“And what do you recommend?”
“In truth I haven’t given it much thought. I will discuss it with Tepemkau on his next visit here. But I will say that, like all affairs of state, it is complicated. My initial thought is to give her the title, for she thrives on pomp and privilege. The title of Queen Mother has little power to accompany it, but she would be at most ceremonies and as such would dip her fingers in everyone’s stew.”
“By all rights she has claims to the title,” I offered. “To deny it to her would be perceived as another slight by our cousins to the north.”
“True, especially now that Panahasi is beginning to have some success with the rebels in the Delta.”
“And only against the rebels, correct?”
“Again, that is a mater of perception. I would say that it is mostly true, but in the Delta the people are interconnected in ways we do not completely understand. So killing a rebel means we have also killed someone’s father, or perhaps an Apep priest, or a businessman’s conduit to the grant of a trading right to the Lebanese. It is most unfortunate that we had to send in the army at all, but once they are in we must deal with the consequences. I have told Panahasi to complete our actions there and withdraw the regular army as soon as he can.”
“Let’s just make sure that we do not have to send them back anytime soon. As for Shepsit, I am inclined to grant her the right to the title and be done with it. Why let it fester? In fact, the sooner the better, so that we do it on our terms, not hers. I think it unwise for it to look as if we were forced into this.”
“Ah, dear Mery, you begin to frighten me with your developing political skills. I would agree, but let’s see what Tepemkau says. We cannot act on it anyway until a decent time after Herneith’s funeral.”
“Good. Let me know how it transpires.” And with that, I went to bed that night feeling as if we had at least stayed in front of one problem.
As the day approached for Herneith’s funeral, with the Royal Court in preparation, I awoke one morning with an unusual feeling, as if a bee buzzed inside me. Whether it was that I had without realizing it heard the movement of soldiers and my advisors as I slept or whether Horus had forewarned me, I dressed quickly all the while feeling a mounting dread. I refused anything for the morning meal except for my tea and when Amka came bursting into my quarters, I was hardly surprised. But when he addressed me by my royal title, I knew in an instant that something terrible was wrong.
“Meryt-Neith, Regent King of the Two Lands, I have come with dread news. We have been invaded!” Amka’s eyes were open wide and he stood holding onto his staff, his fingers white, his body trembling.
“Invaded? But the Ta-Tjehenus have no army. They only raid us here and there. They are pests…”
“Meryt-Neith,” Amka interrupted, calling me by my formal name once again, “we have been invaded from the south. It is the dark-skinned Ta-Setys who have poured over our border.”
My breath went out of me and my heart beat fiercely in my chest. “But they… they have always been peaceful neighbors. They have never made war against us. Were they provoked?”
“No, I can say there was no provocation, none that the Horus priests to our south reported. And, yes, they have always been peaceful. In fact, Narmer’s shaman, Meruka, was a dark-skinned Nubian, if you will recall your history lessons. But there is no doubt they have attacked. The governor’s emissary himself arrived during the night to deliver the news, along with a Horus priest who I know well and who witnessed an attack personally. Our villagers flee before their assaults. The enemy is burning villages as they go. They are rounding up men and women and sending them back to their homeland, presumably as slaves. The entire southern region is in upheaval. We must respond immediately. Nekhen itself is in danger.”
By the mid-day meal, using his Horus priests as messengers, Amka had assembled a group of advisors in the main meeting room. When I entered, they were gathered about in small groups, eating hurriedly and talking animatedly. In my presence they stopped what they were doing, bowed low and waited for my orders. I wore a simple gown with the King’s gold and carnelian breastplate and a gold armband on my right bicep. With the intermittent reports from Amka throughout the morning, I had no time to put on makeup or to do my hair in a fancy manner, and so it hung straight down, with an ivory pin through the back. But the meetings with Amka were essential to prepare me for the most serious crisis of my rule and I knew that if there were ever a time for forceful action, now was that time.
