House of Scorpion

by Mark Gajewski

  “What about Sabu?” Maya queried. “Are we going to let Hetshet’s murder go unpunished?”

  “For now we’ll do nothing,” Pentu replied. “Otherwise, Sabu’s family will rise against the rest of us. There’s no proof of what he did – only what Matia saw. I believe her. They won’t. We can’t afford our families to be fighting each other when Scorpion’s our mutual enemy. We can’t let what Sabu did distract us from the true threat.”

  “But I promise you all – Sabu will not take Father’s throne,” I said darkly. “Even if I have to kill him myself.” Which was looking to me like the only way.

  3259 BC: 7th regnal year of Scorpion, King of Tjeni

  Akhet (Flood)

  Iry

  “I’m sorry you’ll be heading home in the morning, Iry,” Sety said. “I’ll miss having you around.”

  We were sitting at the northern edge of the turtleback that held his estate, at sunset. It’s where the two of us always went to talk when we didn’t want to be disturbed by my brothers or anyone else. The newly-harvested barley fields were stubble. In less than two months the inundation would arrive in the delta and turn everything as far as the eye could see into a lake. But just now the river was getting narrower by the day, flowing more slowly, lined on both sides with increasingly wide mud flats. A flock of ducks came in for a noisy river landing alongside an extensive patch of papyrus, churning the water white, their cries loud.

  “We’ve accomplished everything King Scorpion sent you and your brothers to the delta to do,” Sety continued. “Raherka’s led all but the diehards from Maadi to his new settlement, Sakan. All the settlements we established on the trade routes are flourishing. Virtually nothing’s reaching the remnants of Maadi anymore. All goods are going to Farkha.”

  “Which can’t handle all the boats and goods, according to the last messenger Heby sent here.”

  “Heby’s going to have to build more quays and warehouses after the inundation, for sure,” Sety agreed. “It’s a good problem to have.” He slapped his hands on his knees. “Anyway, you three boys will have a good report to make to your father.”

  “And your serving girls will finally have some respite from my brothers.”

  Sety laughed.

  The months I’d spent in the delta had opened my eyes about many things. I’d labored from sunup until well after sundown nearly every single day, soaking up as much information as I could. Sety had taught me how to site and establish settlements, and transport goods. We’d traveled together the trade routes that crisscrossed the delta. He’d taken me to the sea. He’d introduced me to Heby at Farkha, and Khered at Djedet, and Itjet at Samara, and Rama at Minshat, and the leading men of every hamlet and estate in between. I now knew which estates supplied what to Ptah’s Settlement, and what they received in return. Thanks to Sety, I now carried a map of the entire delta in my head. I’d worked in nearly every aspect of Sety’s estate too – herding, harvesting, patching boats, brewing – Matia would’ve laughed at me for doing exactly what I’d mocked her for doing on Harwa’s farm. My brothers, on the other hand, had lounged around the estate the entire time we’d been in the North, hadn’t traveled with Sety and me, hadn’t paid attention to anything he’d tried to teach them. They’d become bored with pursuing the same serving girls day after day too. They couldn’t wait to get back home. I was dreading it. Just thinking about Tjeni and my future was depressing. I wanted desperately to succeed Father as king and pursue unification of the valley. Before our trip to Nekhen, none of the elites who’d choose his successor had paid any attention to me. I’d forced them to when I’d arranged the alliance with Nubt and saved my sister Heria from death and ferreted out additional traitors. But by now, I was sure, that good feeling had faded away, with me in the North and out of mind. What I’d done in Nekhen wouldn’t enable me to leapfrog Lagus for the throne. Once I returned home I’d be an afterthought again. Lagus would shadow Father in his audience hall, visible to everyone, prominent, the king in waiting. Mekatre would lead the war effort, equally visible, just as prominent. My brothers would continue to set themselves apart from me and solidify their support among the elites. Meanwhile, I’d be waiting for Father to conquer Nekhen and arrange my marriage with Heket. Years from now. If I went home to Tjeni I was never going to rise higher in Father’s court than I was right now. I’d never follow him on the throne. I couldn’t accept that fate. I wouldn’t. So, I wasn’t going to go home. I was going to remain in the North and do something spectacular enough that Father and the elites would consider me for Tjeni’s throne.

