I sat on the ground with my back against the embalming house, my knees pulled to my chest, my head resting on my knees. My friends hovered about for a while, then drifted off one by one. I sat for hours, imagining what was happening inside, wishing Grandfather was still alive. In the distance I heard the muted sounds of celebrations from the workers’ huts; for them this was a night of holiday, not desolation. I couldn’t make myself go back to my empty hut, not where everything would remind me of what I’d just lost. Not when I had to pass so many huts filled with joy and happiness to get there. Eventually I fell into a fitful sleep, troubled by horrible dreams. One of them jerked me to wakefulness. From the position of the stars and silence from the workers’ huts tonight’s banquet was long since over. That meant there was a banquet hall to empty of wilted flowers and redecorate. I rose and headed there. Work would be a blessing, take my mind off my loss.
By the light of a single torch I cleared the hall, dragging the remnants of bouquets and garlands and floral arrangements to the entrance and tossing them into the temple courtyard. Porters who’d served Grandfather and would soon serve someone else would arrive after sunup to dispose of them. I dropped my last armload on the pile, then crossed the courtyard and exited the temple. A gentle breeze cooled me. I supposed I was a sight – drenched with sweat, hair and skirt filthy and dusty, face caked with dried mud. I was surprised to see it was nearly dawn. In a daze, I wandered across Djeme’s courtyard to the tower room stairs, climbed them, mindlessly released the baffles to water the plants. There was comfort in routine. As the water flowed I rested my forearms on the windowsill and wearily gazed out the window. Sopdet was disappearing in the light of dawn, the harbinger of the beginning of the inundation at Abu in the South. The river would begin to rise here at Waset within the week, turning the valley into a virtual lake.
I was watering the plants set on the stairs in earthenware jars, lost in sorrow, when Pharaoh appeared.
“Majesty,” I said dully, bowing.
“You look awful, Neset!” Ramesses exclaimed, taking me in from head to toe. “Did you do this to yourself decorating my hall? It was magnificent, far better than I imagined.”
“No, Majesty. Grandfather died.” The words, said out loud, were like a knife plunged into my heart. I sank to a step, covered my face with my hands, started to sob.
After a moment Ramesses sat beside me and put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “I’m so sorry, Neset. He was a good man. I’ll miss him.”
Pharaoh held me until I realized the impropriety of what he was doing. What if Tiye happened on us right now? She’d be convinced she’d been right about Pharaoh and me. She’d take my position away. I couldn’t afford to lose it now, not with Grandfather gone. I slipped from under Pharaoh’s arm and stood. I brushed my tears away with the back of my hand.
“I’m sorry, Majesty. I forgot my place.”
“I put my arm around you, not the other way around,” Ramesses said. “Right now I’m your friend, Neset, not your pharaoh.”
I nodded. “Thank you, Majesty.”
“I want to do something to honor Meniufer,” Ramesses said decisively. “He served me long and faithfully.” He pondered for a moment, brightened. “My son Pentawere is coming to Djeme from Pi–Ramesses for the Epagomenal Days – in fact, he was supposed to be here yesterday morning. Once the holidays end I’m sending him to Abdju to represent me at next week’s Wag Festival. I recently erected a wall around Osiris’ temple and I want him to dedicate it on my behalf. Go with him, Neset. I’ll have a stela carved in Meniufer’s memory. Pentawere will help you place it along Abdju’s Processional Way so Meniufer will never be forgotten.”
My heart skipped a beat at the mention of Pentawere. Only a month since we’d parted after the Heb–Sed and I missed him more each day. I’d done what I’d had to do at Mennefer, vowing to never see him again. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done. I cared for Pentawere. I didn’t want to spend my life without him. Especially not now, after I’d lost Grandfather. I was completely alone in the world. Why had the gods made Pentawere royal and me a commoner? Why couldn’t they have made us equals? Why had they made our being together impossible?
“I’m extremely grateful for your kindness to Grandfather, Majesty,” I said sincerely. “He truly loved you and loved serving you.”
