During this delicate time Shepsit quietly began to implement her part of our secret plans. It was important that I appeared to be uninvolved in these plans so I could deny my role if the plans collapsed and the plotters found out. Instead I was devoted to Mery. Mother told me of every detail of her manipulations, which were deftly handled. I say this with respect for mother, for we didn’t seek anything we felt was not due our people to rectify the wrongs heaped upon us by the haughty Upper Kemians.
The first step was to have me named a priestess in the Temple of Isis, on its face a simple and entirely expected request, since Isis was a much-loved goddess throughout the Two Lands. My mother herself, in her youth, had served as an acolyte in the Temple of Isis near her childhood home in the Delta. With the assent of Ti-Ameny, beloved by her sisters at the Temple, and with the approval of Irisi, the Head Priestess, the appointment was made and I spent six of my monthly cycles within the walls of the Temple receiving training. I’m under oath never to reveal what I learned from my sisters there, but I can say that the lessons were wide, deep and swift, like Mother Nile herself, from whom we draw much strength. And so I quickly advanced to a full priestess and led daily prayers, accepted donations and counseled common women.
I’m not certain whether it was my advanced age of twenty-one years, or the training I’d received in the sexual arts by my Priestess sisters, but at this point in my life I spent much time thinking of suitable mates, an issue that I soon raised with my mother.
“Who do you have in mind?” Shepsit asked me as she poured me a cup of fine beer, imported from Canaan.
“I’m still considering the options,” I responded, “but I fancy Herihor.”
“Herihor?” Shepsit asked, placing the pitcher on the table. She sat down beside me, lifted her cup to her lips and took a long drink. “Herihor you say? For my life I cannot place the name.”
“He’s an officer in the King’s Guard, under Panahasi.”
“That old goat!” mother replied.
“He is not!” I protested.
“Panahasi, not Herihor,” mother said seriously. “Yes, I do imagine I know who this Herihor is. No doubt he’s that tall, good-looking one… the one with the big scar running down his cheek.”
“Yes, that’s him,” I said, leaning forward in my chair, smiling. “He earned that scar in a battle with the Ta-Tjehenus.”
“Our allies,” mother said acidly. I could feel the bile suddenly flow into my mouth, and I braced myself for what I knew was coming. Her face immediately took on the look I had come to dread, that of critic, of condescension, of disapproval. She stood and paced a few steps to the portico overlooking Mother Nile and stood against the brick wall, her white robes revealing her still slim figure. After a moment of silence, she turned back to me.
“You’ve made a good choice, daughter of my womb,” she said quietly, shocking me so greatly, I felt sure I had misheard her words.
“Really, mother? Or do your words hide your true beliefs?” I stood and walked next to her.
“No, my darling, they are true words. You have good taste in men. He’s a handsome and strong man… and smart. He would father formidable children with you. Any woman would be proud to have him as her life partner.” She held my hand in hers for a moment, then turned her gaze back toward the water.
“And so, why the sour face?” Shepsit drew herself up to her full height.
“My dear Nubiti,” she began and I knew that my initial fears would come to pass. “The fact is that you aren’t just any woman.”
And with those simple words my life changed forever. Within a year, I was married to Sekhemkasedj, the son of one of the wealthiest merchant families in Upper Kem and already the administrator of the King’s largest agricultural estate, one that employed more than a thousand laborers. Our marriage was by far the most prized penetration of Upper Kemian society by a noblewoman from the Delta and would undoubtedly advance our status within the Royal Court. We’d soon be able to appoint our Delta allies to powerful positions in Upper Kem.
Shepsit and I believed our plans were advancing far better than we had anticipated. It was as if Djer’s death had unlocked the floodgates to our good fortune. As mother and I were soon to find out, those waters kept flowing in our favor and it couldn’t be long before the crown of Queen of the Two Lands sat comfortably on my head.
SCROLL FOUR
Mery
“By the might of Horus,” Wadjet said excitedly, “I have never seen a child suckle like that! If he is not careful, there will nothing of your breasts left for me!”
