Moses nodded, “That much we know. It is the glyphs before that we have a problem with.” Moses patiently waited, but then finally spoke up, “Maybe it will help if you do the easy ones first, then I can get an idea of how it works.”
Hassim nodded, pointing to the ring. “This one has several meanings. It is either a gathering place, a group—meaning people—or the completion of something.” He then looked at the others, pointing to the last, it could be a man, and old man or someone with a stick. But there are two men in this.”
“No, that one is a woman, possibly a woman elevated in society. See in the Egyptian hieroglyphs the male has a longer kubara, the upper body is naked, where the female is fully clothed.”
“Ring of women?” Shabaka asked, as he came to join them. “Someone will bring our food,” he said to Hassim.
“That does not make any sense,” Moses stated, “She is being held by women? That would mean the traders have her.”
“We don’t know if that is what it says,” Hassim cautioned, causing them all to again focus on the small note.
“The first one is the image of a per-nefer,” Moses said, pointing to the hieroglyph.
“That could be an indication of her that it is from her,” Shabaka said, “I mean what else could it mean?”
Hassim thought it over for some time, before replying, “It could mean that she is close to one.”
Moses looked at Shabaka, “How many per-nefers are there in Sylene?”
“This is not Thebes, there are not many who practice the art, and most of them would be located outside Sylene,” Shabaka replied.
“Our people are very specific about such things. They believe that until the burial, the spirit can haunt or curse others; it can move around the areas it knows so it must be prepared elsewhere,” Hassim added.
“Well, it would make sense to keep her out of town,” Moses said. “That way no one would draw any attention to themselves.”
Shabaka looked at the sheet of papyrus, “So we have a per-nefer, a man—she could mean a guard.”
“So she has a male guard?” Hassim said, not noticing the way Shabaka clenched his fists.
Moses looked at Shabaka, both familiar with the traditions and the rules that accompanied female prisoners. “What do you think?” Moses asked.
“I don’t want to go there,” Shabaka quickly reflected the question.
“Chances are—” Moses pushed.
“I don’t want to go there!” Shabaka firmly stated. “If he or anyone has touched her, then I will kill them. There will be no forced marriage either!” Shabaka vowed, “No matter what!”
Moses looked at him for several moments before they continued.
“The next one is two pylons,” Hassim said, drawing their attention back to the note.
“That is a difficult one. It could represent a road, a meeting place, a palace, or a passage,” Moses said.
Hassim nodded in agreement. “Even with the circle next to it, it does not help much.”
“We’ll come back to it then,” Shabaka impatiently said. “Next is the royal woman.”
Well, if you take the symbol of a circle and a woman, it could mean a gathering of women,” Moses again pointed.
Shabaka glared at him, “The traders, circle of women, you really think she would be able to get a message like this to us. She would be bound and . . .” Shabaka did not finish the sentence, remembering some of the woman he had seen. Neti would fight, she is a fighter, and they would hurt her. He shook his head at that. It was not acceptable.
“But it is a royal woman, royalty. If it were a slave, she would have used that hieroglyph.”
“Okay, then a circle of royal women, a prince or a king’s concubine, someone could have taken her there and no one would seek her there—that is for certain,” Moses said, only to have both Shabaka and Hassim glare at him.
“That comes from what I know of Ramesses and no one ever questions the women there, so it makes sense.”
“Right now I wish Yani was here, so she could have her say. I do not think she would think too kindly of you for you suggesting that her mistress is such a woman.”
Moses looked markedly chided.
“Not to mention that there are not many of those around here,” Hassim said, “well, at least royal ones.”
“Your grandfather has one,” Moses pointed.
Again earning himself a glare from Shabaka, “And, as his son, I don’t even know the women there, they are married in name only, or at least that is what I believe.”
“Not interested,” Hassim quickly said, my father always said a man only has need for one wife.”
“Agreed.” Shabaka said and again turned to the papyrus.
“The last glyph is either an old man or a man with a stick,” Hassim said.
“Stick dancer,” Moses said, again having both Shabaka and Hassim look at him. What with all the talk of the festival and such. It really feels as if you two are against me.”
Hassim again looked at the note, “I will concede, an old man or a stick dancer, which means the circle, the woman, and the dancer could imply the royal gathering of stick dancers,” Hassim said and then turned to look at Shabaka.
“The pillars could then imply a rite of passage,” Moses said.
“And how does that indicate where she is?” Shabaka irritably asked. “This is as frustrating as not being able to read the note in the first place.
“The man could be a participant at the stick-dance festival,” Moses said.
“And how would she know that? The list of attendees was only finalized after she left,” Shabaka said.
“We still don’t know what the per-nefer stands for. It could change the entire meaning.” Hassim hesitantly said.
“A per-nefer represents death or the afterlife,” Moses said. “It could just indicate her profession.”
“Or a dead man,” Hassim said, “which is very disturbing.”
Just then the guard and two of the kitchen servants came into the assembly hall with their meal.
