The Gardener and the Assassin

by Mark Gajewski

  “What are you making?” Neset asked a craftsman on the opposite side of the workshop.

  “Tiles for the per’aa,” he said. He was patting the paste into a flat shape.

  “Like the decorations in the room Grandfather and I are sharing.”

  “Some of my men hand–model beads,” the overseer said. “The rest press the paste into molds. This tray’s ready.”

  We followed the craftsman carrying it into the yard. He handed it to another craftsman who was arranging the molds in one of the kilns. It was nearly full, wood in place, ready to be lit.

  “We fire at extremely high heat, as you can tell from the other kiln,” the overseer said. He picked up a scarab from inside a clay container and handed it to Neset. “A gift for My Lady.”

  “Thank you!” she said with delight, cradling it in her palm. “Though I’m no Lady. Just an overseer, like you.”

  “I think you could be a Lady, if you set your mind to it,” I said as we walked to the next building.

  Neset’s brow furrowed slightly. “That would require me pursuing and marrying a courtier, Pentawere, which I’d never do, and him not objecting to a woman who spends her life on her knees in the dirt.”

  “I think you’d be surprised how little men object to when a fascinating woman’s involved,” I replied flippantly.

  “No, Pentawere. I can honestly say that nothing a man does surprises me.”

  A trace of bitterness in her voice. Why not, after the way her husband had disrespected her? It must have been wearying for Neset, being chased after by countless men before and during and after her marriage. Which, I admitted guiltily, I was currently doing. Still, Neset’s response was once again not what I’d expected. Most women I was acquainted with would have fished for even more compliments from me by protesting they weren’t fascinating, pressed me to tell them they were beautiful. Neset knew she was. But it seemed to me that she considered her beauty a burden, not an asset she could use to improve her status.

  “This is the bronze foundry,” I announced as we stepped into a vast yard. “It’s the most impressive workshop in the city. Definitely the most important.”

  Dozens of brawny sweaty workers were laboring beside blazing outdoor fires. Materials were piled everywhere, including large amounts of charcoal.

  “The copper ingots come from ancient mines in the Sinai,” I said.

  “The Terraces of Turquoise.”

  Another surprise. “You know about them?”

  “One of my family tales concerns a son of King Khufu who mounted an expedition into the Sinai to punish a band of Shasu who’d massacred his father’s copper miners and stolen their ingots.”

  “Did he? Punish them?”

  “He did. He slew all but two women, one of whom later married King Khufu. He recovered the copper too. Supposedly he carved a stela at the mine to commemorate his victory.”

  “I definitely want to hear that entire story, Neset.” I pointed to a stack of material. “That tin was imported from Keftiuh, an island in the Wadjet Wer.”

  We stepped out of the way of porters lugging copper ingots into the yard.

  “A cargo vessel must have just arrived in the harbor,” I opined.

  A few men were shoveling charcoal into the fires. A dozen more were operating leather bellows with their feet, making the fires in the forges burn hot. A precise mixture of copper and tin was melting inside crucibles stacked in the forges.

  “See those workmen?” I asked Neset. “When the mixture melts and turns into bronze they’ll lift the crucibles with tongs and pour the liquid into molds.”

  “What are they making?”

  “Scales for body armor, daggers, javelin and spear heads, arrowheads, chariot parts, visored helmets, khepesh swords.”

  “Pharaoh’s army couldn’t fight without what’s made in this foundry?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you’re in charge of it, Pentawere?”

  “This, and the arms factory next door.”

  “Then I think you should be honored in the triumph too, along with your brother.”

  “Father wouldn’t agree with you,” I said bitterly.

  “I’m sure the gods do,” Neset averred.

  “Unfortunately, the gods gave my brother command of Father’s army instead of me.”

  “Is that truly your dream, Pentawere? To command Pharaoh’s army?”

  “I burn to command, Neset.”

  “Maybe the gods find more value in what you do in Pi–Ramesses.”

  “Says the woman whose ancestors were bodyguards to kings and earned flies of valor in battle.”

  Neset unconsciously put a hand on my forearm. “Most of my ancestors were farmers and boat builders and craftsmen, Pentawere,” she said comfortingly. “Relatively few bore arms. They all had roles to play in this world and they played them.” She removed her hand. “Why is commanding an army so important to you?”

