“Isn’t it amazing?” I asked. “Our current pharaoh uses the same symbols Narmer used – crowns, sticks, maces, distinctive royal dress.”
“On all these objects the king is always larger than everyone else and sits on a throne and is accompanied by servants and standard bearers. Every figure is drawn and posed exactly like today – that’s how ancient the style is that our craftsmen still follow.”
“I wish I knew as much about these objects as you two do,” Kairy said.
“The palette used to be carried in front of Narmer in processions,” I said.
“As it will in front of Pharaoh tomorrow during the ceremony,” Ani said. He gazed at me. “How would you like to carry it, Neset? I believe I can arrange it with the high priest. It seems rather fitting, given your talisman.”
“I’d be honored.”
***
Beketaten and I were up at dawn to arrange our flowers. We’d spent the night in Ani’s hut near the temple where flowers had been stockpiled. He’d slept there too, since he had to be at the temple very early, though Kairy had returned to his farm. After we gathered our baskets of flowers from the storeroom, Ani volunteered to lead us to the oval court. I suspected he was driven to help by an interest in Beketaten. The two of them had stayed up long after I’d gone to bed, talking. She looked like she hadn’t gotten much sleep.
We followed Ani out of the town gate onto the wadi path, all three of us burdened with multiple baskets. After walking a short distance west we reached an oval of packed clay, surrounded by the rotted remnants of what had once been a wood and reed fence. Inside the fence was a ditch from which thousands of white bones poked.
“Animals sacrificed over the centuries,” Ani told us. “Usually the oval’s drifted over with sand and the bones are covered, but we’ve swept it clean for today’s ceremony.”
We walked halfway around the oval.
“These foundations along the wall were from workshops, where skilled craftsmen created objects for Nekhen’s elite, and to barter throughout the valley, and for commoners to offer to Horus.”
We passed through what had once been the court’s magnificent entrance. A very tall weathered pole still stood beside three empty holes that had probably once held similar poles.
“This was the gateway,” Ani said. “At one time banners flew atop all four poles. There was a sunscreen in front of them, over the court’s entrance.” He pointed to one end of the oval. “That’s the dais where Pharaoh will be crowned. That’s where the flowers go.”
“What’s that?” Beketaten asked, pointing to the opposite end of the oval where a very thin pole leaned precariously.
“Before the oval was abandoned it was topped with a copper falcon,” Ani said. “Stories say travelers on the river could see the falcon shining from miles away. Commoners deposited their offerings to the god at the pole’s base during ceremonies.”
We crossed the court to the three–step stone dais. It was shaded by a brand–new sunscreen and held two elaborate and richly decorated thrones we’d brought with us from Djeme – one representing the delta and the other the upper valley. Two large sunscreens shading leather–bottomed chairs flanked the dais on either side – those on the right for the royal family, the ones on the left for important officials. Common Nekhenians would stand in the body of the court, baking in the harsh sun. The three of us spent the next hour arranging garlands and bouquets and loose flowers. Finished, I stepped back. I believed Pharaoh would be pleased with what we’d done.
I perched on the top step. Beketaten and Ani joined me.
“When Tiaa first arrived at Nekhen this was the settlement’s celebration grounds,” I told them. “It was a simple flat oval of packed clay where people gathered to honor the falcon god. It was outlined by the ditch where they dumped the carcasses of animals they’d sacrificed. Five hundred years later, when Tiaa’s descendant Amenia bore my talisman, Nekhen’s ruler transformed these grounds into a formal sacred space. He brought stone from the cataract and erected this dais. He enclosed the oval with a wood and reed fence that his craftsmen plastered and decorated with brightly painted images.” I swept the oval with my eyes. “Picture it, Beketaten. A festival day. Three thousand farmers and herdsmen and brewers and fishermen and craftsmen and their families tightly packed inside this oval court, sweating in the hot sun. The ruler sitting on a throne atop this dais, the elites from Nekhen and surrounding hamlets in chairs flanking both sides. Thin wooden poles topped with the standards of those hamlets and Nekhen’s elite families stuck in the ground behind the throne, a visual display of the ruler’s might. A herdsman leading a bull to the front of the crowd. The ruler descending from the dais, sacrificing the bull to the falcon god by slitting its throat with a flint knife, a young girl collecting its blood in a bowl as it dies. Commoners piling offerings of food and drink and flint figurines at the base of the falcon pole, their personal offerings.”
