Qa'a (The First Dynasty Book 3)

by Lester Picker

  So it was that I came home in four months time to the palace to report my findings back to Khenemet. I had sent a messenger ahead of our boat when we were but two day’s sail from Inabu-hedj, but favorable winds allowed us to make good progress, so we landed at the port late on the evening of the first full day’s sail. I was exhausted and after securing my belongings, I headed to the temple to offer my thanks to Horus for returning us safely.

  As I approached the inner sanctum, I noticed a movement near the entranceway to Buikkhu’s quarters. I turned to look and saw a familiar face in the doorway, saying his goodbyes to Buikkhu. He noted me watching, quickly turned aside his face and left hurriedly, but there was no mistaking the man as the one who had watched me in the Delta.

  At that moment, as I turned into Horus’ sanctuary, my heart heavy with all that I had learned in the Delta, I prayed that Horus would even recognize the ka of the changed man who would now kneel before him.

  Book II

  SCROLL TWENTY

  Minister to the King

  Urshte

  “I could hardly believe it when the King appointed Nomti as his Minister!” Woserit exclaimed to her friend, Tameri, an Isis priestess from a small village in Upper Kem. The woman was visiting in Inabu-hedj for training under Irisi and stayed in Nomti’s house when she could. “But, he is entirely too modest about it,” she added in a loud enough whisper that I would certainly hear.

  “She is right,” I said, as Mhotep replenished the bowl of dates on the table between us.

  “You are too modest, Nomti,” Woserit added, “and it will mean lost opportunities.”

  “Lost opportunities? Are you mad, woman? I have more opportunities than any man deserves. I am more fortunate than all but a handful of people in the entire Two Lands!”

  “That is not what she meant,” I suggested. “Woserit understands that with power comes certain obligations.”

  “Such as?” I could see that Nomti was becoming impatient with this same conversation that we had for as long as I had been in his service.

  “Such as obligations to pass on favors to others, so that they will be your allies when needed.”

  “Urshte! I will tell you this again, and for the last time. I have no desire to have allies for some future time. To do what?”

  “To advance yourself, to serve the King, to serve Kem, to… to become Vizier eventually, or… or some such high title.”

  Nomti sighed in frustration. “Look, Urshte, I know you mean well. Here it is, then. I am already serving the King and Kem, far more than ever I thought. I did not ask for the role of Minister, but I will do my best to serve as I see fit and so long as it pleases the King. As is I have had to sacrifice being present at the canal site, supervising the architects and engineers.”

  “That accursed canal!” I muttered. “Good riddance, I say.”

  “I know you are a Delta man and do not like being in the desert, Urshte. But as supervisor I must show the workers that I am available to them. I have to understand their problems and overcome them so they work even harder.”

  “Yes, that is for the canal project, but what of the greater good for Kem?”

  “As for Kem, I see my role as bringing people together to make deals that benefit both sides, whether two businessmen or two countries.”

  “Yes, I have seen you do that countless times, Nomti, but some of those times the other side seems to gain at your expense.”

  “Ah, there you have it, Urshte. You see it as a loaf of bread to be divided up and if I give them more I get less. But I see it differently. I see that with this win we will bake an ever larger loaf together and in that way we both get more!” With that Nomti sat back and smiled.

  “Ahh, you are impossible!” I said, throwing up my hands and with that we laughed heartily.

  The truth was that Horus and Isis had blessed Nomti beyond ever he thought possible. On two or three occasions he had explained to me that growing up as a youth his father had been a brewer who did well enough, but hardly ever had enough extra for indulgences. When Nomti declined his offer to take over the family business his father was upset, but soon accepted that Nomti was far more able to recognize a hungry, motivated young businessman and to negotiate business deals than was he.

  And now, with Woserit in his life, Nomti was doubly blessed, for she brought joys to his life that he never before knew. Up to that point he was too busy with his business deals to chase women. All his boyhood friends were now married, with children.

  On one evening, after we had drunk too much fine wine, Nomti confided in me that he was still a virgin when he met Woserit. Since then the thought would occur to me that to lose one’s virginity to an Isis priestess was a blessing that the gods bestowed on few mortals. That was one of the many revelations that convinced me of the strength of Nomti’s ba. For me, it seemed that each of our interactions mortared our relationship more securely.

  Nomti’s days now were hardly his own and rarely were his nights. He was forced to supervise the canal project from afar, using my Horus priest messengers to relay instructions to the supervisors at the site, a process that chafed him due to its slow progress. That caused enormous delays that frustrated him at every turn.

