Qa'a (The First Dynasty Book 3)

by Lester Picker

  “I could not agree with you more, Nomti.”

  Nomti reached for his cup of wine and sipped at it. “I feel blessed to be among the King’s valued advisors. Sometimes I think that all I bring to his service is an appreciation of our people, both good and bad, and their efforts to survive and even do well.

  “I remind myself of my humble beginnings, when my father’s business was struggling and we often had little to eat but thin flax cereal and a bit of goat cheese with gritty bread.” Nomti smiled at the recollection.

  “And now, the gods shower good fortune upon me, not only for my service to the King, but also for bringing into my life my loving wife and now my son.” I immediately saw in my heart’s eye little Rasui, an active three-year-old, who Nomti and Woserit obviously both adored. That they named him Rasui, their dream, told everyone much about their love for the child.

  “And you, Nomti, have you a vision for Kem?”

  “Do not we both, Urshte? I know you well enough by now, my friend. What we want seems simple. But convincing Qa’a of the worth of that vision is more complex.”

  I put my papyrus, pen and ink aside, for there was something urgent that I had not yet spoken of with Nomti. “I know it is late, Nomti, but you raise the issue of complexity and of that there are certain matters we must discuss.” I adjusted the rope on the waist of my priest’s tunic and as I did so, I knocked my staff to the floor.

  “That staff, Urshte. It is different from others I see the priests carry.”

  “It is old, that is for sure,” I said, smiling. “I sometimes fear that if I lean upon it too heavily it will crumple.”

  “The carvings, do they represent something? From the Delta, perhaps?”

  “If they do, I do not know what they are. They are strange, are they not?” I said, staring at the staff as I rotated it between my fingers. “I was given it as a youth, when I started my apprenticeship as a priest. I was told it belonged to a relative who was a priest many generations ago, a priest who knew Meryt-Neith.”

  “Ah, a family heirloom. You wear it well, my friend.” I poured a mug of water and offered it to Nomti, who hoisted his cup of wine instead. “So, what is so urgent?”

  I sighed, yet hesitated bringing this matter to Nomti. “I met with Khenemet today, a very troubling meeting, as you will hear. But before I begin, may we agree that what I am about to tell you is to be treated in confidence?”

  “Of course,” Nomti said, leaning forward.

  “Khenemet has heard a rumor, from a trusted source of his, that there may be a plot to kill Banafrit.”

  Nomti fell back hard against his chair. “What? Can this be true? No, no, it is but a wild rumor, that is all. Who… I mean who would plot such a thing?”

  “He knows not who is behind the plot, if there is one at all,” I added. “Yet there is more to my conversation with him.”

  “Go on, then.”

  “Of course if any such harm were to befall the Princess, that would mean that the only rightful heir to the throne would be Nafre’s son, Mume. That would be intolerable to Khenemet, to the Horus priesthood, for a King from the Delta has never ruled a united Kem. To them, Lower Kem is worse than dung.

  “Nor does Khenemet believe Kem could remain united under such rule. He claims our society would be ripped apart, ma’at cast into the darkness of Nun. Chaos would prevail.”

  Nomti held his breath, for my words rang true to his ears. “But surely these rumors are not to be believed,” he said.

  “It makes no difference what is believable, only what Khenemet believes to be real. If his beliefs prevail, I fear for all of Kem.”

  “I am not sure of what you speak.”

  “He is already preparing a response, and that is why he called me to his side this morning.” I could see from the fearful expression in Nomti’s face that he suspected the gods were about to bring a disturbing presence into his life, far from the blessings he had described to me earlier.

  “Khenemet is hatching a plan to kill Mume, if that becomes necessary, if Banafrit dies.”

  Nomti gasped. “No, this cannot be true, Urshte! Perhaps you heard wrong.” I had no need to answer. We both remained silent. I noticed Nomti trying to calm his breathing.

  “I am shocked, shocked to my core,” Nomti said. “I cannot understand this… this… it is horrible!” Nomti turned his head side to side, as if to shake from his heart the implications of what I had told him.

  “You are from the Delta, Urshte, explain to me what they would hope to gain from killing Banafrit. This is against ma’at.”

  “Any more grievous than killing Horus’ brother?” I calmly replied. “We all know the rumors, and probably more than mere rumors. Khenemet was surely involved in Semerkhet’s death. The matter was never pursued because businessmen knew that their wealth came from contracts that Khenemet controlled.”

  Nomti’s brow was deeply furrowed. He clasped and unclasped his fingers as he thought. “But, again, I fail to see what the Lower Kemians would gain by such an act.”