“Is this where Amenia was sentenced to death?” Ani asked.
I nodded. “She escaped because Nykara dug through the mud–brick wall of the hut she was being held in and rescued her and the rest of her family. And because, as you said last night, the ruler’s wife, Abar, set the funerary halls atop the terrace on fire, drawing everyone’s attention away from the prisoners.”
“For which Abar was personally executed by her husband a few paces in front of us,” Ani said.
“It’s spooky, knowing our ancestors lived here so long ago, that many of them are buried here, that their kas are all around us,” I said solemnly.
Ani concurred.
The ceremony later that day was an endless and solemn affair. I reverently carried Narmer’s palette through the center of the crowd a few steps ahead of Pharaoh, accompanied by priests censing it and chantresses – many of them Ani’s nieces – reciting ancient prayers and shaking menat necklaces. I stood beside the dais as Pharaoh was crowned by High Priest Nebmose with a vast variety of crowns, and then received the fealty of officials from this part of the valley. But my mind was elsewhere, absorbing the sights around me, recalling my family stories, thinking about my ancestors who’d once worshiped in this very court.
***
I sat one evening after the royals returned from the progression with Ramesses and Duatentopet and the Osiris–pharaoh’s widows, Iset and Tyti, in the tower room atop Djeme’s gate where I’d talked with the justified pharaoh so many early mornings. Like the other women in the room, I wore a form–fitting linen sheath that covered me from just below my breastbone to my ankles, held up by two wide straps, with a mantle draped over my shoulders. The mantle concealed the scar where Mayernu had stabbed me the night of Pharaoh’s assassination. I sat next to the wide window. A gentle cooling breeze washed over me. In the distance I saw the river beginning to change color along with the setting sun, the palms casting long shadows across the fields, lights appearing in distant Waset, a few boats with tall white sails moving slowly upstream. A small boat came up the canal and docked next to the royal barque in Djeme’s harbor. Immediately men descended its gangplank. No doubt scribes from the North with messages for Pharaoh.
Vizier Neferronpet appeared in the doorway, a roll of papyrus tucked under his arm. “Majesty.”
Ramesses acknowledged him and the vizier took the chair at his side. A serving girl poured Neferronpet a cup of wine. He took a long drink.
“Have you had word from the priests?” Ramesses asked.
“Yes. Ten days more and the mummification will be complete. Your father’s body has been with the embalmers for sixty days. They’ve removed his internal organs, dried him with natron, washed him. Soon they’ll begin wrapping him from head to toe with fine strips of linen and placing the protective amulets among the layers, all the while chanting appropriate spells, preparing him for eternity.”
“What sort of amulets?” I asked, fingering the talisman dangling around my neck.
“There’ll be hundreds,” the vizier replied. “A golden vulture, many
scarabs – including one they’ll place upon his heart – the Eye of Horus over the incision where his internal organs were removed and another over the wound in his neck…”
“To restore it?” I asked.
“Yes. Another amulet in the shape of two fingers over the left side of his pelvis, djed pillars, staircases, knots of red jasper, papyrus flowers on stems of green feldspar, headrests, was scepters, carpenter’s squares, mason’s plummets, body parts, every animal and god you can think of. Made of gold, stone, semi–precious gems, faience, bone and glass.”
“Will you participate in the wrapping, Husband?” Duatentopet asked.
“Yes. Then, soon after Father’s buried, we’ll hold my coronation ceremony making me sole pharaoh, not just co–ruler. And then the valley will be fully my responsibility.”
I could tell it weighed on him.