  Yet Qa’a did not seem to understand that his appointing Nomti as a Minister would affect the canal project. Whenever Nomti would explain a delay, Qa’a’s response was that Nomti should simply add more people who could make decisions for him. What he did not understand, what I think Qa’a could never understand, was that Nomti needed the assurance that people would stay true to his vision, even in his absence. He constantly stood vigil against the forces that sought to bribe and corrupt those very people to whom he entrusted that vision.

  “Ah, Urshte, what are we to do?” Nomti asked me as he raised his cup of beer after a difficult day. He had held exhausting meetings with trade representatives from Kush and Assyria and at the end of those I was called in to execute the agreements.

  “Our dear King views these agreements as important for they provide us the basic goods that we Kemians need - wood and spices and ivory combs and exotic animals for the menageries of our nobles. Yet, I fear he does not see them fully for what they are.”

  “I do not follow your meaning.”

  “I mean, these relations with other nations are far more important than just goods for the marketplaces. They are critical for the future prosperity, even the safety of the Two Lands. “

  “I agree,” I said, not knowing where Nomti was headed with this line of talk. He leaned back, placed his hands on his face and rubbed his eyes.

  “I have a concern. I have tried many times to speak with Qa’a about it, and sometimes I feel as if I succeed, but then I note that it hardly makes a difference in his thinking or in his actions.”

  “What are you so concerned about?”

  “Something dear to your heart, Urshte, the fate of the Delta. Qa’a and Khenemet still view it as a pest, unworthy of the greatness of Upper Kem.” I hung my head, for I had heard that diatribe so many times in my life from Upper Kemians, yet it still pierced me.

  “With respect to you and your people, I grant that there is some truth to their views of the Delta. In the crafts, for example, your people’s work is clumsy. Your pottery is squat and awkward and ugly, would you not agree?” I nodded.

  “That is true, Nomti, but it serves its purposes of fetching water or holding foodstuff. We are simple people and for us that suffices.”

  “But how could one bear to look at that pottery when it sits upon one’s table? In Upper Kem our pottery is thinly crafted, elegant, refined. You have seen that yourself. Look at that cup you drink from, with its tapered red body and elegant black rim. We receive as much pleasure from looking at it on one’s table as we do from drinking from it.”

  “I hear what you say, but it is nothing new.”

  “Let me come to my point, then. Even our dances and music and art are more refined and complex than those in Lower Kem. And the artwo
rk in our tombs reflects greater skill.

  “And yet, so what? That is my point. When I hear Qa’a or Khenemet speak, I wonder. Is it our job to merely judge the people of the Delta, judge them as inferior to ourselves and cast them adrift? Or is it our sacred responsibility to help raise them to a higher standard? Does Mother Nile not sustain us both?” With that, Nomti sat back on his chair, his arms folded across his chest. I could read the frustration in his body.

  It was but four days later that I sat in on a meeting of Ministers, where the discussion wandered around the issues of trade. Much of the commerce to and from Upper and Lower Kem traveled through Lower Kem. In the port of Ahnpet we received goods from the Hittites and from Lebanon and once in a while a stray cargo from lands of the slanted-eyed people in the far east. Even the Assyrians, immediately to our east, chose to take the Wat-Hor caravan route into Lower Kem so as to get to Kem quicker and thereby use our better maintained and guarded paths.

  “As I have said before in this room, I am hearing much complaining from the businesses in Lower Kem,” Nomti reported.

  “I, too,” said the Minister of Agricultural Workshops. “There are complaints that we hoard more grains than we should. Our tax collections of grain is way down.” To that the Minister of the Treasury nodded his head.

  “Damn them!,” Qa’a shouted. “Sure, they complain now, but when Mother Nile decides to withhold her blessings, they will be the first to complain when our granaries are depleted and their shipments reduced. They have become a pain in my ass… the whining bastards!”

  The room was silent after the King’s outburst. The Ministers shifted uncomfortably in their chairs.

  “I know that what you say is true,” Nomti continued. “But I feel we must confront this issue, Master. They fear the canal. Several of my trading partners there would only speak knowing that they had my confidence. They fear the loss of trading contracts as trading routes shift toward the south and east. They see our trading opportunities with Pwenet taking away from theirs.”

  “And what would they have us do?” General Nebibi bellowed. “Just hand them whatever they want so they can sit on their asses?” His comment generated laughs from Qa’a and the other Ministers.

  “What do you suggest?” Qa’a asked.

  Nomti took a deep breath, as if he knew that what he was about to suggest could be taken wrong. “Akhet is half over right now. I suggest that when the men return, we take a long, hard look at the project.”

  “Nomti, speak so that a dumb soldier can understand!” Nebibi blurted out.

  Nomti smiled good-naturedly at the General. “All right, then, here it is. I feel we should go very slowly with the canal project, at least until we figure out how we can create opportunities in it for the Delta.”

