At that I could not help but utter a quick laugh. All eyes turned toward me, but I sat there staring straight before me. “Have you something you wish to say?” Mery coldly asked, turning directly to face me.
“No,” I said, stingingly refusing to address her by name or male title, for at this point I saw no need for pretense. I didn’t even look in her direction. I noticed Amka’s face twitching, restraining himself from getting to his feet and ordering me to stop my insolence at penalty of death.
However, to her credit Mery still managed one final surprise on that day. As the servants carried my belongings from Sekhem’s and my house to the boat, I received a parchment, delivered to me by one of Amka’s legal assistants. He insisted that I open it before him, read it and confirm I understood its contents. I was to indicate that by stamping my ring on a wet clay tablet he carried.
The document was brief. In it Mery had granted Sekhemkasedj a divorce and had awarded him all our possessions. It took considerable effort to not reveal my emotions at that moment, for I did not wish the priest to give additional satisfaction to that pretender to the throne. But the truth is that once he left I cried for the first time in many years. Sekhem was such a pitiful creature, I felt humiliated that he sued me for divorce. Yet I also humbly accepted my fate. In the days that followed I swore to revenge that humiliation.
That evening I spent time with mother discussing our respective futures, but I saw at once that the fire was gone from mother’s belly. She had aged to the point where her passions were subordinated to a good night’s sleep and a satisfying bowel movement. But the old woman had one last trick to perform. She provided me with the name of a fisherman’s family on Abu Island who would agree to ferry messages back and forth to loyal spies who would eventually deliver them to Bakht, a process that I found took two ten-days or even an entire cycle of Ra’s silver disk to complete for each message and response.
Over the next five days that black mut Nekau never said a word to me as we sailed and rowed upstream. Occasionally I would notice him staring at me with contempt, which I found amusing, since it was his people who were the foreigners in Kem, not mine. Yet it was the people of the Delta who suffered at the hands of the arrogant pigs of the Red Land.
Three boats filled with soldiers and eight boats filled with provisions for the garrison there followed us on our journey upstream, for Abu Island now figured to be a major garrison for future wars.
Once we arrived at Abu Island, I found it highly amusing that on my first night I found a note hidden in my bed. Someone had taken a great chance in doing so and I never did find out whom it was. The note was from Bakht, written in the secret code we had agreed to use back in Dep.
Being alone on Abu Island gave me much opportunity to think and rethink all that had happened over the past ten years and to dispel with any illusions as to what successes we might have had. If anything, my time on Abu Island taught me patience; patience and irreverence, for since my experiences in the Delta with Bakht I no longer believed that Isis or Horus or any other god of the Above would support the downtrodden and come to our rescue. Indeed I came to agree with Bakht that Apep was the only meaningful deity to counteract the deities of the Above. And so with prayers sent to me by Bakht I prayed to Apep every day when the others were asleep, satisfying prayers that touched my deeper self.
One thing I learned from Bakht’s messages was that for all these years I had a distorted view of Apep. It was as if I looked at a beautiful garden through thick faience glass. Bakht pointed out that we cannot stand with our feet squarely in the Two Lands and try to understand Apep’s workings. To truly comprehend his divine nature one had to dwell in the Underworld, to understand the darkest parts of the human heart, to envision a land where power did not rain down from above, but emanated from below.
By living within the Royal family, my expectations were of order and structure, the essential ingredients that mortared ma’at. The worship of Apep is no less demanding or righteous. It simply acknowledges our shadow selves and so appeals to our most common elements, our deepest, darkest natures, where order and structure are not as important as the basest passions.
It was a good thing that my involvement with Apep came so quickly in my confinement, for my patience was promptly tested. One afternoon, just three months into my stay, as I walked along the shoreline, marveling at Mother Nile rushing through the rocks, I noted Nekau and another priest walking in my direction, deep in conversation. We were nearly upon each other when he noticed me.
“Nubiti!” he exclaimed, as if I had jumped out from behind a rock to attack him. I simply stood there, staring up at his huge face and big eyes. He wore only a pleated linen kilt and his massive body still looked more like a warrior’s than a priest’s.
“M’shai, this is Nubiti…”
The young priest simply bowed slightly, but said not a word.
“Go on ahead, M’shai, we will continue the discussion later,” Nekau said. The young priest nodded and hurried along the rocky path toward the temple.
“Are you being treated well?” Nekau began.
“Am I being treated well you ask? Treated well… hmmm, let me think. Yes, of course. I love the quaint mud daub box I live in, filled with vermin. Oh, and the delicious foods that never vary from one day to the next, let’s not forget that. And my favorite treat of all, priests who pass me every day yet say not a word to me.”
Nekau looked down at me and a funny thought crossed my mind. My head came only up to his chest and for a moment I imagined stepping right up to him and biting his nipple. “Exile is not meant to be desirable, Nubiti. It is only by the grace of Meryt-Neith that you are alive.”
“Can you at least give me news of what is happening in Kem?” I asked, avoiding the issue of Mery’s misplaced devotion.
“Yes, but you will probably hear little more than your fishermen already tell you.”
