The Gardener and the Assassin

by Mark Gajewski

  “I see the wisdom of silence,” Pharaoh admitted. “But what reason can we give for moving Neset from Djeme to her estate so no one will be suspicious of our motives, including her?”

  “During the trial Neset claimed she used magic. That’s reason enough to isolate her on her estate. Your courtiers’ fear.”

  “Excellent idea,” Pharaoh acknowledged.

  “I’ll make sure word spreads immediately,” Neferronpet promised. “As for you, Kairy, transport Neset from Djeme to her estate with considerable fanfare. We want His Majesty’s enemies to know she’s vulnerable.”

  “Yes, Vizier.”

  “Do not fail in this task, Kairy,” Neferronpet warned. “You must stop the kidnapping attempt and bring Pharaoh’s enemies to justice.”

  I was devoted to Pharaoh. I’d spent a decade in his service. I’d fought beside him in battle. I loved him. I’d pledged him my fealty. I truly hated that we were going to use Neset as bait without her knowledge or approval after what she’d already done for Pharaoh. But Pharaoh had spoken and so I had to dutifully carry out his orders, as always. “I understand the stakes, Vizier.”

  “The ultimate gamble,” Pharaoh said. He straightened and threw back his shoulders. “I’m sorry we have to use Neset. But I don’t see any other way to draw out my enemies.”

  “I’ll surround her estate with hand–picked men, enough to defeat a kidnap attempt but not too many to dissuade one,” I said. “I’ll send away the men and women who serve her there. No sense putting them at risk. Neset will need someone to keep her company and take care of her until her son’s born, so I’ll arrange for one of her girls to stay with her. As far as my guards, I’ll tell them we’re keeping Neset from escaping and using magic against the judges who convicted her.”

  Pharaoh gazed at us. “It seems we have a plan. May the gods grant us success.”

  “Yes, Majesty.”

  Pharaoh stood. “I’m going to bed now. These conspiracies are wearying.”

  Neferronpet and I left Pharaoh’s room together. As the door closed behind us he tugged at my arm. “If Neset and her unborn son should be accidentally killed during the kidnapping attempt, so much the better, Kairy. The Amen priests wouldn’t be able to blame us. Neset’s and the boy’s deaths would solve everything.” He moved on without a backwards glance.

  I didn’t like the vizier. I didn’t like how Neset’s life meant nothing to him. He was playing a political game, moving pieces on a board to counter Pharaoh’s enemies. He lacked compassion for real people. Well, Neset was real. She deserved better than what we were doing to her. I sensed I was going to have to watch my guards very carefully. I wouldn’t put it past Neferronpet to place an assassin among them. What better way to assure Neset’s accidental death? Enemies within and enemies without – the next six months were going to be very trying. Yet they’d been granted to Neset by Iset and the judges of the Great Kenbet. I was determined she’d live every single one.

  ***

  A little after dawn the next day I entered the small room in Djeme where Neset was being held prisoner. She was seated on her pallet. A platter beside her knee held a crust of bread and a half–eaten onion. A water jar was at her side. The pallet was the only item in the room. It didn’t even have a sheet. The room was hot and stuffy and Neset was filthy. Tears had left streaks of mud on her cheeks. Her hair was tangled. For the first time since I’d met her she looked lost and defeated. And scared.

  After how she’d saved Pharaoh, I couldn’t believe she was being treated so inhumanely. My heart went out to her. “My Lady.”

  She looked up, her eyes dull. “Neset. My days of being a ‘Lady’ are long past.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Why are you here, Kairy?”

  “I’ve been assigned to guard you until you give birth.”

  “You? You said Pharaoh was going to give you command of the chariot corps for saving his life. Why would someone with your abilities be assigned to guard a great criminal? Does Pharaoh fear I’ll try to escape?”

  “My wound is healing slowly. Traveling all the way to the delta wouldn’t be good for it,” I lied. “But we both know you’re not a ‘great criminal,’ Neset. You’re not guilty of anything. I once told you jumping in front of Mayernu’s knife was the bravest thing I’d ever seen. I was wrong. When you lied and sacrificed your life for Pharaoh in the Great Kenbet – that was unbelievably braver.” I gazed at her sympathetically. “Why did you do it?”