Shabaka pointed to the end of the raised platform, “You can place the food there.”
“Wait! You said that the picture could have a literal meaning of what it represents or a conceptual meaning?”
“Yes, but only the writer would know the true meaning,” Hassim said.
“It means we could be overthinking it. Neti would keep it simple, so that we could understand it.
Moses nodded.
“You,” Shabaka said to the guard, “what is your name?”
“Beka,” the man hesitantly answered, looking among the men who collectively looked at him.
“We’re going to play a little game.”
“A game?” Beka hesitantly asked.
“I’m gonna give you a word, and you tell me the first thing that comes to mind. Think you can do that?”
Beka hesitantly nodded, looking between them.
“The first word,” Shabaka said, “per-nefer.”
“You want me to tell you about it?” Beka asked.
“No, I want to know what comes to mind when you hear the word,” Moses said.
The man nodded.
“Per-nefer,” Hassim said. “House of the dead, or where we take the dead.”
“Skip the man; what about pylons?” Moses said.
“An entrance somewhere, maybe a passage,” the man said, looking back and forth. “I don’t know if that is the right answer.
“There is no right or wrong answer,” Shabaka said, “only what comes to your mind.”
“A circle, a ring, with a woman.” Hassim said.
“Marriage?” the man replied.
“Could work,” Moses said. “The last we’ll take is the stick dancer.”
The three of them turned back to the note, only to have their attention called back to Beka, “My prince, are you done?”
Shabaka looked at him for a moment, then nodded, “Yes, of course, you can go.”
“First one
,” Hassim said, “house of the dead, followed by a man.”
“House of the dead man,” Shabaka said.
“Either she has a desolate sense of humor or this is very disturbing.”
“Or it could be where she is.”
Moses looked at Shabaka, “It means something to you.”
“She only knows of one dead man in Sylene, and that would be Dragi.”
“Dragi’s house,” Moses said, “But could it be that simple? Then what of the others?”
“The pylons represent the rite to passage, a ring, and a woman—marriage to Aya. Neti has no idea about my objection to that. I agreed with Dragi to marry Aya, which would make her a princess.”
“I still think the rest of it is a gathering of women to watch stick dancers,” Hassim said.
“Regardless, she might be at Dragi’s house. We will search it.”
“Stop! Wait!” Moses said. “You realize who this is, right?
“Neti,” Shabaka firmly answered.
“No, Rameke. The man who has lodged a complaint about you inheriting his wife to be. So on and so forth.”
“Yes, so?” Shabaka asked, for the first time feeling a sense of elation overcome him.
“You realize that if you do this, that if you do search his house, and she is not there, that we interpreted this wrong, he is going to make a whole lot of noise at your father. More demands for reimbursement, official apologies for damages to him, he seems the sort.” Shabaka felt his body go numb, even as Moses continued, “From what I have seen of the place, it is large. And unless your father is going to lend you half the medjay in Sylene, they could move her about, and you still wouldn’t find her, if she is there.”
So what do you suggest? I do nothing while she remains there?” Shabaka demanded, “That I can’t do, won’t do!”
“I’m saying it is a delicate operation. Ramesses always told us to think first.”
“Then what do you suggest we do?” Shabaka demanded, “If she is there, delaying the search won’t change anything.
“But if she is not there, there is a whole heap of trouble you will be responsible for,” Moses stated. “Just take a step back. Get information first, use your father’s network to gather information about Rameke, his people, anything. Try to determine where he would be hiding her. Those grounds are big; it would be easy to overlook somewhere in the heat of the moment.”
Shabaka’s shoulders drooped, and he replied, shaking his head. “My father’s network does not provide that information.”
“Then ask, the best way to get the answers you want is to first ask the questions.”
“And what if he realizes what we are doing and moves her?”
“He is very arrogant, sending this note,” Moses said, lifting the sheet of papyrus. “He does not know what is on it, look at how long it took us to get to a conclusion. He might send another note; he might send a demand for payment for her release.”
“So, I must just sit and wait! I can’t do that. Would you?”
“The situation is complicated enough, Shabaka, and, no, I am not asking you to sit here and do nothing. We will prepare to search his house, at an opportune moment, but first we need to establish where they could be hiding her in the house. We can speak to Aya, she knows the entire place and will know better than anyone where they might hide something or someone.”
Shabaka nodded in understanding.
“You will continue as usual to prepare for the festival. Everyone will be focused on the festival. We also know he will be there, possibly leaving the grounds with only a few men to guard the place. They can be gathered up quickly with some of the palace guards. Both of you are competing in the festival, but I am not. I also have no interest in Rameke or his matters. So it will be a royal command that we are executing. We will search his premises, but we need not declare for what.”
“And how would I know what you find?” Shabaka demanded. “You really expect me to calmly prepare for a festival while you are busy doing that?”
