The Gardener and the Assassin

by Mark Gajewski

  “Your father, Pharaoh – life, prosperity, health – made me overseer of his garden at Djeme, unworthy as I am,” I said humbly. “He requested that I transfer these flowers, his favorites, back to Djeme.”

  “You must have captured Father’s heart then, Neset, for I know of no woman that he’s given such a position.”

  The same thought expressed by Ramesses’ wives the time I’d been with them in the tower room. Were they all seeing something I wasn’t? “I think it more due his respect for my grandfather, Meniufer, who’s served him since his first war against the Tjehenuians.”

  “Don’t dismiss your attributes so lightly, Neset,” Pentawere said. “Father’s a lusty man. He has wives and concubines enough to prove it. He surrounds himself with beauty.” His eyes swept over me again. “Though beauty isn’t exactly the right word to describe you. Unique, perhaps. Or magnificent.”

  I blushed a third time, very unusual for me. Pentawere was a bold man, not afraid to speak his mind. But what royal would have to be circumspect around a woman like me anyway?

  Greetings were called from Pharaoh’s group and both Pentawere and I looked that way. Several men were joining those gathered under the palms. Torches were flickering to life too, their bases being set in the ground near Pharaoh by servants.

  “It’s my older half–brother, the fourth Ramesses,” Pentawere said distastefully. “Back from the North. He commands Father’s army. The man with him is Ashakhet, the Greatest of Craftsmen. He’s high priest of Ptah in his temple at Mennefer.”

  Ramesses seated himself next to his father. Tiye immediately rose.

  “Mother can’t stand Ramesses,” Pentawere said.

  “Why?”

  “She’s adamant that I should succeed Father, not him.”

  Tiye began wading through the greenery towards us.

  I quickly swiveled around and faced Pentawere, kept my back to Tiye, tried to make myself seem as small and insignificant as possible, hoping she wouldn’t recognize me.

  “I’m ready to leave, Pentawere,” Tiye announced from a few paces away.

  Pentawere stood. “Go on ahead, Mother. I’ll join you in a moment.”

  Tiye addressed him sternly. “Really, Pentawere. If you haven’t talked this serving girl into sharing your bed by now you’re not going to. Why waste any more time on her? There are dozens of high–ranking women in the per’aa clamoring for your attention. You’re embarrassing yourself with this one. She’s not even that pretty. You can do better.” She clapped her hands together. “Come along, Son,” she ordered imperiously. “Now!”

  What was it with these royal women? Now I was supposedly trying to get my claws into Pentawere as well as his father? A man I didn’t even know? Why was I so threatening to Pharaoh’s wives? It was infuriating that she believed I’d fall into bed with Pentawere simply because he was paying attention to me. Though he did have a reputation for being irresistible to women. It apparently hadn’t crossed Tiye’s mind that her son might be talking to me with no ulterior motive. But I was in no position to defend myself from her preconceived notions. Tiye hadn’t recognized me and I wanted to keep it that way, given her obvious dislike of me that evening in the tower room.

  “Sorry about that,” Pentawere said in a low voice after she’d swished away. “Status means everything to Mother. She has strong ideas about who I should associate with. Not ideas I necessarily agree with.” He sighed. “Anyway, I shouldn’t keep her waiting.” He took a step, stopped. “Has your new husband come with you to Pi–Ramesses, Neset?”

  I laughed lightly. “I’m not married, Majesty.”

  “Really? No man has staked a claim to you? After so long?” He seemed genuinely surprised.

  “No.”

  “No one’s tried?”

  “I didn’t say that, Majesty. I’ve been approached so many times I’ve lost count, beginning the night my husband was executed. But my marriage was horrible. I don’t intend to become subservient to a man ever again. The freedom I have now to come and go as I please suits me.” Though that freedom couldn’t last forever. Someday Grandfather would pass his talisman to me. Then it would be my responsibility to pass it and the family stories on to my child. Though I wouldn’t necessarily need a husband to have a baby. At any rate, I intended to grasp my freedom tight as long as possible.

  “You’ve captured my heart, Overseer Neset,” Pentawere said dramatically, giving me a sweeping bow. “I’d never try to make you subservient.” He laughed. “I wouldn’t risk your fists.”

  I laughed too.