  “When the judges began questioning me I understood for the first time the true meaning of my dream, Kairy,” she replied earnestly. “The falcon god has always protected kings and pharaohs. The falcon god had showed me in my dream what would happen unless I stood up for Pharaoh. I understood for the first time that I was the falcon god’s tool to keep the line of the third Ramesses alive.”

  “You confessed to a lie, knowing it would cost your life.”

  “I did, and I would again. But you didn’t come here to compliment me, Kairy.”

  “No. I’ve come to transfer you from Djeme to your estate. That’s where I’m to guard you until… until it’s time.”

  “My estate?” She sounded puzzled. “Why?”

  “You proclaimed during the trial that you can wield magic, Neset.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I know. You said what you had to about the amulet Her Majesty gave you to convince the judges so they’d convict Tiye and Pentawere. But because you were so convincing no one in Djeme feels safe. They’re afraid you’ll cast spells on them.”

  “Everyone’s afraid I’ll cast a spell on them? Really?”

  I sensed her doubt. I wanted to tell her what was going on, that we were using her as bait to catch Pharaoh’s enemies. I was convinced she’d go along with the plan willingly, after everything she’d already done to save Pharaoh. But I’d been ordered not to, and I couldn’t defy Pharaoh. So I lied to her. “You know how superstitious courtiers can be.”

  “And, apparently, gullible.”

  I swept my eyes around the room. “I promise, you’ll be well–fed and well cared for on your estate. No more squalor. Beketaten will be with you until you give birth.”

  Neset glanced around the room. “I can honestly say I won’t miss Djeme.”

  An hour later we set out on foot for Neset’s estate. A dozen heavily–armed soldiers accompanied us, walking in front and back and on both sides of Neset. I led the way, slowly, for Neset was walking with halting steps. A week of deprivation had taken a physical toll on her. She looked disgusting. She hadn’t bathed since the morning of the verdicts. Her skirt was filthy, her body sweat–stained and dirty, her hair a tangled red mess. I’d tied her wrists behind her, but loosely, for show. She was barefoot. The temple courtyard outside the per’aa entrance was packed with people. Vizier Neferronpet had publicized that she’d be transferred, the first step in drawing out Pentawere’s followers. The moment spectators caught sight of Neset the jeers and curses and angry shouts began. I hated she was having to endure this. I ordered my men to hold up their shields protectively and draw their swords. Without them the crowd would have torn her apart. I couldn’t blame them for their reaction, after what she’d confessed to.

  The courtyard outside the temple was equally packed. Neset looked longingly at the garden she’d tended for Pharaoh as we passed. Then we slipped through the tunnel and out of Djeme. Another roar went up as we emerged; the area outside the tunnel was thick with people cursing the “great criminal.” I remembered how haughtily Tiye had acted before the judges, as if she’d had no reason to feel shame for what she’d done. But Neset embraced her role as criminal, reinforcing for everyone that Pharaoh hadn’t been involved in his father’s murder. She kept her eyes focused on the ground, her expression remorseful. One last thing she could do to keep Ramesses safe. Act the part of a defeated humiliated conspirator. Serve as an example to others who might try to wrest away Pharaoh’s throne.

  We trod the path she’d walked d
aily with her girls on the way to attend to her duties, followed by dozens of jeering spectators. This walk must have for her the feel of a leave–taking, I thought. The next time she walked this path she’d be returning to Djeme to face fire. I couldn’t get that picture out of my mind, hadn’t been able to since the judges sentenced her. The unfairness of it was galling, but try as I might I hadn’t been able to figure out a way to save her. It was fortunate the vizier and Pharaoh had agreed to extend her life for a few months. More than that was impossible.

  Less than half an hour after we left the per’aa we reached Neset’s estate. She and I passed through the garden gate. Guards blocked the gate behind us and spread out along the perimeter of her land, keeping the howling spectators who’d followed us the entire way at bay.