“Yes. Because he will suspect something if you are not there. Let his arrogance play into your hand. If he is guilty, you not only get the chance to publicly beat him up—don’t kill him—and humiliate him. You also get to arrest him if we find her.”
“And if you don’t find her?” Shabaka demurely asked. “As much as I like the idea of beating him up, what if she is not there, like you said?”
“Then we will have to wait for whoever has her to play the next card. We responded today. Your father is here if they are concerned for payment.”
“You really should become an advisor,” Shabaka said
“Ramesses is a good mentor.”
Chapter Twelve
The morning sun turned the sky various shades of pink and orange, casting the distant hills a pale pink. The river quietly flowed past the sleeping city, while steadily rising and swelling its banks. The geese and ducks sifted the water within the reed beds in search of insects, as fish lazily played just below the water’s surface. The view from the window was serene and calm, but it all was wasted on Shabaka as he turned to again pace the length of his chamber, as he had since the morning light had turned the sky gray. Ra might have again succeeded in defending Apep, but Shabaka’s own demons, his own turmoil, still coiled within him, like Apep, the snake god, growing, worsening by the moment.
His agitated, nervous spirit was in many ways similar to that which he had felt on the first morning of the first dance festival he had ever attended. But that was where the similarities ended. He felt a burning, raging need to hurt someone, a sensation he was not familiar with, yet he embraced it, wanting to use it. The desire to avenge her, to destroy others as they had destroyed a part of him, to inflict harm; it was petrifying and exhilarating at the same time, which is what had driven him from his bed in the early hours.
Moses and Shabaka, along with the captain and selected guards, had spent the whole of the previous day preparing for the raid. The whole operation was arranged, the route determined, the approach, and any possible complications had been discussed. It had felt as if they were planning a war. Aya had assisted them with a layout of the house and grounds, granted the layout had only been formed with sticks and stones, but everything had been meticulously planned, every exit addressed, and possible hiding areas discussed. And Shabaka was to have no part in it. That is what frustrated him most.
His hands clenched tightly at that and the recollection of the frustrations leading up to it. They had worked his father’s information network, but could find nothing on Rameke, which in itself was strange, seeing as most of the informers seemed to know their neighbors’ doings. All that the network had confirmed was that Rameke was the son of Dragi and a long-standing student, although a poor performer at the books. That was nothing that Shabaka had not already known.
He again turned to pace the length of the room, then turned to look out the window. As the smell of wood smoke became more pronounced, the city was waking, although it was still not time to leave his quarters, as to do so would cause speculation with the morning palace attendants. Only those guilty of sinister motives, of visiting chambers not their own, ever moved early in the morning. He had no desire for such rumors, especially since he should have been resting, conserving his strengths and energies for the day.
The festival was important to his people, to his parents, and he knew tiring himself before the festival could be detrimental to its outcome. But he could not help it, even if he managed to sit for a moment, the agitation got to him and had him leap up and pace again. He hated the idea that Moses was to do the search. Not because he did not think the man capable, or that he didn’t trust him, of all the people there he trusted him most, it was just he wanted to be there.
~~~
The sun rose higher in the sky and one could feel the anticipation in the air as people made their way into the city. Animated conversations filled the air, with several boasting their association to certain dancers.
Traders
bartered anything from flatbread and richly colored, woven fabrics to fire-grilled fish and mead, calling attention to their wares and terms. Children ran between the gathered onlookers, with sticks in hand, creating their own dance versions. This was often to the great amusement of the older generations, seniors who enjoyed a cup of mead or wine while listening to the speculation about the dancers.
Through the crowds the medjay moved, very few attendees paying them, or their intended destination, much attention. Their presence in the crowd was familiar enough at such meetings, being placed in such a manner to lessen conflicts and unruly citizens.
All morning there had been talk of the dance scheduled between Rameke and Shabaka. Many onlookers added more meaning to it, others claiming that the king had done the proper thing in selecting the two elder dancers to compete against each other, and about halfway through the morning odds were struck. Many backed Rameke, having often enough seen him in action, and he quickly became the favorite, since the prince had been way from Nubia, his skills as a dancer remained a distant memory to some.
The start of the drums had the people fall silent, turning their attention to where the procession started. The drummers led the way with the contestants and their attendants following, carrying their sticks and the permitted waterskins. Joyous clapping and hollering filled the air as the young men passed the people. Flowers, words of advice, and encouragement were flung their way as they made their way to the festival area. Shabaka watched as the young medjay trainee attending him walked proudly. He had selected the youngster himself, knowing the boy-man would be least likely to impart bits of advice to him before the match, which was what he wanted.
The speed of the drums increased as they neared the dancing squares. Several had been prepared with flags and flowers adorning the various posts and surrounding areas.
The contestants all lined up before the king’s platform with the onlookers gathering behind them still cheering, while King Shebitku and Queen Amarna stood next to each other on the platform. The rhythmic beating of the drums first drew louder, faster, before suddenly falling silent.
The Prince of Nubia Page 12
