Two days later, the King’s army massed on the plains before Dep. It was an impressive sight, more than six thousand soldiers, flying the flags of all but five of Kem’s nomes, prepared for battle against a nearly defenseless town. We knew that even the most hardened Ta-Tjenehu warriors or Delta conspirators would not dare to challenge Qa’a on open ground.
The first order of business that Qa’a commanded was the capture of the governor of the nome, who had betrayed the King by not revealing the extent of unrest. In front of hundreds in Dep who watched from the parapets, the man was beheaded and his head placed on a stake for all traitors to see. His body was unceremoniously dumped into a tributary for the crocodiles, so that he could not journey to the Afterlife.
Next, Qa’a called on the leaders of the five Delta nomes to come forward, escorted as they were by a contingent of soldiers. These people marched unsteadily behind the lines of soldiers, fearing for their lives. At Qa’a’s tent they began what was a lengthy series of negotiations, which Nomti led. No words can describe the shock on the faces of these men as the King, through Nomti, laid down his demands, but also his offers of trade. When that first meeting was over, every man bowed low and earnestly kissed Qa’a’s feet.
Yet the rightness of Nomti’s advice, and Qa’a’s decision to follow it, became apparent only on the final day, when the army left the fields of Dep, fields made holy by the mortal sacrifices of generations past. With the army massed according to their units in a final display of power, Qa’a, and Merkha as the King’s priest, made an appearance to bless them before we left. All the boats were ready and we knew the men were eager to return to their families. Yet as soon as Qa’a stood on the throne, Merkha abandoned any thought of giving blessings, for at that moment the cheers and stamping of six thousand soldiers and two thousand pages greeted Horus’ brother. We all understood that that blessing was more than enough.
SCROLL TWENTY-THREE
Dealing With Mut Spirits
Merkha
We returned home from the Delta just in time to celebrate Qa’a’s twenty-sixth birthday. It was an unruly celebration, with much imbibing, but also appreciative crowds. During his pageant ceremony, as he marched down the street in his purple robe, its attached Apis Bull tail dragging behind him, the rekhi threw themselves at his feet, kissing them, thanking him for bringing home nearly all of their sons safely. Even those who lost a son, husband or father thanked their King, for he was generous in distributing rations and various land rights to the grieving families. It was a time of great jubilation.
Once the five days of celebrations and parties were over, Qa’a called me in to his private rooms for a long-delayed discussion. “What have you done about the Second Wife?” he asked, munching on grapes and cheese. I noted that his belly had begun to expand with his age.
“We have accomplished much and are ready to submit a name to you.”
“We?”
“I have secretly spoken with Irisi about the choices. Because of her priestesses she knows better than anyone about the most appropriate women throughout the Two Lands.”
“And what about Khenemet’s wisdom in this matter?” Qa’a asked sarcastically.
“You put me in a difficult position, Master, wedged between you and Khenemet. His anger is already inflamed.”
“Yes, so I have heard, yet he chooses not to express that directly to me. I find that… curious.” Qa’a tossed a piece of cheese to one of the palace cats, who sniffed at it and walked off.
“He feels disrespected, Qa’a,” I said, employing a more fatherly tone with him. “He feels you made the wrong choice in Dep. He would have preferred to see your bull form defeat the Lower Kemians militarily. He detests Nomti. He resents his influence over you.”
“You mean that I value Nomti’s advice over his, don’t you?”
“He is the Chief Priest of Horus, Qa’a.”
“Chief Priest be damned! He is a scoundrel and don’t think I do not know of his evil work. Do you think the King does not have his own spies? Do you believe I know nothing of his role in my father’s death? If I could prove it I would cut off his head and that evil mut Buikkhu with him!” Qa’a kicked his chair away from him as he stood. He walked to the portico to calm himself.
Then Qa’a laughed, so suddenly that I walked toward him to see what he saw. But he turned to face me and I stopped. “What is amusing is that in some ways you are responsible for staying my hand with Khenemet.”
“Me? What are you talking about?”
“It was you, teacher, who instilled in me the necessity of ma’at, that without it we all would perish. I remember as a child trembling in fear from the mut forces that surround us in this world and in the Underworld.”
“Well, you should… we all should.”
“And you told me that it is only the Chief Priest and his Horus priest minions that keep that chaos from descending upon us.” Qa’a turned again and looked out over the mighty river. “Each time I think of dealing with Khenemet I feel that fear choking me, staying my hand. I shudder to think what I would be faced with should proof of his treachery come into my hands.” I understood Qa’a’s fear and resentment, for as much as I would deny it publicly, they mirrored my own. Neither of us spoke for several moments.
“With your permission, Qa’a, before we discuss your Second Wife there is another matter I must tell you about. “
“Yes.”
