“Hard to say,” Khnum answered. “From activity that our informers observe, we assume it’s just in the discussion stage. An incursion like that would take a great deal of planning and coordination and become known to us well in advance. In any event, it wouldn’t prove to be popular to the tribes of Lower Kem and may even backfire, so we are counting on the fact that it will only happen if Wadjet, Amka and their Council feel they have no choice.”
“We’ve stopped any subversive activities we sponsor from here, to give the other parts of our plan a chance to mature,” Bakht added.
For a moment I thought of the many challenges we faced, but also the rich resources that were suddenly available to me, more than I’d ever imagined, having been confined to the Royal Court with my mother as my only advisor for so many years.
“And that’s good to do,” I finally commented, “to give us time to mortar our base in Upper Kem. Yet, I think it’d be wise to keep up the pressure on Wadjet and Amka. To do less would be a lost opportunity.”
“What would you suggest?” Bakht asked, looking from me to Prince Khnum.
“You have strong relations with the Philistines to the east, right?”
“Yes, with some of the chieftains there, but not the entire people. They are a very splintered group and spend as much time fighting among themselves as they do trading or fending off the Babylonians.”
“I see,” I responded. “But trade between Kem and our eastern neighbors some would argue is the most important we have. We get our wood, spices, the finest wines and most of our jewels from them. It’s an orderly trade route, isn’t it? I’ve seen endless caravans coming and going from Inabu-hedj.”
“Ah, and so the plot thickens, my priestess. Well done. I see where this all leads,” Bakht exclaimed, leaning back on his cushions and laughing.
“So, enlighten me,” Khnum said, turning first to Bakht and then to me.
“I think that our most devout and compassionate priestess here recognizes that the tolls the Upper Kemian traders pay to pass through the Philistine lands might be inadequate to the sacrifices those poor people make to maintain the routes. And if the King of Kem is not willing to pay higher tolls, then what choice do those poor people have but to exact payment through, shall we say, relieving the caravans of a fair percentage of their burdensome loads?”
With that Bakht and Khnum fell onto their sides laughing. “And you…,” Khnum tried to say, pointing to me, “you are just like my cousin, Queen Shepsit, only… you’re… you’re…” but he could not finish his thought without laughing more.
SCROLL SIX
Mery-Neith
“You are far too strict with him!” I said, turning from Abana to Zenty who toddled, still sobbing, to my open arms. I wiped his tears with a cloth.
“I tried to learn from you,” Abana quickly replied. I could see that she struggled to calm her breathing.
“What in Ra’s name are you talking about? I am hardly strict with him at all, compared to you.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she answered, exasperated. “What I mean is that I learned from raising you that I should’ve been far stricter.” For a moment I hugged Zenty to my breasts, but from above his head I could see my dear Abana shaking. Suddenly she seemed so old, her voice wavering.
“Was I so bad, Abana?” Zenty had stopped crying and was already squirming in my arms. I kissed his cheek and he smiled and ran off to play with his carved wooden animals, as if nothing had just happened.
“You were headstrong,” she said, “and you’re still headstrong. People…” She stopped herself and turned from me to face Zenty.
I realized Abana had been trying to tell me something. I took a deep breath. “People are talking,” I started carefully, “but not to my face. I depend on you, dear mother, to tell me what others have not the courage to.”
Abana’s face was red from embarrassment. She opened her mouth as if to speak, baring her few remaining teeth, which were terribly worn from eating rekhi bread that contained too much sand.
“Go ahead, you know you can always speak your mind to me,” I said to urge her on. I knew she would probably offer me no revelations, no information that I did not already know from Ti-Ameny. But I also knew Abana from the time she was my own wet nurse and I understood that if she did not speak her mind now, she would carry the poison of her nervous heart in her ba for days. I did not want Zenty exposed to that poison if I could possibly help it.
“It… it’s that you… oh, I’m not good with putting thoughts into words,” she said in her heavy Rekhi accent, as she wrung her hands. At that moment Zenty came running up to her and she knelt down to pick him up, instinctively checking his undergarment for accidents. Suddenly she appeared to gain strength and it was then that I realized that without a child in her embrace, Abana’s ba was not full. She and Zenty hugged each other as she rocked him from side to side.
