House of Scorpion

by Mark Gajewski

  Father was going to leave for Tjeni in the morning. He’d spent every day the past week touring the settlement, seeing firsthand the controls Tamit had put in place, questioning her and overseers and common porters and boatmen. He’d been impressed by her and the work she’d done. I was counting on that to keep him from exploding when I told him Tamit was my wife. So far I hadn’t found the courage. I told myself I wanted Father to get to know Tamit very well before I told him. Fact was, I feared what, if he got angry, he might force me to do.

  I pointed. “That dark smudge on the east bank is all that’s left of Maadi, Father. It’s been largely deserted ever since Raherka took the bulk of his people north to found Sakan. A stubborn few still hang on, but they’ll give up before long. Interestingly, the delta seems to be creeping a bit farther north each year, inching away from Ptah’s Settlement.”

  “Tell me, Iry, why is there so much empty space within the settlement’s walls? It’s really obvious from up here.”

  “I’ve left room for more warehouses and granaries, Father. Thanks to Sakan and the death of Maadi, more goods are passing through Ptah’s Settlement each and every month. As I said the day of your arrival, one more inundation and the fourth wall will be complete and then everything important in the settlement will be completely safe from raiders.”

  “What’s that reed structure south of the warehouses near the granaries?”

  “A shrine to Ptah, the local god, patron of craftsmen,” Tamit said.

  “Hence Ptah’s Settlement,” I added. “The smaller shrine next to it honors Horus.”

  “You’ve done well, Iry,” Father said with satisfaction. “Ptah’s Settlement entirely controls the river. It anchors my Northern strategy. Quite unexpectedly. It was bold of you to seize control here. I’m impressed that you saw the possibilities and took action without waiting for permission or direction.” His eyes swept the settlement. “The walls fairly gleam in the sunlight. They’re beautiful.” He snapped his fingers. “And so I’m going to rename my settlement. Ineb-hedj. White Walls.”

  “A truly fitting name, Majesty,” Tamit said.

  I pointed north. “I founded a daughter settlement just over the horizon last year. Sais. It controls access to the heart of the delta and supplies Ineb-hedj with vast amounts of pigs and fish and linen. Sety’s estate is an anomaly, Father, since it produces barley and beef and pottery and beer and even makes its own boats. Because it was the first estate in the delta it had to be not only self-sufficient but large enough to generate an excess to support Maadi. But Sais and most other delta settlements produce only one or two items for us. That way, we’re able to concentrate resources at the best points and maximize production.”

  “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you,” Father said.

  “Sety’s strategy, mostly,” I replied. “I’ve just kept out of his way and let him do what he does best.”

  “Like you did with Tamit?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “When were you planning to tell me you’d made Tamit an overseer?”

  I hadn’t summoned the courage yet, waiting for the right moment. Now I was trapped. “When did you figure it out, Father?” I asked with trepidation.

  “It wasn’t hard, Iry. I saw how many workers asked Tamit for guidance when we were touring the settlement. Everyone deferred to her judgment.”

  “Do you object, Majesty?” Tamit asked.

  “In my experience men don’t follow women.”

  “That was my belief too, Father. But I was wrong. Tamit deserves her stick more than any other overseer in the settlement.”

  “You’ve given her one?”

  “I decided not to carry it until His Majesty could break the news to you,” Tamit said. She hadn’t yet dared refer to me by my given name in front of him.

  “From what I’ve observed, you don’t need a stick in hand to get men to do what you want,” Father said. “That’s the sign of a true leader.”

  Tamit had passed muster. Only one more major piece of news to break to him. But how?

  “I’m glad the delta’s coming under my control,” Father said. “From what I’ve seen this week, Ineb-hedj is going to be an unexpectedly good bulwark for my northern flank.”

  “You dominate the Northern trade routes, Father. Farkha’s friendly. Sakan and your smaller settlements are assets.”