I loved it when Wadjet took pleasure in our new baby, and even more when he noted the pleasures he received from my body. “Don’t worry, if anything he has swollen my breasts to twice their size. I look like a Delta wife. There will be plenty left for you, my dear.” With that, Zenty had finished nursing and fell asleep with my nipple still protruding from his tiny, milk-lined lips. I studied his face for the thousandth time. It was something I could never get enough of, its perfection, the peacefulness of his ba, the gentle curve of his soft lips, the downy feel of his hair, the smell of my milk so sweet upon his breath. I had never imagined such absolute love could exist in my heart.
“Well, he certainly has thickened your nipples,” Wadjet said, laughing, as he reached down to take Zenty from my arms. “Thank you for that, my little Zenty,” he said, calling our son by his birth name, which meant ‘of the desert,’ a tribute to King Narmer and his love of the Eastern desert.
“I’m tired,” I whispered, half-asleep already. “If you wish to make love tonight, you had better call Abana now to put him to bed.”
Wadjet surprised me. “No… I mean, yes, I want to make love to you, but I also want time alone with our son. Ra’s silver disk is full and I’ll walk with him along Mother Nile to see how far she has receded. You go to sleep and if I am in need when I return, I will wake you gently, my dear.” Wadjet bent over to kiss me goodnight and I immediately fell into a deep sleep, such are the demands that I had learned new babies make upon their mothers.
During that night, my parents visited me. This never happened when I was a child, but had begun to occur after I birthed Zenty. Now I relished their dream visits. My mother whispered in my ear what a good-looking baby I had made and my father beamed with a warrior’s pride. Uncle Djer was in the dream, too, standing behind my father, smiling. Our eyes met for an instant and I felt proud in my own heart and very content. It was then that I became aware of Wadjet nestled behind me, his hand on my breast halter and his lips kissing my neck, gently awakening and arousing me. I reached my hand behind my back.
“And what is this weapon you bring to bed with you?” I teased, grasping his hard organ and squeezing it, as I knew he liked me to do. With that I turned towards him and felt his lips upon mine. His breath smelled of mint, freshly brushed with a crushed acacia twig.
“Not fair, you brushed,” I said, turning my head aside.
“Your breath is fine, my love.” He turned my chin toward him. “Kiss me more.” I felt his tongue slide into my mouth and at once I felt a twitch inside me. My breasts immediately leaked through my wrappings.
I gently cupped Wadjet’s bag in my hand and slid down toward his now stiffened manhood. I slowly slipped its head into my mouth, and teased its underside with my tongue, as Ti-Ameny had long ago instructed me to do. I felt a special pleasure in the fact that his penis was no longer as curved as it had been. Ever since his circumcision, part of his purification rituals in preparation for his ascension to the throne of the Two Lands, his penis had lost its sheath and had straightened a little. Once the swelling and pain went down and we could return to our normal sexual pleasures, I realized that for the first time since I had known him, I alone would know his manhood intimately. No longer would Nubiti, nor any other woman, be able to share a laugh at my expense about such a personal matter as the shape of my husband’s private parts.
Wadjet moaned with delight and reached for my own source
of pleasure, already wet with anticipation. I arched my body toward him so that he could caress me with his fingers. We spent many delightful minutes thus occupied, before Wadjet whispered to me.
“Mery, all I want is to be inside you. I cannot stand it much longer.”
I turned on my side to answer my love, holding his face in both my hands. Ra’s silver disk made shadows play across his scar, so that it appeared darker and thicker. I gently ran my fingers over this face that I had grown to love so deeply and I softly touched his scar with my lips.
“Amka says that we must wait just a few more ten-day cycles, my love. I, too, want nothing more than to have you inside. Here, I will finish you off,” I said, sliding down again and putting him back into my mouth. I rubbed his shaft vigorously with my hand.