The meeting room was the largest at the palace and therefore not the most secure, which surprised me at first. Then I saw that Amka had stationed guards around the perimeter to deter large ears and prying eyes.
“Amka, let’s get started, for we have urgent business here today,” I announced and climbed onto an elevated platform, upon which was the King’s throne, the very same one used by every ruler since King Narmer. Once I sat everyone immediately took a seat in a circle around the room. There were eighteen people in attendance, including several ministers, the governor of the nome that included Inabu-hedj, and various military officers.
Everyone present had received a detailed briefing from Amka, so there was no need for preliminary items on the agenda. Within minutes all the assembled had agreed that our only option was military. I called upon the most senior military officer present, Keter, to discuss them in detail.
“My King, I cannot answer. With Panahasi in the Delta only Herihor knows which troops are…”
“I am here!” Herihor announced as he swept into the room. He immediately bowed low before me. “Forgive me, my master, I was in the field training a regiment. I came as soon as I was summoned.”
“No doubt…” I said, “that you came directly from the field, that is,” I said to the laughter of the men, for Herihor’s legs were covered in sand and mud. There were streaks of mud on his face from where sweat had formed rivulets. And his left arm had a shallow cut on it that had blood caked all along its margin. He still wore his leather breastplate, which was well oiled from his sweat. All in all he presented a fearsome warrior’s appearance.
“Please accept my apologies, my King,” he said, bowing again and obviously embarrassed.
“No need to apologize, Herihor, for the training you provide our troops will surely be tested in the days to come.”
Over the next thirty minutes, Herihor gave us a description of our troop strength and location down the minutest detail, including what might be needed in terms of supplies. He spoke forcefully, and it was quickly obvious to me how respected he was by every man in that room.
“And how soon can an army be assembled to deal with this incursion?” I asked.
Herihor thought for a few seconds. “In two days I will have scouting reports from our outpost in Nekhen. In eight days, ten at the most, I can have an army of five thousand men marching south from Inabu-hedj. By time the army gets to the southern nomes, it will number ten thousand or more.”
“And who will you choose as leader?” Menenhet, the Minister of Trade with Lands to the East, asked Herihor.
“Herihor will lead the army himself,” I answered, “for Panahasi is too far north and this is not the time for underlings, capable though they might be,” I added, nodding to Keter and Herihor’s other officers. The room was tense and quiet, waiting for a response from Herihor. For a moment, Herihor simply stood in front of his seat, saying nothing. Then, in an elegant movement, he bowed low.
“As you command, my King,” he said. I was so pleased that Herihor had easily deferred to my command that I neglected to note a more serious threat to my rule, one that Amka later helped me to see when we later debriefed on the meeting. Menenhet had apparently sneered at me with resentment when I commanded Herihor.
True to his word, on the eighth day I sat in review as Herihor marched his army south from Inabu-hedj. Tepemkau was absent to continue preparing Herneith’s body for burial, so Amka conducted the blessings over the troops. Again crowds of peopl
e came to see the troops off and to shower them with flower petals and gifts of cakes and fruits, scarce though they were to our people. Those gestures made us all feel the pride we all shared in the Two Lands. Herihor himself was dressed in battle dress, which reinforced in many of our minds the gravity of the situation. Yet we all took comfort in Herihor’s imposing presence.
That comfort turned out to be well deserved. Every few days a contingent of soldiers would arrive escorting a messenger from the southern battlegrounds. They would rest for a few days, until relieved by the next contingent of messengers, then return to Herihor’s command. And with each group came reports of success after success in the war. Although we sustained casualties, they were far fewer than we had expected, for Herihor had proved himself as well suited to strategic planning as he was to battlefield tactics. It was immediately after one of these reports that I came to understand how it was that Herihor excelled in strategy.
“It is encouraging that Herihor is so decisive in battle,” I commented to Amka as he dictated a letter to a scribe that was to go back with the messenger to Herihor.
“Yes, we are indeed fortunate that Herihor is as good a student as he is a general.” That comment intrigued me.