“I suppose this means I need to find a new overseer for my gardens,” Ramesses said practically.
Everything was going to be different for me from now on. I’d be working for someone else, someone who wouldn’t trust me and let me care for Pharaoh’s garden as I saw fit. My hard–won freedom was about to slip from my hands. But what could I do about it? “There are some very good men for you to choose from, Majesty,” I advised. “Grandfather’s overseers are all very experienced, particularly the one in charge of the fields on the east bank and the one who oversees distribution of flowers in Ipet–Isut, and the man responsible for the Ramesseum.”
“All good men, I’m sure,” Ramesses said. He looked up at me from his seat on the step. “But I choose you, Neset.”
“Me?” Had I heard correctly?
“There’s no one I trust more. Or would rather work with.” He stood. “I need to get to the audience hall as soon as I awaken the god. So many visitors during the holiday means twice as many petitions to hear as usual. I’ll inform Vizier To of your appointment today.” He took my head between his hands, bent, tenderly kissed my brow. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Neset. If you have need of anything, simply ask.”
I bowed. “Thank you, Majesty. For everything.”
Not long afterwards I met briefly with Grandfather’s overseers – they all gathered every morning near the garden to go over the day’s assignments. I informed them of my appointment, told them to carry out Grandfather’s plan for the holidays, then went to the hall to oversee preparations for tonight’s banquet. My responsibilities kept me too busy to dwell on my loss the rest of that long day, though I felt it every minute. Such grief was a new experience for me. I’d been too young to be truly aware of my mother’s death. Mesedptah’s had sparked anger and betrayal, not sorrow. Luckily, preparing for the banquet required all my concentration, the perfect distraction.
At sunset I finished my last checks and exited the per’aa, exhausted physically and emotionally.
“Neset!”
I turned. “Pentawere!”
He halted a few paces away, gazed at me uncertainly. After how we’d left things at Mennefer he seemed unsure how to act around me. “I just stepped off the barque,” he said. “Took a day longer than I anticipated to get here, thanks to the wind failing in the middle part of the valley.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. After such a horrible loss, the man I cared for. Despite my vow not to be with him ever again I rushed to him, embraced him. I lay my head against his chest. “Grandfather died last night,” I sobbed, my voice choked.
Pentawere wrapped his arms around me. “Oh, Neset. I’m so sorry.”
Men and women passed by, heading into the per’aa for the banquet. They all stared. I extricated myself from Pentawere’s arms. I’d had a lapse in judgment. I was so tired. I couldn’t let anyone see us like this. Especially not when I was so filthy and disgusting.
“I have to go,” I said abruptly. “You have to get ready for the banquet.” I glanced around. “Your mother’s spies… We can’t afford to be seen like this. We promised in Mennefer…”
“I’m not going to abandon you tonight, Neset,” Pentawere said firmly. “I’m walking you back to your hut.”
The hut I’d shared with Grandfather that was now mine alone. Everyone we passed along the way looked at us quizzically. Everyone knew who Pentawere was. That he was with me was news that would spread. Best to tell him goodbye outside my door so there’d be nothing worth reporting to Tiye. Only a man helping a grieving woman home. Even Tiye couldn’t object to that. I hoped.
We reached my hut. I opened the door and stepped inside. I spo
tted the food I’d laid out yesterday, untouched, Grandfather’s pallet, empty. Sorrow overwhelmed me. The hut that had been so full of life two days ago, now lifeless, haunted by memories. I turned, fell into Pentawere’s arms. I couldn’t bear to be alone. “Stay with me. My Love.”
***
Ramesses, fourth of his name, faced the judges of the Great Kenbet, their chairs arranged in a long row in Pharaoh’s audience hall. Hundreds of priests and officials and royals filled the hall, observing, angry. Ramesses was bareheaded, unadorned by jewels or signs of office. His hands were bound behind his back. The judges’ faces were stern and grim.
The chief judge rose from his chair, solemn. “You have been convicted by this Kenbet of murdering your father, Ramesses, third of his name – life, prosperity, health – justified. For this you shall die!”