“It is not only Khenemet who feels you made the wrong choice. My spies tell me that the leaders of the Apep priesthood, who work deep in the shadows, are angry with the Delta leaders for agreeing to sue for peace. They find them weak and lacking in the vision they have of an independent Lower Kem.”
“Their dissatisfaction is of no concern to me,” Qa’a said, waving his hand. “Let them kill each other off, for all I care. If the leaders of the Delta go back on their agreement, I will march on them again, and at that point in time even Nomti will not dissuade me. I will show them no mercy.”
I thought it best not to argue with Qa’a when his passions were so inflamed. Instead we discussed his taking his Second Wife, an event that was written into the peace agreement with Lower Kem, for it would assure them of a position within the palace.
And so, in three months time, a delegation from Lower Kem arrived at the palace, with the woman we had all agreed would be the very best choice for Qa’a.
One’s first impression of Nafre was that her name was well chosen, for she radiated goodness as much as Ra radiated light. She came from a prosperous family of merchants, ones descended directly from King W’ash who was defeated in the War of Unification by King Narmer. Our spies were not able to uncover anything sinister about the family. They appeared to be successful merchants. Their many ships plied the Great Green.
Nafre was different from the women of Upper Kem, shorter and heavier. But her weight was distributed in ways that I knew would please Qa’a’s bull ka, for her curves hinted at her sensuality and her breasts were larger than those typical of Upper Kemian women. If anything, she was the opposite of Queen Amisi, and I instantly knew this would create domestic problems within the Royal Court.
“Yes, of course I have spoken with her, many times,” Irisi reported, obviously irritated at Khenemet for asking her yet again. “She understands the need for a Second Wife, but since they do not share their marital bed anymore, it makes her angry.”
“And jealous?” Buikkhu asked.
“Well, of course it would make her jealous,” she snapped. “But she also fears the embarrassment of being relegated to a secondary role, especially if she bears Qa’a a son.”
“Yes,” Khenemet said, leaning forward on his staff, “she has every reason to fear. A Royal son, even born to the Second Wife, could present difficulties.” He paced away from us.
“I do have a thought in this regard,” Irisi offered.
“Go ahead,” Khenemet replied, tipping his staff in her direction.
“I will need your permission and infl
uence to appoint an Isis priestess as her personal handmaiden. Nafre would not object, since Isis is a favored goddess in her land, too.”
“What purpose would that serve?” Buikkhu asked.
“I would have her periodically administer an herb, known only to high priestesses, that would make her unable to bear a child.”
“Hmmm. I have heard of such potions, but you now admit this so… so casually,” Buikkhu said. I saw the look of hatred in Irisi’s eyes, which she quickly covered with her smile.
“We are not without our own powers,” she said, nodding toward Khenemet.
“I accept your offer,” Khenemet said, tipping his head and staff in a manner of thanks to Irisi, “but only if she regularly reports of other things she has learned to both you and Buikkhu.”
“I cannot agree to that,” Irisi said matter-of-factly. “First of all, Nafre is sure to be well trained by the Delta powers to not discuss anything of use to our spies in the palace. They will no doubt devise a secret communication plan, perhaps through her personal physician or her family. Second, just as you would never allow a Horus priest to report to me, so I would never instruct one of my priestesses to report to you. I say this with utmost respect for the priesthood.” Although Khenemet nodded, I noted that she offered her respect for the priesthood, and not its Chief Priest nor his underling.
“The third issue is that there is no priestess in my charge that would feel comfortable reporting to a Horus priest anyway.” At that Khenemet smiled, sat down and leaned back in his chair.
“So what do you propose?”
“If we are to enter this cabal it must be with trust, enough so that you realize I will come to you with any information that I feel is important for you to know.”
On that evening we concluded our pact and drank wine to seal it, but with this added complexity I felt uneasy. Khenemet, I knew, thrived on complexity. I wondered just how many of these pacts he negotiated every month. The flow of information into his hands seemed endless. Yet how he balanced them, how he managed to sort them and create a plan from them, was a mystery to me. I was unsure whether or not I even wanted to unravel such twisted strands.
The wedding was planned for the end of Shomu. As a gesture of conciliation to the Delta Nomti suggested the event be held in Dep. However, Khenemet insisted that ma’at would be compromised if we did not follow the tradition of all Royal weddings being held in the Temple of Horus in Nekhen.
