“Yes, Father.”
“Iry, go to Sety’s estate. Take him with you to Pe and Dep. Convince King Ny-Hor to back out of Antef’s alliance with Sabu. Whatever it takes. I’m counting on you to secure our northern flank without a fight. We’ve discussed plenty of times how foolish it’d be to wage war on two fronts at the same time.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Demand Ny-Hor’s daughter, Satiah, for Lagus. Take her to Ineb-hedj when you head back south. Khensuw gave Lagus a daughter before she died. He needs a son.”
“And a hostage,” Mekatre added.
Father smiled.
“Should I offer Weret or Heria to Ny-Hor to strengthen ties?” I asked.
“Absolutely not! Tell him Antef’s duplicitous negotiations with Sabu – twice – are the reason. I’ll send no daughter of mine to Pe and Dep.” Father pondered for a moment. “In fact, I’m not going to send either of my daughters away to marry a ruler ever. Mine is the mightiest settlement in the valley. Rulers can send their sons to me.” He glanced at both of us. “You should do the same with your daughters. And tell Lagus.”
“Very good, Father.” I was glad neither of my sisters would be stuck in that viper’s nest, at Antef’s mercy. Something occurred to me. “Father, Matia confirmed that Sabu has spies in Tjeni. Sabu will know Matia’s here once those spies spread the news about your marriage. If they see both me and Mekatre going north, Sabu will assume that Matia told us about his alliance and that we’re going to the delta to break it. It’s the only conclusion he can draw.”
“What would you have me do? Send someone else in secret?”
“Quite the opposite. Make a show of our trip, Father. Make it seem as if you’re completely unaware of Sabu’s alliance, that you don’t fear an attack. Mekatre, bring Nebta and your son along. We’ll make it known that you’re taking them to Farkha to visit Nebta’s father. I’ll take Tamit and my girls too. We’ll say we’re going to visit old friends at Ineb-hedj and in the delta. And for good measure, we’ll bring Weret and Heria.”
“To visit their brother Lagus. Excellent idea, Iry,” Father said.
“Nebta will be pleased,” Mekatre said. “Heby’s never seen his grandson. She may even give birth at Farkha. It’s nearly her time.”
“Sabu won’t suspect our true purpose for going to the North when he learns the entire royal family’s going on a pleasure junket,” I said. “He certainly wouldn’t send his key officials away from Nubt if he thought we were preparing to launch an attack on him.”
Father nodded. “Iry, separate Pe and Dep from Sabu’s alliance quickly. Then hurry back to Tjeni. Bring Sety with you. I want you two to continue on to Nekhen. King Khab will surely give Sety entrée. Wean Khab away from Nubt too. Pledge your sister Weret to Khab’s son Kama if you must.”
“As long as Kama agrees to return to Tjeni.”
“Yes. Tell Sety to convince Khab it’s Horus’ will that he join us, or something along that line. Have Sety fake a dream that makes joining us inevitable if you must.”
I nodded. Many miles lay ahead of me. The stakes for my missions were enormous. I was glad Father had put both in my hands. Neither Lagus nor Mekatre were capable of pulling them off.
“After Nekhen’s allied to us we’ll invade Nubt,” Father promised. “Nubt will fall.”
“You’re not going to let Matia try to talk Nubt’s elites into abandoning Sabu?” I asked.
He shook his head no. “A waste of time. I’ve spared Nubt long enough. Time for it to taste my wrath.”
“And afterwards we can invade Nekhen,” Mekatre said.
“If necessary. Once Nubt’s mine Nekhen will have no choice but to pledge me fealty,” Father said.
“A unified South at a single stroke, Father,” I said. A building block for my unborn brother on the road to unification.
“I can’t wait to conquer Nubt and sit its throne,” Mekatre said cheerfully.
“Matia will sit at your side at first, Son.”
“Why?” Mekatre was instantly irritated. “I don’t want her interfering in Nubt.”
“You’ll have enough to do without worrying about internal dissent or rebellion, Mekatre. If the elites love Matia as much as she claims she’ll be able to keep them in line. Her status as my wife will make her your asset. Her role will be to publicly endorse your decisions – nothing more.”
