I clapped my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming. By the gods! Sabu had just murdered Hetshet! I swung behind the tree trunk, heart pounding, pressed my back against it, closed my eyes. If Sabu saw me… But I had to see. I peered around the trunk, cautious, prepared to run.
Hetshet was on his knees in the grass, clutching his throat with bloody hands. His arms and chest were bloody. Sabu loomed over him from behind. Baki faced him. Hetshet tried to speak, made an awful gurgling sound. Then he collapsed face down onto the grass.
Sabu stood over him for a moment, smiled, then bent and wiped his blade on Hetshet’s kilt.
I was appalled at his casual heartlessness. Not a bit of regret on his face. Only satisfaction.
Same as Baki’s.
Baki took hold of Hetshet’s feet. Not a word of protest. Clearly, he and Sabu had planned this execution beforehand. They hadn’t expected Hetshet to agree to attack Scorpion. The purpose of the confrontation had been to eliminate him as an obstacle to their ambitions. Sabu grabbed Hetshet’s arms. They lifted him, face down, and carried him to the river, leaving a trail of blood in the grass. They waded waist deep into the water, then released Hetshet. He floated beside them for a moment, arms spread wide, the river turning crimson around him. Then the current caught Hetshet and carried him north. The two men waded back towards shore. They stood for a moment in knee-deep water, kilts dripping, watching Hetshet’s corpse disappear in the gathering gloom.
“You’ll support my version of how he died when I announce it in the audience hall?” Sabu asked.
“I promise. In return, you’ll give me Nebetah to wife and appoint me your chief advisor when you’re king.”
“I will.”
They both washed Hetshet’s blood off their arms and legs and torsos. Then they waded from the river and headed in the direction of Nubt, dripping, exulting.
I waited until I was sure they were gone, horrified by what I’d witnessed. I had no idea what to do. I couldn’t accuse Sabu of fratricide. Baki was going to provide him with an alibi for Hetshet’s murder. Father wouldn’t take my word over theirs. I had no proof Sabu had slain our brother. Hetshet’s body was gone. No one would believe me. Sickened, afraid, I headed towards Father’s residence, to his audience hall, to see how Sabu was going to explain Hetshet’s disappearance.
I reflected the entire walk to Nubt about what I’d overheard. Sabu wanted to create an alliance to attack King Scorpion. Father was against it; Hetshet had been against it. Hetshet was dead. With no one to stop him, Sabu would surely arrange his alliance while we were at Nekhen. He was going to plunge Nubt into a war. A war even I, an untutored girl, knew Nubt couldn’t win. I alone knew what Sabu and his accomplice Baki were planning to do. Was it up to me to stop him and save Nubt? A powerless eighteen-year-old girl? Gods help me.
I reached Nubt. The settlement extended more than half a mile from north to south, along the western edge of a half-mile-wide cultivated plain that lay between it and the river. West of the settlement in a great arc rose sheer impassable cliffs that guarded Nubt from barbarians who roamed the desert. The plain had been sowed with emmer a month earlier – farmers had broadcast seed by hand; their wives and children had followed after and trampled the seed into the mud left behind by the inundation, simultaneously shooing off the flocks of birds that had descended in an attempt to feed. I knew that from firsthand experience, for I’d helped Harwa and Khentetka sow their field. Green shoots were already poking ankle-high from rich black earth. I struck a wide path that sliced through the emmer fields, hurrying from riverside quays where half a dozen cargo boats – five reed, one wooden – were tied up, to the eastern edge of Nubt. North of the path, in the section where Nubt’s commoners lived, dozens of narrow lanes zigzagged between rude huts and mud-brick houses and workshops. Currently, the lanes were mostly deserted. South of the path lay the walled section of Nubt where elites and we royals and Father’s officials lived. I passed through the gate, smiling at the guards stationed there as if nothing in the world was wrong. In return for my delicacies they never hindered or reported my departures or arrivals. I followed the broad street to Father’s per’aa, a low rambling building of mud-brick, and went inside. Bowls of oil with flickering wicks set on wooden stands lit the single corridor. The rooms where we royals slept, and rooms where our servants wove linen and made reed mats and performed other tasks, were on the right. Father’s room was at the far end; the one I shared with Nebetah was closest to the workrooms. The food preparation and storage rooms were immediately to the left, and beyond them the audience hall. I heard the murmur of voices inside and entered.
