Mery was outfitted in an elegant pure white robe, woven of the finest linen produced by the King’s workshops, once again ironically under the supervision of Sekhem. Every yard of the fabric was inspected to guarantee that there was not the slightest imperfection. The Queen’s seamstresses had sewn every pleat, every drape to conform flatteringly to Mery’s petite figure. The drape of the gown intentionally hinted at Mery’s dark and enlarged nipples, a symbol of her maternal aptitudes.
At this stage of Mery’s installation she wore few jewels, other than a gold ring, a gold and carnelian bracelet, and a thin armband that signified she was the First Wife of the King. Her face was radiant, lined with black kohl around her eyes and a subtle shade of green malachite on her eyelids. Her lips were painted in a bright red. Her hair was worn up in a bun, with gold thread woven through and through.
Mery’s procession accompanied her up the steps to the Temple, where I greeted her. One of my sister priestesses held a beautifully decorated ceramic bowl of water and I dipped into it a cloth woven with gold thread, knelt down and washed Mery’s feet. Thus cleansed, we retired into the Temple. All others, King Wadjet included, waited outside, for none but the sisters of the priesthood are allowed into its innermost chambers.
The ceremony itself was a simple one and I blessed Mery in the name of Isis and wished her well. The highest-ranking priestesses offered their own blessings for Mery’s fertility, for a strong family, and for long life. All this, even the foot washing, I found easy to do. It was the next part of the ceremony that I found the most difficult.
Outside the Temple, a platform had been erected, onto which Mery now proceeded. There she was met by the Priestess of the Temple of Neith who had journeyed from Sais to perform Mery’s naming, for as Queen Consort she would need to be rebirthed with a new name. Like many within the royal family since Narmer’s time, Mery had chosen to add the goddess Neith to her name. Whether this was partly the influence of Herneith or Amka I wasn’t certain, for Mery was vague about how she came to this. The Horus priests were known to usurp the name of Neith to forge some artificial, self-serving bond to the Delta. They couldn’t have known how much we detested their taking on the name of the most revered woman deity in Lower Kem.
And so, with tens of thousands of Kemians and foreigners watching, Mery took on the name of the goddess Neith. The priestess bestowed upon her a golden bow and arrow, symbols of Neith’s prowess as a huntress and warrior. She gave her an ancient weaving shuttle, proof of Neith’s skill as a weaver and dutiful wife. Next came an intricately carved shield, depicting Neith as a mother suckling her child, the crocodile god Sobek. All these acts, although I resented them deeply, I took as one does a foul medicine. It was the next one that made me choke on bitter bile.
The priestess raised the double crown of Upper and Lower Kem and placed it upon Mery’s head, all the while declaring her the Queen Consort. She called out her new name, Mery-Neith, to the crowd below. A huge roar went up and people jumped up and down in the streets. Lyres and drums and rattles sounded. Professional dancers grabbed ordinary people in the streets and the Horus priests ordered that wine and beer be dispensed freely. The soldiers began to force some semblance of a parade route back into the crowds and soon Mery was escorted back down the temple steps and onto her waiting carry platform where a beaming Wadjet greeted her.
I recall wishing Mery well as she passed by me, but my stomach churned with disgust. I caught a glimpse of my mother scowling, along with several of our relatives and I wondered whether Amka, the King, or any of the priests and priestesses from Upper Kem understood what we felt at that moment. Watching their faces I could only hope that they were guided by a misreading of our feelings about our beloved Neith and not by a more malicious intent.
Afterwards, mother and I discussed the implications of Mery’s naming in great detail and our belief was that, despite her new name, our plan was proceeding even better than we could have expected. One benefit to Mery’s coronation was that our allies from Lower Kem attended without raising any suspicion. We were able to meet with them regularly for a period of months as they traveled back and forth to help with the planning for the ceremony and the endless discussions afterward with the King or with the various wealthy merchants with whom they had dealings, or wished to.