  “I must admit that Sety’s strategy to isolate and then peacefully absorb Nubt is brilliant. To take it by conquest, to leave soldiers in hamlets loyal to King Ika to enforce my will and tamp down rebellion would be prohibitably expensive and likely impossible.” Father sighed. “Especially with Nekhen to then deal with. But thanks to the start we’ve made, I believe the South will be unified in my lifetime. With luck, I’ll live another twenty years. I’m very aware of the implications of Sety’s dream, with or without Matia involved. That means I need to assure that my successors as Tjeni’s king – not just Lagus, but his son and grandson after him – can build on the foundation I’m laying down to expand Tjeni’s influence in the valley, not start over or yield to another settlement that grows more powerful than us.”

  Tamit’s eyes met mine at the mention of Lagus.

  “We’ve made so many strides in the North in your name, Father,” I said. “Look at how much you control compared to a few years ago. For the most part, your northern flank is secure, as you say. Pe and Dep is the only threat and they’ll be neutralized before too many years pass.”

  “I’m aware. Now we come to why I asked you to meet with me today, Iry. I want you to return to Tjeni with me.”

  “For how long?”

  “Permanently.”

  I stiffened. “You want me to abandon Ptah’s Settlement? Sorry – Ineb-hedj.”

  “I’m impressed with what you’ve accomplished here, Iry. Ineb-hedj is running smoothly. Sety’s Northern strategy is working. I’m going to turn Ineb-hedj over to Lagus. He can use the foothold you’ve created here to gain the fealty of the Northern settlements. When he takes my throne a few decades from now, he’ll have a power base in both the North and South. Shouldn’t take much for our house to unify the valley after that.”

  So. Demoted without a discussion after all my hard work.

  Tamit snuck a hand into mine and squeezed it sympathetically.

  I couldn’t help be depressed. The settlement I’d been counting on to catapult me into the kingship had just been handed to my main competitor. It was Lagus who’d reap the benefits of what I’d set in motion – Tjeni’s throne – not me. Ineb-hedj would continue to grow and prosper and his was the name that’d be associated with it. I deserved better. I deserved a say in my future. But I couldn’t challenge Father. I couldn’t tell him no. He was a king and a god. I had to accept his decision. But it was going to be hard for me to let go of what I’d created and nurtured. I enjoyed living in Ptah’s Settlement. The work was challenging. And independent. No man was my master. Which wouldn’t be the case at Tjeni. “Of course, Father.”

  “Tomorrow, before we leave, I’ll call together the settlement’s elites and let them know Lagus is in charge.”

  At least Father hadn’t chosen Mekatre. That would’ve been intolerable. I almost felt sorry for Lagus. Running Ineb-hedj was going to fully test his abilities. I believed the settlement would overwhelm Lagus. Running a settlement was hard work.

  “What will I do in Tjeni, Father?”

  “Implement your controls, as you’ve done here, over everything that moves through Tjeni, including war materiel. Bring Niay with you to build me a proper fleet – after seeing his boats up close, the ones Mekatre has constructed to move soldiers are clearly inadequate.”

  So. A glorified overseer.

  “That’s it, then,” Father said. He started to rise.

  Now or never. “Just one thing, Father. I’m going to bring Tamit too.”

  She tensed.

  “That makes sense. She can help put her controls in place. Though you can’t call her an o
verseer.”

  I squeezed Tamit’s hand. I took a deep breath. “I’m not bringing Tamit because of what she can do, Father. I’m bringing her because she’s my wife.”

  Father stared at me in shocked silence.

  Tamit took my hand and placed it on her belly. “And seven months from now, Majesty, you’re going to be a grandfather.”

  ***

  I sank wearily to a chair in my room in Father’s per’aa. Tamit poured me a cup of wine and I drank it down. Back in Tjeni a month and I’d never been so tired and discouraged.

  “I just reported to Father on the war effort. I’d hate to be the men who used to be in charge.”

  “I thought that was Mekatre.”

  “I meant the men who’ll take the blame.”

  “Is it as bad as we suspected?”

