The Gardener and the Assassin

by Mark Gajewski

  So… many in the village had known about Sitmut and Mesedptah. Including my father and half–brother and stepbrothers. And my husband’s hypocritical younger brother. And these women. But no one had told me.

  The women joined the men to glad welcoming cries and began passing jars around. No one bothered with cups. A few men pulled squealing women onto their laps. Women who weren’t resisting.

  Tawerethetepti and Menat spotted me. Their husbands, Pentauret and Qenna, had been executed along with Mesedptah. Together they arrowed from the group of women to accost me.

  “You have some nerve, Neset!” Menat exclaimed. “Already staked your claim to Hay? Was it Naunakht’s idea for you to beat us here and seduce a wealthy old man?”

  “Worked well for her,” Tawerethetepti observed spitefully.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I carried water in the Great Place today. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Ignorance is your defense for everything,” Menat charged. “You had to know about Sitmut. If you hadn’t let her seduce your husband – if you’d kept him happy – he wouldn’t have turned to that loose–lipped child and gotten our husbands killed. We’ve lost our homes because of you!” Menat looked like she wanted to hit me. She eyed Hay. “But you’ve landed on your feet quite nicely, Neset.”

  “How can you say that?” I asked as calmly as I could. “Amennakht gave my home to Penanuke. My only possession is the skirt I’m wearing.” A filthy ruined skirt after today’s work in the Great Place.

  “Serves you right! See what you’ve brought us to?” Menat queried disgustedly. “We’ve no choice but to come to this drinking party tonight to seduce men into taking care of us. Otherwise, how will we live?”

  Hay regarded them with amusement. “Would it surprise you to know, Neset, that both of these fine self–righteous women were sleeping with Weserhat as well as their husbands?”

  I was shocked. “The man who planned the robberies?”

  “Weserhat slept with Taiunes too,” Hay added.

  “Nakhtamun’s wife?”

  “Probably even more,” Hay said.

  Were there no honorable men in Ta Set Maat? Were there no honorable women?

  “We’re used to husbands and lovers keeping us in style,” Menat said haughtily. She glanced at the men and women gathered around the campfires. “I’m going to figure out which of those men are thieves and convince one of them to be generous to me. Whatever it takes.”

  I was appalled. “You plan to steal from the justified pharaohs? After what just happened?”

  “They don’t need treasure,” Menat replied. “I do.”

  Ipi, one of the workmen, stumbled into our midst. He’d been eyeing me all day and I’d avoided him as best I could. He’d tried to seduce me several times during my marriage. A few times while I was tending his wife’s garden on his roof. Without warning he grabbed me and lifted me to my feet. “Come join our party!” he cried drunkenly.

  Repelled, I shoved him in the chest with both arms. He staggered backwards a few steps, tried to keep his balance, fell.

  Laughter rose from the campfires.

  Embarrassed, angry, I bid Hay a hasty goodbye and stumbled down the dimly moonlit path towards Ta Set Maat. But halfway there I realized the village could never be my home again. Facing my neighbors and my so–called friends day after day would be humiliating. I was a laughingstock now, or, worse, someone to be pitied, a fool. I had nothing. Everything in my house had been destroyed, and it had been taken away. I couldn’t impose on Naunakht’s kindness forever. I sensed that if I returned to the village tonight I’d never escape it. I’d inevitably be forced to stoop to Tawerethetepti’s and Menat’s level and give myself to some man just so I’d have a place to sleep and something to eat. I was rid of Mesedptah now; the thought of binding myself to another man like him was nauseating. No, returning to Ta Set Maat was out of the question. Best to make the break tonight.