I reunited with many of my aunts and uncles, cousins and relatives in high positions in Lower Kem, reunions that were filled with wine and good foods, singing, dancing and much laughter. But there were also late night meetings held in whispered voices long after the other guests had left. By the time Mery’s celebrations were over, we had ever more tightly woven our cloth of alliances, along with secret methods for communicating with each other.
One of the advantages that came with the position of High Priestess was the necessity to travel to the many temples to meet with my priestesses to discuss liturgy, taxes, budgets and recruitment. It was two months before Akhet was expected when I was able to arrange a trip to the Delta. Mother Nile was at her lowest point of the year and while sailing downstream in Upper Kem was easy, negotiating the tributaries of the black lands of the Delta was exceedingly difficult. Besides the many muddy traverses we encountered, we were also forced to deal with hoards of incessant mosquitoes that seemed as large as water bugs. Amka had provided us with a lotion that worked for short periods of time, but it smelled so bad we all swore it was mainly concocted from a foul brew of aged piss from virile warriors and fermented crocodile manure.
It was on our third day after entering the Delta, after the mighty Mother Nile split into five smaller rivers, that we entered the area that surrounded Dep, the capital of the Delta. I had last visited Dep when I was a child and had only vague recollections of its beauty. We approached by a small tributary that led directly to the city. As we rounded the final bend, the walled city loomed before us, its architecture so different from what I saw in Upper Kem, but also far smaller in stature and less grand. The city wall itself was made of large mud bricks, but instead of running smoothly along its top, it was notched every ten feet or so to accommodate lookouts and warriors, who had last used it several generations before in their losing battle with King Narmer’s army.
In fact, a large monument was erected in the field approaching the city’s walls commemorating Narmer’s victory, a monument scrupulously avoided by the locals, for it callously showed Narmer murdering our King and beheading our allies. And, of course, there was no corresponding monument to our own King W’ash, who bravely defended the besieged city.
But it was another feature of Dep that made it stand out, despite its more primitive architecture, a feature that no grandiose structure in Upper Kem could ever hope to duplicate. As we approached the massive city gates themselves, Wadj-Wer appeared before us in all its magnificence. The Great Green’s waters shimmered in Ra’s light, its waves gently rolling onto the white shore in the distance. The most pleasing smell of salty water filled our nostrils and I felt for the first time what it meant to be truly home. Wadj-Wer was the largest body of water known to Kem, and no fisherman had yet discovered its boundaries, let alone its source. Gently, predictably, each day its waters rose and fell, rose and fell. Yet fishermen were often lost to its terrible storm fury. Mother Nile herself flowed into Wadj-Wer’s salty receptacle and so we understood that it belonged to the gods themselves and we were blessed to live on its shores and take sustenance from its abundant fish.
We were greeted in Dep by King Wadjet’s governor, who pointedly walked us to Narmer’s battle monument immediately after the midday meal, tediously describing Upper Kem’s victory over King W’ash as my sister priestesses nodded submissively. After that we chatted amiably the entire afternoon, but just before the evening meal he left us to attend to other duties. After prayers at the local temple, I excused myself from my priestess escorts and retired to my room in the back of a dormitory that adjoined the temple.
In the late hours of the night, someone shook me awake. As I bolted upright, I could see in
the dim moonlight a man holding his finger over his lips. I hurriedly draped a robe over my bare chest. He quietly placed a footrest before the window and he deftly slipped out and dropped to the ground below. I followed and two men grabbed my elbows and guided me to the ground. Without a word they escorted me through winding, overgrown paths that meandered through a marsh and in thirty minutes we were greeted by crashing waves and a fleet of three fishing boats waiting on the sand. Before we exited from the marsh onto the beach itself, they looked about cautiously. One of my escorts made a sound like a wild bird. In seconds it was answered by a man in a fishing vessel.
