“Are you afraid that I will not be able to measure up to your expectations?” I asked, hoping against hope that he might suddenly realize the absurdity of his request and free me of this terrible burden that now caused me to tremble in fear.
“No, my dear Mery,” he answered, letting go of my arms. “Quite the opposite. I only fear that you will become too adept in these matters. I fear that these responsibilities will change you in ways that we might both regret. I shake at the thought of losing the only person into whose sweet, sweet softness I can allow myself to melt.” I looked up to my love and saw his eyes filled with tears.
SCROLL FIVE
Nubiti
“Let’s not panic,” I said, as mother wrung her hands and paced back and forth in her quarters. She was lately stooped with age, her brow wrinkled, but her dark eyes shone brightly, as they did when she faced her greatest challenges. She was dressed in fine linen, with a braided gold rope belt tied around her middle and gold earrings with orange carnelian studs accenting the gold necklace that hung around her neck. Her ivory hair combs lay scattered on her makeup table, left there by her servant when I arrived. “All it means is that we must move our plans faster.”
“The crow cannot fly faster than the wind takes it,” she replied dejectedly.
“Do I have to remind you of your own advice?” I yelled at her. “The gods create the winds and you shouldn’t underestimate their ability to change its direction,” I continued firmly. “Since I’ve been a little girl you told me that all problems have solutions. But if you continue to bare your neck like a dik-dik to a lion, then you’ll always be a victim.”
Since I told her that Mery was to be named Queen Consort, mother was dismayed. “I know you’re correct,” she said, “but it’s hard to see anything positive in these developments. It seems never to be enough, no matter how risky or aggressive our actions.”
“And that’s why there are two of us, mother. One sees what the other is blinded to. Having Mery’s confidence is our hidden weapon. We know of Royal plans before they take effect. Wadjet’s simpleton wife will be his own worst enemy. I already have some ideas on our next steps.”
“Steps beyond poor Irisi’s murder?” mother asked, her voice heavy with sarcasm.
I froze in place at that last comment. Slowly I turned to face mother, both my fists squeezed into a tight ball, my face reddened and the veins in my neck pulsing hard. “Think twice before you utter such ill advised remarks!” I spat. “This isn’t a game of senet, mother. Far from it. We deal with issues of life and death now. Our game pieces are kings and queens, princes and princesses, viziers and entire nomes. We play for control of the Two Lands itself!”
Mother was agitated now. In three steps she crossed the divide between us and took my chin in her hand and searched my eyes.
“What have I created?” she asked. Her question only made me angrier.
“Created?” I stood before her and saw only a frustrated woman whose hopes of power had been squashed like vermin under the feet of powerful, pathetic men.
“The time has come to decide, mother. You’re either in this with me, the two of us together, side-by-side, or we abandon these plans right now, this instant and resign ourselves to oblivion throughout eternity. You agreed that it was essential that I become High Priestess and now you whine like a baby.”
“But I did not condone Irisi’s murder,” she pleaded.
“Stop it! Stop it right now!” I shot back. I pulled myself erect to my full height. “Choose. Do you wish me to be Queen of the Two Lands or not? But do not dare say yes without also knowing that it means by all means at our disposal… all means… for this is nearly an impossible task we face. Irisi will be well provided for in her Afterlife, but in this world we still remain deprived of our rightful due.”
For a long moment I mulled over in my mind the choices I now confronted. But the vision remained the same, that of me on the throne, sitting a step behind the King. In this mother’s and my fate were joined. If Lower Kem were ever to achieve equal footing with Upper Kem, then I must be the one to do it. Our vision was far more important than the lives of one or two who might stand in our way.
Mother stood before me and stared directly into my eyes. She searched my ba for a long time and found it true. “Yes, you will be the Queen of the Two Lands,” she said. “I will do as you command.”
“Yes, you will,” I smiled in return. “Yes, I can see you will.”