“You obviously don’t talk to them much yourself, Nekau, for they’re one ignorant bunch. They know of fish and making babies and not much more.” Nekau actually smiled at that.
“It is news of the Delta that you wish to hear, no doubt,” he started. “It is not good news from your perspective, perhaps, but from ours it strengthens ma’at and once again unifies the Two Lands.”
“Go on, for I’d rather know than not know.”
Nekau looked out over the water. Fishermen in two boats called out to each other as they maneuvered a large net between the reed craft. “Alright, then. Zenty excels at his military duties. He has destroyed the Ta-Tjehenu appetite for alliances with the Delta leaders and has pursued them far across the western desert.
“The resistance in the Delta has been severely reduced. As more people see the resolve of the future King, they allow themselves to believe in a united future, one anchored in ma’at. They now serve as informers, allowing us to find and eliminate resistance leaders.”
“And Khnum?”
“Neither he nor Bakht have been found, so we presume as you said that they are dead. In either case they wield no power.”
“Yes, you’re probably right,” I said, playing the part.
Nekau looked down and kicked a stone with his foot. “There is another matter, Nubiti. I was planning to visit with you soon to tell you. Shepsit is dying.”
“She didn’t look well when I saw her last. Will I be allowed to visit her?”
“No. She will be buried with honor when the time comes. Her mastaba is being prepared as we speak.”
“So you… do you expect it to be soon?”
“A messenger will arrive any day, I expect. I visited with her perhaps ten or twelve days ago. All is being done to make her comfortable. I will inform you when she has begun her journey.”
Nekau kept his word and it was only a few days later that he informed me that mother had journeyed to the Afterworld. By all rights I should have been prepared to handle her death easily, I was still a priestess of Isis, after all. But instead I found myself thrown into
a dark period that lasted for days and days. I could not help but dwell on thoughts of mother and how, when the story was fully told, she had persevered in our struggle. As much as I had spent my life thinking differently, I was truly my mother’s daughter. In the end, I had even become my mother.
It was during my grieving, when I had time to explore the deepest parts of my ka, that a plan began to develop within me. For days it simmered slowly and finally, when I felt the ingredients were right, I sat down on a night when Ra’s silver disk was full and wrote to Bakht.
My dear Bakht,
With much time to think I’ve come to make the following observations. If there is any one thing that doomed our cause up to now, it was the fact that we lacked enough treasure with which we could mortar alliances with outside forces to make up for our inferior military. Now, with that little runt and his sickly mother wielding their power over our people, it will be even more difficult for us to exercise a military option.
I urge you to consider using this time for us to secretly amass the treasury we’ll need to wage a full-scale war in future years. Let’s use this time both to rebuild and to teach lessons to those who prematurely grieve the death of our rebellion.
I’ll send you more details in future messages, but in a nutshell here it is. Create a small, but trusted force of priest assassins. With utmost secrecy, make a few grisly examples of the most egregious collaborators. Then, using the fear you have created, extort payments from other collaborators. Make our businessmen pay a small tax for their own security, especially those who bow to the powers in Inabu-hedj in order to curry favor with them and so win lucrative trading rights. I leave it to you to keep the dream of an independent Lower Kem alive for Menetnashte.
The second part of the strategy is to make sure that certain key businessmen and former Delta loyalists know that Menetnashte is alive, strong and being groomed for leadership but of course, only do so with our allies. And it might also be beneficial for them to remember that I have willingly martyred myself for the cause.
I know you will figure out a way to implement this strategy. Let Menetnashte know that I think of him every day.
Faithfully,
Nubiti
I waited patiently for Bakht’s response. I had settled into my own routine on Abu, but there were no others with whom I could hold a decent conversation. Looking back over the past ten years, I was also aware of how much my focus on my goals kept me busy throughout the day so that at night I always seemed to regret that the day had been so short. Now I had nothing but time. So, I had several months before I asked Bakht to send me a potion that would allow me to enter Apep’s heart and better understand his divine nature.
I used the time waiting for Bakht’s response to enter deeply into a series of meditative states. Twice each ten-day, for I feared doing so more frequently, I did as Bakht instructed and set a fire in the small brazier in my tiny room. I put a pinch of the herbs into the glowing coals and inhaled the vapors as I covered my head with a cloth. It only took a few minutes before I began to feel the effects and I was soon transported to Apep’s world.
When I first began these meditations I was frightened, for I vividly recalled my initial encounter with the Underworld under Bakht’s supervision. But whether it was that these herbs were different or weaker, the experiences I had were both milder and more satisfying. I was able to relax. I even allowed Apep to enter my heart, where he would reveal things to me.
On one such encounter, as the winds outside blew down the valley of Mother Nile, I had a strong vision. In it Menetnashte stood tall, towering over Zenty. Menetnashte carried Narmer’s mace and stood ready to hit Zenty with it. But his hand was stayed by Mery’s presence, flying and flitting around the room in a mut form. I watched frustrated, wanting to help, but unable myself to move. The walls of the room began to rattle and shake and cracks suddenly zigzagged through them. People screamed all around us. As the walls began to fall I knew, I truly understood what was about to happen. Then I awoke. I walked all over the island that night, trying to remember what it was that I saw as the walls fell, but I could not.
