“But, I… we…”
Amka held up his hand to me and smiled. “Nubiti, stop, for your mother and I know full well how transparent is the veil of secrecy. Mother Nile herself would envy how swiftly flows the messages between us and our allies… on both sides,” he added, tiredly circling his hand to include us all.
“I ask you now how you would propose to restore ma’at to our land. I would like to listen, to understand what you propose.” He grabbed his staff and used it to pull himself upright in his chair, looking for all the world like a stuffed goose, his long beak protruding from his emaciated face, perched atop his scrawny neck.
Mother looked at me and drew in a breath. She stood and walked behind her chair, holding firmly to its back rail. “What we want is simple, Amka. Zenty is but a child, a baby really. He won’t be in a position to rule for perhaps fifteen years at best, maybe even twenty. Since before Narmer there has never been an instance of the heir being so young at the King’s death.”
“True, but that makes the need for caution all the more prudent. Ma’at hangs by a spider’s thread,” Amka said. “How exactly do you suggest we proceed?”
“Name an interim King, one who is acceptable to the nobility in both lands.”
Amka sat unmoving, looking at mother for a full minute, his heart weighing the many options that mother’s suggestion entailed. “Interesting, Shepsit. Full of problems, but interesting nonetheless.”
“What in our world is without problems?” mother replied. “Some solutions are just more difficult than others.” There could be no doubt that Amka understood the veiled threat.
“Agreed,” Amka replied, “so let us consider each one separately. First, how would you propose we choose this interim King?”
“I’ll confer with those in Lower Kem able to make such a decision. We’ll come forth with a list of three names that are acceptable to us.”
“When?” asked Amka.
“Within a moon cycle,” she answered. Amka now rose and paced away from us, to a tiny window that sat by his study table. He leaned against his staff and peered out the window for several moments.
“I’m sure you have already considered that we have a First Queen in Mery, with a recognized heir to the throne. If we appoint an interim King, he and Mery would have to be wed.”
Mother and I had discussed this and even though we knew that Amka and his council would never accept that proposition, we felt it would strengthen our eventual position if we at least offered it.
“Well, of course she’d marry him,” mother said stiffly, trying to maintain her composure. “But Mery’d keep her position as First Queen, with Zenty still the heir.”
“And what about future heirs?” Amka asked.
Mother hesitated. “No matter what future heirs result, Zenty would be the oldest and first in line to be King.” We all sat quietly, as Amka digested mother’s proposal.
“I do not believe your proposal would be acceptable to the royal family,” Amka finally replied. “A king from Lower Kem? No, I think not, Shepsit.” Amka still leaned against the wall next to the window. He looked exhausted from lack of sleep.
“Acceptable to the Royal family? That excuse is nothing but hippo dung, and you know it!” mother yelled. “They’ll follow whatever the Horus priests and the Council advises and that means what you advise. If it’s heirs you worry about, then the marriage could be one of convenience only.”
“And you, Nubiti, what do you think?” Amka asked, turning only his head in my direction.
Finally it was my turn, just as mother and I had rehearsed. “With all due respect to my mother, I don’t think her idea very practical.” Amka immediately straightened and turned fully to face me, his eyes alert. He walked toward his chair and sat down with a groan.
“I don’t think that my daughter…” Amka raised his staff to silence mother.
“Pray explain your thoughts, my dear,” Amka said to me.
“I’m sorry, mother, but to my way of thinking, naming a king from Lower Kem would fly as well as a hippopotamus,” I began. “There’s no precedent to this and we’re a people of rigid traditions. It’s an idea fraught with problems.” Mother shuffled nervously.
“And so, what is your suggestion?” Amka asked
“I haven’t thought it out completely, Amka, but I have an ill-formed idea in my head ever since Wadjet’s death. I was going to discuss it with mother first, and if she was in agreement propose it to you. I suppose now’s as good a time as any.” I picked up my mug, inhaled Amka’s foul brew and sipped it, trying not to gag.
