“Oh, oh! Here comes the nagging mother again,” Den said, laughing.
“The nagging mother?” I said, now infuriated. I stood to pour some water, trying to use the time to calm myself. “Again, you say, as if I nag all the time.”
“Well, it does seem as if you do so regularly.”
“Has it not occurred to you that I have to nag you because you will not allow anything of value to pass through that thick, stubborn head of yours? Nothing else seems to work, not my advice, not Herihor’s, not Amka’s.”
“I do follow Herihor’s advice…”
“Yes, in army matters you do. But what you do not understand, what you will not allow yourself to understand is that being King is more than making war. You cannot rule by the power you command alone.”
“It has worked pretty well in the Delta, has it not?” he replied acidly.
“Oh, I suppose your barb is aimed at my inability to put down the rebellion. Well, let me tell you something,” I said, now standing directly before him, “when you were still a baby I made war with the Ta-Setys and they have been peaceful ever since.”
“Yes, I do know that,” Den replied, chastised. “Herihor has told me the stories of your exploits many times. I… I did not mean to… well you know.”
“No, I do not know,” I said angrily. “I love you, Zenty, but you still too often show the flawed characteristics of irresponsible youth rather than the mature judgment of a leader.”
“Perhaps you forget that I did lead the army in the Delta,” he retorted in a haughty manner.
“Yes you did and for that you are to be commended, in fact you have been praised highly for that. But the army is an extension of power, it is not all there is to governing. Zenty, you have an entire people living in the Two Lands. There are rekhi and nobles, priests and foreigners, artisans and fishermen. Some foreigners wish us ill, and for that your military knowledge at the hands of Herihor is most useful. But most foreigners simply want to trade with us. That is what makes a nation prosper and will make your people happy.”
“Isn’t that what I’m doing, signing trade agreements with all these dignitaries?”
“No, that is what we are doing… meaning me and Amka and your ministers. What you are doing is drinking and partying until you are drunk. You do not understand that this is not a game, it is life and death for Kem!”
This was but the first of many such conversations that Den and I had over the course of the next six cycles of Ra’s silver disk, each one as seemingly frustrating as the last. Den was reluctant to give up his army ways, in this case days of intense meetings and ceremonies followed by equally intense nights of drinking and partying. It made me angry that none of the young men who surrounded him appeared to lead him to more responsible behaviors.
But I was wrong, at least about one of those men, as I learned one day when we thankfully closed upon the first anniversary of Den’s rule. Den had just adjourned a meeting of the Council of Nomes, a body that I supposedly still led, but had been trying to maneuver so that Den gave it more leadership. That he hated meetings was obvious even before he ascended to the throne, but his rude manner during these meetings kept everyone on edge. After an hour of debate one of the governors could be assured of being disrespected by Den in some manner.
The issue at hand was relatively trivial, or could have been had Den handled it well. As was often the case, the matter involved apportioning resources between the farthest southern and northern nomes, both of which had been growing due to the increased trade with foreign lands. Because of his kidnapping and military experiences in the Delta losing men in battles with the rebels, Den had little patience for their demands and was about to rule that the resources be apportioned unfairly in favor of the south. I called for an adjournment for fear of the meeting descending into a shouting match.
My intent was to take a nap, freshen myself and then confront Den with specifics from the meeting so that he might view it dispassionately and thus learn lessons in governance. As I arrived back to his quarters, I saw that he was in heated conversation with Herihor. I decided to wait and sat down to the side of the entrance to his quarters.
“The reason is because no one else will tell you what you must hear!” I heard Herihor yell.
“I am not deaf, Herihor,” came Den’s response.
“Good, for I sometimes wonder if your advisors are talking into the wind. Listen then and listen well, young man, for this will be my last attempt at advice to you. Mark my words, for if you do not change, and soon, the next conversation we will have will be for me to announce my retirement.” I held my breath in shock.