“People whisper that you’ve changed,” she began. “I, too, notice this. You take on too much… too much for a woman, more than Queen Herneith ever did. It’s not ma’at.”
“Ah, I see how this bothers you.”
“No, you don’t,” Abana shot back. “You’re too busy. Always in meetings, traveling here and there on the King’s business, doing man’s work. Everyone talks about it.”
So it was that I learned from Abana that the work I was doing for my husband, the brother of Horus, had become the gossip of the Royal Court. I accepted Abana’s concern without comment and after she had expressed herself more on this subject we hugged warmly. I did not bother to explain to Abana the reasons for my work for she viewed life only from within her own narrow circumstances. She worked in the Royal Court, but she was rekhi through and through. I never felt that was a hindrance, for her uneducated self brought us many blessings as she focused all her attention on raising the royal children. The only travel she ever did was with Zenty and me on the Queen’s barges and even then she not once ventured off the boat when we stopped at various villages for she was paralyzed with fear at such times that mut spirits and demons from the Underworld would devour her. She watched Zenty with special zeal at such times.
As soon as Abana left to take Zenty to the garden pool I freshened myself, brushed my teeth again with a fresh acacia twig and mint leaves, and crossed the palace to Wadjet’s meeting rooms. By now Ra was high in the sky and the heat was oppressive. The winds were still and so servants stood around the rooms waving papyrus reed fans and the newer ostrich feather fans that our merchants were now importing from Kush.
The guards saluted me as I approached and as soon as I entered the room all the men rose and bowed. Only Herihor stood ramrod straight and saluted me, his forearm crossed over his muscled chest.
“The King will be with you shortly,” Amka said softly. “Have a seat here if you wish.”
I sat on a rush chair and observed the meeting, being held in the largest of the meeting rooms. The room was open on three sides. One side overlooked Mother Nile, flowing swiftly below us past Inabu-hedj, Ra’s light shimmering on her surface, and behind her the Eastern desert and its red and blue mountains. The second side provided a view of the Kings vast agricultural lands, while the third side faced the Western desert and the mountains that came close to our walled city.
Wadjet and Amka were in the midst of questioning Herihor on some military preparation and he, in turn, would periodically ask his subordinates for their opinions. It was rare for Herihor to be in the palace. More and more frequently in the past two years he was out on some military mission, stopping Ta-Tjehenu raids along our western border, recruiting soldiers, or training patrols out in the remote eastern desert. Often two or three full moons would pass between his visits here within the white walls of Inabu-hedj.
As I watched, I could not help but notice the respect his men had for him. He treated them with equal respect, listening carefully to their opinions, yet pushing them to challenge their own beliefs.
But it was Herihor’s ba that com
manded one’s attention. He was taller than most men in Upper Kem, much taller than those of Lower Kem and he carried himself erect, even when he sat. His upper body and arms were highly muscled from the intensity of his training and on his left bicep he wore a wide gold band with Wadjet’s serekh cast in it and below that the symbol of Sobek, the crocodile god. I once watched a young woman gasp when she first laid eyes on him, for across his cheek, from his left eye to his lower lip, ran a raised welt from the knife of a Ta-Tjehenu warrior. There were similar, albeit smaller scars in various other parts of his body.
Yet it was his eyes that made the greatest impression. They were dark, deep set, and framed by heavy, black brows that added an aura of power and mystery. I realized I had been staring at him too hard when I saw him turn his gaze to me and I quickly averted my eyes to the floor.
“We have made great progress today,” Wadjet said to the group as he stood up. “We will finish our preparations tomorrow. I have kept the Queen waiting long enough and from what I hear from the Governors, she has lately become a more formidable foe than the lot of you.” To the resulting peals of laughter I smiled, but after hearing of the gossip within the Royal court from Abana, my husband’s good-hearted joke stung me. I vowed to myself to use my heart’s eyes to witness my actions more carefully to see if I was behaving in a manner that would please both my husband and my personal goddess, Neith.