I suspected Matia would spend most of her time trying to persuade Mekatre not to do anything stupid. He was a man who made snap judgments based on little or no information. He had no idea what it took to rule a settlement because he’d never done it. I’d learned much about leadership in the time I’d spent in Ineb-hedj. Listening to advice, taking counsel, compromising were all necessities. Mekatre was stubborn and obstinate and hasty and thought he had all the answers. He’d botched the only thing he’d ever been in charge of – preparing Tjeni for war. Matia was going to have her hands full.
***
“I’ll miss you while you’re in the North, Tamit,” Matia said.
I was walking with the two of them from Father’s room to the audience hall. Father was holding a banquet, the third in a row celebrating his marriage to Matia, one of a series of events designed to both provide cover for my mission and anger Sabu. A few weeks ago Sabu had sent Matia off to become King Ny-Hor’s wife; instead, she was now the wife of his enemy, the valley’s most powerful king. I supposed that somewhat compensated Matia for ending up in Father’s bed. A week and a half had passed since she’d arrived in Tjeni. She was mostly recovered from her escape. She’d spent her days with Tamit and our daughters and Nebta and my sisters and the last three nights with Father. Matia and Tamit had become fast friends, though Matia’s and my relationship was at most civil. I’d long ago gotten over how she’d hurt me; her deception was another matter. I didn’t trust her. Plus, her marriage to Father had cost me a shot at Tjeni’s throne, something I’d discussed with Tamit at length. But I hadn’t had to spend time with Matia, occupied as I’d been with making preparations and giving orders to the commanders who’d ready our fleet and army in my absence. According to Tamit, Matia had resigned herself to being Father’s wife. She was anxious for him to execute Sabu to avenge everyone he’d murdered.
“I can’t wait to see Ineb-hedj again,” Tamit said enthusiastically.
My brother and sisters and various wives and children and I had made our preparations for the journey; everyone’s baggage was already loaded on Father’s royal boat, the one Niay had constructed. We were going to leave at dawn.
Tamit pulled her unbound hair forward over her left shoulder. “I want to show my girls where I grew up. I want them to meet their uncle, my brother – maybe he’ll teach them how to carve ivory. I’m even looking forward to seeing the overseers I used to work with. I remember how excited I was the first time I got to sail on a boat through the valley. They’ll remember this trip their entire lives.”
“This is as far north as I’ve ever been,” Matia said. “I envy you, Tamit.”
“We hopefully won’t be gone for too many weeks,” I said. “We’ll have crewmen enough to row in shifts both with and against the wind to speed us north and back south.”
“I’m glad Mekatre’s going with you,” Matia admitted. “He doesn’t trust me.”
“He’s going to have to once he sits Nubt’s throne,” I said. “Father’s filled you in on your future role?”
“He has.”
“Get as close as you can to Nebta, Matia,” Tamit counseled. “She’ll help you keep him in line. He listens to her.” She took hold of Matia’s hand. “Mekatre will soften in time, Matia. He didn’t like me for a long time either.”
“Thanks for the advice.” Matia put her free hand to her throat. “No! The necklace Scorpion gave me yesterday… He expects me to wear it tonight. I left it in our room.”
“We’ll send a serving girl,” I said.
“Nonsense. I’ll fetch it for you,” Tamit said. “You two go on to the audience h
all. Father won’t like it if you’re late.”
“You’re sure? You don’t mind?” Matia asked.
“Happy to do it.”
“Be quick, My Love.”
We were nearly to the entrance of the hall when I heard a scream. Muffled. Blood-curdling. From the corridor lined with royal rooms. Tamit! I sprinted, fighting down dread. I reached the corridor in half a minute, sped past rooms with their doors closed. Father’s was open. I dashed inside. Moonlight streamed through the single window and cast a rectangle of light on the ground. Tamit was sprawled face down in a pool of blood, her golden hair spread around her like a halo, half of it crimson. A dark figure was crouching beside her. He swung around, knife in hand. I hurled myself at him with a loud cry, hit him in the ribs with my shoulder just as he rose. I felt his knife slice my shoulder. We crashed to the ground just beyond Tamit, slid, arms and legs tangled. I glimpsed the knife in his hand, grabbed his right forearm with both of mine. He grabbed my right wrist with his left hand. We rolled, struggled, me trying to avoid the blade, he pressing it relentlessly towards my chest with both hands. He was heavier than me and experienced. I was overmatched.