  “I am not sure they would gain anything. I imagine they feel that with Qa’a only bearing one male heir and the Queen now being barren, and with Mume being in the order of succession, these things represent their best chance of succeeding. They have probably waited a very long time for events to unfold in their favor.”

  “Succeeding in what?”

  “Either coming into power through Mume, or else throwing the Two Lands into chaos, in which case they would have a better chance of emerging as an independent nation.”

  “That would never happen!” Nomti said. “The Two Lands can never be separated again.” Nomti was obviously distraught. I waited a moment for his breathing to calm.

  “Those are the words of an Upper Kemian speaking. My dear Nomti, don’t you see that the Lower Kemians have never been offered a vision of what a united Kem might truly become for them? They see no real benefit to them in Unification, despite your own efforts to boost trade. Either a King must provide that, and act upon it, or they feel they would be better as a separate nation, carving their own destiny.”

  Nomti was quiet again. I imagined him weighing my words and calculating the complexities that my information brought him. Yet he also had a quick wit. “In your opinion, are these threats real? Do they require immediate attention?”

  “I am not certain.”

  “Yet Khenemet chooses not to inform Qa’a of this supposed plot against Banafrit, nor his counter-plot against Mume. I wonder why.”

  “He fears Qa’a’s reaction. We all know that Qa’a would strike out blindly against Lower Kem, which he despises. He would look at this as an excuse to go to war indiscriminately, for his love for Banafrit goes deep.”

  “What does Khenemet intend to do?”

  “I suspect he has his spies trying to determine who are the plotters. Yet if the Apep priesthood is involved his spies will surely not be able to penetrate their secrets.”

  “Then you must help them, Urshte. You are from the Delta and you will know who to talk to, how to extract that information. This must be stopped before it gathers speed.”

  “You wish me to travel north, then?”

  “Yes. I will send you on a trade mission to Dep and to Ahnpet. Take your time and meet with whomever you need in order to determine if this plot is real or just an elaborate lie made up by Khenemet. If it is true, we must help Khenemet uncover who is responsible for such a heinous act.” Nomti turned and quaffed his remaining wine. “Go then, my trusted advisor. Find the traitors who dare to threaten ma’at and plunge us into chaos.”

  And so it was that fifteen days later I left on a trade mission that Nomti announced with great fanfare at a meeting of Ministers. I took with me a group of businessmen from Upper Kem who were willing to invest debens in training Lower Kemians in firing higher quality pottery, growing better grapes for winemaking, and acting as middlemen in trade with nations to our northeast.

  Along the way I stopped at various temples to
glean information, but in none of these conversations did I pick up even a hint of a plot. The journey itself was an easy one, with the usual attacks by the worst enemy of all, the mosquitoes and biting flies. Within a ten-day we finally arrived at Dep.

  Knowing that I represented Nomti, I was immediately besieged by businessmen eager to enlarge their trade opportunities. My scribes recorded names and business interests of each of these men and women. The businessmen I brought with me from Upper Kem were escorted to meetings by their Delta colleagues, so that in a few days all were busy and happy. Each evening we would meet and celebrate, noisy gatherings that were hosted by King Qa’a’s newly appointed governor.

  It was after one such celebration, in the darkness of Ra’s tiniest sliver, that I was shaken awake by a man dressed entirely in black, who held a hand over my mouth. “Quiet, Urshte!” he whispered. I nodded and he removed his hand. I quickly put on my robe, tied my belt around me, and grabbed my staff. The man looked out my doorway right and left and together we slipped out into the bushes. There two other men waited.

  Silently, they led me through a rough, winding path. How they knew their way was a mystery to me, for the night was as black as Mother Nile’s mud. For nearly an hour we walked, the men periodically holding up branches to allow me to pass. Finally I heard the crashing waves of Wadj-Wer. We emerged onto a sandy beach and I stopped for a moment to breathe in the sea breezes that I had left so long ago.

  For a long time we hiked along the sand until we reached a towering cliff. The men led me along the base of the cliff toward the water. We waded up to our waists, before scampering onto some rocks that led into a cave. Waves lapped the rocks, and the men stopped to light a torch that led us up a pebbly incline into the depths of the cavernous cliff. Finally, we came to a smaller cavern, where a series of candles and a large fire pit lit up the rocky space. The dampness gave me a chill.

  “Welcome!” an elderly man greeted me. He attempted to rise, but I quickly put my hands on his shoulders to keep him seated.

  “Please, do not rise to greet me, elder, for it is I who must honor you.” I dropped to my knees, my arms outstretched in obeisance.

  “Arise, precious one,” he said. “We have long awaited this meeting.” I saw a smile on Itafe’s face. I looked around me at the five other men who sat around the fire pit. We bowed our heads to each other in recognition of our brotherhood, for we had trained and risen in rank in the priesthood together.