“Keep Mery as the titular First Queen. Just appoint three noblemen from Lower Kem to your Council of Advisors and have the lot of you rule as a council of regents, until Zenty comes of age. That way we have at least some input into rule.” I sat back, trying to conceal my obvious pleasure in offering such a reasonable solution.
Amka rocked back and forth, his forehead resting on his hands that, in turn, gripped his staff. Finally, he arose slowly and nodded to each of us. “Well done, the both of you,” he muttered and I wondered at that moment what he meant by that, whether he was sincere or had seen through our ruse. In any event, within minutes we were in mother’s quarters at the rear of the palace. It was only after we entered mother’s private bedchamber that she dared speak.
“That son of a whore!” mother said, pacing in her typical agitated manner. “That miserable stuck-up runt. He acts as if he’s the King.” I allowed her to take a few breaths to calm herself. “Do you think that miserable excuse for a man suspected our act?” she asked.
I grunted. Thoughts of our meeting ran through my mind. “I can’t tell for sure, but let’s assume he did. If our little act worked we’ll hear in a few days regarding our choices for the Council. If not we’ll be forced to jump ahead to the next steps in our plan. In any event, I’ve got to arrange a meeting with Khnum and now we’ve been given free reign to do it.”
My heart skipped a beat thinking of the treacherous path that lay ahead. But it was a journey already begun. Only bold actions carried any hope of Lower Kem regaining its prominence. And with the simple acts of Zenty and Mery suddenly and tragically dead, the route to succession would finally be open to us.
SCROLL EIGHT
Meryt-Neith
Amka tells me not to whine, that it is healthy to grieve, only not too much. Well, how much is too much? Does one’s heart suddenly say enough and all sorrow ends, as a priest would snuff out a candle?
I suppose it is Amka’s deep faith that allows him to offer those platitudes. He believes with all his heart that we walk this life for only the briefest of time, but that we spend the rest of eternity in the glorious Afterlife, so to him life and death are merely transition times. But to me my grief seems overwhelming and everlasting.
My dear Wadjet has been dead for six ten-day cycles already and almost every day Zenty, my precious little Zenty, asks for him. Amka has explained to him that his father is preparing to live in the glorious Afterlife and he makes it sound so attractive Zenty asks if he can please go with his father.
I know that Amka is right. He seems always right in the end. The rekhi have no time to grieve. Their loved ones die and they quickly bury them in shallow graves in the desert and then go about their work, for without honest work they starve. What gives me the luxury to grieve until my heart is magically healed? Still, I find that I cannot spend enough time with Zenty, playing his toy soldier games, telling him stories, sometimes just picking him up as he naps and holding him as I rock us both to ease my pain. I smell his skin and the unguents in his braid and for brief moments I am transported to the times that Wadjet and I held him and admired with gratitude the blessing that the gods had bestowed upon us.
There is much to be done, even during this period of mourning. As the Horus priests prepare Wadjet’s body for his journey, Amka, Ti-Ameny, Herneith, Nubiti and Shepsit and I must decide on who will accompany him. The list of volunteers is a long one and the reques
ts are heartfelt, but we have decided on no more than twenty of his most faithful servants and friends. Amka promises that the poisons he will administer will cause no pain.
But there is another list we consider daily, one that has been vexing us greatly. It is the one provided by Shepsit and Nubiti, with the names of nobles from Lower Kem that they propose be placed on a governing council for the Two Lands. That was the purpose for Amka’s visit.
“It is not that the list is without merit,” Amka stated as he paced before me while we sat outside in a shaded corner of the veranda. “Nor are the people they recommend incompetent, no indeed. All are known to us and well respected.”
“And so?” I asked.
“I will speak with you candidly, Mery,” he said, then stopped before me, pushed his chair back and sat down. I could see from his expression that this was to be a serious discussion.
“Mery, I knew your father and ministered to your mother. I helped to birth you. I have faithfully served your husband and your uncle. You know that I am not one prone to overstate matters. But, I tell you now that we face the most serious crisis of my lifetime. Oh, yes, you look surprised, but I would dare to say that this is the most serious crisis to face our lands since King Narmer, may he be exalted forever.”
