The Gardener and the Assassin

by Mark Gajewski

  Kairy sat down five or six feet to my right. He seemed unperturbed by the storm.

  “I’d say this is the most unusual situation we’ve ever found ourselves in, Kairy,” Ramesses observed. “Hiding from a storm in a tomb.”

  “Far more comfortable than sitting in a too–small patch of shade at midday in the desert, dripping sweat, Majesty,” Kairy replied.

  I’d felt more than a little guilty all day every time I’d glanced at Kairy. I hadn’t treated him very nicely after the confrontation with Bunakhtef. I supposed it was time to make things right. Perhaps if I did and made myself approachable he might someday let something slip about the plan to assassinate Pharaoh. “I didn’t thank you for rescuing me that night, Kairy. I’m sorry.”

  “Kairy rescued you?” Ramesses asked.

  “Not really, Majesty. My Lady had her situation under control before I came along.” He addressed me. “You were understandably preoccupied afterwards. Who wouldn’t be after being attacked?”

  “You were attacked?” Ramesses asked me sharply.

  “A disappointed suitor. That’s all, Majesty.” I didn’t want to go into details.

  “I happened to be passing by,” Kairy said. “I made sure he didn’t do anything stupid. That’s all. Or more stupid than he’d already done.”

  “You didn’t arrest him?” Ramesses asked.

  “I asked Kairy not to. I’d already scarred the man’s cheek with a blade.”

  Kairy laughed. “His own blade, Majesty. She snatched it from him.”

  “That was punishment enough,” I said.

  “I imagine if every man in the valley whose heart you’ve broken has a scarred cheek there’d be too many to count,” Ramesses said.

  “I fear you’re exaggerating, Majesty.”

  A clap of thunder reverberated in the tomb. I tensed.

  “Do the tombs on the west bank knolls contain scenes like those in this tomb?” Ramesses asked.

  I thought he was trying to divert my attention from the storm, which I appreciated.

  “Of pharaohs before the gods? No, Majesty. Those tombs belong to viziers and priests and nobles and mayors and craftsmen. And my grandfather. There are certainly scenes of the deceased making offerings before the gods. But, more commonly, the scenes depict their daily lives – their jobs, their families. Men carrying offerings of rations and furniture to temples. Picking grapes. Collecting what’s due Pharaoh and rounding up those who shirk their responsibility. Receiving and recording tribute. Hunting. Fishing. Supervising workers. Craftsmen practicing their craft – carpentry, bead making, gilding, weaving, sculpting. Brick making. Counting cattle. Harvesting and threshing and winnowing. There are scenes of banquets, funerary processions, funerary rituals, boat processions to Abdju. Ceilings decorated with grapevines, imitations of patterned weavings, the night sky dotted with stars. Dancers. Musicians. Offering bearers. Mourners. Charioteers. Sailors. Animals – giraffes, bears, elephants, horses, monkeys, leopards, lions, birds, all types of fowl, crocodiles, hippos, cats, fish, cattle. Dom palms, acacia and tamarisk trees, mandrakes, poppies, cornflowers, papyrus, lotus. Marshes, thickets, fields, the river.”

  “Have you constructed your tomb yet, Neset?” Ramesses asked.

  “I’ll share Grandfather’s. His walls are decorated with gardens and flowers and trees and plants. We’ll garden together for eternity.” And all that Pentawere has given me, I reflected, will accompany me – the jewels, the clothes, the perfumes and jars and chests. Some little part of him will be with me forever. A sudden overwhelming emptiness descended on me – the part of Pentawere I’d let myself dream of having, a child, was now impossible. We weren’t going to be married. I’d lost him. I was going to spend my life alone. When I died no one would mourn my passing. Then I felt the talisman against my chest. The talisman that had been handed down two hundred–forty times. It was my duty to pass it and the family stories on. Both couldn’t die with me. I was going to have to marry someday, take to husband a man I’d never love the way I loved Pentawere. How would I ever find a man as decent as him in a valley populated with men like Mesedptah and Bunakhtef and Ramesses and Kairy?