  “I’m staying here, Sety,” I said decisively.

  “On my estate?” Sety was honestly surprised.

  “No. In the North.”

  “Why, Iry?”

  “I’ve been giving a lot of thought to Farkha the past few weeks. As you said, Heby needs to build more quays and warehouses to handle the increased volume of goods that’ll be flowing through his settlement. But Farkha doesn’t have a harbor, just quays along a small channel off the river. Boats are going to have long waits in the channel before they can moor and offload. Farkha’s going to become a terrible choke-point. Plus, there’s very limited space for new warehouses on its turtlebacks. It’s not fit to be a true distribution center – not now, and not once Sakan’s fully operational and the goods of the North and South are both being funneled through it. There’s not enough land at Farkha for huts for the additional porters and other workers who’ll be needed, and the people to feed and clothe them. Or fields to grow enough foodstuffs. Plus, Farkha’s not easily accessible to the caravan routes that terminate near Maadi. And it’s totally inaccessible except by boat during the inundation.”

  Sety eyed me. “You have a solution, I suppose.”

  “I’m going to turn Ptah’s Settlement into Father’s Northern distribution center, Sety. It has an excellent harbor. Plenty of land for warehouses and people. Plenty of delta estates to provide foodstuffs. It’s at the terminus of caravan routes. Plus, it controls the entire river from the delta south. It’s superior to Farkha in every way without a single one of its drawbacks.”

  “What do you plan to do, Iry? Walk in and take over?”

  “Why not, Sety? No single man’s in charge. You told me the settlement’s run by a group of elites.”

  “Who’ve grown wealthy skimming a share of every cargo they warehouse.”

  “Foodstuffs from the delta and goods produced by the settlement’s craftsmen. A poor haul, Sety. You’ve taught me that boats carrying luxury goods pass by Ptah’s Settlement without stopping on their way from Farkha to Tjeni. Same with goods sent from Tjeni to the North. But picture it, Sety. Goods from Tjeni being transported to Ptah’s Settlement. Goods from Sakan and the North and the deserts being transported there as well. Ptah’s Settlement the place where goods from throughout the world are stored and bartered and exchanged. The elites will have exceedingly better objects to skim if I can pull this off.”

  “A powerful selling point,” Sety said thoughtfully.

  “You told me most of the people who live in Ptah’s Settlement have Southern roots. They shouldn’t object too strenuously to pledging fealty to Father.” Somewhere in the distance a hippo roared. I couldn’t help shiver. “Look, Sety. Thanks to you I understand how important the delta is. Ptah’s Settlement controls its most important point, its foot. Ptah’s Settlement has unlimited growth potential. It could very easily control the entire North and all its trade routes, given time. I’m determined to make it beholden to Father before some other king seizes it and makes Tjeni irrelevant.”

  “Very ambitious,” Sety said.

  “Let’s not forget your dream either, Sety. The falcon god showed you a unified valley. Once Father defeats Nubt, Nekhen must quickly fall. He’ll rule the entire South. Ptah’s Settlement would give him a powerful presence in the North.”

  “Don’t forget, Iry – Matia was a key part of my dream. But she’s Pentu’s wife now. Her child won’t mix Tjeni’s and N
ubt’s blood. Her descendant won’t rule the valley. I hate to say it, but Sabu sabotaged the falcon god’s plan when he destroyed the alliance.”

  “Don’t be so sure, Sety. Matia will be a prize of war when Father conquers Nubt. Maybe he’ll force her to marry Mekatre. Maybe they’ll have a son who’ll get your dream back on track.”

  “Mekatre instead of you, Iry? I thought you cared for her.”

  “I did, Sety. I believed Matia was in love with me. But minutes before Sabu destroyed the alliance I overheard her tell her sister she’d been pretending. She took advantage of my feelings for her. She manipulated me to shape the alliance to benefit her ambitions. She played me for a fool. I wouldn’t marry Matia now even if Father ordered me to.”