“You are threatening the King…”
“And you are flinging dung, you impudent ass! For to be respected as King you must first act as one. You look at this as a… a game for your benefit alone. Everything is about what pleases you, not what helps your people.”
“My people, as you call them, seem quite content,” he said angrily.
“Content? Sure. As long as Mother Nile flows and fortunes are made then, yes, there are no visible problems. But the lean times will come as surely as Ra rises in the sky each day. Famine follows feast and then where will your adoring people be, the ones that kiss your ass because you have favors to dispense?” Den was silent for a moment.
“And your behavior frankly is an embarrassment. Does all life consist of drinking and whoring with your friends? Have you learned such models from me or your mother or from Nekau?
“Look at me for a moment, Zenty. Look at me! Your mother’s more of a man than you are! She may not know how to wield a sword, but she understands, she… she bears her many responsibilities. You have the luxury of reigning in abundance because of the evil she has fought throughout her life, even in her own court, even against her own mortal body. I placed you on the battlefield to harden you for rule, but it has only given you the excuse to act arrogant and selfish and…”
“Please, no more,” Den protested weakly. “I would rather be skewered on the point of a sword.” His voice sounded as if it would break. For a long moment both men were silent. I heard Herihor sit hard into a chair.
“I… I’m not sure how to get out of this predicament I am in, Herihor. You are right. I… I need your advice.”
“Advice that you will listen to and act upon?”
“I will listen to you as a father, for you are the only one I have known, and Amka my grandfather.” My heart wanted to burst upon hearing those words. Tears flooded my eyes.
I heard the creaking of chairs, the sound of sand grinding under sandals and then the slapping of backs and my heart felt so full of love I wanted nothing more than to rush in and join their hug.
“It is settled, then,” Den said. “We will meet each day for the morning meal and you will serve me humility with my bread and cheese. Agreed?”
Herihor laughed. “Agreed. When do we start?”
“Tomorrow, of course. But there is one thing I would like you to think about beforehand.”
“Good. What is it?”
“My mother. I am concerned about her health.” I swallowed hard hearing those words. I knew I should leave but I felt mortared to my spot.
“Yes, we all are. You, me, Amka, Nekau.”
“Do you think she worsens?” Herihor waited before answering.
“We all worsen, Zenty. We are mortals, we age.”
“You well know what I’m asking. I will also speak to Amka and Nekau about this.”
“I speak with them almost daily,” Herihor responded quickly. “They, too, are concerned. If not for Nekau she would be watching us right now from the next world.” Herihor’s voice was pained.
“I know how much you love her. I want to do something to help her, but I know not what that is.”
“She’s an obstinate one, isn’t she?” Herihor said and they both laughed. “But if you’re serious about helping, and I can see you are for we both love her dearly, I can suggest two courses of action that would ease her
burdens.”
“Name them.”
“First, listen better to her counsel. She may not be the warrior you are, but she’s adept at governing… very adept. She understands people. She listens well. Her ministers love her… well, anyway, most do. She has had to learn these skills, for as a woman she had much to prove.” Again there was a long period of silence.
“I promise I’ll try harder,” Zenty said, sincerely. After a moment’s pause he asked, “What else?”
“You’ve been on the throne for a year, but you haven’t started a mastaba complex for her. That is a son’s duty.”
“Yes, yes, yes, Amka has mentioned that to me several times. I have been remiss. I will attend to it. Amka already has an architect in mind.”
“Good, see to it soon. But there’s one thing I will beg of you now, as your loyal servant. I want to settle it before the press of grief sways your decision.”
“Go ahead, Herihor. I can think of nothing I would not grant you.”
“If your mother leaves this world before me, then I wish to accompany her on her journey, for I… I could not walk the Two Lands without her.”
The silence hung heavy in the air. I felt a weight bearing down on my chest and the pain in my liver served to remind me yet again of my mortality. My heart pained me with thoughts of my beloved Herihor drinking the holy poison, but then I saw visions of us living a life of peace and health and abundance in the Afterlife, together for eternity at Horus’ side. Then an image of my dear Wadjet entered my heart and I felt a deep pang of regret.