  Fortunately, I had Grandfather. I turned onto the path that led to Djeme. After a long walk I passed through its entrance. Bright light and laughter and music and men’s and women’s voices spilled from windows in the tower rooms above my head. Since Pharaoh and his wives were in Pi–Ramesses I assumed Pentawere, the son who’d sentenced Mesedptah to death, must be hosting a party. I’d heard plenty of rumors about how wild they usually were; the noise confirmed it. I emerged from the tunnel under the rooms into the nearly deserted courtyard. To the right the ancient temple built by Thutmose; to the left Grandfather’s garden. I passed through the next gate. The first pylon of Ramesses’ temple complex rose before me. In front of it were seven figures impaled on stakes, indistinct in the darkness. Sitmut was easy to pick out; her body was so much smaller than the rest. I didn’t turn away. I looked at them for a moment, the sand below the stakes darkly stained with blood, then cursed them all for what they’d done to me. I turned left and walked past Pharaoh’s stables. A few horses whinnied and stamped their feet, settling down for the night. I turned right at the end of the stables, entered a lane edging the outside of the per’aa wall crowded with the huts of men and women who worked inside Djeme.

  Grandfather replied to my knock on his door.

  “I have nowhere else to go,” I said.

  Even though I was filthy and stank he wrapped me in his arms. “You’ll stay with me from now on, My Neset,” he told me gently. “You can take care of Pharaoh’s garden here in Djeme. You’re far better at growing plants than the gardener in charge now. You won’t encounter anyone from Ta Set Maat, either.”

  “Thank you, Grandfather.”

  We talked for several hours. I told him about my return to Ta Set Maat, my night at Naunakht’s, my experiences at the rest house and in the Great Place. Then, exhausted, I stretched out wearily on a pallet he laid for me along a wall, opposite his.

  “Tomorrow we’ll see about getting you some clothes and other essentials, Neset. But for now, sleep.”

  ***

  Shemu (Harvest)

  Pentawere

  ***

  “The entire world feared us when the third Thutmose ruled the valley,” I averred.

  Binemwese and Peyes and I were standing inside the fine stone barque shrine Thutmose had erected in Ipet–Isut nearly three centuries earlier to commemorate his many conquests. Binemwese, a Nehesyuian, born and raised south of the cataract, was captain of archers in the Amen Division, based here at Waset. Peyes served as deputy commander of Father’s entire army, subservient to my brother the fourth Ramesses, in charge of the men bivouacked at Pi–Ramesses in the delta – the Seth Division and the chariot corps and cavalry permanently, as well as the Re and Ptah and Amen divisions when the entire army rendezvoused to go on campaign. I worked closely with Peyes daily, for I was in charge of Father’s military workshops and facilities in the delta. Peyes had journeyed to Waset with me to arrange delivery of supplies from the massive storage magazines of the Ramesseum to restock those in Pi–Ramesses in preparation for my brother’s return from his current swing into Retenu with the Ptah Division. Because Ramesses hadn’t anticipated resistance from the towns in Retenu, he’d left the bulk of his army, and Peyes, behind.

  “The pylon we just visited, carved with three hundred bound captives? Each represents a town that surrendered to Thutmose when he led his army against Megiddo and its allies. It was his first campaign after his stepmother died and he regained sole possession of the throne she’d forced him to share.”

  “The woman who named herself pharaoh, Majesty?” Peyes asked.

  “Yes. After she died he erased her name and image from every temple in this valley.”

  “Thutmose knew how to wield power,” Binemwese said approvingly.

  “See this inscription? During the Megiddo campaign Pharaoh Thutmose captured six stallions, more than two thousand mares, close to two hundred foals, more than three hundred prisoners, nearly a thousand chariots, two hundred suits of armor, five hundred bows, almost two thousand cattle, more than
twenty thousand sheep – and the royal armor, chariot and tent poles of Megiddo’s king. And that’s just one of the campaigns he recorded in this shrine.”

  “Incredible!” Peyes exclaimed, studying the walls.

  He’d never visited Waset, much less Ipet–Isut. He’d been born and raised in Pi–Ramesses. I’d brought him on this trip with the specific intention of transforming our work–based relationship into a true friendship. I was determined to eventually transfer his loyalty from my brother to me, a step in my larger plan of gaining the loyalty of every one of the army’s top commanders. I’d given two parties in his honor so far. Binemwese had originally served Father as captain of archers in Wawat, the land south of the river’s first cataract. I’d had him transferred to the Amen Division two years ago and had subsequently gained his loyalty. Our friendship was strategic on my part – Binemwese had many acquaintances and comrades in the Far South that I believed might be useful someday to advance my ambitions.