“You ruled at your father’s side for years,” Iset said. “You’re well–prepared.”
“Perhaps, Mother. But there’s so much to do. From now on my life – and yours, Duatentopet – will be structured by the ceremonial formality of the court and the cults of the gods.”
“When you’re not traveling to some festival,” Tyti interjected. She ticked them off on her fingers. “Opening the New Year, festivals of Thoth and Hathor and Sokar, Festival of Intoxication, the Opet, Festival of the Departure of Min, Days of the Demons, Beautiful Feast of the Valley, Ascension to the Throne and Coronation, Birth of the God–Pharaoh, Temple Founding, Running of the Apis Bull, White Hippopotamus Hunt, Climbing for Min.” She laughed. “They do consume much time.”
Ramesses turned to Duatentopet. “The life as Chantress of Khonsu you’ve known is over. Once I’m crowned you’ll take over from Mother as God’s Wife of Amen.”
She smiled. “And you’ll attend the god each morning. An honor and privilege, but from now on your dawns will be spoken for.”
“Unless I have to leave Waset and campaign against the Nine Bows,” Ramesses said. “Most pharaohs do at the beginning of their reigns, because our enemies love to test us to see what we’re made of.”
“I understand Kairy will command your chariots, Majesty,” I interjected.
“That seems a great deal of responsibility for a simple driver, Son,” Iset said.
“Kairy’s far more than a driver, Mother. He’s a master of strategy and tactics. He always knew exactly where I needed to be on the battlefield to direct and rally my men. He’ll continue training Amenherkoshef as well.”
“The Falcon in the Nest must be well–trained,” Vizier Neferronpet said. “The remnants of the Sea Peoples who dealt the Hittite Empire a death blow have gained strength in the Northeast. We may have to fight them again. It’s why the justified pharaoh enclosed Djeme within a fortified wall – no other pharaoh ever had to do such a thing to his temple. If those heathen continue to expand, trade and the payment of tribute from Retenu and Setjet will come to a standstill.”
“And so, for me, there’ll be no new temple of millions of years or new per’aa,” Ramesses said. “I’ll continue to reside in Djeme. What’s in the treasury is needed for more pressing tasks.”
I didn’t miss the glance that passed between Ramesses and Vizier Neferronpet. Had the valley’s power really eroded so much during his father’s reign? Was all the talk I’d heard at Pentawere’s parties true? Had Pentawere been right about using the army to regain the valley’s place in the world?
“Foremost of which is arranging for the digging of your tomb in the Great Place,” Neferronpet said.
“Wait a few days after Father’s funeral, then go to Ta Set Maat and set that in motion, Vizier,” Pharaoh said. “Take Neset with you. She knows who you should speak with.”
Vizier Neferronpet and I both nodded.
“Is there enough in the treasury to endow a funerary cult for your father?” Tyti asked, concerned.
“Of course, generous enough that priests will be able to provide offerings and libations every day of the year, especially during festivals. Though, frankly, I fear how powerful the priests of Amen have become. Giving them more resources is like throwing more wood on a fire.” Ramesses turned to the vizier. “Is the inventory finished?”
Neferronpet indicated the thick roll he’d brought with him. “The scribes have completed their chronicle of all your father did during his reign, from his first day on the throne to the day of his death.”
“All thirty–one years?”
“Yes. The three largest sections detail what he gave to the temples of Amen at Waset, Re at Iunu, and Ptah at Mennefer. He made them wealthy, Majesty – particularly Amen. Other sections contain an inventory of what he gave minor temples and an inventory of their wealth at the time of his death. A final section recounts conditions at the beginning of your father’s rule and his military campaigns.”
“What’s the scroll’s purpose?” Duatentopet asked.
“I’ll place it in Father’s tomb to extol his virtues to the gods, and mine for having created it,” Ramesses replied.