  “Excuse the fire, but I am old and my bones ache from the damp and cold.” He motioned me to a smooth, carved rock that had been set aside as my seat.

  One of the priests stood and pulled his knife from his sheath. Itafe held out his hand and the priest made a small cut in it. As blood pooled in his hand, Itafe dipped two fingers in it and each of us approached to be anointed between our eyes with his holy offering.

  “As his mortal representative, I anoint each of you in Apep’s blood,” Itafe intoned. “This is a sign of your continued bond to him and to each other. What transpires here between Apep priests is for our hearts alone. To betray our secrets means death.” We opened our eyes and nodded towards Itafe.

  “Then let us begin, for we cannot keep the chosen one here too long. We await your report,” he said, bowing his head toward me.

  I collected my thoughts. “My brothers, it is good to be here with you again. It has been far too long. Today we sit upon a knife’s edge in our long history.

  “It has been a lifetime achievement, but I am now a confidante of Khenemet, may he rot in the ooze of Nun for all eternity! Each time I must meet with him or follow his foul orders, I feel as if I must wash myself. May the Horus priest be damned!”

  “Blessings upon you, brother,” several of the men called out, careful not to say each other’s names aloud.

  “You should know that Khenemet approached me two ten-days ago. He said he had heard a rumor of a plot against Banafrit.” Itafe and the other men looked at each other quizzically.

  “But that is a small matter compared to what he has proposed. He wants me to help him with a plan to kill Mume if Banafrit is killed.” All at once the men began talking to one another. Itafe tolerated the disturbance for but a moment before he raised his hand. All fell silent.

  “I am not concerned about that,” Itafe said slowly. “I believe we could protect Mume from such a fate. Khenemet appears to favor poisons and we have willing tasters lined up, even in the palace, to counteract the foul herbs that Horus’ priests concoct.”

  “He may end up plotting something else,” I added. “He wants the plan to be foolproof. He has asked me and Buikkhu to think on how it might be accomplished without any fingers pointing back to the Horus priesthood.”

  “We can move the Prince here, under our protection,” one of my brothers said.

  “No, that would cause Khenemet to possibly suspect me. He claims that Buikkhu and I are the only ones he has approached, to minimize leaks.”

  “But, what if his plan succeeds, despite your involvement?” another of my brothers asked. “Once plans such as these go into effect, they take on a life of their own. No one can predict the outcome.”

  “I suspect that Urshte has something to say about that,” Itafe offered, surprising me. I wondered if he had read the thoughts in my heart.

  “It would be a tragedy, on that we can all agree,” I began. “But if little Mume sacrifices his life for a higher purpose in service to Apep and Lower Kem, so be it.”

  “Explain yourself,” my closest friend demanded.

  “If both Prince and Princess were to die, followed somehow by Qa’a himself, who would it leave to be the King of all Kem? Qa’a’s sister? Hardly, for she is unlikely to win anyone’s backing but Khenemet, who would pull her strings like the grand puppeteer he is. No, I think that for once the gods smile upon us, for there is yet another who I believe is already attuned to our plight and who could be turned to our cause.”

  “Nomti?” Itafe asked.

  “Yes, Nomti,” I boldly said.

  “Explain.”

  “Even if Mume were to assume the throne, there is little he can do to support our cause. Yes he could garner us more favorable trade terms. He would surely rid us of that cursed canal project. He may even make it easier for us to apply taxes to our own well-being.

  “But he will be an inexperienced youngster for many more years, subject to the manipulations and schemes of Khenemet and his ilk. And who knows how Mume’s ba will rule once he is of age, having been swayed to the purpose of Upper Kem?”

  “That is why I feel that we gain much and lose little if we can somehow place Nomti in the position to be King.”

  “Nomti as King? That is crazy!” one of my brothers called out. “He has no legitimate claim to the throne. He is but a commoner.”

  “A commoner who has the trust of the King who has named him Minister. But what will happen will happen. That is not for us to decide, although we may die trying. What is more important for us is that Nomti cares not a flea’s bite about the superiority of Upper Kem. He does not believe in that. To him all men and women are equal in Horus’ eyes. He wants the Delta to be raised up, for he truly believes that only by that happening will all of Kem prosper. He has a vision for Kem that Qa’a and even Khenemet lack. He wishes all to prosper and to make the Two Lands the envy of all nations.”

  “Still.”

  “And suppose he were to receive the Gold armband, then what? Would that change your opinion as to his possible succession?”

  “But he has not earned that from the King. Only the Chief Horus priest wears it.”