  “Have you visited Pi–Ramesses before, Neset?”

  “No, Majesty. I’ve never been anywhere but Waset.”

  “Then I shall personally give you a tour of the capital tomorrow. I’ll call for you first thing in the morning.”

  “You shouldn’t… Your Mother…”

  “Don’t worry about her. I insist.” He didn’t look like he was going to take “no” for an answer.

  “That’s very kind of you, Majesty,” I said. “Very well. I look forward to it.”

  Pentawere smiled, then hurried after Tiye. He caught her at the garden’s fringe. She glared at me one last time – I assumed it was a glare; I could barely make out her features in the gathering gloom. Thank the gods she hadn’t been close enough to overhear my final conversation with Pentawere. She’d have scuttled our plans in an instant. Me, invited on a tour of Pi–Ramesses by a son of Pharaoh? It was easy to guess why he’d asked. He’d apologized earlier for his mother denigrating my status, not for accusing him of wanting to sleep with me. He was obviously attracted; his compliments had been genuine. But why would a man as important as him stoop to be with a woman as low–ranking as me? Tiye had flat–out said it – Pentawere could have any woman in Pi–Ramesses he wanted. Tonight he apparently wanted me. I was more than a little intrigued by the prospect of spending time with him – what woman wouldn’t be awe–struck by a son of Pharaoh? At least one good thing had come out of our encounter – as long as I was in Pentawere’s good graces he probably wasn’t going to tell Pharaoh about Mesedptah. Grandfather and I were safe. For now. As long as I didn’t do something to offend Pentawere tomorrow. Or Tiye.

  I finished digging up the rest of the flowers, all the while replaying in my mind my discussion with Pentawere. He’d made an unexpected impression on me. I should have been tongue–tied because of his rank, but he’d put me so much at ease we’d conversed like two normal people. But his words had been practiced, honeyed. I wondered how many women he’d used them on, how many conquests he’d recorded. I was aware of his reputation in Waset and on the west bank, one seemingly well–deserved according to the gossip whenever Ta Set Maat’s women gathered. I scooped water from the canal and dripped it onto the plants in their baskets, over and over, almost in a trance. I couldn’t help picturing Pentawere’s broad chest, muscled arms and legs, keen eyes. How many of the women who’d fallen under his spell had let their minds roam freely as I was doing now, imagined themselves a concubine or even wife of a pharaoh’s son, living in a per’aa, adorned with fine clothes and jewels and perfumes? I caught sight of my reflection in the water and laughed out loud at myself. I certainly wasn’t one of them. I was a simple woman, a commoner, a gardener with dirt under my fingernails, skin burned dark by Re, my skirt barely presentable, out of place in this fine per’aa among the royal women who lived here. I was smart enough to see behind Pentawere’s words. I assumed after our tour tomorrow he’d want to spend an hour or two in bed before he discarded me for someone more appropriate to his rank. That was something I had no interest in. I wondered how I was going to get out of it without putting Grandfather and me at risk for our livelihoods. How might a rejected son of Pharaoh retaliate? I never should have agreed to go on a tour with him. Although, perversely, I really wanted to.

  Finished with the flowers, I summoned a nearby servant and told him where to deliver my reed baskets. He returned with several more servants and they carried the flowe
rs towards my quarters. Then I crossed the garden to where the royals were gathered. I slipped unnoticed to a place on the ground beside Grandfather. I leaned against his legs.

  Vizier To was discussing the army’s upcoming triumphant return. As he droned on about what would happen in what sequence and why two days from now I studied Pharaoh’s newly–arrived son, the one Tiye and Pentawere despised. The fourth Ramesses was in his early forties, much shorter than Pentawere, perhaps five and a quarter feet tall, wiry and lean, nearly bald. There were creases around his eyes, as if he spent much time scanning desert vistas. He exuded an air of quiet authority, which I assumed he must have if he commanded Pharaoh’s army, yet there was about him a clear deference to his father. To me he looked more like a farmer than the land’s co–ruler; if I’d seen him on the west bank I’d have passed him by without a second glance. Pentawere, on the other hand, would stand out in any crowd and never be taken for anything less than royal.

  I noticed Ramesses surreptitiously glance at me several times. Each time he looked away quickly when our eyes met. I seemed to be affecting him the same way I affected Pentawere and most other men. He didn’t affect me that way at all.