“Then at least you will have your pleasure, too,” Wadjet whispered, and he turned me onto my back and began to caress my most intimate parts with his lips and tongue while I did the same to him as he straddled me from above. Despite my weariness Djet’s skilled tongue quickly brought me to the height of my excitement as my body tensed and I surrendered to its exquisite pleasure. In just another moment Djet’s warm juices squirted forcefully into my mouth and he soon collapsed on his side next to me. We slept well that night, although half the night would be more accurate in my case, for a nursing baby is demanding, indeed.
These are the happiest days of my life, without doubt. Wadjet is secure in his reign over Kem and ma’at is strong once again throughout the land. Hap-Reset, god of the annual floods, had blessed us with copious flooding the past few years during Akhet and Isis’ fertility made the mud as life-giving as ever. The harvest last year was excellent, resulting in abundant food stores in all the Royal granaries and even in the growing number of public granaries built by the King for use in times of famine. So far all signs pointed to another year of blessings and farmers throughout the lands looked forward to the waters receding and planting their crops. But, most dear to my heart, Zenty grows strong and Wadjet and I love him with the fullness of our bas. If I spent an entire day merely gazing upon our baby’s perfect features it would be a day of complete joy and fulfillment for me.
Due to the abundance, parties abounded throughout Kem, whether planned well in advance or thrown together as a last-minute excuse to celebrate friendships or business deals. One such party to which we were invited was for the wedding of Akori, one of Wadjet’s finest soldiers. As was the custom for the Royal family, we arrived at the bride’s parents’ house only after the party was at its liveliest. Scantily dressed professional dancers gyrated to the music of the sistra, drum, trumpet and flute and surrounding them were men and women in various states of inebriation trying their best to dance to the beat.
Amidst generous applause and good wishes, we were led to an elevated platform where the choicest table and two comfortable chairs of honor were placed. Before us the large round table was laden with luscious foods. There was a basket of fresh fruits, small loaves of bread, roast fish and quail, ribs of beef, honey cakes, many types of cheeses, bean paste and red wine. Since I was still nursing my appetite was vigorous and I hardly knew where to begin. Even considering Amka’s prohibitions against consuming wine or beans while I was nursing, I did not suffer from any lack of choices before me. No sooner had I placed a slice of quail in my mouth then the guests began circulating to our table to bow before us and talk to Wadjet of public works projects and business deals, public service appointments for their kin and some problem about the proliferation of rats due to the abundant grain. Women came to me to ask about Zenty and to share stories of their own children. Many of the women had their hair curled and arranged just so upon their heads in the latest fashion in Kem’s larger towns. Some wore wigs. Little cones of perfumed wax sat atop their hairpieces, releasing their varied fragrances as the evening progressed and the wax melted.
Beautiful servants, tastefully dressed in linen robes, walked among the guests carrying jars of wine and trays of delicacies, including a bean paste prepared by a visiting Babylonian chef. Few people indulged and when I sampled the concoction I immediately knew the reason.
“Dear Isis, this is awful,” I whispered to Wadjet, as I discreetly spit out what I could into my alabaster cup.
“That’s the Babylonian way,” Djet said smiling. “We like plain fresh foods and much variety at our tables. They prefer fewer foods but much more heavily spiced.”
“Well, they can keep their spices,” I said, taking a bite of my bread to dull the assault on my mouth.
“And so it is,” Djer said, turning to me and laughing. “They buy much more of our food than we buy their spices. Our ministers are happy… as is our treasury.”
Singers began to serenade the guests with sad songs of moral failures and lessons learned too late in life. But few of the guests paid attention and instead kept the wine and beer maidens busy. An hour or so after we arrived the wife of one of the army captains vomited from excess drink, to the amusement of her circle of friends. Even Wadjet began to get silly. Before he, too, embarrassed himself I feigned tiredness and the fullness of nursing breasts.
It had been eighteen months since King Djer’s death and my miscarriage. No day went by that I did not at one moment or another recall Djer’s loving kindness and that of my Aunt Herneith, too. I also prayed daily for the ka of my lost baby, for I did not want him to forget us or that we would join him soon enough in the glories of the Afterworld. I felt certain that Djer had taken him with him to the next life and that he was raising him, both of them ready to greet us when our journey was ended. Yet I often wondered what my baby was like, what he had been named, how obedient he was in service to his King.