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is that Herihor learns his lessons well.”
“You are talking in riddles again, my teacher,” I said, frustrated.
“Does my King think she is the only student I have? Herihor has long been my student, too.” This fact surprised me greatly.
“Herihor! Your student?”
“And why is that so surprising? Do you think I only teach the spoiled children of privilege? Herihor is a student of military history, and far less impertinent than you, I might add.” I laughed at my teacher’s prickliness.
“What is it you teach him?” I asked, curious. Amka seemed irritated.
“We discuss battles that previous Kings have fought, recorded by their Viziers and housed in the library in Nekhen. In that way Herihor has come to know what to expect from our warrior neighbors, for we find that without a similar historical record their methods of war do not change, while we are able to learn from the experiences of our forebears.” This alone increased my respect for both Amka and Herihor and also for the many blessings that the gods had given to our people, such as the holy writing.
“In this latest report we learned that Herihor battled the Ta-Sety in a valley on the southern border. Yet the scrolls reveal that your own grandfather, Hor-Aha, son of Narmer, battled them similarly and lost more than four hundred men. Recalling that history, Herihor was not easily fooled into following them into the valley where they could be slaughtered by the Ta-Sety laying in ambush. I am writing this letter to congratulate Herihor for putting that lesson to good use.”
In little more than a month, word came back from Herihor requesting permission to bring the army home, leaving a garrison in the south at the cataract of Mother Nile nearest to Kush. I immediately granted his request and within a ten-day the entire city was out to greet the triumphant army as they marched back into Inabu-hedj. The only thing missing were the celebrations that the army richly deserved. Yet Herneith was still not buried and any partying would need to wait until then.
On the eleventh day after Herihor’s return, as Herneith’s funeral was nearly upon us, a message arrived from Panahasi advising us of developments in the Delta. It was a disturbing message indeed, delivered by no less than Panahasi’s most senior officer, Kemnebi, a fearsome warrior who was one of Wadjet’s favorite officers and who served in his King’s Guards.
“It does not go well for us, my master,” Kemnebi began. “Every time we quell a secretive attack on one of our granaries or on the house of one of your loyal court scribes, another damned incident occurs nearby so that we rush from one uprising to another. Then, three or four ten-days ago, these cursed rebellions started appearing more frequently and all at once.” Kemnebi spoke ever more excitedly.
“But now the character of these attacks has changed. The mut-possessed rebels will attack an army troop with no regard for their own lives. Most die from our spears before they get close, but they often will get in a knife thrust or their own spear strike and take down one or two of our men.”
Herihor sat at the meeting, nervously tapping his foot, while Amka merely leaned on his staff and listened intently. “And what tactic does Panahasi use to discourage these attacks?” Herihor asked.
“They are nearly impossible to defend against, Herihor!” Kemnebi snapped. “We enter a village to investigate and we are attacked in an alleyway. Now… may Horus protect us… now matters have turned in an unexpected direction. Now we are sometimes attacked by women!”
“By women?” Herihor asked, sitting back forcefully in his seat.
“They walk by as if going to market and then, without warning, they will pull out a knife and kill a soldier. It… it is an… an abomination. It is against the natural order of the gods, but this is truly what we encounter. It is as if the Delta were possessed of demon spirits. My men tremble in fear at what goes on.”
“And what of the Ta-Tjehenu?” Amka asked calmly.
“They have renewed their damned attacks and with a vengeance, as if they smell blood. They do not challenge our troops. They kill women and children. They attacked a temple of Bes, for Ra’s sake! They murdered three priests, cut off their heads and mounted them atop the statue of Bes. My soldiers were sickened. They say…” Kemnebi’s voice trailed off.
“They say what?” Herihor asked.
“Nothing. They say nothing. They are… dejected.”
At this, blood rushed to Herihor’s face and the veins in his neck stood out. “Do not lie to me, Kemnebi. Both Panhasi and I are your superiors. You will answer my question now, fully and truthfully. The men say what?”