  ***

  Akhet (Flood)

  Pentawere

  ***

  I called for Neset at the small room crowded with baskets of plants she was sharing with her grandfather in the per’aa. She was waiting for me, obviously nervous. Naturally – I was Pharaoh’s son and she wasn’t far removed from being a serving girl, as Mother had disparagingly called her last night. Yet, for some reason I couldn’t explain even to myself, I was drawn to her in a way I’d never been drawn to another woman. I could already picture Neset in my arms, practically feel her lips pressed fiercely against mine – had been since we’d parted yesterday evening. I could scarcely wait to ignite the fire that burned inside her – I’d seen it firsthand when she attacked her husband during his trial. I had every intention of experiencing that fire several times before the celebration of my brother’s triumphal return concluded a few days from now. Of all my conquests, I expected Neset to be one of the most memorable.

  Her dress was linen, probably her finest, though utilitarian and well–worn. I’d have to do something about that. Her only jewelry was a protective limestone scorpion on a chain around her neck. Her long red slightly curly hair was unbound and shining and fell just below her shoulders. Her lips were inviting, and her cheeks dimpled slightly and her eyes lit up when she smiled. That I’d stumbled on Neset in Pi–Ramesses after searching fruitlessly for her at Waset seemed ordained by the gods. How else to explain it? Yes, for the rest of her stay in Pi–Ramesses she was going to be mine.

  Both Neset and Meniufer bowed to me. I noticed a few bowls and platters on a table. One set held crumbs, one was untouched. I assumed the later was Neset’s. She’d been too nervous to eat. Good – I had affected her. The room was small but colorful, the walls decorated with plants, mostly. It seemed fitting for two gardeners.

  “This per’aa was originally built by the first Seti, about a century ago,” I told Neset as we exited the southern entrance into bright sunshine. “He used it during the summer. Ramesses the Great expanded it when he made Pi–Ramesses his capital.”

  “Grandfather told me that’s Avaris on the other side of the river, the capital of the Chiefs of Foreign Lands,” Neset said, pointing south.

  “Mostly ruins now. Though part of Pi–Ramesses has spilled onto its turtlebacks.”

  A boat sailed past us up the channel, sail billowed by the wind.

  “How do you know about those heathen, Neset?”

  “Several of my ancestors fought against them at Avaris,” she replied proudly. “Drove them from the delta. Their story’s been handed down in my family.”

  I did a quick calculation. “For more than four hundred years?”

  “Yes, Majesty.”

  “Tell me about those ancestors.”

  “Really?”

  “I love tales of military exploits, Neset. And I don’t know as much about that war as I’d like.”

  “As you wish, Majesty. The story begins with my ancestor Kanufer and his son Pimay. They were bodyguards of the second King Seqenenre Tao. My family has a long tradition of protecting pharaohs. Anyway, he ruled only the South, from Waset, as his predecessors had for about a century. The Chiefs of Foreign Lands held the delta and were allied with heathen south of the cataract, trapping us between two enemies. Apophis, ruler here in Avaris, was a cunning man. He portrayed himself as our friend – he married his daughter Herit into the royal family in Waset to lull our people into complacency. In actuality, he had designs on ruling the entire valley. One day he sent a messenger to Seqenenre Tao, demanding that he slay the sacred hippopotami in Waset – Apophis said their roaring was keeping him awake here in Avaris.”

  “He must have had amazing hearing.”

  “Simply an excuse by Apophis to provoke a war. He got one. King Seqenenre moved north and Apophis moved south and the two armies collided somewhere near the foot of the delta, around Mennefer most likely. In the swirl of battle, Seqenenre and Kanufer and Pimay became separated from the rest of our army. They were surrounded by wretches. One smashed the king in the jaw with a club. Seqenenre toppled to the ground, screaming in agony. Pimay killed that wretch. At almost the same instant a different wretch ran Kanufer through with a spear. He died instantly. Another wretch speared Pimay in the ribs. He crumpled to the ground three feet from the king, badly hurt. Seqenenre rolled onto his back. Pimay watched helplessly as two wretches hacked at the king’s living body – one speared him to the right of his right eye, the other struck him with an axe on his right temple and at his hairline. The king was conscious until the final blow. The triumphant wretches stripped King Seqenenre of his weapons and clothing and jewelry and crown and ran off. Luckily for Pimay, they didn’t check to see if he was dead. They were too busy celebrating their victory. Pimay lay on the battlefield the rest of that long hot day, bleeding, watching wretches execute our wounded, drawing ever closer to him. The moment it was dark enough he thought they wouldn’t see him he crawled for nearly a mile to where the remnants of our army were huddled, leaderless and lost. Several comrades bound Pimay’s wounds. Even though he was very weak and in great pain, Pimay harangued his fellow soldiers until four volunteered to return with him to the battlefield to recover Seqenenre’s body, and his father’s.”