  “I never would’ve guessed,” Sety said. “She acted like she couldn’t get enough of you. I’m sorry, Iry.”

  I’d wasted far too much time thinking about Matia these past months. I was done with her. “Anyway, since right now the odds are against Matia’s descendant unifying the valley, it frees me to pursue unification instead.”

  “Pursuing unification implies you want to succeed your father,” Sety inferred.

  “I do, Sety. Even though I know it’s a long shot.”

  “Thus Ptah’s Settlement. A chance for you to make a splash.”

  “A shot worth taking, don’t you think, Sety?”

  “It’s a brilliant idea, Iry. I’ll do everything I can to help.”

  “Introduce me to the elites. The rest I need to do on my own if they’re to take me seriously.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll do.”

  ***

  We reached the foot of the delta, our oarsmen rowing hard against the sluggish current. In a few weeks the inundation would begin and then the river would flow high and fast, laden with rich silt. Except for turtlebacks, the delta would be one vast silver lake. Here, where the six river channels united into one, most of the valley between the eastern and western plateaus would be totally underwater. Only higher ground would be dry.

  “Another half hour and we’ll be there,” Sety told me.

  Eight months had passed since King Khab’s coronation in Nekhen and the sabotage of the alliance between Tjeni and Nubt and my arrival in the delta. By now Lagus and Mekatre would be more than halfway home to Tjeni. I wondered how Father was going to react to my staying in the North. I hadn’t told either of my brothers why I wasn’t going home with them for fear they’d somehow sabotage me the way Sabu had. Sety had confided my plan to the captain of the boat carrying my brothers south so he could inform Father. The captain was a trusted man who often delivered messages to Father on Sety’s behalf. Now it was up to me to succeed, to make my plan work. If I did, my chances of becoming king would be vastly improved. If not, I might as well not bother returning to Tjeni ever.

  I turned my attention to Ptah’s Settlement and the task at hand. I was counting on Sety’s relationships with its elite men to gain me an audience this evening. I was going to take the lead after the initial introductions; it was up to me to convince them to pledge fealty to Father. I didn’t have to convince commoners; as in Tjeni and every other settlement only elites mattered. Commoners didn’t know one king from another, or care, but elites did. They expected the king they followed to provide them with luxuries to set them apart from ordinary people. I was determined to convince the settlement’s elites that Father would take better care of them than they were currently taking care of themselves. We were traveling today with a boatload of foodstuffs from Sety’s estate. The plan, once we landed, was for Sety to familiarize me with the harbor and warehouse districts, then request a meeting with the elites so I could make my case.

  Oarsmen nosed our vessel against the single unoccupied quay and tied us to mooring posts. The quays were filled, Sety told me, with vessels making one last trip from delta estates and settlements before the inundation began, when the water would be as much as twenty feet higher than the rest of the year. Most of the delta boats, except for Sety’s, were made of reeds and couldn’t take the pounding. I spotted a couple of vessels from outside the valley, though they were a clear minority. We hustled down the gangplank and strode the wooden quay towards the flats that lined the harbor, dodging sweating porters laden with tall jars and linen sacks and leather pouches who were headed to and from warehouses a quarter mile distant.

  “Greetings, Sety.” A rather rotund man, bald, sweating, hurried towards us.

  “Didia. Good to see you. This is Iry, King Scorpion’s youngest son, from Tjeni. Majesty, this is Didia, master of this harbor.”

  I’d dressed to impress. I was wearing my finest kilt, brilliant white and hemmed in gold. A wide gold pectoral rested on my chest. Gold armbands glistened on my biceps. I carried a foot-long ebony stick, chased with gold – symbol of my authority. “Pleased to meet you, Didia.”

  “What have you brought us?” Didia asked Sety, paying me no heed.

  What did he care about a king who lived hundreds of miles away? Or that king’s eighteen-year-old son? No surprise. I was going to have my work cut out for me.

  “Barley. Meat preserved in honey. Dried fish.”

  “Hori!” Didia called.

  “Hori oversees the porters who load and unload boats,” Sety told me.

