindly. Since Irisi’s role in Amisi’s stillbirth, the King had softened his feelings toward the priestess. His feelings towards Khenemet were a different story.
“I have come with good news. Your sister is now a woman.”
“Princess Nebi?” the King asked, his face now breaking into a smile.
“Have you another sister, Master, one you have not told us about?” The three of us laughed.
“This is very good news, dear Priestess. Very good.”
“Yes, it bodes well for the Two Lands. We must soon talk of marriage for her.” I noted Qa’a look at me as if to remind me of his own search for his Second Wife.
“In whose realm does this task rest?” Qa’a asked.
“The Temple of Isis, under my direction, prepares a list for you. Then I join your advisors to decide on the best match. That is how it has always been done.”
“Then so shall it be now,” Qa’a said. “When does this happen?”
“Soon. But first we will have a celebration for the Princess at the Temple of Isis. That will happen on the next full moon, in a ten-day’s time.”
“So noted,” I added.
As I expected, Irisi created a small, yet grand event for Princess Nebi in the short time she had to do it. The entire Royal family attended, and also several ministers and governors of the nearby nomes, for any celebration put on by the priestesses was one not to be missed. The food was grand and the music, dancing and singing was always the finest in the Two Lands.
Also in attendance were Nomti and his growing retinue, along with Khenemet and Buikkhu. All were silent as the singing began, attesting to the flowering of the Princess to womanhood. While Irisi presided, the details of the ceremony were entrusted to Woserit, Irisi’s right-hand priestess.
Woserit rose to help Nebi make an offering to Isis. The Princess was radiant, dressed in a gown of the finest gossamer linen. She wore a full complement of jewels and in her hair was woven threads of gold chains made at the King’s jewelry workshop. Her face had makeup applied by Irisi herself, so that the rouges, lipstick, kohl and malachite were deftly and perfectly applied. If the Princess did not look like Isis’ daughter that day, then none other ever has.
We sat outside, under a covering of a multi-colored cloth woven by the priestesses. Woserit was a commanding presence. Although short and a bit heavier than most Kemian women, she had large breasts that made her gown hang awkwardly. Yet she also had a glowing smile and her wide eyes drew attention to her large presence.
I sat in a row behind and to the side of Nomti and I noted his extreme interest once Woserit stood to speak. He leaned this way and that throughout the ceremony to secure a better view of the priestess. Once over, while other guests congregated by the food and drink, Nomti quietly waited until Woserit reappeared and immediately engaged her in talk.
“I believe your businessman has other interests that command his attention,” Irisi whispered in my ear.
“Ah, so you, too, have noticed,” I whispered back. “This surprises me, for I have seen no sign of his romantic nature.”
“It takes but the right woman to bring out such amorous tendencies,” she responded. “But he certainly has a keen eye, for Woserit, as her name implies, is a powerful woman, indeed. She would make a good, but demanding wife for the right man.”
“But she is a priestess,” I said, a bit too loudly and I looked around to see if anyone overheard. “And she is highly placed in your order.”
“Yes, that is true, but we do allow our priestesses to wed if the circumstances allow. In this case…”
“Yes, I can see the benefits to your Temple in terms of wealth and access to the throne.”
“You are entirely too callous, Merkha,” she said, smiling and shoved me with her elbow for good measure.
And so, throughout Proyet, along with the growth of the crops and cattle, so grew the relationship between Nomti and Woserit, which Irisi dutifully apprised me of at our regular meetings.
“Their relationship grows,” Irisi reported to me. I had already known this through Mhotep, in whom Urshte confided. “As it turns out, Nomti is a good man.”
“Does that surprise you?” I asked, curious.
“Yes, in a way it did surprise me, but it has also taught me lessons. I assumed that being so devoted a businessman he might be shallow in other areas of his ba. But Woserit has confided in me that he is a man who thinks deeply about many matters.”
“Such as?”
“He makes no distinction between men and women as far as the affairs of business. He feels both can do well if they are properly motivated. That reflects his respect for women. He also believes that through increased trade with our neighbors Kem will prosper and all will benefit, even the rekhi.”
And so, it came as no surprise that at the end of one of our monthly meetings over the canal project, Nomti made an announcement.
“My King, I wish your blessing on a matter.”
“You look serious, Nomti. Are you ill?”
“No, nothing like that, Master. It is that… well, I plan to wed.”
“Wed? How marvelous!” Qa’a looked around at all of us at the table and smiled broadly. “Did you all hear that? Nomti is to wed!” All but Khenemet and Buikkhu shook their heads in approval and the two of them looked as if they had sucked on a sour lemon.
“And who is the bride to be?” the Chief Architect asked.
“Woserit,” Buikkhu muttered loud enough for all to hear. Nomti looked surprised, as if his courtship could possibly have remained a secret.
“Yes, it… it is Woserit, a priestess of the Temple of Isis,” he added, nervously, looking at Khenemet and Buikkhu.
“I suppose I will now have to deplete my treasury giving you wedding gifts,” Qa’a offered good naturedly.
“Oh, no, my master,” Nomti said, flustered. “It is enough that I finally met this fine woman. I hardly expected that I would ever marry. Your presence at my wedding and your blessing is all I ask.”
“I tease you,” Qa’a said, still smiling at Nomti. “Yet… I might have an interesting gift for you.” Khenemet shot a disapproving look at the King, but Qa’a had by then turned away, holding up his alabaster mug to be refilled.
And so it was that the wedding was planned for the less than ideal second month of Shomu, for the heat was intolerable and plagues once again tore through the Two Lands. Yet Nomti was insistent that the event be held then, so that he had enough time to both settle into his new union and still leave enough time to prepare for the floods of Akhet when workers from throughout Kem would flock to the canal project.
Qa'a (The First Dynasty Book 3) Page 24