In a burst of speed, my escorts ran with me across the sand and heaved me brusquely into the middle vessel, which was covered with a tarp of goat hides. Despite the darkness, I could sense the presence of others, although they made not a sound. I was careful to stay quiet, although I felt sure they could hear my racing heart. In seconds we were pushed out to sea, the oars rhythmically clicking against their wooden swivel locks.
After we had traveled for a time, the captain of the vessel called softly to the men who sat under the tarp with me. One of the men lit a small fire in a brazier with sparks from his flint and the first thing I saw was a low table with delectable foods laid out upon it. On the opposite side of the table I was surprised to see Khnum, the High Prince of Lower Kem. Beside him sat Bakht, his shaman and healer.
My body shivered gazing upon Bakht’s dark, pitted and scarred face, for Bakht was a master of the dark arts and his scarring came from his initiation into levels of his craft that reportedly no mortal before him had yet reached. He wore his hair combed back into a braid, tied at the end around the tooth of a hippopotamus. He wore a necklace of enormous crocodile teeth. From his left ear, running down his arm and continuing along his ribs and back was the most ornate and sinister tattoo I had ever seen. The rumors I had heard told tales of his kidnapping a fierce shaman from the darkest reaches of Kush and forcing him to apply that hideous tattoo over days of drinking and burning foul herbs. In the dim light it took me a full minute to recognize the tattoo as Apep, the snake god-monster of the dark shamans, emerging from the Underworld, spreading his wings as his body slithered upward. I quickly turned aside my gaze.
“Welcome, Priestess,” Khnum greeted me with a serious expression on his face. “I apologize that our first meeting in the Black Lands must, of needs, be under such inelegant circumstances. Perhaps you know Bakht, my loyal servant.”
“I know of him and am honored to meet both of you. This has been a most interesting late night stroll,” I quickly added to avoid dwelling on Bakht.
“A necessity, I fear,” Khnum answered, “for the King’s ears are everywhere. Here we may speak freely. Everyone here has sworn his life to our purpose.”
“The plan has advanced,” I offered, looking both men in the eyes.
“Yes, and our congratulations on your being named High Priestess. You and your mother have worked your end of the plan well.”
“You’ve heard of Queen Shepsit’s negotiations with Amka that led to our latest achievement?”
“It’s the details we lack.” I spent the next few minutes recounting for them the highlights of what my mother had relayed to me.
“And so, we seem to have gotten what we wanted. The stage is set for the play to begin.”
“Amka, too, has gotten what he wanted,” Bakht suggested, speaking for the first time. His deep voice reflected no emotion.
“True, but we’ve achieved the greater victory,” I quickly interjected with a forced smile. Bakht smiled back broadly. He glanced at Khnum, who nodded imperceptibly.
“Dear Priestess, and I speak cautiously here for in the future I hope to address you as Queen of the Two Lands. Never underestimate Amka and the Horus priests. They are a mighty presence, whose wisdom descends from the time the god-mortals walked the land. It wouldn’t surprise me to find out that it is we who have won the shallowest victory.”
“But I hold the title of High Priestess of the Temple of Isis,” I countered, no longer sure of my footing.
“Ah, even the best general sometimes confuses battlefield victories with winning the war, only to watch the unyielding sword of his enemy descend swiftly toward his neck when the fighting is done.” In that one moment, I knew that I had an invaluable ally in Bakht, and I assumed Khnum, allies who might even rival Amka in wisdom.
“How do you see Amka gaining by my being named High Priestess? My appointment’s for life. It may never be withdrawn.”
Khnum spoke up. “On the surface it seems that Amka and the King don’t gain, but Wadjet and Mery have now consolidated power through their marriage and the new titles it brings. Even more important, they believe they have you confined in a package, as tightly wrapped as a child’s gift at Wepet-Renet. They can watch you with their spies and focus their efforts at confining you and your duties. They can continue to dole out gifts of gold and long, worthless titles, and tombs next to the King. That’s how they gain powerful allies among the wealthy and powerful of Upper Kem and, I must admit, even Lower Kem.”