  “It’s not so much command as the ability to wield the army as I see fit, Neset,” I said earnestly. “You know better than most how great this valley once was. But we’ve become complacent since the time of Ramesses the Great. We wait for the Nine Bows to attack us now instead of subjugating them and bending them to our will and demanding tribute. Have you ever visited the shrine erected by the third Thutmose in Ipet–Isut and seen the list of campaigns he recorded on its walls?”

  “Of course, Pentawere. In fact, my ancestor Tjanuni was Pharaoh’s military scribe. He went with him on every campaign. He made that list.”

  “Thutmose pushed our borders all the way to Naharina. Everyone in the world bowed before us when he was pharaoh. That’s my ultimate ambition, Neset – to rebuild Thutmose’s empire. To make the whole world tremble at the mention of Pharaoh’s name.”

  “If that’s your heart’s desire, Pentawere, fight for it with every ounce of strength you have,” Neset urged.

  Surprising. “Everyone except Mother tells me I should be content with my current role.”

  “If I’d bowed to the opinion of others after Mesedptah’s death I’d be married to my cousin right now and he’d be reminding me daily I was beholden to him for the roof over my head and the food on my plate. I wouldn’t be an overseer. I wouldn’t know Pharaoh or you. So, Pentawere, I say – don’t let anyone place limits on you.”

  Add bright and wise and supportive to Neset’s numerous attributes. I was liking her more and more as the day went on. For the first time in my life I actually wanted to get to really know a woman. I’d never cared enough to try before. “How about you, Neset? Do you have any big dreams?”

  “I’m the widow of a tomb robber who oversees Pharaoh’s garden, wandering Pi–Ramesses with Pharaoh’s son,” she laughed. “I’m living in a dream at this very moment, Pentawere.”

  I led Neset into the arms factory. “Here’s where my craftsmen produce arrow shafts and flint arrowheads, and javelin and spear shafts for the bronze items we saw in the foundry, and wooden components for chariots, and helmets, and coats of bronze mail, and bows, and leather shields and quivers. We assemble all of the army’s weapons except chariots here.”

  Finished weapons were stacked everywhere, or stuffed to overflowing in large baskets and leather pouches. Numerous scribes were recording items as they were placed in containers.

  “Pharaoh’s army must be mighty if it needs so many weapons,” Neset said, clearly amazed.

  “Four divisions of infantry under overall command of my brother Ramesses. Cavalry commanded by my brother Amenherkoshef. Chariots. Archers.”

  “If you gained command of the army, if you went to war, I’d worry the whole time,” Neset said frankly. “I’d be afraid you’d be killed.”

  “You’d worry about me?”

  She colored. “I’d worry about all of Pharaoh’s soldiers.”

  A good recovery. But not good enough to disguise she was at least somewhat interested in me. Promising… “According to the stories you’ve told me, you come from a
line of warriors, Neset.”

  “Too many of them died young, Pentawere,” she replied. “Why risk your life if you don’t have to?”

  “For glory, of course!”

  “I can think of better reasons to die. Besides, it’s living pharaohs who raise temples and decorate them with their exploits, not dead ones.”

  I laughed. “Good point. But enough of this. Let’s visit my military facilities.”

  A short walk brought us to a large square, enclosed on three sides by stables and barracks and workshops. The fourth side abutted a large fenced field where my men were breaking several young horses.

  “That’s Pharaoh’s army?” Neset asked, wide–eyed.

  A massive camp lay just across the river from the square, sprawled for more than a mile along its far bank, comprised of hundreds of rough linen tents interspersed with the more substantial pavilions of the army’s commanders, surrounded by an embankment topped with a row of shields thrust into the earth. Hundreds of pennants atop poles fluttered in the fitful breeze, symbols of the various units. Some men were standing guard. Others were gathered around cook fires from which smoke was spiraling into the sky. Numerous small punts were drawn up on the riverbank, being loaded with soldiers. More were transporting soldiers across the channel from camp to city. A large number had already made the crossing, as attested by those we’d seen on our walk.