  Instead of spending the month implementing controls on Tjeni’s goods, the scribes Tamit and I had brought with us from Ptah’s Settlement – I still couldn’t think of it as Ineb-hedj – had spent the month inventorying the war materiel Mekatre had produced. Their planks were stacked neatly in a corner of my room.

  “Worse.”

  Tamit sat down on the floor next to me and rested her head on my knees. I idly played with her long golden braid.

  “No one in the valley has ever raised an army to attack a neighbor,” I said. “Rulers deal with barbarian raids all the time, but that’s quite different. They simply arm whatever men are available and fight it out. The man Mekatre put in charge of the army couldn’t answer my most basic question – ‘how many men do we need to capture Nubt?’”

  “Meaning you don’t know how many boats, of which type, or how many weapons, of which type, or how much emmer and beer and other foodstuffs.”

  “Or if we can even raise as many men as we’ll need. Sending farmers to the delta has given Father a foothold in the North. But there are fewer men available in the South to fight now.” I sighed. “Mekatre stared at me blankly when I asked him his strategy for capturing Nubt. He doesn’t have one.”

  “He was going to take troops to Nubt and a miracle was going to occur?”

  “That’s about it. He hasn’t figured out the best way to launch an attack from boats. He hasn’t figured out the best way to launch an attack by land. He hasn’t even thought about a coordinated river and land assault. He hasn’t figured out how to take Nubt by siege if it comes to that. He hasn’t considered how to fight with a small army instead of a large one. Luckily, according to the spies I interrogated, Nubt’s as disorganized as we are. But Nubtians have walls to hide behind. Fighting a defensive war’s much easier than attacking.”

  “Today I spoke to several farmers who’ve been training as soldiers the past three months while their fields are underwater,” Tamit said. “They have no idea why they’re training or why it’s important. A determined enemy will send them running. And they weren’t even the same men who trained during the last inundation. No continuity!”

  “I told Father everything I just told you. Then I told him about the inventory you did of the weapons his craftsmen have produced. I told him I didn’t know if they were enough to equip his soldiers, or if they were even the right type. I told him he was going to have to start the war effort over entirely.”

  “How did Father take it?”

  He’d dispensed with the formality of being called ‘majesty’ by Tamit about halfway to Tjeni on the return trip. Tamit had won him over quite easily. That she was pregnant with our child hadn’t hurt.

  “He exploded. He threw his crook halfway across the audience hall. He nearly hit Mekatre. Then he put me in charge of the war effort and told Mekatre he was going to find something else for him to do. I almost felt sorry for my brother, having to face Father’s wrath, knowing he’d failed in something important.”

  “He won’t be an obstacle to you succeeding Father.”

  “No. But he’s my enemy now, pure and simple. Anyway, I told Father what I’m going to do now that I’m in charge.”

  “Develop your various strategies based on how many men you can actually commandeer to fight and figure out how much of everything you’ll need to support them.”

  “Yes. I’m also sending a man to make a map of the hamlets between here and Nubt and its possessions. Sety and I sketched a rough one when we traveled home from Nekhen, but I need one with more details. I need to know what it is Father’s trying to conquer. Once I have the map I can figure out how many days it’ll take us to move south, where we’ll have to camp, how we can defend those camps at night. I’m sending men to map the trails that cross the paw of land in the desert west of Nubt too. Fortunately, Niay’s already started building Father some fast boats. Can you believe it? Nearly two and a half years since Mekatre started preparing for war and his boat builder has only constructed two vessels. Neither of them truly fit for service. Niay built me five in less time.”

  Tamit got up and refilled my cup. “Is that all the bad news, My Love?”

  “I wish. I inspected the granaries for the first time today, right after I left the audience hall. I should’ve done that days ago. Mekatre constructed a dozen specifically to feed future troops. They’re empty! And the ones that protect Tjeni against drought or high water are only half full! According to the overseer in charge of grain distribution, last season’s harvest was smaller than usual.”