  Hori pattered up. He was sweating, his face flushed.

  “Assign men to unload Sety’s vessel immediately,” Didia ordered Hori. “Then go find Hemu.”

  “Hemu oversees the warehouses,” Sety said.

  “Hori, Hemu will show your men the piles of goods we’ve set aside for Sety in return for these foodstuffs – tools, stone, some wine,” Didia said. “Get Sety’s vessel unloaded and reloaded quickly. I’m sure he’ll want to depart for his estate first thing in the morning.”

  “That I will,” Sety said. “Didia, I’d like to speak with you and Isu and Hori and Hemu and Paser this evening. Can we meet at your house?”

  “Why?”

  “Something of great importance. That’s all I can say right now.”

  Didia eyed me again. “I’ll arrange it,” he assured Sety.

  “In the meantime, I’m going to show His Majesty around the harbor area and warehouses and workshops, show him how everything works in Ptah’s Settlement.”

  “Until this evening, then,” Didia said.

  The flats abutting the quays were stacked with jars and linen containers and leather pouches, some destined for boats, some for warehouses. Dozens of porters were lugging items up gangplanks or along the street that led to the warehouses clearly visible at its far end, overseen by men barking orders. Hori cornered one of them. “Divert your men to Sety’s vessel.”

  “Is that a market?” I asked, pointing to a section of the flats where women had laid out wares on reed mats and were bartering with crewmen from the boats.

  “Oarsmen go there to exchange their pay – grain and beer – for necessities for the voyage home if they’re traveling south, or products not made in their homelands if they’re Northerners. Local women barter what they grow in their gardens or weave on their looms or bake in their ovens.”

  “It’s like the one along the river in Tjeni, only larger.”

  Sety nodded. He and I headed with Hori towards the warehouses. The long wide street was crowded with porters and strings of donkeys and men going about their business.

  “How many porters do you oversee, Hori?” I asked.

  “About one hundred, more or less.”

  “How do you support them?”

  “I requisition a portion of the cargo of every incoming vessel, not just to support my porters and their families, but those who work for the other elites as well. Some cargo – grain and foodstuffs – are allocated directly to workers. Some cargo’s bartered with locals for finished goods, such as linen and leather items and beer, which are also distributed to workers.”

  “How do you know what’s a fair exchange?” I asked.

  “Hori and Didia and I simply know,” a man answe
red as he joined us.

  “Hemu, nice to see you again,” Sety said. “This is Iry, son of King Scorpion.”

  “You’re a long way from home, Majesty,” Hemu observed. I could tell he was impressed by my finery, though not by me.

  “I intend to make Ptah’s Settlement my permanent home,” I replied. “At any rate, you were talking about fair exchanges, Hori?”

  “Every captain of every boat comes here seeking specific items in exchange for his cargo,” Hemu replied before Hori could. “He has an idea of his cargo’s value – how many adzes he can obtain for how many jars of wine, how many sacks of grain he can barter for how many lengths of linen and such. Didia and Hori and I know whether we have a scarcity or glut of a particular item in the warehouses. A captain wanting to exchange grain when we have a large surplus will receive fewer goods than if he delivers his cargo during a time of scarcity. Our fathers taught us the fine points of bartering, as we’re teaching our sons.”

  “And if a captain disagrees?”

  Hemu shrugged. “His option is to accept our exchange or turn around and go home. No one turns around and goes home. But, importantly, we’ve earned a reputation for fairness. Usually both we and the captain are a bit dissatisfied, which means the deal is good.”

  Sety and I moved on in company with Hori and Hemu. Halfway to the warehouse district we entered the section of the settlement where workshops were located. Columns of smoke spiraled into the sky. Most of the workshops were mere sunshades abutting open yards, though some were huts.

  “They’re enclosed to keep safe ivory and precious stones and such,” Isu, the overseer of the craftsmen told me after Sety introduced us. “Some of these workshops support the local populace and the men who work in the harbor area and their families – wood working, weaving, the brewery, the bakery. The potters make small jars for the brewery and large ones to ship goods in. And our carpenters make repairs to boats. Traveling can take a toll.”