  “Four divisions of infantry to the right, cavalry to the left – though many of the cavalry horses are in the stables beside us.”

  “And chariots in the middle,” Neset said. “I had no idea there were so many chariots in the entire world. Or soldiers, for that matter.”

  The chariots were drawn up in a dozen lines, hub to hub. Men were working on them, no doubt cleaning them and seeing to any damage done during the recently concluded campaign.

  “These happen to be the chariot works,” I said, ushering Neset into the first building. Men were busily assembling three vehicles side by side. “The bronze and wooden components come from the workshops we just visited – poles, collar pieces, yokes, fasteners. There’s a leather works nearby that makes harnesses and reins and whips and attachments and such. Did you know the Chiefs of Foreign Lands introduced chariots to the valley? And horses?”

  “I did,” she said.

  “Their chariot wheels had four spokes. Ours have six. More durable. And ours are lighter. Much more maneuverable.”

  Nearly every man in the building greeted me respectfully.

  “Your men seem to love you,” Neset said.

  “I treat them well. But believe me, they’re as bored as I am. Keeping them busy and happy is a challenge.”

  A charioteer approached, deferential but not meek. One of Ramesses’ men. He had the look of a soldier recently returned from campaign, skin sun–darkened, gaunt, bone–weary. “Majesty?”

  I recognized him, vaguely. “Your name?”

  “Kairy, Majesty. Your brother sent me. Two dozen chariots he took on campaign need repairs. Cracked wheels and beds, broken harness and the like. Nothing too serious.”

  “Deliver them here,” I said. “We’ll get to them in a week or so.”

  “Very good, Majesty.”

  “Did you go on campaign with His Majesty?” Neset asked.

  Kairy seemed to notice her for the first time. “I did, My Lady. I drive his chariot.”

  Neset didn’t seem impressed. Kairy didn’t seem to care.

  “Where did you go?” Neset asked.

  “Through Retenu into Setjet and back. An expedition lasting three months.”

  “Did you fight great battles?”

  “No, My Lady. We visited numerous towns. His Majesty demanded tribute. Wretches complied. They had no choice. He had an army. They didn’t. His Majesty will present their offerings to Pharaoh during the triumph.”

  Triumph indeed! The word infuriated me, though I didn’t show it. I was still furious Father had forced me to organize the event. Give me the army and I’ll give Father reason for a true triumph.

  “Will you drive His Majesty tomorrow?” Neset asked.

  “Yes. But I must be going,” he said brusquely. “I have duties to attend to. Majesty. My Lady.” He left.

  I led Neset from the chariot works into the adjacent stable complex. It was empty. The horses were being exercised.

  “There are six stables in all, Neset. Each is forty feet long and contains a dozen rooms. Together, they house four hundred–eighty horses.”

  “I’ve never seen that many in one place in my entire life,” Neset said.

  “See how the floor slopes? The horses’ urine flows down to the end. Craftsmen collect it and use it to dye cloth and soften leather. Gardeners use it to fertilize vineyards.”

  “What are these cisterns?”

  “The horses are tethered so that their droppings fall into them. That way we don’t have to clean the stable floors.”

  “Very inventive.”

  We exited the military compound and strolled towards the river.

  “Look over there. It’s the harbor used by traders.”

  It was crammed with boats coming and going and moored, lined with warehouses, busy with porters and scribes and overseers.

  “I’ve never seen so many large and amazing boats before.”

  “Amazing? You haven’t seen anything amazing yet. I’ve saved the most interesting part of Pi–Ramesses for last,” I said.

  “What?” Neset asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  A quarter hours’ walk through jam–packed city streets brought us to a fenced area at the edge of the island. We weren’t the only sightseers.

  “This is Father’s menagerie. Originally created by Ramesses the Great.”

  Neset rushed to the outer fence and found a vacant section and rested her elbows on the top rail. Separate pens contained lions and elephants and giraffes and gazelle and antelope and hippos. Men were tossing fodder into some, chunks of meat or pieces of fruit into others. A few boys were shoveling dung. The lions were sleeping, most of the others grazing. An elephant trumpeted and startled Neset. Instinctively, she grabbed my arm, then, embarrassed, released it.