  “How does Father obtain emmer and barley to store in his granaries?” Tamit asked.

  “He owns all the land in this region. He owns everything grown or produced on it.”

  “Really? In the delta, as you know, estates own their land and what they produce, and barter it at Ptah’s Settlement for what they need – Ineb-hedj. I still can’t get used to it.”

  “Neither can I. But I haven’t said it out loud the past three days. I guess that’s progress. Anyway, one of Nekhen’s early rulers claimed that all the land that supported his settlement belonged to him. He got away with it. Every other ruler began doing the same thing. Or at least that’s what Sety claims. In return, rulers officially vowed to care for their people.”

  “If Father owns all the grain, how do farmers live?”

  “He assigns them a portion of their crop. He gets the rest.”

  “How does he assign it?”

  “Father establishes the boundaries of every farmer’s field after the inundation subsides, Tamit. The fields have to be adjusted every year based on where the river drops mud. Sometimes it covers less area than the year before, sometimes more. Sometimes it even makes small islands in the river that can be planted. Anyway, after Father establishes a farm’s boundaries he tells the farmer how much of his crop he can keep for himself and how much he owes Father.”

  “Who calculates the expected yield from the farm to determine if the assessment is fair?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Who makes sure the farmer only keeps what he’s supposed to?”

  “I don’t think anyone does.” I finished my second cup. “Father’s supposed to assign fields tomorrow. Maybe we should go along and see.”

  “Especially if you want to fill your granaries,” Tamit said. “An army can’t fight on an empty stomach.”

  ***

  Tamit and I trailed Father and a host of officials the following day as he assigned farmland along the riverbank both north and south of Tjeni. Most of the floodplain still glistened with shallow pools of water, for the land was still drying out. Father held a short discussion with every farmer, confirming the size of the previous year’s field and inspecting the extent of this year’s fresh mud. Father then stated how this year’s crop would be divided between the two of them. After that, Father’s officials set up boundary stones at the four corners of the farmer’s field. In a normal year farmers would currently be rebuilding their huts, for they annually dissolved in the flood. Most usually spent the months of inundation in temporary camps just beyond the water’s reach. But I noted that nearly every farm hut from last year was still intact. Water hadn’t
reached as far west of the river as the year before. A second low inundation in a row.

  At the fifth farm I noticed the farmer’s wife roll her eyes when Father stated his assessment.

  Tamit saw too. “I want to talk to her,” she whispered.

  We stayed behind when Father and his officials moved on.

  “Let me do the talking, Iry.”

  We strode to where the farmer and his wife were standing. Two small naked children were clinging to the wife’s legs. She was about Tamit’s age, her husband a couple of years older. Their son looked to be about five, their daughter three. The woman’s skirt was torn and dirty. His kilt was tattered. They didn’t look prosperous.

  “Your names?” I asked.

  “Ramose, Majesty. My wife is Hatnufer.”

  “You don’t think the king’s assessment of your crop was fair, Hatnufer?” Tamit asked.

  Hatnufer’s face flamed red. “No, of course not, Majesty,” she stammered, focusing her eyes on the ground. “The king’s gracious and fair to all of us who owe him fealty.”

  “Look up,” Tamit ordered. The same tone she used to use with porters who displeased her.

  Hatnufer did, instantly frightened. Her hand sought Ramose’s.

  “I grew up in an ivory carver’s workshop, Hatnufer,” Tamit said more gently. “I spent my days lugging jars and cleaning and cooking and bartering and subsisting on very little. I know how hard it is to barely scrape by.” She glanced at me. “My husband understands commoners like us better than any royal I’ve ever met. You can tell us the truth.”

  Hatnufer raised her head. She looked like she’d been backed into a corner, with no way out. “The yield’s going to be pitiful this year,” she said almost defiantly. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to feed my family, much less the king’s. Three bad years in a row.”

  Two years more than the overseer of Tjeni’s granaries had confessed to me. I was going to speak with him again.