“But, why would you say that? Nubiti’s suggestion seems to me to be reasonable. Even you agreed. You just said those they nominated were well respected officials.”
“Tssk,” Amka hissed through his teeth. Then he leaned back and took a deep breath. “I felt obliged to listen to Shepsit and Nubiti, for to shut them out without a hearing would have been unwise. Allowing your enemies… “
“But they are not my enemies,” I objected.
“Yes, well... at the very least we must view them as rivals. And allowing your rivals to air their differences always reveals useful information, my dear.” I cringed at Amka’s condescending tone, although I realized that he still was able to teach me important lessons.
“In any event,” he continued, “there is a far larger issue involved here, Mery, and that is the purpose of this meeting.”
“Go ahead.”
“On the surface the waters appear smooth, but underneath they roil with malice.” With that he sat quietly and, I assumed, smugly in his use of yet another of his obtuse sayings. I willed myself to sit as quietly as did he, but after a moment or two I could stand the silence no longer.
“I assume that by smooth waters you refer to Shepsit’s list of names, but I am at a loss to figure what you mean by malice.”
“They are one and the same. When poison is masked by wine’s sweetness it is all the more dangerous.”
“Oh, in the name of Ra, you sometimes infuriate me with those… those… ridiculous sayings of yours!”
Amka smiled at me, then, which served the purpose of making me even angrier. “Mery, do not allow this part of your ba to surface. A ruler must force herself to be calm even in the face of others’ anger or subterfuge or even in the face of her teacher’s infuriating sayings.” At that we both smiled.
“We Horus priests use sayings to help others remember the greater truths. As you gain more experience in rule you will realize that it is usually not the specifics that matter, for there are always differences from one situation to the next. The important thing to keep in mind is the general principle, and our sayings are our way of teaching those principles.”
For a moment I looked back at Amka’s teachings and realized that even as a child one of Amka’s many sayings would pop into my thoughts when I confronted a seemingly new situation. “I understand your point,” I said to him. “I will try to be more patient. Now explain to me how Shepsit’s list roils the waters.”
Again Amka stood, for he often thought best while he paced to and fro. “The list is irrelevant, although it is much to her credit to offer it as a means to distract us from the more disturbing path I assume she wishes us to walk. What she is suggesting, Mery…”
I could see that Amka was distressed. “Bear with me as I explain this. Using a governing council sounds like a workable solution. Zenty is too young to rule, you are a woman, the Delta is restless, the Palestinians to our east and the Ta-Tjehenus to our west seek to gain advantage. So Shepsit and Nubiti suggest that the Council of Advisors, which has served us well for generations, now take on the role as a regency council until Zenty comes of age.”
“And it does sound reasonable to me,” I offered.
“And that is why it is so dangerous. It sounds perfectly reasonable. Except for the fact that it is fifteen or twenty years until Zenty comes of age and far too many things might happen before then. But, there is a far, far greater issue at stake here. One that has secretly caused the leaders of the Horus priesthood a great deal of anguish since Shepsit’s and Nubiti’s bold suggestion.”
Amka turned to face me. He placed both hands on his staff and leaned toward me. “Never in the history of Upper Kem, or Lower Kem, has it… have we been without a King. Never. Ma’at has been turned on its head. Certainly since Unification, every King has had an adult son to ascend to the throne. The leaders of the Horus priesthood predict enormous disasters might befall us. Ma’at is built on order and our society is built on ma’at.
“The multitude of rekhi live to support the merchants, priests and scribes, who serve the few nobles who, in turn, serve and are all led by the God-King, son of Horus.” Amka bent down and quickly picked up a handful of sand that he sprinkled on the mud brick floor. With his staff he sketched a rectangular block, then a smaller block atop that, then a still smaller one atop that. With that he stepped back and looked from his sketch to me and back again.