  “Except for the hippos, the rest of these animals were captured outside the valley,” I said. “They all used to roam here but they’ve been hunted to extinction.”

  “My ancestor Tjanuni recorded a hunt the third Thutmose went on in Setjet during one of his campaigns,” Neset said. “He killed one hundred–twenty elephants in a single day. One almost killed him. A friend saved him from certain death.”

  “I hope Pharaoh richly rewarded him.”

  “He did. And the ancestress I told you about before, Amenia? She witnessed the slaughter of an elephant at Nekhen to accompany its ruler to the Afterlife more than two thousand years ago.”

  “I wouldn’t have wanted to dig that grave,” I laughed.

  “Or wrap its body with linen.” Neset looked long at the animals, then turned to me, eyes shining. “I’ll never forget today, Pentawere. I’ll remember every moment for the rest of my life.”

  Her gratitude made me feel particularly wonderful. “In that case, I hope you’ll let me give you even more to remember on this trip. Sit with me tomorrow night at the banquet in honor of my brother.”

  Her smile faded. “As much as I’d like to, Pentawere, I can’t.”

  Sobering. “Why not?”

  “You heard your mother last night. There are high–ranking women clamoring to be with you. She wouldn’t stand for it if I showed up with you.”

  “I’m not afraid of my mother.”

  “I am.”

  “Why?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “Name one.”

  “I met her a few weeks ago when I was placing flowers in the tower room at Djeme. She didn’t like me.”

  “Why not?”

  “She thinks Pharaoh’s interested in me. All his wives do.”

  “Is he?”

  “As I said earlier
, we talk. Pharaoh enjoys my company. It’s never gone beyond that, and it won’t.”

  “Then your excuse for not attending the banquet with me is pretty flimsy. Tell me the truth, Neset. Don’t you like me? Are you grasping at reasons to avoid me?”

  “It has nothing to do with you, Pentawere.” She colored. “I do like you.”

  A promising admission. “What’s the real reason?”

  Neset took a deep breath. “I’ve never confessed to your father that my husband was a tomb robber. I’m afraid of what he’ll do to me and Grandfather if he finds out.”

  “You’re afraid Mother will tell him.”

  “Yes.” Neset sounded miserable.

  “Mother doesn’t know,” I assured her. “I’m certainly not going to tell her.”

  “I’m sorry, Pentawere. I can’t risk it. I can’t go to the banquet with you.”

  If she’d been any other woman I’d have accused Neset of playing hard to get. I’d learned enough about her today to know she wasn’t playing. “I won’t insist. But I won’t let you miss the opportunity to attend a royal banquet, either. You must come. Sit with your grandfather if it makes you more comfortable.”

  “I’d like to. Believe me. But I don’t have anything presentable to wear. It’s enough that you’ve taken me on this wonderful tour today, Pentawere. It’s memory enough for me.”

  We walked back to the per’aa, mostly in silence. I made no further attempt to change Neset’s mind. There was no sense irritating her. Add stubborn to her list of attributes. But I was determined she’d attend the banquet with me, and that she’d spend the night with me afterwards. I’d learned a few ways to break down a woman’s defenses over the years. I was prepared to use all of them on Neset.

  ***

  Early the following afternoon I joined the rest of my family in the reviewing stand beneath a sunscreen set up in front of the west face of the Temple of Amen to witness my brother’s triumphant return to Pi–Ramesses. A long street led west from the temple to the landing place across from the military campground. Sailors had been transporting soldiers across the river all morning and they were now assembled there, restlessly waiting in the hot sun. Ramesses’ men would march up the street towards us, then turn to our right onto a street that ran parallel to the front of the temple. Spectators lined the streets along the parade route a dozen deep on both sides. Nearly everyone in Pi–Ramesses had gathered to witness today’s spectacle, plus all the visitors. I had no doubt the event would come off without a hitch. I’d spent a month planning it in meticulous detail and had put my best men in charge of it. I’d spent the morning checking the final arrangements and I’d just arrived at the temple, hot and sweaty and thirsty. I slipped into a chair next to my mother in the row to the right of Father’s throne and beckoned to one of the serving girls and she poured me a cup of wine and I quickly emptied it.