And so we agreed that the next step was for me to convince Sekhem to speak with Remmau on the King’s Council and make his wishes known to have me appointed as High Priestess. Since Sekhem steadily provided Remmau’s family with every manner of goods from the King’s farms, and not all of it legitimate, we knew that we could count on this favor.
I left it to mother, however, to deal with one difficult part of the negotiations. In two days, she arranged a meeting with Amka in the library at the Temple of Horus, where he spent part of every day studying the papyruses of Upper Kem’s greatest scribe and shaman, the great Anhotek, Vizier to King Narmer himself. It was a practice that my mother had often ridiculed as a waste of time for she had little regard for the medical practices of Upper Kem.
The library was impressive. I had visited it twice as a youth. The building was detached from the temple itself, but it stood in a corner of the temple complex, its brown stone block walls rising two stories on three sides. One wall was an additional story and beams from Lebanon cedars were placed along the slope and criss-crossed with dried reeds to provide shade for anyone studying within. The vaulted wall was lined with shelves and packed with clay jars laid on their sides. Stuffed into each jar were several papyrus scrolls. From each jar hung an ivory tag listing the contents within. Each scroll was tied with a goat hide lace that also held a label.
The other walls, too, were lined with shelves and clay jars and were further subdivided into sections. One section was dedicated to medicinal information, while another concerned itself with the intricacies of the laws of the Two Lands, although my mother often pointed out that they were truly the laws of only Upper Kem that were unfairly imposed upon us after Unification. My eyes were always drawn to the section of drawings of plants and animals, especially the colorful birds. I don’t remember the other sections, as I found the library intimidating as a child.
“And what brings you here, my good Queen?” Amka asked as soon as she entered the light-filled building. He immediately arose from the long table in the middle of the room in front of which he sat, scrolls spread out before him and bowed low to her.
“We’re both busy people, Amka, so I suggest we not bore each other with ceremony and platitudes.”
Amka smiled broadly. “You know, Shepsit, you are a most formidable woman,” he said while wagging his finger at her. “Of what, then, shall we speak?”
“And why play the fool, Amka? You know full well why I’m here. I wish Nubiti to be named High Priestess of the Temple of Isis.”
Amka calmly reached for his wooden staff, always within an arm’s reach, and slowly paced away from mother. When he reached the vaulted wall, he turned back to her.
“Do you know what these scrolls contain?”
“I’m not a child, Amka. I’m in no mood to be quizzed.”
“No, no, I quite realize that, Shepsit and I did not mean to be condescending.” As mother described it, Amka was dressed in his most simple tunic of coarse linen, as if he were a mere penitent, which irritated mother. But he also wore the King’s wide gold armband around his right bicep, a potent sign of the King’s might and Amka’s most elevated standing as Vizier. None but the King held more power in the Two Lands.
“Here, then, is my point. Contained in these scrolls,” he said, sweeping his arm around the room, “is the wisdom of hundreds of years of Upper Kem rulers, including the mighty King Narmer, may his name be blessed.” In my mother’s inner eye, she made the sign warding off the evil mut, a common gesture whenever we lower Kemians heard Narme
r’s name, a tyrant who we hardly regarded as a hero. “It also contains the medical knowledge passed down from Upper Kem’s greatest healers. But here, Shepsit,” he said sweeping one entire wall, “here are the laws of our land. Every law, every decision made by judges, by viziers, and by the Kings themselves.”
“I didn’t come here for a history lesson, Amka. What’s your point, for we’ve got serious business to discuss?”
Amka sighed, infuriating my mother. “I will get right to the point, Shepsit. Here in Upper Kem,” he said emphasizing the words Upper Kem, “we live under rule of law.”
“Are you implying that we live like animals in Lower Kem? Is that what you dare suggest to your Queen?”