  Lightning struck just outside the entrance and for a moment the inside of the tomb was as bright as day, the figures on the wall seemingly alive. I let out a startled scream. Then we were plunged into darkness again just as a mighty clap of thunder shook the very foundations of the earth. I screamed again and grabbed Ramesses. Then I realized what I’d done and released him and moved back a bit.

  He took it in stride. “You recognized the correct chapters of the Book of Gates earlier. Is everyone in Ta Set Maat as knowledgeable as you about the sacred words?”

  “Many far more than me,” I replied, my heart racing. “If craftsmen don’t write the inscriptions on tomb and coffin correctly the deceased won’t gain eternal life. Almost all of us in the village are literate, Majesty, because our jobs require it.”

  “Even gardening?”

  I laughed. “Your father asked me the very same question the first time we met.”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  “The first husband of my neighbor collected papyri – tales of ancient pharaohs, recipes, magic spells, medicine, love spells – even dreams. I began caring for the garden on her roof after I was married – I was only twelve years old. She liked for me to read to her while she rested in the shade in the heat of day. I learned much.”

  Another loud clap of thunder, this time a little farther east. The storm was moving away, but slowly. The wind still howled outside; a fresh cool breeze swept deep into the tomb.

  “There aren’t storms like this in Ta–mehi,” Ramesses said.

  “I envy you, Majesty, that you know the valley so well. My life is so small compared to yours. I’ve only been away from Waset three times – once to Pi–Ramesses for your triumph, once to Mennefer for your father’s Heb–Sed, and once to Abdju for the Wag Festival. I’ll probably never travel the river again. But I’ll remember every bit of those journeys and what I saw along the way for the rest of my life.”

  “Ah! To be so young and innocent,” Ramesses said. “I envy you, Neset. I’ve spent far too much of my life away from the valley, on the desert, in Setjet and Retenu, fighting, protecting trade expeditions. Sometimes I’ve gone months at a time without seeing anything green – only rock and sand and stunted brown growth.” He chuckled. “And I’ve dragged my friend Kairy along every time.”

  “To places I never dreamed existed,” Kairy said. “You’ve made my life far richer, Majesty.”

  “What’s it like being a pharaoh, Majesty?” I asked. Somehow, in the near darkness, being impertinent was easy. Ramesses didn’t seem to mind, and I knew I’d never be in a position to ask such questions ever again. Plus, it was a chance for me to take his measure. Would he reveal his impatience to rule alone despite what he’d told me earlier?

  “Regimented,” he said with a sigh. “At least, when I’m not campaigning. My main duty is to ensure maat – divine order and justice – and prevent isfet – chaos. When I was a young man I immersed myself in ancient writings in search of old rituals because I wanted to understand the policies of the gods and because I was concerned with the proper way of approaching the divine. I also spent time observing kenbets to gain insight into judicial affairs. So now I attend the god in whatever temple I’m near at dawn and midday and sunset. After breakfast I go over letters with the vizier and chancellor. I listen to petitioners Father’s directed my way in either my small reception room or his large audience hall. I render justice. I plan temples and per’aas and fortresses. I receive ambassadors. I go over the reports of collections with the vizier and scribes. I make appointments. I reward the best of my soldiers at the Window of Appearances. I try to reign in the power of the priests. I attend festivals and banquets – the last aren’t so awful, of course. But once I’m sole pharaoh I’ll have no freedom at all. I’d never be able to do what we’re doing right now – wander off i
nto Ta Set Neferu and spend the day visiting tombs. I’m trying to take advantage of things like this while I can.”

  A pharaoh’s life sounded diametrically opposite the relatively unstructured one Pentawere enjoyed. It didn’t sound like one Ramesses truly cared for. He didn’t seem at all anxious to replace his father and entirely take over his duties. For the first time I couldn’t help wonder – had the falcon god really sent me my dream? Or was it just a random dream I’d embraced because I’d expected to have one after I began wearing the talisman? I’d been in a bad way the night I’d dreamed, grief–stricken, mourning Grandfather. That might have affected me and made me dream of death. Based on what I’d seen of Ramesses so far today, he seemed a far cry from a man who’d murder his own father without cause. Had I been misjudging him all this time? Had I needlessly planted suspicion about him in Pentawere’s mind? How was I supposed to know what was real and what wasn’t? My dream had seemed very real at the time. Now, suddenly, I wasn’t so sure.