“It serves a practical purpose too,” the vizier told everyone. “The fact is, the Amen priests control more resources in the valley than His Majesty.” He addressed Duatentopet. “We’ll be relying on you to counter their power as God’s Wife of Amen once His Majesty is crowned. You will of course have estates and goods and servants and administrators of your own. God’s Wife is no empty title.”
“As I can attest,” Iset said.
“How much do the priests control?” Duatentopet asked.
“Amen’s? One–eleventh of the valley’s land and one–fifteenth of its population.”
His words hung in the air. I’d had no idea the priests were that powerful.
“I’ll use all the resources I have to support my husband,” Duatentopet assured the vizier. “But who will succeed me as Chantress of Khonsu? Who can we count on to look out for Ramesses’ interests with that priesthood?”
“One of your brothers’ widows?” Vizier Neferronpet asked Pharaoh.
“One of your son’s wives would be better,” Iset counseled. “Surely either Henutwati or Tawerettenru would be suitable.”
“I’m not sure I trust another family member after what happened with Tiye and Pentawere,” Ramesses said. “Dare I tempt any woman with power? Especially two who are so young? What are they? Eighteen?” He sighed. “Besides, if I choose one wife the other will hold it against me. I don’t want to create unnecessary discord in my family.”
“Why not Neset?” Duatentopet suggested. “She’s demonstrated her loyalty to you. She has the scar to prove it.”
I could scarcely believe my ears. That Duatentopet would support me for such a post… Our relationship had dramatically changed since I’d saved Ramesses’ life. The woman practically treated me like a sister now. She’d spent hours each day at my side in my sickroom immediately after the attack, and more in the garden and in the tower room since, and on the progression. “Majesty, you honor me greatly,” I said to Duatentopet. “But I’m a gardener. Chantresses are the wives of priests or from the upper classes. I’m not worthy or fit to succeed you.”
“You’re fit to be anything you want to be,” Ramesses said, gazing at me thoughtfully. “Father believed that. You’re educated. You know the sacred texts. You’ll look out for my interests.” He paused. “You bear the falcon god’s talisman, too, Neset. You’re favored by the gods.” He smiled at Duatentopet. “An excellent suggestion, Wife.”
“Majesty…” I began to protest.
“You’ll do this, if I ask?” Ramesses queried sharply, cutting me off.
“Of course, Majesty,” I said miserably.
“Then you’ll take Duatentopet’s place.”
I bowed my head. I couldn’t believe that I, a simple gardener, had just risen to such a lofty position. I wished Grandfather was alive to see. I realized a chantresses duties would occupy all of my time from now on. Someone else was going to have to take over for me as overseer of Pharaoh’s gardens. As w
ould have happened if everything had turned out differently and Pentawere had become pharaoh and I his great wife.
“Has the Great Kenbet been arranged to try the conspirators yet?” Ramesses asked Neferronpet.
“The trial will begin a week after we bury your father.”
“You’ve selected the judges?”
“I have. Two overseers of the White House, Mentemtowe and Pefroi. Your standard bearer, Kara. Five butlers – Pebes, Kedendenna, Maharbaal, Payernu, and Thutrekhnefer. Your herald, Penrenut. Two scribes – Mai and Peremhab.”
“You’ve passed my instructions to them?” Ramesses asked.
“I’ve stressed they’re to make sure they don’t convict wrongfully. But those who are guilty – I’ve told the judges that they shall levy just punishment – execution, or allowing the guilty to die by their own hand. Depending on their rank.”
Ramesses gazed at his mother and wife and the other widows. “The conspirators’ days are numbered.”
“Will you be involved in the trial, Son?” Iset asked.
“His Majesty will not,” Neferronpet said firmly. “One of his father’s wives and one of his half–brothers are implicated. Questioning may reveal that more close relatives were conspirators. When the time comes to sentence the criminals it’s better that His Majesty not have to decide between death and mercy. Judges will have full authority to assign punishment. His Majesty will not participate in the trial in any way whatsoever.”
“Except to watch them confess and die,” Pharaoh growled.
The Gardener and the Assassin Page 59