To his men, Kemnebi is known as the Black Panther, a warrior best avoided in battle. Yet now he shriveled in his seat and looked more like Zenty’s kitten than a prowling panther. “I… sir, please do not…”
“Answer me!” Herihor shouted, standing, his fists balled by his side.
“They speak of the curse that has settled upon the land, sir,” Kemnebi whispered. “They whisper of the curse of a woman king. They speak of the mut spirit of… of Meryt-Neith roaming the land, of her male ka violating the ka of peaceful women who then kill us in the night.” Kemnebi looked as if he would be sick.
Herihor paced away, took a deep breath and then returned. The room remained silent.
“I’m sorry,” Herihor offered to Kemnebi. “You are among our best officers.”
“It’s alright, sir. I apologize.”
“This is all of one fabric,” Amka sighed. “Woven with deceptive care, but one fabric nonetheless.” Herihor sat down hard in his chair.
“Kemnebi, has Panahasi called in Khnum to discuss the situation?” Amka asked.
“May I speak… I mean can I…?” Kemnebi asked, turning to Herihor.
Herihor glanced briefly at me and Amka. We both nodded.
“Speak candidly,” he responded.
“I’m a damned soldier and no politician, sir. But Khnum is a damned liar. I’ve been present at least twice when General Panahasi threatened his mortal life. Khnum just sits there claiming his innocence. He’s even made a request to the General to send more troops to protect the swamp dwellers from the rebels and Ta-Tjehenus. Yet we hear our own reports from our informers and they tell a very different story of his treachery. But every time we believe we have a witness, that person is killed in a grisly manner. We even found one of their own Apep priests, a man who was informing for us, with his liver cut out and his head left at the front door of our governor in Dep.”
“What do you suspect?” I asked of Amka.
“Rebellions in the Delta, attacks by the Ta-Tjehenu, livers and heads cut off, war from the usually peaceful Ta-Setys. Now women warriors. It is the Delta leadership and the black arts of the cult of Apep at work, of this I am sure.
King Scorpion, King Narmer’s father, describes these tactics in a scroll written by Anhotek, and this was many years before Unification. But without proof we are powerless to act. We are a nation of rules and laws and Khnum and his scum know full well how to take advantage of that. They take our very strength as a people and make it into a weakness.”
“And what are your thoughts on how to proceed?” I asked of Amka.
“Herihor, it would be good if you were to dismiss this good soldier from his duties for now, with our thanks. He looks like he needs a rest. But I would urge you to advise him to not speak to anyone else of our talk, not even Panahasi, at least not until we formulate a message to send back with him.” At this, Kemnebi looked up at Amka.
“Did you understand the Vizier’s words?” Herihor asked Kemnebi.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you’re dismissed for now. Lodge in my quarters for the night. My valet will make you comfortable.” With Kemnebi gone, Amka exhaled forcibly through pursed lips.
“What do you make of it?” I asked. “Khnum wants us to send even more troops? What kind of nonsense is that?”
“It is hardly nonsense, Meryt. They wish to draw us ever deeper into the quicksand. There are a few things I must do… information I must gather, facts I must check before we respond. That will take two ten-days or more. I suggest we wait until after Herneith’s funeral and by then I hope to have the answers I seek. We must get to the bottom of this, and quickly.”
In a little more than the first ten-day, we finally laid Herneith to rest in a tomb befitting the Queen Mother. Although Ti-Ameny pleaded her case to be allowed to travel to the Afterworld with her Queen, we persuaded her that in such tenuous times, the gods would agree that she was needed more here. Amka arranged it so that during the funerary procession and related ceremonies I would not have to interact with Shepsit. Nubiti, however, as Head Isis Priestess paid me a sympathy visit with two of her acolytes, but Amka planned for it to be squeezed in between two other official visits from foreign dignitaries, so other than a perfunctory hug we did not share any intimate time.
The Dagger of Isis (The First Dynasty Book 2) Page 18