“This,” he said pointing his staff at his drawing, “is how it has always been and must always be for a people to have a stable society. A land governed by a council will degenerate quickly into squabbles and dissension, bribes and cabals, with no one able to decide, to lead with vision and purpose.” With that he drew a larger block atop the structure and even I could see its instability. Suddenly, I could see the truth within Amka’s fears of Nubiti’s suggestion.
“And with that instability, dear Mery, will come chaos. Evil muts will converge upon us from all sides and from the Underworld. Enemies will be emboldened to attack. Our glorious Kem will surely crumple and be reduced to petty, warring tribes. We will be no better than the Ta-Tjehenus.”
Tears filled my eyes as I looked up from Amka’s sand drawing. “And… you… you believe in your heart of hearts that this was intentionally proposed by Shepsit and Nubiti for just such a… a diabolical purpose?” I swallowed hard fearing his answer.
Amka gave but the slightest of nods, as if he feared that saying anything at all would let loose the floodgates of pain and sorrow, not only for my recent loss of my husband but for the deeper, more painful loss of my political innocence. Nubiti was my sister, my confidante and, at times, my mentor. To think of her conspiring with Shepsit made me feel sick to my stomach.
I knew that Amka wanted to say more, to discuss with me the status of the deliberations of the leaders of the Horus priesthood. Yet I could bear no more for that day and I dismissed him until the next morning.
Once he had gone, I felt an urgent need to see Zenty and to hold him close and so I sent for Abana. As soon as Zenty saw me he ran into my arms, his sidelock bouncing on his right shoulder. I knew I would need to be careful or I would squeeze the life from his tiny body as I rocked him back and forth to gain strength. I breathed in his sweet smell. In a moment he wriggled free and ran after Basty, his favorite cat. The poor thing allowed herself to be picked up and carried in the most awkward of positions, the front part of her body hanging far down, with Zenty’s arms locked tightly under her rear legs. Once Zenty sat on the floor, Basty tried to get away, but Zenty quickly grabbed the cat and flipped it over to stroke its belly.
“Oh, do be careful Zenty. You don’t want to hurt poor Basty,” I said, coming to sit down next to them. Beams of Ra’s warm light shined on us
. Together we petted Basty until she began purring loudly, much to Zenty’s delight.
Once Abana had put Zenty to bed, I sent for Ti-Ameny, for I felt the need of a woman with whom I could talk and share my sorrows. For nearly two hours we talked, at one point walking along Mother Nile. I poured out my miseries to Ti-Ameny, my feelings of betrayal, my fears of being able to carry the burdens of my station with dignity. And, as always, Ti-Ameny listened without judgment, asking me questions to elucidate my feelings and fears, so that by time I was ready for sleep, I felt as if a great burden had been lifted from my ka. Before she left, Ti-Ameny walked over to me as I sat in my chair, gently cupped my head in her hands and hugged me tenderly to her chest, rocking me ever so slightly from side to side. It felt so heavenly to nestle into her soft breasts, to smell her delicate unguents, to forget my troubles for a few delightful moments and I wondered if what I missed as a child, to have a mother who would hold you close to her breasts, was something I would ever be done with.
A few days later, as I drank my morning herbal tea and nibbled on smoked duck dipped in honey, Amka arrived at my quarters and requested that I accompany him to one of the meeting rooms in the main palace. To my surprise, Tepemkau, the Chief Horus Priest of Nekhen was waiting for us and stood and bowed low to me. The meeting room Amka had chosen could not have been by chance. It was a room within a room, guarded from prying ears and eyes by thick walls. I noted that Amka had stationed two guards at the entrance.
Once we sat down around the smallest table, Amka wasted no time. “My Queen, I thought it best to invite Tepemkau here to participate in our discussion, for his visit to me yesterday, after you and I last met, had to have been guided by Horus himself.” I could feel the hairs on my arms rise. Amka nodded to Tepemkau.
The Dagger of Isis (The First Dynasty Book 2) Page 13