The hall was long and narrow, barely twenty feet wide, the length of the longest timber available to span the gap between the walls and support the roof of clay plastered atop reed mats. Bowls of oil with linen wicks, and flaming torches, lined both walls. Two bowls were set at the corners of the bottom step of the stone dais at the far end of the hall, and two more on wooden stands on either side of Father’s throne. An ebony pole topped with the dog-like image of Nubt’s god, Seth, was set in a stand just behind the throne. Gold glittered everywhere – on light stands, on Father’s throne, in the jewelry worn by the seventy or so elite men and sons gathered to attend Father. Nubt was rightly called “the golden settlement.” Father was on his throne, looking bored, his red crown made of sheets of polished copper gleaming and reflecting the light. He was idly twisting a small solid gold shepherd’s crook in his hand – his symbol of authority. A fan bearer, an older girl with long dark hair wearing only a white linen skirt, was standing behind him, waving a fan of long brown ostrich feathers set in a gold base affixed to an ebony staff. Similarly dressed girls stood near the dais bearing platters of treats and jars of wine and gold cups. I normally served Father during his audiences; I was extremely interested in everything that went on in Nubt and the valley, and acting as server gave me the perfect excuse to be present without Father or his elites guessing I was diligently observing. In fact, I spent more time in Father’s audience hall than either of my brothers, and knew more about kings and settlements and shifting elite alliances and trade and crops than either of them. In a perfect world I’d be Father’s successor, not Hetshet and certainly not Sabu, because I’d be a more competent ruler than either of them. But Nubt’s elites would never crown me king simply because I was a woman. I’d learned long ago that women had to wield what influence they had behind the scenes, never openly. I was certain that if Father hadn’t promised me to Baki in return for his throne he’d have instead given me in marriage to the ruler of a settlement pledged to him, or used me to form an alliance with a rival king. Assuming my husband was malleable enough, I might have been able to rule whatever settlement I found myself in through him, much as Pentu controlled everything that went on in Nubt through Father. Less than an hour ago Sabu had indicated he was going to offer me to Antef, a king’s son, to forge an alliance. I wondered if Antef was weak enough for me to control. If so, I’d probably have a more promising future in the North than I would in Nubt. Especially if Scorpion seized Nubt.
That the hall was currently filled with elites wasn’t unusual; Father assembled them one evening each week to hear their reports on their various enterprises. Each elite controlled some aspect of Nubt on Father’s behalf – brewing, pottery-making, carpentry, fishing, boat-making, copper smelting and the like. A step behind and to the right of the throne, atop the dais, stood the elite who controlled Father – Pentu. In his early forties, he was, as always, taking pains to be unobtrusive, though Father never made any decision of importance without consulting him. Every elite knew it. I’d overheard Father grumbling about Pentu when he thought he was alone – Father hated that everyone considered him to be Pentu’s puppet. Though Father was too cowardly to resist Pentu’s influence or reject his advice. Which was fortunate for everyone who lived in Nubt. Pentu was a brilliant man. I’d learned much about the valley from listening to and observing him. Surprisingly, despite his exalted position, he trea
ted me more respectfully than any other elite in Nubt did, or Father or my brothers for that matter.
I quietly moved up the side of the hall towards the front. One of the elites, Maya, Hetshet’s uncle, was standing at the foot of the dais, droning on about something.
“I bring awful news, Father!”
Sabu. From the back of the hall.
I turned along with everyone else. Sabu and Baki waded through the midst of the assembly towards the dais. Maya vacated the open space before Father’s throne and they halted there. Both men were somber. Both had taken time to change their bloody incriminating kilts. That’s why I’d beaten them to the hall.
Father leaned forward anxiously. “What news?”
“Father, Hetshet and Baki and I were hunting near a marsh this afternoon. Hetshet insisted on going in. We both told him not to.”
“Several times, Majesty,” Baki affirmed. “Both of us.”
“Father, a crocodile took Hetshet,” Sabu said with a catch in his throat.
I wondered how long he’d practiced that. Disgusting.