Our lives in the Royal Court had settled into a stable routine. Nearly every day Herneith would visit Zenty and me, unless she was away representing the King with the governors of the nearly fifty nomes that now made up the administrative units of the Two Lands.
It was concerning one of those expeditions that Herneith returned to Inabu-hedj days earlier than expected. Her retinue of boats docked below the Royal compound to much commotion. Ra had already set in the sky and it was unusual for a Royal delegation to return after dark, when mut forces roamed so freely. Wadjet rose from our bed, put on his loincloth and walked to the balcony to witness the unloading activity below, now occurring by torchlight. Soon Djet’s servant appeared at our doorway and summoned him from the room.
“No, stay here and talk, Djet. Invite mother in. I will throw on my robe,” which I did as soon as he left. In a moment Djet returned with Herneith’s arm hooked through his. She looked far older than her years, her hair completely gray and her shoulders already stooped from life’s tribulations.
“I am afraid I come with bad news,” she began, as I hurried to pour her a mug of cool water. She took a gulp before continuing. “We were sailing north to arrange the construction of a granary in Khirdasa, as the council suggested and you, my son, commanded. We knew that we followed Irisi’s boat by a little less than a ten-day.”
“Irisi? The High Priestess of the Temple of Isis here in Inabu-hedj?” Djet asked, pointing toward the hill where it proudly stood.
“Yes, she was recruiting acolytes and also visiting with priestesses of other temples, as she does each year after Akhet, when Mother Nile’s floods subside and navigation is not so difficult. Every place we docked, women were excited to have seen her. She gave them her blessings everywhere she went. In any event, when we docked at Khirdasa, two Isis priestesses ran up to me, crying, rending their clothes, to tell us that Irisi was dead!”
I gasped, for Irisi was one of the most beloved priestesses in all of Kem. Her name itself meant that her ba was fashioned by Isis, as everyone who knew her earnestly believed was true, for her outer beauty was only equaled by her beauty within. I recalled my special meetings with her before my wedding, receiving her blessings and her advice on dealing with men. “How? How did this happen?” I asked.
“She was walking in
the desert, according to these priestesses, and was bitten on the calf by a viper. She was alone, walking to a meditation spot, so the priestesses suspected nothing amiss when she hadn’t returned. They found her that evening just as Ra was setting. Poor Irisi must have died a horrible, painful death.”
The room was silent, as we each tried to grasp the meaning of this terrible circumstance. All I could think of was the story of Isis saving her son, Horus, from certain death by a viper’s bite, only in that case the snake was actually Isis’ awful brother, Set, in disguise. Why had Isis not intervened and saved Irisi, her priestess sister?
Suddenly there was a rustling noise and low voices could be heard coming from the corridor outside our bedroom. Soon Amka announced his presence and was invited in, followed by Ti-Ameny, whose eyes were red from crying. As soon as she entered, she saw our somber moods and seemed surprised to see Herneith there.
“You know, then?” she asked of no one in particular. Everyone looked toward Wadjet.
“Yes, Herneith just informed us. She has just returned from Khirdasa with the news.”
“From Khirdasa?” Ti-Ameny asked, confused.
“Yes, the Queen was on her way north on the King’s business. We are all shocked.” Wadjet motioned for Amka and Ti-Ameny to sit with us. “Tell us, Ti-Ameny, how will this affect us? What must we do?”
Ti-Ameny hung her head down for a moment to compose herself. “It is complicated, my master,” Ti-Ameny began. “The priestesses here in Inabu-Hedj are forlorn. They have rent their robes and mourn Irisi deeply, for they loved her beyond measure. She was like a mother and older sister as one to them. Many were orphans when she took them in as acolytes.” Ti-Ameny coughed.
The Dagger of Isis (The First Dynasty Book 2) Page 6