Finally, as I walked among the fishermen many days after that vision, my contact nodded at me and I knew that a message awaited me. I wanted to run to retrieve it from our hiding place, but I waited and that evening, as the priests were in prayer to Horus, I took a stroll and came back with a folded parchment in my undergarment. By the light of a candle I opened it.
Nubiti,
I heard of your mother’s passing into the next world and hope that the time on Abu Island will be one of healing for you in this moment. Before getting to your recent suggestions, here is some news.
Zenty continues to plague us. My guess is that he feels he must prove himself worthy to be King to Herihor, his mother and the Horus priests. He is relentless, leading many of the skirmishes and searches himself. We have had to change our location constantly, in some cases staying in one hiding place for only a day or two before moving again. Khnum does not bear this well and he is nearly always drunk.
I rely increasingly on only a very small group for fear that Zenty buys the loyalty of our leaders. How else to explain late night raids on secret places? Yet we have a secret society within our secret society, so we are often able to expose these traitors and exact revenge. Yet Zenty’s attacks on Apep’s priests seems to be backfiring and we have more volunteer recruits than ever before, men and boys who are willing to sacrifice their lives for the Black Land.
There is one thing about Zenty that works in our favor. He is reckless and makes enemies easily. In his youth he rushes to judgment and often does not take time to weigh options before acting. If this keeps up we can count on additional allies as the years go by.
You should be very proud of Menetnashte, who has become an able warrior, adept at various forms of fighting. He is also sharp and challenges even our most senior priests over discussions on matters from the Creation Egg to arguments about the Afterlife. He shows promise as a magician and shaman, too.
In fact, I do like your idea of how we can raise treasure and will begin to plan with Menetnashte how we can best implement it.
In Apep’s holy name,
Bakht
Reading Bakht’s message, I was suddenly gripped with the realization that perhaps we had erred by launching our strike when we did. Perhaps if we had waited until Mery’s illness forced a change of rulership we could have created enough turmoil to win the day. But as Bakht periodically reminded us, we mortals plan only to provide the gods with a good laugh.
These thoughts, combined with my mother’s passing, kept me in a dark mood for days. Then, shortly after I woke one morning, I noticed in the waters below me much activity. Several of the boats the priests used to ferry their goods were being readied for some other purpose. I noted priests carrying goods from the temple grounds to the boats throughout the day.
After I dressed and drank my tea, I wandered down to the water, where a contingent of eight or ten priests had assembled. They were checking off items in their kits and making sure they had whatever supplies they needed on the boat. As I approached they turned their backs to me in what was a typical response for they are forbidden to talk to me.
In minutes I saw Nekau’s towering figure at the temple gate. He was calling out orders to other priests. For the first time I noticed that a woman ran after him and he turned and embraced her. They kissed for a moment and then two children ran to Nekau and he picked them both up and turned around and around with them in his arms, smiling broadly all the while. When he saw me below he stopped abruptly and put them down. With a quick goodbye he wound his way down to the shore.
“This is not a good time to talk,” he said sternly in his deep voice. “If you have a problem it will have to wait until my return.”
“Problem?” I replied. “I’ve never approached you with a problem, have I? I accept my fate without complaint.”
Nekau took a deep breath. He handed his bag to his assista
nt and motioned me to follow him. In a few paces he stopped to face me.
“I am sorry I allowed my worries to get the better of me. I do not condone your past actions or your beliefs, but it does not excuse my being rude.” I nodded and he continued.
“I will tell you this, for you will undoubtedly find out from your own sources,” he said and I am certain my look of surprise betrayed me, “but Meryt-Neith is gravely ill. Amka has become too feeble to be of much assistance, so I go to treat them both. May Horus guide my hands and heart.”
As I watched Nekau turn and walk to his waiting boat, elements of my recent vision came back to me and I nodded in understanding. The breezes over Mother Nile picked up and I breathed them in. They held scents of wildflowers, of rebirth, of hope. For the first time in a long time I felt a strong urge to make love again. I wanted to once again feel Apep’s passion flowing through Bakht, filling me.
SCROLL EIGHTEEN
Meryt-Neith
“It is not me you should be thanking,” Nekau said impatiently as he put his potions and herbs back into his bag. His assistant waited by his side. “It is Horus himself.”
“I do not disagree with that,” I said. “But it was your able hands that ministered to me, not Horus’ talons!” I joked. How happy I was to live to see this day, a day I thought would never come.
“You weren’t so thankful when I forced you to drink the medicines that would help drain the poisons out of your body.” I shook my head in disgust remembering how awful those medicines tasted and the constant diarrhea and stomach pains they gave me.
“But please hurry, Master. The priestesses from the Temple of Isis wait outside for you. They have been here since before Ra rose. I must be quick and change and then help Amka.” With that he hurried away.
As soon as he left, my servants rushed in, beset upon by none other than Abana. As old as she was, she took her new job as Head Mistress seriously and her penchant for organization served her very well. She marched into the room and barked orders here and there.
The Dagger of Isis (The First Dynasty Book 2) Page 34