  “It takes an army of bureaucrats to run the valley, Neset,” Ramesses continued. “The vizier and I lead them all – overseers of the treasury and livestock and granaries, scribes, the chancellor, the chief steward, the chamberlain, army commanders, general officers, high priests, the judiciary, the police, village chiefs and mayors and councils, vassal kings, viceroys and deputies. And, of course, royal children and relatives.”

  “And an overseer of gardens,” Kairy interjected.

  Ramesses laughed.

  “Tell me about your family, Majesty,” I said.

  “My wife, Duatentopet, is Chantress of the temple of Khonsu at Ipet–Isut.”

  “I’ve met her a few times,” I said. “She’s very beautiful.” No point mentioning she despised me.

  “She’s also my half–sister. Our son Amenherkoshef has two wives – Henutwati and Tawerettenru. Between them we have one grandson with another on the way.” He wiped his brow. “Father married me to my sister to ensure the purity of the royal blood, Neset. Unlike you and Kairy I didn’t have the freedom to marry just anyone.”

  “I had no say about my husband either, Majesty.”

  “It was arranged?”

  “A political marriage.”

  “They play at politics in Ta Set Maat?”

  “I was twelve and Mesedptah was thirty–two, Majesty. He was from the left work gang and my family was from the right. The gang foremen said our marriage would strengthen ties between the gangs.” I was glad neither Ramesses nor Kairy could see my face in the darkness, the distaste with which I recalled my husband. “He was an adulterer, Majesty,” I said bitterly. “He slept with many women in Ta Set Maat and even some of their daughters. I was too blind to see it. He fooled me for years.”

  “I can’t imagine doing that to a woman like you.”

  “Like me? I’m common, Majesty. Men and women laugh openly at me in Ta Set Maat because I was so blind and trusting.”

  “You’re intelligent, Neset, and not at all common. I see why my brother loves you.”

  Thunder rumbled, far away now. The sound of falling rain was diminishing. The light at the tomb entrance was brightening.

  “Pentawere told me about you once,” Ramesses said.

  “Really?”

  “We were at a party in Pi–Ramesses when I took my son there to be trained as a soldier. You were at that party, weren’t you, Kairy?”

  “I was, Majesty. Keeping an eye on the young Majesty.”

  “Pentawere told me he was in love with a fierce proud passionate woman. When he described you I realized I’d seen you with Father watering plants many mornings. Anyway, women had been throwing themselves at Pentawere all night. He hadn’t shown interest in any of them. I’d never seen him reject women before. I was astounded. I asked him why. He told me he’d found the woman he was going to marry.”

  So Pentawere had indeed been faithful to me, right up to last night, when he’d married the wretch.

  “If I was twenty years younger and didn’t love my wife I’d make it hard for you to choose between Pentawere and me, Neset. I’ve enjoyed your company today.”

  Not you too, I thought despairingly. Tiye hates me because she believes Pharaoh wants me. Do I have to worry about Duatentopet becoming my enemy now?

  “Since Pentawere’s married now, perhaps you should spend some time with Kairy and get to know him,” Ramesses said off–handedly.

  I sensed Kairy stiffen.

  I was stunned and embarrassed. And instantly suspicious. Why would Ramesses suggest I take up with another man, knowing Pharaoh had ripped Pentawere away from me just a few hours ago? A man he knew I loved and who loved me? Why Kairy? Was throwing the two of us together why Ramesses had ordered Kairy to remain when he sent everyone else who’d come with us this morning back to Djeme? Was a relationship between Kairy and me part of Ramesses’ plan to assassinate Pharaoh? This suggestion increased the odds that Kairy had been spying on me when he “rescued” me from Bunakhtef. Was Ramesses clumsily attempting to draw Kairy and me closer together so Ramesses could keep an eye on me through Kairy and somehow strike more easily at Pentawere when he moved against Pharaoh? Was Ramesses finally revealing his true colors?

  “My Lady deserves better than a common soldier, Majesty,” Kairy protested.