“Even assuming you’re correct,” I asked, knowing full well in my heart that they were, “we already have plans for our next steps.”
“Men plot and the gods laugh,” Bakht said calmly.
“And your point?”
“First, we agree that you and Queen Shepsit, along with your own network of spies and informers, understand the Royal Court far better than we do. But, at some point you’ll need us to provide certain… ummm, force from the outside to mobilize against the King and his generals, be it distracting skirmishes or perhaps… and we hope it never comes to this… in outright war.”
Inwardly my heart buzzed with excitement, for I’d never had direct contact with men of such high placement and obvious power and skills. I also recognized how valuable it was to have advisors beyond my mother to witness and interpret events, to help plan strategies and execute tactics.
“And, speaking of Mery,” Bakht continued, “what’ve you heard about her Council of Nomes?”
“I haven’t followed her performance closely. We’re gathering more information.”
Bakht and Khnum exchanged glances once again. Khnum spoke. “Well, we’ve been given detailed debriefings of their meetings, as well as reports from our spies as to the information that Mery has passed on to Amka and Wadjet.”
“And who spies for you at the Royal Court? Is it the same woman who is in mother’s service?” I asked, curious.
Bakht smiled again. “Dear Priestess, sometimes it’s far more valuable to be able to deny the obvious with a light heart than to have it weighed down with too much knowledge. In this case it’s better that we have two networks working independently of each other.” I nodded in agreement.
“In fact, we hear that Mery has been disturbingly effective in ferreting out certain patterns in our collective behavior,” Khnum went on, reaching forward for some grapes. “Go ahead, help yourself Priestess,” he said pointing to the fruits, nuts, bread and bean pastes that were distributed in crude pottery dishes over the table. I was taken aback by the stark contrast between Upper and Lower Kem even in such a small matter as this. In Upper Kem the reddish pottery was elegantly made, thinly crafted and finished with artistic black rims. Here the pottery, even for a Prince, was rough and squat and lacked any artistic merit. I dipped a piece of brown bread into the first paste and enjoyed the pungent garlic and spices on my palate.
“She’s created a papyrus map of the nomes and has plotted on it the various locations of both internal tax rebellions and also skirmishes with Ta-Tjehenu tribes from the west. It does not present the Delta in a very good light,” he said, tossing a rotten grape over the side of the boat. “Unpopular taxes by the King are followed by an internal rebellion. Force used against a popular Delta leader is followed by a Ta-Tjehenu attack on a border village marketplace. These attacks are, admittedly, coordinated by certain, shall we say, known entities,” he said half-smiling, “a
ll designed to keep the stew simmering, waiting for the right opportunity. But these many actions, when put together, may well betray secret relationships best not exposed to Ra’s light.”
“And Mery has figured this out?”
“Not entirely, only that there’s a pattern and that its heart lay in the Dep nome. She’s presented these findings to Wadjet and Amka.” I was too shocked to hear of my cousin’s surprising competency in these affairs of state to ask anything further.
“She’s also been proving her worth to the governors in other ways,” Bakht went on. “Apparently, unlike Amka who ran these meetings before, she doesn’t defend every action of the King and cut off their complaints. Instead she listens to them, both their complaints and suggestions. She even encourages dissent. She’s begun to involve them in making decisions about granary storage buildings for use in times of famine. You can only imagine how that will mortar the power of the governors and strengthen their allegiance to the King and Queen Consort. All in all, very disturbing developments, which begged a meeting between us tonight.”
“Why tonight?”
“We’ve heard that Wadjet has brought in one his generals to plan a march into the Delta as a show of the King’s force of rule and to exact select punishments as examples to others.”
“Which general?”
“A rising warrior who has distinguished himself in skirmishes with the Ta-Tjehenus to the west and the Philistines in the east, a man named Herihor.”
“Herihor, you say? I know him. He is a great warrior.” My heart beat faster at the mention of his name. “How soon is this action to take place?”
The Dagger of Isis (The First Dynasty Book 2) Page 9