Just then I heard a commotion in the hallway and the voices of Amka and Nekau arguing over some medical matter. I used the opportunity to slip out of the antechamber through a side passage.
True to his intent, Den did spend the next year of his rule listening more to his advisors. He learned from Amka to develop an agenda for every meeting and to hold his ministers and Vizier responsible for following up on his initiatives. He learned from me, albeit slowly, how to gauge the measure of a man’s ba so as to know which ones were dependable and which not, which ones could be trusted and which lied through their false smiles. He learned from Herihor to select friends who would give him truthful opinions and help him stay on a path that would enforce rightful actions and thus strengthen ma’at.
But, it did not come easily. The decisions he made regarding the Delta continued to plague him, for it has always been true that leaders are blind to their own weaknesses. Requests from the governors of the Delta nomes were frequently delayed, often mishandled and nearly always reduced in scope. While none of the governors would complain to Den’s face, they grumbled loudly behind his back, according to my informers.
Perhaps this would not have mattered, if it were not for a meeting that Amka called nearly two-and-a-half years after Den’s ascension. As soon as Den and I, Herihor and Nekau, Amka and Tepemkau assembled, Amka began the meeting.
“It has come to our attention that Khnum and Bakht are yet alive.” The news came as a shock to all of us and for a moment hung heavy in the air, for we had heard no rumors to that effect. I glanced at Herihor whose furrowed brow showed his concern.
“How have you come to this knowledge?” Den asked. I looked at Den to see if he was serious. “Sorry, your network of spies, I’m sure,” Den said.
Herihor was about to speak up, but the aging Amka leaned forward, holding his staff to steady his shaking hands. “Master Den, whether you call them spies or informers or whatever else, the priesthood uses them judiciously to serve you. We check their information before it is ever brought to your attention. Without spies, a King cannot rule.”
“Hmmmn. I suppose that’s true, but I don’t like having to use them. I look at my servants and wonder which ones spy against me. It feels dirty to me.”
“Think of spies as you would a battlefield scout,” Herihor said. “Their role is to gather information.”
“Yes, but a battlefield scout seems somehow purer. It is all done under Ra’s light. Each side knows how scouts are employed and the limit of their usefulness. Spies in the court masquerade as your friends and then stab you in the back. Isn’t that true, Amka?”
“No, that is not quite true, Master, for they can be a tool or a weapon, depending on how they are used. In each case their information can prevent a tragedy or cement a victory.” At this Den was quiet.
“And Nubiti?” I asked, already suspecting the answer.
“Yes, well that is how we have come to find out about Khnum and Bakht,” Tepemkau responded. “They correspond. Apparently they have corresponded since her exile.”
“Nothing like timely spy information,” Den wryly remarked as he reached for a cluster of grapes. Herihor held up his hand to Den. “What?” Den asked as if he did not already know that his sarcasm was an insult to Amka. The look Herihor shot towards Den left no doubt as to his meaning.
“I will not bother you with the details of how we found out or how they managed to secretly correspond, but suffice it to say that we now have inserted a spy into their chain of transporting the messages. The messages are written in a very deep code. Our priests are working now on deciphering it.”
“And this message chain continues?” Den asked surprised. “You haven’t destroyed its operations?”
“No,” Tepemkau answered, “it is better to know what your enemy does than to be left to wonder.”
“If we can trace the chain from beginning to end, then we can finally eliminate them,” Den suggested, his face animated. “Then we will be done with this damned rebellion once and for all.”
Amka looked at Tepemkau. “That might not be the wisest path to take,” Amka said slowly. Den looked frustrated.
“How can that not be the best path to take? You have done a commendable job planting the spies. Now we can find those two bastards and we can kill them with few casualties on our side. It seems to me like the best course to take.”