  “Why? What was the point of going back?”

  “Pimay had taken a sacred vow to protect Seqenenre, Majesty,” Neset replied. “To him, that meant not letting Seqenenre’s body fall into barbarian hands, for his ka would be lost forever. Plus, he believed the king had saved his life by holding the attention of the wretches. Pimay and his men had barely returned to the bodies when they saw enemy soldiers scouring the battlefield by torchlight, turning over the dead and closely examining them. From snatches of conversation – Pimay had learned the enemy’s tongue years before when he’d served the king as a spy within the walls of Avaris – he determined the enemy commander had ordered his soldiers to bring him King Seqenenre’s body. Probably to hang it in triumph from Avaris’ walls. Pimay ordered two of his volunteers to carry the king’s corpse to our lines. He remained behind with the others, all three armed with bows, retreating slowly, positioning themselves between the wretches and the king, prepared to fight if they were detected. Fortunately, everyone made it back to our lines. The army began its retreat at daylight, bringing the king along. He was buried properly at Waset. He was apparently a horrible sight – his body partly decomposed, his face frozen in a scream, his arms and legs twisted, horribly mutilated.”

  “What about Kanufer?”

  “Pimay had to choose between recovering the king’s body and his father’s, Majesty. There weren’t enough men in his party to do both with wretches approaching. So he chose the king. He left his father’s body and ka to the wretches. He did recover a falcon–shaped talisman that Kanufer had worn on a chain arou
nd his neck. That talisman is the most precious heirloom of my family. Kanufer was the two hundred–twentieth person to wear it. It belongs to my grandfather now. He’s the two hundred thirty–ninth talisman bearer.”

  “Who told you all this?” I asked, equal parts skeptical and intrigued.

  “Grandfather. He learned the family stories from his father, and he from his, and so on, going back to the original talisman bearer, Aya, more than four millennia ago. The talisman has been passed on along with the stories, either to the eldest or most deserving descendant.”

  “I suppose the talisman will be yours someday?”

  “Yes, since my mother’s dead and I was her only child. Grandfather was her father.”

  “Fascinating, Neset. Go on with your story.”

  “Pimay and his son Waty fought alongside Seqenenre’s successors, for the war Apophis started lasted three decades. King Kamose was the first successor, Seqenenre’s son. Kamose’s courtiers were content to let wretches hold the delta and the lands south of the cataract. Kamose wasn’t. He moved his army north. Before attacking Avaris, though, he had to deal with Teti, a man who ruled Khmun in the middle part of the valley, a man who’d collaborated with the Chiefs of Foreign Lands. According to the story, Kamose was ‘on Teti like a hawk’ and his soldiers were ‘like lions with their prey.’ After defeating Teti, Kamose lay siege to Avaris, where Apophis was hiding behind his obviously stout walls.” She pointed to their ruins. “Kamose’s men devastated the surrounding fields and villages trying to starve the enemy out. Kamose got so close to Apophis’ per’aa that he could see the harem women looking down at him from their roof. He used the women to send taunting messages to Apophis, but even his concubines couldn’t shame Apophis into coming out of his fortification to fight. Instead, Apophis sent a messenger south to try to convince the king of Kush to come to his aid. Pimay captured that messenger on the trail that cuts across the great bend in the river north of Waset. The message he was carrying urged the king of Kush to attack Kamose from the rear and promised to divide the towns of the valley with him. Kush never attacked because its king never received the message. Unfortunately, King Kamose’s army was not strong enough to capture Avaris that year. So, having secured his northern border, he returned to Waset, having won a battle but not a war.”