With everyone gone but for Wadjet and Amka, I wanted to ask what the meeting was about, but I knew that Wadjet resented it when I inquired after official matters of Kem. Instead I asked vaguely how his meeting went.
“It went far better than I had imagined it would,” he responded, “don’t you think, Amka?”
“No, I expected that Herihor would come prepared. He has a knack for planning that rivals his prowess on the battlefield. That is a rare combination, indeed. We are fortunate that Horus provided you with such talent at times of unrest.” Amka sat with a sigh on the chair next to me.
“Well, more on the meeting in a moment, my dearest. Here, have some wine and cheese,” he said, pointing to the plate that Amka placed between us. I reached for a slice of bread and dipped it in honey. I noticed that Wadjet just sat with his hand on his cheek.
“Does your tooth still bother you?” I asked.
“I’m sure it does,’ Amka interrupted, “for your husband, aside from being King, is the most stubborn man in the Two Lands. If he allowed me to pull that poisonous tooth or if he would at least take the medicine I offer him every day, he would be most improved. Instead he plays the martyr.”
“Oh, Horus, why do you torture me with a shaman who nags me worse than a wash woman? You must think me crazy if you believe I would willingly subject myself to the agonies of a tooth pulling. And I would take your damned medicine if it were not so foul tasting!” Amka leaned his forehead against his staff and grunted. “Anyway, I want to hear more about the Council of Nomes.” Amka slowly turned his seat to face me directly.
“I believe the King will be pleased with the latest developments,” I began. “The Governors have put together a list of projects in their individual nomes that they would like to see the King develop.”
“From your treasury, of course,” Amka added wryly, tipping his staff towards Wadjet.
“Of course,” Wadjet responded. “But, then again, we have had some very plentiful years. The treasury is strong.”
“In any event,” I continued, “the Governors have even prioritized the projects, understanding that we create a stronger, more united Kem by doing so. They have weighted the projects to the north, to allow Lower Kem to catch up, as it were, with Upper Kem. And in so doing, I have come to find which of the governors are trustworthy and which are decidedly not.”
“For example?” Amka asked.
“I believe that Wahankh is trustworthy. His ba radiates honesty.”
“Wahankh of the Inabu-hedj nome?” Wadjet asked.
“Yes. I have come to believe that because his nome encompasses the King’s city he sees firsthand how serious we are about uniting the Two Lands. Due to his proximity he also gets to attend more functions of the Royal Court as the representative of Lower Kem.”
“That may be so, dearest Queen,” Amka said, “but I beg you not to go too far in your trust. Anhotek’s scrolls cautioned that the people of Kush often hunted gazelles by disguising themselves in the skins of zebras.” I nodded in agreement.
“And what about those you deem not trustworthy?” Wadjet asked.
I sighed through pursed lips. “That’s more complicated, for I do not yet understand all the alliances. But Pamiu of the Dep nome I do not trust at all. He is a liar and a coward, not daring to say things to my face.”
“His mother must have played a joke when she named him ‘tomcat.’ Does he still avoid Council meetings?” Amka asked.
“Oh, yes. Ever since I began drawing up maps of rebellions that seemed to focus around Dep, he has been absent at most meetings… always with good reasons, of course.”
“Of course,” Amka echoed. Turning to the King, he said: “We have our spies keeping an eye on him. The pot simmers in Dep, although Prince Khnum appears to be keeping himself out of it. But I believe there is a connection between Dep and the caravan attacks in Palestine, although I cannot yet prove it.”
“Yet,” Wadjet said, nodding to Amka. “Back to the Council, what types of projects are they planning?”
“Well, aside from the usual roads and granary storage projects, two nomes have joined together to create a pottery district, to allow the Lower Kemians to advance their pottery design and firing to the standards of Upper Kem.”
“But why join together to do this?” Wadjet asked. “Isn’t pottery-making unique to each nome?”
I did not know how to answer this without appearing boastful. Fortunately Amka intervened. “I believe the Queen is being too modest. My informants tell me that the Queen, in her desire to create harmony among the nomes, and to protect your treasury I might add, encouraged them to work together. She suggested that you might fund a larger project if they joined forces.”