This posed a problem for Queen Amisi and her family, for they were all from Nekhen. Hamu, Amisi’s father, was friendly with Khenemet and provided significant support to the Temple and valuable information to Khenemet. But, in the end, Irisi’s intervention saved the day. While the Queen was accompanied by her father and daughter to the ceremony, the tea Irisi prepared for Amisi before the event quieted her ba enough to see her through it without incident. In fact, her handmaidens did well by her so that she looked both regal and beautiful. With her father’s support, she carried herself well, too. Yet no handmaiden, no matter how expert, can take away the ravages of age and childbirth.
Nafre, on the other hand, was barely seventeen years and in the height of her youth, and the finest artists and dressmakers in Lower Kem groomed her exquisitely for the wedding. Her black hair shined with oils and her kohl, lipstick and rouge highlighted her flawless skin. Her fingernails and toes were painted in the deep red made fashionable by Delta artisans.
Nafre’s dress was made from the finest linen in the King’s workshop, but deftly cut by Lower Kem’s dressmakers to make Nafre appear taller and slimmer, while accentuating her breasts, which were partially revealed in the manner of Upper Kemian women.
Gold threads were woven through the Second Queen’s hair and fell in braided tendrils behind her. Exquisite jewels adorned her fingers and upon her right arm she proudly wore a thin gold armband bearing the cartouche of the king. On her feet she wore leather sandals, with thongs made from gold thread and embroidered with blue jewels that sparkled with each step she took.
Unlike Qa’a’s wedding to Amisi, this ceremony was far simpler, with only the immediate families attending, along with Royal guests. I thought that Qa’a himself felt uncomfortable during the ceremony, for he had spent time with Nafre on only two occasions before the wedding. Although they appeared to get along well, Qa’a handled himself stiffly, unsure of himself, as if he wore the skin of another man.
Once the ceremony was over, the King and Queen were carried in their chairs back to the palace, with the Second Wife immediately following them. The crowds were still enthralled with their King, who had saved them from war and they seemed genuinely pleased that he had taken a Second Wife as his just reward. They showered blessings on him as he passed.
That evening, I heard reports that the Queen had been crying and had begged an audience with the King. I understood the dilemma that Qa’a faced and agreed with his decision to deny her a visit, for his obligation that night was to his new wife.
For the next several nights, Qa’a apparently enjoyed his relations with Nafre, for he smiled readily and seemed calmer than he had in many ten-days or even months. Nafre’s Isis priestess servant reported regularly to Irisi that the two very obviously enjoyed their nighttime visits. Nafre had apparently been well trained in the womanly arts.
All seemed well in the palace. Akhet came and went and although the flood was disappointing, it was sufficient. Life in the palace regained its normal rhythm and soon Qa’a could be seen walking with Queen Amisi and playing with Princess Banafrit who was now nearly five years old and adept at her lessons. She already had a commanding knowledge of the picture words and could write many of them with no help from her tutors. She also easily learned her lessons of history. Her favorite, of course, was King Meryt-Neith.”
“No, really, father, she was real… a real life king.” Qa’a laughed.
“But that is impossible,” he protested good-naturedly, “none but a man can be King. Women are Queens… and Princesses like you, of course.”
“But she was a Queen, too, father!” Banafrit gushed.
“Well, make your choice, king or queen, which is it?”
“She was both! First she was Queen Mery and then she became King Meryt-Neith. And,” she said, holding both her hands on her hips, “I will do the same!”
“Oh, you have me so confused!” Qa’a laughed and then picked up Banafrit and twirled her around and round, the two of them giggling and laughing.
It was on the fifteenth day of the second month of Proyet, when the meager harvest was nearly complete, that I was awakened during the night by a rough hand on my shoulder.
“Get up, Merkha! The Chief Priest calls you. It is urgent!”
Once inside the Temple, I could hear Khenemet’s raised voice clearly coming from the sanctuary. I entered to find the Chief Priest huddled with Buikkhu and the palace physician, Senbi, who was also a trusted Horus priest.
“Once again, you are absolutely certain of this? There cannot be any mistake? None at all?”
“None at all, Chief Priest, for I have seen it myself.”
“Go, you are dismissed! And tell no one of this until you hear from me.” Senbi, who was a good friend of mine, gave me a quick glance of panic as he ran from the room.
“What is it?” I asked, alarmed by the presence of the physician to the Royal Court. I feared for the health of the King or Queen, or worse yet, tiny Banafrit.
“She is pregnant!” Khenemet shouted.
“The… the Queen?” I asked in amazement.
“How could she be pregnant? It is that Delta bitch! She is with child.”
“But that is impossible, for I have seen the potion that Irisi’s handmaiden gives her with my own eyes.”
“I should never have trusted Irisi, that miserable excuse for a priestess. She is a schemer. They are charlatans, every last one of them!” Even by candlelight I could see the anger pulsing in Khenemet’s neck.
Qa'a (The First Dynasty Book 3) Page 30