There was a collective gasp from the elites.
Father’s face went white. He halfway rose. “No!”
“Why didn’t you stop him?” Maya cried.
“The beast dragged him into the river. It was over quickly. The screams…” Sabu passed his hands across his eyes. “We tried for an hour to find Hetshet’s body, Father, but we couldn’t.” Sabu paused dramatically. “I’m sorry, Father.”
Father plopped down on his throne, stricken.
I almost had to admire the neat lie Sabu had invented to explain a body that’d never be found. I scanned the crowd. Not a single person would believe me if I accused Sabu of murder right now, not even Bebi, head of my mother’s family. I realized that if I did blurt out what I’d seen Sabu would likely arrange for me to have an “accident” too. If he killed me there’d be no one to stop him from causing Nubt unimaginable trouble. As much as I wanted to say something to Father, as much as I wanted to see him render justice, I couldn’t.
Pentu stepped to the front of the dais and took charge. He appeared as shaken as Father but had presence of mind enough to act instead of sitting, helpless. “We’ll gather in the sacred court at dawn to honor Hetshet,” he proclaimed. “Tell your dependents. I expect to see every one of them and every one of you there.”
The elites nodded, all still in shock.
“Sabu is now heir to Nubt’s throne,” Pentu intoned.
I wasn’t surprised Pentu was moving so quickly. From the day he’d made Father king, Pentu and Father had been determined to make rule in Nubt hereditary to advance their respective ambitions. Hetshet’s promised marriage to Pentu’s daughter, Nofret, had been designed to ensure that Pentu would support Hetshet’s eventual claim to the throne, and that Pentu would retain his position of influence thereafter. Nofret had just turned fifteen. No doubt Pentu would marry her to Sabu as quickly as possible now. He’d just publicly thrown his support to Sabu as Father’s successor; Sabu’s marriage to Nofret would solidify the tie between our families. What difference did it make to Pentu anyway, which of my brothers married his daughter? Nofret was a piece in a game Pentu was playing, just as I was a piece in Father’s. And, apparently, Sabu’s. What either Nofret or I might want didn’t matter.
Sabu looked down at the ground, faking humility.
Baki looked smug. Why not? He’d just helped Sabu position himself to take the throne. Sabu had promised Baki he’d be his chief counselor. I suspected Pentu had no idea how devious his son was, and the threat Baki posed to his future influence.
Maya looked crushed. As Hetshet’s uncle, he’d expected to take Pentu’s place as chief counselor when Hetshet took the throne. Maya was just another elite now with no hope of expanding his authority. By contrast, Ani, Sabu’s uncle, looked thrilled. Only Pentu would stand between him and the king some day. And, unknown to him, Baki. That was going to be an interesting clash. Ani was Sabu’s blood relative. Baki had helped Sabu kill his own brother. Both would have influence with Sabu.
Father stirred. Without a word he descended from the dais and hurried from the hall.
Pentu followed. Then Sabu and Baki.
Conversation immediately rose to a roar. Elites gathered in twos and threes, animatedly discussing Hetshet’s death and Sabu’s ascension and how it might affect them. Most of the comments about Sabu were disparaging. The majority of elites didn’t like him. No one used discretion in my presence; because I was a girl elites didn’t care what I overheard. Confirmation I’d been wise not to accuse Sabu.
I made my way to the area behind the dais and took a seat in the secluded nook I used when I served Father. Wearily, I thought back over everything that had happened today. The future was suddenly crystal clear to me. Sabu was going to go around Father when we went to Nekhen and create an alliance and deliberately provoke Scorpion. Scorpion would respond by crushing Nubt. Then he’d replace Nubt’s elites with his adherents. Common Nubtians lucky enough to survive Scorpion’s onslaught would pledge fealty to the new set of elites and go on about their daily lives as usual. It didn’t matter to them who held the throne – only elites cared about that. Scorpion would certainly execute Father and Sabu and the heads of the elite families in retaliation for Sabu’s provocation. I’d be a prize of war. If Scorpion felt generous he’d give me to one of his sons as wife. If he was as vindictive as Sabu alleged he’d hand me over to his soldiers so they could do with me as they pleased. Yes, Nubt and I were doomed because of Sabu. He was violent and dangerous and ruthless and unpredictable and willing to do anything he had to in order to get what he wanted – Nubt’s throne and then Tjeni’s. Left unchecked, Sabu was going to plunge Nubt into a war we couldn’t win. I knew what he was up to but no one else did. So, my purpose in life was suddenly clear. I had to avenge Hetshet’s murder. I had to keep Sabu from creating his alliance and taking Nubt’s throne. I had to ensure Nubt’s survival.