“Second Queen, Shepsit. But I am sure I need not remind you of that,” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And, no, I do not believe that Lower Kemians are like animals. Far from it, for some the most skilled shamans in the Two Lands have come from the Delta. But make no mistake about it. I also believe you are not a people of words and you do not value order as do we. Your legends are told from father to son, mother to daughter. Your laws are decided on the whim of your local leaders, with no regard for precedent. When one is in power he rules against his enemies and then when the enemies rise to power, they rule against the former. Your people never mastered the holy picture words that have come to define Upper Kem. Our legends are written down, our prescriptions for treating illnesses are stored here, committed to paper or parchment. Every tradition, every law is written down for future generations to learn.”
“To what end?” mother snapped.
“To what end? So that all may consult these scrolls to find out what to do in any given situation. Laws must be consistent or chaos rules, not judges.”
“That’s absurd, for if there’s an answer to everything, then all learning has stopped. There’s no possibility for change.”
“Change is most often contrary to ma’at. Change must be approached cautiously.”
“Which brings us back to Nubiti’s appointment. You will doubtless argue that the High Priestess has always been from Upper Kem. Yet that ignores the fact that Narmer changed tradition by conquering Lower Kem.”
“Uniting the Two Lands,” Amka corrected. Mother sneered at him.
“I’ll argue with you over titles, not words, Amka. I’ve come to strike a bargain.”
“A bargain? Who am I to bargain for such a thing?”
“Don’t be coy with me. You’re the leader of the Horus priests that oppose…”
“The High Priest in Nekhen is their leader, Shepsit.”
“Stop flinging the dung, Amka! You’re the King’s ears in matters of the Horus priesthood and the High Priest wouldn’t piss in the sand without your approval.” Amka remained silent.
“So, what I am offering is this. We won’t stir the pot regarding Mery’s appointment as Queen Consort so long as you advise the King to appoint Nubiti as High Priestess.”
“And the ‘we’ that you refer to, who might that include?”
“Oh, Amka, that was a shallow play indeed. You know full well that the nomes in Lower Kem are pots that always simmer, just waiting for a talented cook to build up the fire so they boil over. And with the Queen Consort about to coordinate administration of the nomes… well, let’s just say that her initiation into affairs of state could go smoothly or… or less smoothly.”
“And how would you know of the Queen’s proposed duties? The King has not yet assigned them.”
“Surely you of all people know that the walls of a palace are thin indeed, Amka.” With those words, Amka stood still, silently looking at the mud brick floor before him. Suddenly he looked up at his staff and then at mother.
“Made of parchment, we say,” Amka responded, laughing for the first time.
“I guess parchment does have a use after all,” mother added, joining into the laughter. Thus it was that a hard-won deal was struck that day and in three moon cycles I was installed as High Priestess of the Temple of Isis in Inabu-hedj.
My installation ceremony was a relatively simple affair, restricted by our traditions to my sister priestesses and our acolytes and taking place under the full silver disk of Ra that governed our monthly cycles. Again, I am forbidden to disclose the details of the ceremonies, but they took place over three days, for three is a sacred number to our calling. Of course, we fasted on the first day, to prepare our bodies for what was to come, although throughout the day we drank from Mother Nile’s cool waters, and not by drinking from pitchers and mugs, but by immersing ourselves fully until we were one with her ever flowing ka. That day was also spent in rest and quiet meditation, for the next days would bring each of the priestesses to the limit of her capabilities.
The second day of my initiation as High Priestess began before dawn, when I was awakened to greet Ra’s disk. We offered prayers to Bes, the fat little god who protected families, to Bastet, the mother cat god who protected all mothers of Kem, and to Tawaret, the hippopotamus god who protected mothers in pregnancy and childbirth. All these gods we welcomed into the Temple of Isis. With each one we celebrated the special qualities that women throughout the Two Lands possessed.
It was on the evening of the second day that began the most- how can I say this without appearing trite? - the most intensely spiritual experience I’d ever witnessed, let alone participated in, and I say this altogether admitting that I’m the daughter of Shepsit, that most cynical of women. The priestesses of Isis are known throughout the land for their ceremonies, ones that penetrate the humdrum of a woman’s daily life and bring her into the passionate embrace of Isis’ loving arms. But no ceremony ever witnessed by outsiders could compare with the initiation of an Isis High Priestess, for in this single event the sisterhood achieves its perfection.