Guards seized Ramesses. He resisted, loudly and fruitlessly proclaiming his innocence. They dragged him from the audience hall and out of the per’aa and temple into the dusty courtyard facing my garden where a tall thick pole had been set into the ground, the jeering crowd giving way before him. Wood was stacked knee–high all around the pole, darkly drenched with oil. The guards tied Ramesses with his back against the pole. He struggled desperately to escape, to no avail. The judge nodded. A guard tossed a lit torch onto the wood. It practically exploded into flame. The flames began to dance, higher and higher, to crackle.
Ramesses’ screams echoed inside Djeme’s walls.
I jerked awake. I cried out. I was drenched with sweat and gasping for breath.
“What’s wrong, Neset?” Pentawere was instantly alert.
I’d fallen asleep in his arms on my pallet. Dawn was breaking; a wan light filtered through the single window of my hut.
“A nightmare!” I disengaged from him, tossed the linen sheet aside, sat up. “The most awful nightmare ever!” I bent my legs and drew them to my chest. I felt Grandfather’s talisman against my knees and chest, an unexpected presence. I couldn’t stop trembling.
“You’re safe, Neset.” Pentawere sat up and put an arm around my shoulders. “It was just a dream.”
“It wasn’t! Something terrible is going to happen!”
He looked at me like I was possessed. “Lay down, Beloved. You’ve been through a lot. Go back to sleep. You need your rest.”
“There’s no time, Pentawere! We have to do something! Right now!” I was frantic.
“Do something about what?”
I swung around so I was facing him. I removed the talisman from around my neck and handed it to him. “This was Grandfather’s. Last night I slept with it for the first time.”
“So?”
“More than four millennia ago the falcon god cast this talisman from the sky in a fireball. He led my ancestress Aya to it. It’s been handed down in my family ever since. Two hundred thirty–nine of my ancestors have worn it.”
“It came from a god?” He was skeptical. “Really?”
“I don’t have time to explain. Take it on faith for now.”
“It does look old,” Pentawere said, rubbing the falcon–shaped object, not quite stone, not quite metal, with his fingers. “But what does it have to do with your nightmare?”
“The falcon god sends dreams to the talisman’s bearers. Those dreams always come true.”
“And you think he sent your nightmare?”
“I know he did! It was dreadful, Pentawere! I saw your brother Ramesses standing bound before a Great Kenbet. I saw them convict him of murdering your father. I saw him being burned alive in Djeme’s courtyard.”
Pentawere tensed.
“We have to warn Pharaoh!” I started to rise. “Hurry! There’s no time to waste!” I was still wearing my skirt. I hadn’t taken it off last night. Thank the gods I didn’t have to worry about getting dressed. “He’ll be on the tower stairs soon.”
Pentawere caught hold of my wrist. “Slow down, Neset. We need to think this through.”
“What’s to think about? I’ll tell Pharaoh what I dreamed. He can figure out what to do.”
Pentawere put his arm around me and pulled me close. “Stop, Neset. Take a moment. Calm down. Do you think Father’s going to believe anything you say if you run to him ranting and raving? Especially about my brother planning to kill him? As bedraggled as you look right now?”
Of course he wouldn’t. “Alright. But only a moment.”
“You said these dreams always come true?” Pentawere queried.
“That’s what my family stories say,” I replied. “And consider this, Pentawere. My family’s falcon god is now called Horus. Horus is the protector of pharaohs. Your father is the living Horus. This dream was sent so we could save Pharaoh. The two of us. That has to be the reason you were with me when I dreamed.” I couldn’t sit around and do nothing. I pulled away from Pentawere and stood up. “I’m going to Pharaoh right now. Come with me or not. I don’t care either way.”
Pentawere lunged and caught me by the hips and pulled me flat on my back onto the pallet and pinned my legs under his. And then, unexpectedly, he soundly kissed me. “Don’t you see what this means, you wonderful wonderful girl?” he asked gleefully. “I’m going to be Pharaoh. And you’re going to be my wife.”
I looked up at him, baffled.