Matia screamed.
The intruder paused, startled. I brought my heel down just above the back of his ankle. I heard a snap. He screamed, released me, dropped his knife.
Two guards barreled into the room. They pulled the intruder off me.
More guards with torches.
Light fell on Tamit. I crawled to her. Blood was flowing from her neck. The floor was covered. I knelt in her blood, bent, put my lips to her ear. “Tamit!” No response. I touched her shoulder, then her cheek. No reaction. Tamit was dead. I rose to my knees. “Why her?” I cried to the gods, bereft, shaken, in shock. I covered my face with my hands, bent double. I felt Tamit’s blood on my face, mingling with my tears. I cried out again, my body racked with sobs. I heard people pressing into the room, gasps, curses. I fought to compose myself. More people. I forced back my tears. I straightened, took a deep breath. Gently, I rolled Tamit over, took her in my arms, cradled her against my chest, buried my head in her hair. I sobbed unashamedly. My Love taken from me in an instant. My Life.
Matia began keening. Women joined in.
I lost track of how long I held Tamit.
“By the gods!” Father.
The women fell silent.
I looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. His face was anguished. His arm was around Matia’s shoulders and hers was around his waist. She was crying.
I saw Weret and Heria beside them, in tears.
A guard moved a torch close to the assassin’s face. He was writhing on the ground, clutching his ankle with both hands. Another guard was pressing the tip of a lance against his ribs.
“His name’s Ameny,” Matia said, her voice cold. It sounded far away. “One of Sabu’s spies.” She moved away from Father and dropped to her knees beside me. “This is my fault, Iry.” Her tears splashed the ground. “Sabu ordered him to kill me. I’m sure of it! Ameny thought Tamit was me… I wish it had been! If I just hadn’t forgotten my necklace!”
I had no time for Matia’s self-pity. I tenderly kissed Tamit’s unfeeling lips, those soft lips that would never kiss me back ever again. I picked her up, carried her to Father’s bed, gently laid her on it. I crossed her hands over her chest, the hands that would never again touch mine. I brushed her bloody hair away from her face. I tried not to look at her neck but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to be sick. In a daze I straightened. I spotted the knife the assassin had used to kill my wife and picked it up. I strode to him. He was moaning. I grabbed the torch from the guard, held it close to Ameny’s face. I locked my eyes on his. Wordlessly, I slit his throat using my free hand, slowly, deliberately. He clutched his throat with both hands. He gurgled. I watched him die. Then I threw his knife against the wall, impotently. It clattered to the ground. I gave the torch back to the guard.
“Close the door,” I ordered.
Father was kneeling beside Tamit, his hand on top of hers.
What had to happen now was clear to me. I knelt beside Tamit, on the opposite side of the bed from Father and Matia. “Sabu surely has more spies here in the per’aa, Father. We have to make them believe Sabu’s assassin killed Matia. Otherwise, Sabu will try again. Tamit will have died for nothing. Nothing!” I slammed my fist against the bed. Then I leaned over and kissed Tamit’s brow. I straightened. “Don’t tell anyone about Tamit’s murder until after I leave for the North, Father. Wait until midday. Then announce that Sabu’s assassin killed Matia. Bury Tamit at Abdju, Father, in a royal grave fit for a king’s wife. Make everyone in Tjeni believe you’re grieving Matia’s death.”
“What’ll we do about Matia?” Father asked. “Hide her?”
“She has to go north with the rest of us in the morning, Father, has to board our boat while it’s still dark. If a spy’s counting bodies he’ll think she’s Tamit.” A sob escaped my throat and I took a moment to compose myself. “We can’t risk a spy seeing you here in Tjeni, Matia.” I addressed the guards and servants gathered in the room. “All of you are coming with me to the North too – I won’t risk anyone knowing what actually happened in this room and telling someone.”
Matia nodded dully.
“It shall be done,” Father said softly.
“Someone bring water and linen,” I ordered. I stared at the assassin’s corpse. “Drag that piece of garbage someplace else. After we’re gone burn him. Give him the eternal death.”