  “Is that our responsibility?” the Minister of the Royal Court asked.

  “It is my feeling that we cannot have only Upper Kem benefit from the canal, while the Delta gets nothing and may even suffer,” Nomti answered. “Besides, due to my added duties as Minister, the project has slowed anyway.”

  “And why cannot only Upper Kem benefit?” the Minister of Agriculture asked. “The canal is being dug in Upper Kem, so all rightful profits should stay here. It is needed to build roads and temples and to pay our workers. If Buikkhu were present I am certain he would agree.” Nomti searched the faces of the other ministers to see who agreed with his position, but I could not read their expressions and I wondered if the exalted position of Minister robbed men of their true beliefs and passions.

  “Where is Buikkhu?” Qa’a asked.

  “I am told he travels on priestly business for Khenemet. He will return in a few days time. I have an important meeting with him then, to discuss the priests’ building requests,” the Minister of the Treasury said.

  “Well, then,” Qa’a said, standing. All rose and bowed. “We shall not resolve this here today. I am inclined to agree with the position that we should do what is best for the King and for Upper Kem. The Delta marsh rats give us nothing but trouble anyway. But, in respect for Nomti, I will withhold my decision until we have more information.” He nodded toward Nomti and left the room.

  In a ten-day, Nomti and I, along with his assistants, left Inabu-hedj for the Eastern desert, to bring this year’s digging project to an end. I brought with me my cadre of assistants for the many ending tasks that needed to be handled. Workers had to be paid, building materials had to be stored and soldiers trained to guard them, and supplies ordered for next year’s work.

  The journey upriver was uneventful and many days were spent in quiet discussion, laughing while enjoying fresh foods gathered from local farmers during leisurely stops, and enjoying the ribbon of green that ran through our blessed lands.

  On one occasion, shouting erupted in one of our boats and we soon noticed that boat slipping away from us at great speed in the opposite direction. The captain of our ship then pointed out that one of the crew in that ship had probably hooked a giant catfish, so we lowered sails to watch. For an hour that poor sailor battled the monster, but in the end he prevailed and hauled on board a beast that was the length of a grown man and weighed even more. We feasted for days on the sweet flesh of that animal. One of my fellow Horus priests accompanying us offered what we all felt was too large a portion back to Mother Nile and to Hapy in gratitude. We complained good-naturedly and taunted him for his efforts. In moments a small crocodile arose from the depths and snatched the tasty morsel.

  After four days we arrived at the takeoff point for the canal. The riverbank had been transformed into a small town, where workers transferred cargo from the constant flow of boat traffic onto donkeys for the caravans that supplied the project. Two supervising architects and Qa’a’s Royal Engineer met us at the dock.

  “It is good that you arrive when you do, Nomti,” the Chief Architect said. “Things are awry.”

  I quickly took the group aside, for in matters of relationships with people I found the architects and engineers had little common sense. They would alarm everyone with their public speech when discreet conversation was all that was needed. “Of what do you speak?” Nomti asked softly.

  “There is dissension and fear among the workers,” he continued nervously. “There have been threats and some of the crew captains have been beaten.”

  “But by whom? Why would this concern anyone but us?”

  “Exactly. That is what we wonder, too,” he said, and the other two nodded their heads.

  “And what have you uncovered?” They stared blankly at Nomti and I understood then they were so focused on their plans and measurements they knew nothing of the cause of the foment.

  In another two days, we had caravanned to the first work site. The scene that confronted us was one of utter confusion. Thousands of workers swarmed about like bees, running past each other, some with baskets full of sand balanced on their heads and others returning with empty ones. Teams of workers carried lumber from the carpenter sheds that were set up in the hot desert sun to the construction men who toiled in the canal itself. Another large group of men, the biggest and most muscular in the entire encampment, hauled stones to line the canal.

  Throughout the encampment men shouted and yelled to one another. I witnessed two workers dropping a stone atop another man’s hand and he screamed in pain. Once the massive stone was removed, the injured worker was taken to the tent that held the Horus priest physicians.

  Yet, despite the confusion, progress had been made on this section of the canal, although it was far less than Nomti had hoped. Once night had fallen and the workers rested from their labors over beer, cheese, bread and conversation, he circulated through their ranks and stopped to speak with them. What he heard was troubling.

  Reports had arrived to them from family members working on sections deeper in the desert who had left their worksite with no pay at all, rather than risk continuing. Foreigners had infiltrated the camps and set upon the workers, threatening their very lives. There were not eno
ugh soldiers stationed in those outposts to do much good. Accidents happened that were difficult to explain, they said.