Amka breathed in deeply and I worried about the labor I heard in his lungs. “Master Den, you’ve been patient listening to us. But, allow me to explain something to you. Khnum and Bakht are worth far more to us alive than dead, especially once we are able to decode their messages, which we will undoubtedly do very soon. Then we will know where they are and what they plot.
“But dead, they become martyrs. Well hidden though it is from our eyes, righteous beliefs in an independent Delta still form an undercurrent there. The Apep priesthood will never be completely destroyed, only driven underground. They will keep the hope of an independent Delta alive, for by so doing they maintain influence and gain adherents. Yet change does happen, albeit slowly. A subjugated people eventually learns that it is better to assimilate than to continually live in misery.”
Den nodded his head as if to absorb what his advisors told him. “And so, what would you suggest we do?”
“Loosen the reigns on Lower Kem,” Amka responded calmly.
“Loosen the reigns you say? Interesting…” Den drummed his fingers and looked from Amka to Tepemkau. “Now I wonder just how would that look?” Herihor’s and Den’s eyes met fleetingly.
“First we suggest you start by granting the Delta governors more of the projects they request,” Amka began cautiously.
“In fact, you might consider funding projects they have not yet even requested,” Tepemkau added. “We have such a list,” he said, not noticing the expression on Den’s face.
“Of course!” Den said loudly. “Brilliant! Herihor, instruct the army in the Delta to lay down their swords. They should immediately replace their mace heads with backscratchers. Oh, and issue a ration of fine linen to each soldier, so on a moment’s notice they may wipe the asses of our Delta cousins.” By now Den’s face was red with rage. No one spoke a word.
Amka tapped his fingers on his carved staff, his forehead pressed to its well-worn surface. “You know, Den, we priests have a saying,” he said so softly I had to strain to hear him. “Your throne may be exalted above all others, but it is good to r
emind yourself that you sit on it with your ass.” Den did not know what to do with Amka’s remark.
“Meaning?” Den finally burst out, angrily.
“Meaning that you might consider confining your warrior mentality to the battlefield, where matters are simpler and nuance is discouraged. Ruling a nation demands far higher skills, greater than any one man… or woman,” he said, tipping his staff toward me, “can master.”
“I know that those priestly sayings can infuriate,” I quickly added, seeing Den’s angry expression, “but in those words are contained deep wisdom. Look Zenty,” I continued, using his child name to soften his anger, “I have been wounded as deeply as anyone by the scheming of our Delta cousins. Yet I came to realize that if we continue to rule as if it is Upper Kem pitted against Lower Kem we will win most skirmishes but in the end lose the battle of Unification. That is Horus’ promise, given to King Narmer as a sacred vision. Two lands, one people. That will be the ultimate victory and we have a sacred duty to achieve it.”
For several moments all sat quietly, absorbing the significance of my words. Amka nodded his head, his eyes gently closed and my heart was filled with love for my elderly, but wise teacher.
“She’s right,” Herihor said before Den could respond. “I think we should listen to Meryt-Neith… and the priests. It’s time to heal the wounds of the past if we’re to move forward as a nation.”
Coming from Herihor the words carried great import for Den. And so it was that Den slowly began to consider a vision of a truly united Kem, where both lands were equal in the eyes of Horus. In this he required much help and I had many conversations with my son, explaining to him my vision experiences with Horus. To my continuing surprise, he never reported having been visited by Horus or Narmer. I was not certain whether Horus and Narmer never actually visited with him or whether he was reluctant to share those visits with me, preferring to discuss them with Amka and Tepemkau instead.
During one conversation we had about the Council of Nomes, Amka hobbled in. Our poor Vizier now suffered greatly from the disease of the joints and he depended heavily on his staff to support his bowed and crooked body. Nekau walked beside him, his hand under Amka’s elbow, ready to catch him if he stumbled, which happened with increasing frequency in recent months.
The Dagger of Isis (The First Dynasty Book 2) Page 36