  An unexpected response. Any other man I knew would have taken advantage of Ramesses’ suggestion to immediately press me. Kairy hadn’t. He was clearly uninterested in me. So far, he’d never even spoken my name. Unless he was feigning reluctance. That might be part of his and Ramesses’ plan, to throw me off guard. I knew plenty of women who were drawn to men who took no interest in them – maybe Ramesses and Kairy thought I was that kind. Maybe the two of them had orchestrated everything that had happened today to set up this exact moment. At any rate, I had no interest in Kairy and I never would. My loss of Pentawere was far too devastating. I’d never love anyone the way I loved him. Certainly not this friend of the co–ruler.

  “Common soldier, Kairy? Pharaoh’s chariot driver and captain of his bodyguards? Perhaps someday commander of Pharaoh’s army? You’re not so common, my friend. Don’t you agree, Neset?”

  Even more embarrassing. “Of course, Majesty.” What else could I have said?

  Ramesses stood and helped me to my feet. “I believe the storm has passed. It’s time to get back to Djeme. I must attend to my duties.”

  “Me too,” I echoed.

  I reflected, the entire walk to Djeme, that Ramesses hadn’t seemed like a future murderer during our excursion today. Nor had Kairy. Yet there was something off about the two of them, too many seemingly unrelated yet complementary things that made me believe they shared a secret. I knew what that secret was, because the falcon god had warned me. They had no idea I knew – or that Pentawere knew. Knowledge was indeed power, I reflected. I kept my distance from Kairy as we made our way down the valley. After Ramesses’ suggestion, being near Kairy made me very uncomfortable. Although, it occurred to me when we came in sight of Djeme that I should perhaps cozy up to Kairy at some point. Even though Pharaoh had separated me from Pentawere, we were both still determined to save his life. Getting close to Kairy would be almost as valuable to our cause as getting close to Ramesses. What better way to discover what the two of them were up to? I’d have to give that some thought. If I did feign a relationship with Kairy I’d have to be circumspect about it. I’d have to wait a few months to initiate it too, so it’d seem I’d accepted my loss of Pentawere and moved on. A too–hasty acceptance of Ramesses’ suggestion would seem suspicious to Kairy, I was certain.

  Kairy had the grace to mouth “I’m sorry” when the three of us parted.

  ***

  Shemu (Harvest)

  Neset

  ***

  Early one afternoon about a month after the Beautiful Feast, Pharaoh visited the third Thutmose’s temple to dedicate the new garden I’d created. Pentawere had returned to Pi–Ramesses with his bride two weeks earlier. According to my girls, who’d
watched him depart, starry–eyed at the royal panoply, her entourage had occupied three entire vessels. I’d stayed away from Djeme that day. In fact, I hadn’t seen Pentawere even once since the night of his marriage. I couldn’t have borne it.

  Normally a dozen men carried Pharaoh in a palanquin when he traveled in the memorial temple district but today he arrived by chariot, wearing a fine white shendyt and a blue– and white–striped nemes headdress and a broad collar of gold and turquoise and carnelian. He was accompanied by bodyguards and a fan bearer and a host of scribes and other officials, including his brand–new vizier, Neferronpet. Vizier To’s body was currently with the embalmers, being prepared for burial. His death had been sudden and unexpected. The high priest of Thutmose’s temple and I greeted Pharaoh at the entrance of the garden. Pharaoh told the high priest and everyone else to wait and he and I entered the grounds alone. The high priest watched us, fuming, arms crossed, unhappy he’d been excluded from the tour. Hundreds of temple workers observed us from just outside the garden’s borders. I spent several hours guiding Ramesses on the winding stone–paved paths along channels and beside pools, sitting occasionally with him on stone benches beneath tall shade trees. I pointed out each type of plant and tree and flower, showed him the drawing I’d made of it at Akh–Menou, told him where on the east or west bank I’d located it. I explained my arrangement of the garden, how anyone approaching it on the canal that led directly to the temple would be drawn to the splash of color on the drab desert, that something would always be in bloom, that taller plants would not block the view of shorter. I showed him small statues I’d commissioned of Thutmose worshiping Amen and Mut and Khonsu and Hathor that were scattered throughout the garden, and an equal number of Pharaoh himself, the garden’s benevolent sponsor.