***
Peret (Seed)
Iry
***
The light died in the gazelle’s eyes.
The lion who’d killed him, dust-covered from the chase and struggle, mouth dripping blood, panting, moved from the gazelle’s neck to its hindquarters and savagely ripped out a chunk of flesh with his teeth. I’d never seen a lion up close before, never witnessed such terrifying quickness as it dragged its swift prey down from behind after a short chase through the tangled grass of the low desert, never seen razor-sharp claws and teeth employed so viciously in a kill. But why would I have? Normally Father, Scorpion, king of Tjeni, sent huntsmen to track down and drive prey, not one of his sons. But three days ago, at the start of this hunt, I’d vowed to discover a lion for Father. My half-brothers, Lagus and Mekatre, born of the only daughter of our prior king, Bull, had mocked me for my promise in front of the rest of the hunting party. Which wasn’t unusual – they always aligned themselves against me. My mother, Heria, Father’s second wife, had been the daughter of an elite, not a king. From their perspective I was a second-rate royal. I’d resolved to show them up. Now I was about to.
Lagus – at age twenty-two he was two years my senior – was the most important of we three. Rule in Tjeni wasn’t hereditary – Father had been selected by our elites to succeed King Bull, partly because of his first wife’s lineage, mostly because he had a commanding presence and was a true leader. Upon taking the throne, Father had vowed to we brothers that our house would eventually rule not just Tjeni but the entire South. He was determined to capture its two great settlements, Nubt and Nekhen, and merge them into a grand coalition headed by Tjeni. He was determined to see Lagus follow him on Tjeni’s throne as head of that coalition. Mekatre, a year older than me, was slated to eventually rule Nubt in fealty to Father and then Lagus. He was the handsomest and most athletic and outgoing man in Tjeni, nearly as tall and strong as Father, though with substantially less presence and ability. Mekatre wanted to eventually sit Father’s throne and made no s
ecret of it, which had strained his relationship with Lagus. No one in Tjeni was as popular as Mekatre; if left to the girls who buzzed around him like bees in a flower garden he’d definitely succeed Father. Many elites supported Mekatre’s ambition because he’d worked hard to ingratiate himself with them. As for me, I was an afterthought – not particularly athletic, physically uncoordinated, nothing to look at, ignored by Father’s courtiers, not one of Bull’s grandsons. The few girls who’d ever paid attention to me only had because I was Scorpion’s son. As the least important son, ruling the most minor of the South’s large settlements, Nekhen, was going to be my fate.
One I did not accept. My ambition was to be king after Father and rule the South. And then set about unifying the entire valley.
The obstacles facing me were many and considerable. The most difficult would be making Father believe I was more fit to succeed him than either of my brothers. My whole life Lagus and Mekatre had gone out of their way to portray me to Father as inadequate because I couldn’t hunt or wrestle or shoot a bow as well as them. But I had something they both sorely lacked – intelligence and a thirst for knowledge. My brothers spent their time hunting and fighting and learning how to wage war and chasing girls. But I haunted Father’s audience hall daily, observing how he ruled his section of the valley. That was important, for in a few years he’d probably give me a hamlet or small settlement near Tjeni to oversee on his behalf as training to rule Nekhen. Nekhen was currently the least important of the valley’s major settlements, although up until two centuries ago it’d been the most prominent anywhere along the river. I felt an affinity for Nekhen, even though I’d never been there. My mother’s ancestor Shery had fled from Nekhen to Tjeni after his father, Nekhen’s ruler Ma-ee, executed his mother, Abar. That execution had started Nekhen’s long slow decline. I was determined to rule Nekhen well once I got the chance and thereby prove to Father and Tjeni’s elites that I deserved Father’s throne.
House of Scorpion Page 2