Some call it an orgy. If so their language is understandably limited. They rely only on the sounds emanating from within the innermost chambers of the Temple, secret chambers that mirror the womb, the innermost temple of a woman’s body.
Some say the initiation is an unending feast. They, too, are limited in understanding, for though we assimilate the procreative fluids it is not to nourish our bodies, but to celebrate our roles as women, the creators of life. Some even say it is simply a night of revelry, of unadorned dance, pleasant music, laughter and fun. Need I say that they, most of all, know nothing of what transpired that night and all the next day.
Yes, we danced and sang. We chanted and drummed. But to describe it as such is to call the King’s gold breastplate a fine yellow trinket or the height of sexual passion a pleasant feeling. The dancing, the fury of the drumming, the indescribable sexual joys that we ourselves experienced and then bestowed upon a few chosen men were never before seen in the temple. One of the priestesses who had participated in Irisi’s initiation told me later that my event eclipsed Irisi’s, a comment that gave me untold satisfaction.
And a word about those fortunate chosen men, too, for they reveal much about the kindness and nurturing of Isis herself. Fortunate is a relative term. Any man walking the streets of Kem would have sacrificed his own riches to have days and nights spent immersed in the delights of Isis priestesses. But these men hardly walked the streets of Kem. No, these men were known to the priestesses as outcasts, beggars, dirt beneath the feet of even the rekhi. One was formerly a soldier in the army, blinded in battle by a mace that crushed half his face. One had both legs bitten off below the knee by a crocodile that was in the midst of devouring his baby son who he tried to rescue. Others had similar horrible fates befall them. But for those few nights of pleasurable relief from the agonies of their bodies they gladly swore an oath of silence.
My initiation was an experience I’d never had before in my life, a deep, intense feeling of being at one with the goddess, feeling Isis flowing within me as I flowed within her. The incessant, furious drumming and chanting, the intertwining of our heated, womanly bodies, the uninhibited dancing and sexual pleasures drew me up, again and again,
to the heights of ecstasy, to fly with Isis. To this very day I look back with a mixture of awe and sadness at my initiation; awe at the epitome of spiritual and bodily ecstasy, sadness that I never again was able to achieve such heights.
On the eve of the very next full silver disk, I served in my first official capacity as High Priestess of the Temple of Isis at Inabu-hedj. Ironically, I helped install Mery as Queen Consort.
Mery’s installation was almost as elaborate as King Wadjet’s coronation. It was also as different from my initiation as any two events could be. For if there is one word that can be used with any event that the Horus priesthood is involved with it is pompous.
People came from all over the Two Lands to glimpse the King and Queen, the long procession of Horus priests and Isis priestesses, and the parade of dignitaries that stretched for miles and took hours to pass. The governor of every nome attended. Emissaries from Canaan, Punt, Babylon, Kush, Lebanon and even further carried presents of every manner and description for the Royal family. The King generously provided each with gifts of fine gold jewelry from his workshops as a token of our trade friendships. At one point I stood next to the emissary from Punt, a slovenly man with a long, unkempt beard and hideous, dirty braids in his hair, who commented to me that there was more gold worn on the bodies of those in the procession than in the treasuries of all the lands surrounding Kem. It was true that people lining the parade route had to often shield their eyes from Ra’s rays reflected off the polished gold breastplates that passed before them.
Mery, I must admit, looked radiant. She sat upon her carry chair, immediately next to and slightly behind the King, looking every bit the part of the Queen Consort she was about to become. When she disembarked at the Temple of Isis she handled herself impressively, having been coached by Amka’s and my assistants for days. She stood erect and her gaze swept the multitudes impassively. She even raised her hands for a blessing of the people, for which they sang her praises.
The Dagger of Isis (The First Dynasty Book 2) Page 8