  “So many campaigns, so many towns and cities,” I said. “Damascus, Hazor, Acco, Taanach, Rehob, Tyre, Gezer, Aruna, Sidon, Jebail, Yapu, Khalep, Carchemish, Qadesh. Thutmose’s empire stretched south into Wawat and Kush, and north and east to Retenu and Setjet and the land of the Mitanni. He received tribute annually from Keftiuh and Alashiya in the Wadjet Wer, and from great kingdoms – Babylon and Assyria and the Hittites. No king could afford to be his enemy.”

  “Pharaoh crushed the Mitanni at Khalep, moving there swiftly from the valley when he learned of their rebellion,” Peyes read from the record of one campaign. “Then His Majesty prevailed against these wretches…They fled headlong, falling one over another before His Majesty.”

  “From that day he received tribute from the Hittites,” I said.

  “Look at this one.” Binemwese summarized a long inscription. “Durusha, the cowardly king of Qadesh, organized a rebellion by the major cities in the north of Setjet, backed by the deceitful Mitanni. Pharaoh moved his troops by water. He landed and quickly moved on Tunip. After taking Tunip in a long siege he attacked Qadesh. He killed or captured all those who had risen against him. He executed the King of Qadesh. He returned to the valley in triumph.”

  I turned at a noise behind me. Hednakht, Vizier To’s chief scribe, had unexpectedly slipped into the shrine. He bowed to me. I was glad to see him. I’d been cultivating his friendship for years too. Vizier To was close–mouthed; Hednakht wasn’t. I’d learned much valuable information from him. I needed sources like Hednakht to keep tabs on what was happening at court. I was an inconsequential son. Father never told me anything.

  “I thought I saw you enter the shrine, Majesty.”

  “So you and the vizier have finally returned from Abu,” I chided. “About time. I had to take charge of a Great Kenbet the other day. Tomb robbers.”

  “The vizier and Pharaoh are still at the cataract,” Hednakht corrected. “I came back alone to look after things here in the vizier’s stead. Tomb robbing isn’t the only problem in this land, Majesty. Vizier To heard rumors the Northern vizier was planning a rebellion using mercenaries from south of the cataract. He and your father took swift action. As of a week ago, that vizier’s no longer a problem. To is now Pharaoh’s sole vizier. He’ll be traveling back and forth between Djeme and Pi–Ramesses from now on.”

  “There’ve been two viziers in the valley for centuries, one in the North and one in the South,” Peyes said. “Why would one rebel after all this time?”

  “The better question is why one hasn’t already,” I countered. I swept my hand around the room, indicating all four walls. “Thutmose campaigned outside the valley eighteen times in fifty years. By contrast, Father’s battled our enemies only three times in almost thirty – every single time on our soil. We’re defenders now, not attackers. My brother’s so–called campaign he’s currently conducting in the North? He’s marching a single infantry division around Retenu, trying to cow the rulers of small towns into sending Father tribute. The moment he’s back in the valley they’ll forget he was ever there.” I shook my head, exasperated. “All the towns and kingdoms that sent Thutmose tribute? None send us anything anymore. My friends, I burn to restore the valley to glory. I burn to rebuild Thutmose’s empire. If I led the army instead of my half–brother Ramesses this land would be far wealthier.”

  “Pharaoh doesn’t have enough resources to field an army of conquest,” Hednakht cautioned.

  “Impossible! There’s gold everywhere at Djeme, covering doors and flagstaffs and the decks of boats. And in all the temples around us in Ipet–Isut, and in Ipet–Resyt.”

  “Don’t let rich trappings deceive you, Majesty,” Hednakht cautioned. “Your brother’s army consumes significant resources, whether it’s stationed in Pi–Ramesses or traipsing about. Four divisions of foot soldiers, cavalry, chariots, support facilities and support personnel are costly to maintain. The treasury still hasn’t fully replenished what your father spent suppressing the two Tjehenuian incursions and the Sea Peoples’ invasion.”

  “The last was seventeen years ago, when I was only three. How can the treasury still be empty?” I queried.

  “Mostly because of too many low inundations the past two decades. When crops fail the treasury doesn’t refill.”

  “But still… this vast valley has seemingly limitless resources.”