“In your dream my brother killed Father and was executed. If that happens I’ll succeed Father.”
“We can’t let him!” I objected.
Pentawere put his fingers on my lips. “Of course not, Beloved. Luckily, thanks to your dream we know Ramesses is going to try. We’ll stop him, Neset – you and me, as you said. Father will execute Ramesses. He’ll name me co–ruler in his place. He’ll let you marry me out of gratitude for saving his life.”
“Do you really think so?” Hope was flickering to life.
“As you said, your god didn’t send your dream when I was with you by accident, Neset. He wanted me to know about it. You just said Horus protects pharaohs. Well, thanks to your dream, the two of us can be his instrument and protect Father.”
The falcon god had sent me my dream when I was with the only man in the world who could do something about it. I’d never been so relieved in my life, at that realization. Suddenly I remembered Tiye’s disparaging comment to me in the tower room – “How can you protect our family? By squashing insects?” Apparently, the god was calling me to do far more. “So what should we do, Pentawere? Tell Pharaoh so he can defend himself?”
“I think that would be a mistake,” Pentawere said thoughtfully. “If we accuse Ramesses, Father will summon him and accuse him to his face. Ramesses will argue your dream was just a dream, that no god was involved. He’ll twist it so Father will think the two of us are trying to overthrow Ramesses so I can take his place.”
Pentawere was unfortunately making sense.
“A dream with no supporting evidence is a pretty flimsy reason to accuse Ramesses of planning patricide. Why would Father believe us? Why would Ramesses do it anyway? Why not just wait for Father to die? He’s already co–ruler. He’ll be Pharaoh someday.”
“Maybe he’s tired of waiting,” I mused. “Ramesses the Great ruled for sixty–seven years. Your father’s only ruled for thirty. Maybe Ramesses isn’t content to wait another thirty. He’s already twice your age. All his older brothers are dead. Why has he lived so long when they haven’t? No rule or a very short rule – he may believe those are his prospects.”
“Let’s say your dream is a true prophecy, Neset. Let’s say Ramesses is planning to murder Father. If we accuse him without evidence he’ll drag us before a Great Kenbet. We’ll be found guilty of perjury. You’ll be executed for accusing a royal. I’ll be exiled. In the meantime, Ramesses will be warned he’s been discovered and he’ll continue to advance his plot, more carefully than otherwise. We’ll be out of the way. Who’ll try to stop him?”
I pressed my fingers to my temples. My head was suddenly pounding. I was confused and distraught. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Every point Pentawere ha
d made was valid. Sacrificing ourselves wouldn’t stop Ramesses or save Pharaoh. “What can we do, Pentawere?” I asked plaintively.
He rolled off me, propped himself on an elbow, brushed wet strands of hair from my face. “We have to catch Ramesses in the act.” He thought for a moment. “Here’s an idea. Father’s personal bodyguards accompany him everywhere. They watch the corridor that leads to his room in the per’aa at night. How about if I gradually replace those guards with men loyal to me? I’ll put them on alert. The moment Ramesses tries something they’ll stop him.”
“And until then we’ll both keep our ears open to catch any hint or rumor that Ramesses might be trying something. I have gardeners on both banks of the river. If they hear anything I’ll know it.”
“We’re agreed, then.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Pentawere’s plan was better than my initial impulse. He was right – by rushing to Pharaoh I would have warned Ramesses that we were on to him and kept him from making a mistake that might give him away. Well, we were on to him. But one thing was bothering me. I thought about the family stories, about the bearers who’d received dreams. “Pentawere, the dreams have always come exactly true. Maybe we won’t be able to change the outcome. Maybe Pharaoh is doomed.”
“Just because one hasn’t been changed in the past doesn’t mean we can’t change this one,” he replied. “And so we will.” Pentawere stood and gave me his hand and pulled me to my feet. He placed the talisman around my neck again. “Such a frightening burden for you to bear, Beloved.”
“But not alone. I’m so glad you stayed with me last night, My Love. I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.”
The Gardener and the Assassin Page 34