“Well, the best site, one with steady winds to generate higher kiln heat, was on a rise that actually bordered the two nomes,” I interjected, “so it was not hard to persuade them to my vision.” Wadjet looked from me to Amka and then burst out laughing.
“By Horus’ holy name, I’ll be damned!” he roared. “You are amazing, my dear! Truly amazing. Is she not, Amka?”
“We made a wise choice in appointing her head of the Council,” Amka said, as he tapped his staff on the ground a few times for emphasis.
“Good, then… very good. Things seem to be in order here.” Wadjet reached to grab a cup of beer, brought it to his lips, then quickly put it back down without drinking. I knew his tooth pain was bad.
“My dear, why not take some of Amka’s medicine now?” I ventured.
“Yes, as soon as we’re done. But first I must tell you about our military plans,” he said, looking discreetly at Amka.
“You are aware of the attacks on our trade caravans in Palestine?” Amka asked, as he rose and walked a few steps. His staff made a tapping sound on the brick floor.
“Yes, vaguely,” I replied
“Well, the long and short of it is that the caravans of our traders, both Kemian and foreign, have been attacked by Palestinian tribes,” Amka continued, as he paced back and forth. “I guess attacked is too strong a word. They have been stopped and convinced that it would be in the best interests of the caravan owner if he would agree to part with some of his wares in return for safe passage through their barbarian lands. Interestingly, they do not extort the King’s caravans, only private traders.”
“That is odd,” I said. “Why the difference?”
“Amka here, as well as several of my other advisors, think it is so as not to affront the King directly,” Wadjet said.
“It applies pressure on the King’s rule, while avoiding a direct confrontation,” Amka add
ed.
“But why? Who is behind this madness?”
“Ah, and in that lays the horns-of-the-rhino conundrum,” Amka said, emphasizing his comment with a smart tap of his staff.
There are times when I admit that Amka’s wisdom is buried too far beneath stories and aphorisms. I stared at Amka, uncomprehending.
“You know…” he babbled on, “you grab at the horns to protect yourself from being gored and with a shake of his head the beast throws you off, and all the while underneath his armor lies an evil heart.”
“She is asking you what the point is, Amka!” Wadjet interrupted. Poor Amka looked as if he had been gored.
“I… I simply mean… well, there are several of us that believe…”
“The point, Amka, the point,” Wadjet said, holding his hand to his painful jaw.
“The point is that the Palestine tribes may be doing the bidding of another, more sinister, force. Eventually we will find out who is behind this.”
“If anyone,” I suggested.
“Yes, if anyone,” Amka added. “They could be acting alone, but I’ve never known them to be so bold. But in any case we are mounting a military campaign against these vultures who pick at our traders.”
“Yes, I have chosen Herihor to lead it,” Wadjet said. “I have decided to accompany the army, to send a clear message to the barbarians that we will not tolerate extortion.”
“Is that wise?” I asked. “I mean to go yourself?”
“It is a choice I could have made either way. However, Amka believes that doing so will indicate a new policy to our neighbors, one that says that trade is so important to us as we grow and prosper that we will no longer separate the King’s trade from private trade. If you attack any of our imports or exports, it is as if you attack the King.”
“And that is a powerful new policy that we believe is best delivered through the firm hands of the King of the Two Lands himself,” Amka said, bowing slightly and tipping his staff toward Wadjet.
And so it came to pass that within one moon’s cycle, Zenty and I watched from the palace as two thousand men from the King’s army, with Herihor in the lead, marched from Inabu-hedj. Zenty was so excited, he jumped up and down on the balcony wall as I held him tight, waving and yelling ‘Aba, Aba’ toward his father’s litter. Three times as many support servants followed the soldiers, leading donkeys heavily laden with food, clay jars of water and military supplies. They streamed from the city as the Royal family and thousands of residents watched and cheered from the parapets and streets. As the soldiers passed by, spears held upright, people threw flowers at their feet, so that the streets were ankle deep in trampled petals, creating a confused scent of perfume and men’s sweat.
The Dagger of Isis (The First Dynasty Book 2) Page 10