  “If they’re spent prudently, Majesty. Do you have any idea how much it cost to send your father’s trade expedition to Punt? Or to the copper mines in the Sinai? Do you have any idea how much it cost to construct Djeme?”

  “I know it took a dozen years.”

  “Your father laid the foundation not long after he assumed the throne. The outlay was immense – more than forty boats built to haul stone and supplies, their crews, five hundred masons to quarry stone, three thousand men to construct the temple and fortress, farmers to grow the crops needed to feed everyone, fishermen, bakers, cooks, seamstresses, hunters, herders, washermen, scribes, overseers – you get the idea. Neither men nor quarries nor quays nor canals nor farms nor herds of cattle nor anything else required to erect Djeme materialized out of thin air.”

  “I barely remember it being built. I was so young when we stayed in its per’aa for the first time. Five years old, perhaps? I’ve never given its cost any thought.”

  “You should have,” Hednakht admonished. “That’s the difference between your brother Ramesses and you, Majesty – he may be a warrior, but he’s prepared himself to be an administrator too. Have you considered how many bureaucrats are scattered across the land that Pharaoh supports? Or how many ordinary workers labor at the Ramesseum and Djeme and the rest of the temples of millions of years along the river here at Waset, unloading foodstuffs and materials and moving them to storage magazines, or distributing them? Or how many sailors are required to transport everything and maintain the fleet? And then there’s Ta Set Maat.”

  “A nest of tomb robbers,” I said disgustedly.

  “An expensive but very necessary evil,” Hednakht replied.

  “How so, Scribe?”

  “Hundreds of craftsmen and their families reside in the village. Pharaoh provides absolutely everything they need to live – food, clothing, supplies.”

  “Even though they finished constructing Father’s tomb decades ago,” I interrupted. “Now they mostly work on projects that increase their personal wealth – tombs and grave goods for priests and officials in Waset and each other. I learned about that during the trial. Father still supports them even though – from what I’ve been told – they work on his projects only eighteen out of fifty days – if they aren’t absent for some reason or other. Why should they grow wealthy at his expense? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “They also construct tombs for your brothers and Pharaoh’s wives in Ta Set Neferu, though those take relatively little effort,” Hednakht said. “They work on temples and pylons in Ipet–Isut on occasion.”

  “Does that require an entire village? Why not get rid of them if they’r
e not doing anything particularly valuable to Father?”

  “Because their expertise and experience can’t be duplicated, Majesty. Their skills have been passed down from fathers to sons for generations. The day your father dies your brother Ramesses will begin his tomb. Taking time to identify and assemble and train new craftsmen would add years to the project. No pharaoh would find the delay acceptable – no pharaoh can count on his successor finishing his tomb.”

  “Maybe it’s not really as difficult to start from scratch as people believe,” I said. “Maybe that’s a myth perpetrated by village craftsmen.”

  “On the contrary, Majesty. It’s based on actual experience. When the heretic pharaoh created his new town in the middle of the valley, Akhetaten, he forced Ta Set Maat’s craftsmen to abandon their village and go with him. They built his temples and constructed royal tombs. The heretic’s son and successor, Tutankhamen, abandoned Akhetaten when he took the throne. He died a few years later. The craftsmen hadn’t been relocated back to Ta Set Maat. So a few were rushed here to hurriedly modify a small tomb where a pharaoh’s wife already lay in which to bury him. At the same time, the bodies of the heretic and his wives and children were moved from their tombs at Akhetaten to the Great Place. Because there were no craftsmen to excavate tombs they had to be placed into existing pharaohs’ tombs alongside their original occupants. Anyway, Tutankhamen’s is said to be the smallest and least–fitting tomb for a ruler in the Great Place. No pharaoh will risk that happening again.”

  “Yet every pharaoh risks the villagers robbing his tomb.”

  “Are you surprised men steal from the justified pharaohs, Majesty?” Hednakht asked. “Imagine how much wealth lies buried in the Great Place. Frankly, wealth your father could put to good use. Do you realize how many festivals he supports in this part of the valley alone? Sixty! Not only is everyone in Ta Set Maat and Waset and Djeme idle those days, but Pharaoh supplies food for the feasts and sacrifices for the gods.”