Everyone but my sisters and Father and Matia left the room then, sent by Father directly to our boat. Weret and Heria helped me wash Tamit and prepare her for burial. They both cried the entire time. I dressed her in her finest skirt. I placed the gold necklace I’d awarded her at Ineb-hedj around her neck, and the bracelets and armbands, and the golden girdle and anklets I’d given her since. I left the scorpion ring that she used to seal the Abdju warehouse on her finger. Then we arranged her body in the fetal position and wrapped her in lengths of linen, all but her head.
Helping our daughters tell Tamit goodbye was the hardest thing I’d done my entire life. Neith was only two and barely understood; Abar was five and took her mother’s death extremely hard. I’d never forget her heart-rending wail the moment she understood Tamit was dead. I kissed Tamit’s cold lips one last time, memorized her face, then Abar helped me wrap her head with linen while Father held Neith in his arms.
When we finished it was nearly dawn. Time to go. I stood up. Father set Neith down and I lifted both girls.
Father squeezed my shoulder. “I loved Tamit like a daughter, Iry. I will avenge her.”
I nodded. Then, carrying my daughters, accompanied by Matia and my sisters, I left the per’aa and strode the lightening street through Tjeni to the quay. Mekatre and Nebta were already aboard the boat, stunned, grieving. Once crewmen pulled the gangplank up behind us the captain barked an order and our boat moved into the channel. The current caught us just as the sun leapt above the rim of the eastern plateau and we began to drift north. Still holding my girls, I stood beside the railing until Tjeni disappeared in the distance.
“Goodbye, My Love,” I whispered.
***
Peret (Seed)
Matia
***
My heart went out to Iry.
He stood by the railing of our boat watching Tjeni disappear behind us, drawn and haggard and bereft, a line of dried blood where the assassin had cut his shoulder, his girls in his arms, his clothing and arms and legs stained with Tamit’s blood. Neith was asleep, her head resting on Iry’s chest. Tears were streaming down Abar’s cheeks. I wanted to go to them, to comfort them. I’d known horrible unexpected death too – I still saw Pabasa lying dead on the floor when I closed my eyes at night. Now I had another image to add to the gruesome gallery – Tamit sprawled in a pool of blood. But the girls had lost their mother and Iry his wife because of me. How could I face them ever again without reminding them I was the reason
she was dead and causing them even more pain? I was on this trip because of Sabu’s assassin. Would there never be an end to the trouble my brother would cause me and everyone who came in contact with me? Why hadn’t I simply taken matters into my own hands years ago and slit his throat in his sleep?
Iry sat beneath the pavilion amidships that entire first day in the hours his daughters were asleep, alone, tearful. He did his best to comfort them when they were awake, as did Weret and Heria and Nebta. I gave them all a wide berth, overwhelmed by guilt. No one had much to say to me. I could see in their eyes, in the way they tensed when I was near, that they blamed me for what had happened. Rightfully so. Tamit was dead because of me. Because Ameny had mistaken her for me. It was going to be worse once I returned to Tjeni and everyone in the settlement learned I was alive and Tamit had been buried in my supposed grave. I’d barely known Tamit, but in the week we’d spent together she’d treated me like a sister and I’d come to love her. Tamit had been a force of nature, with a kind word and a smile for everyone we’d passed in the per’aa or in Tjeni’s lanes. She was going to be exceedingly missed. I was going to be reviled.
Iry finally fell asleep from sheer exhaustion late in the afternoon. He’d washed, but he hadn’t changed his kilt; it was darkly stained with Tamit’s blood, and the assassin’s. Ameny… He’d originally been Pentu’s spy. He’d switched masters after Sabu stole Nubt’s throne. He’d obviously seen me in the per’aa but I hadn’t noticed him. If only I had… I dared not approach Iry to offer condolences. There’d been a distance between us when I arrived in Tjeni because of what had happened at Nekhen. Tamit had bridged that distance, but now she was gone and it was back, only wider. I knew how devasted and empty Iry was feeling – not because Pentu had been murdered in front of me, but because of my son.
In the weeks it took us to reach the delta Iry kept to himself when he wasn’t with his girls, weighed down by grief. It was obvious that if not for his girls he’d have fallen apart. He remained strong for them. Weret and Heria kept Neith occupied, but Iry spent hours sitting with Abar on his lap, simply holding her as if he’d never let her go. He spoke only one sentence to me the entire trip – “you’ll hand the mace to me, not Father, the day Sabu dies.”
House of Scorpion Page 42