  The garden path was empty. I’d dismissed Neset’s servants the previous day. I pulled a knife from my belt and cut her bonds.

  Suddenly Beketaten dashed from inside the house and down the garden path to greet Neset. She hugged her tearfully.

  After a moment Neset released her and wiped her own tears away.

  “I forced Wabkhet and Nauny to leave,” I said. “They didn’t want to, Neset. But you need someone to take care of you. Beketaten absolutely refused to go.”

  “You have a life to live after I’m… gone, Beketaten. I don’t want you taking on my shame by helping me. I know how the villagers can be.”

  “I’m not a child,” Beketaten said stubbornly. “I’m not going to abandon you. Wabkhet and Nauny wouldn’t have if Kairy had given them a choice. My cousins don’t believe you did what they say you did. Neither do I.”

  “I appreciate your faith in me,” Neset said.

  “There’ll be no more talk about me leaving,” Beketaten admonished.

  “Thank you.”

  “Let’s get inside, Neset,” Beketaten said practically. “You need a bath and clean clothes and a good meal.”

  She led Neset up the path into her house.

  I went to station my guards around the perimeter. I felt the full weight of my new responsibility settle on my shoulders. It was up to me now to keep Neset alive and catch Pharaoh’s enemies and preserve his line. A daunting task. I thanked Neset’s falcon god that I’d been chosen by Pharaoh. I didn’t trust Neset’s safety to anyone else in the entire valley.

  1153 BC: 1st Regnal Year of Ramesses, Fourth of His Name

  Akhet (Flood)

  Neset

  I settled into the routine of my captivity. Beketaten bathed me each morning, prepared and served my meals, worked with me in my garden, entertained me every evening, talked with me constantly. She was determined to keep my spirits up. I feigned cheerfulness because she was trying so hard and I didn’t want her to feel she was failing me, even though every rising of Re marked one day less remaining in my life. The inevitability of my death hung over me like a cloud every hour of every day and every night, grinding me, wearing me down. I invariably awoke in the depths of night, trembling with terror. Some days I cursed Pentawere for betraying me; others I mourned the man I’d loved with my whole heart and had lost. I spent considerable time in my garden, always under the watchful eyes of Kairy’s dozen men. They ringed the outside of my estate, constantly patrolling, one group during the day, the other at night. Sometimes I couldn’t help laugh; who in their right mind thought a pregnant woman would be bold enough to try to escape her prison, or be capable of it? Occasionally I noted men watching from a distance, no doubt curious about the “great criminal.” When I saw them I retreated into the house where I could have privacy. I spent every morning working on my plan to restore my garden to its former glory. Beketaten and Wabkhet and Nauny would have to carry it out after I was executed; I wouldn’t live to see it planted. Early on I’d informed Kairy I wanted to leave my estate to the three cousins; he’d quickly arranged it with Pharaoh. I spent every afternoon in the shade of palm trees telling my family stories to Beketaten as I wrote them down. Kairy had provided me with papyrus and reed pens and ink for that purpose. At least my daughter Aya would have the papyri as she grew, the first of the original Aya’s many descendants who wouldn’t learn the family stories at night around a campfire from a parent. I’d done the test with emmer and barley and I knew I was going to have a daughter, my fourth. Beketaten had been thrilled. Kairy had looked at me strangely. They were the only two who knew. For some reason, Kairy had advised me to keep that information secret. As if there was anyone else to tell.

  My time on the estate would have been idyllic if the dark shadow of death hadn’t been relentlessly creeping closer. As my belly grew larger my time on earth shortened.

  “May I ask you something, Neset?” Kairy inquired one afternoon about a month after the trial as I was writing in the garden. Beketaten had gone to Ta Set Maat for the day to visit her cousins and Hay – he’d returned to the rest house after my conviction. She needed a break – the pressure of taking care of me by herself and knowing my death was inevitable was wearing on her too. Kairy had up to now kept a discrete distance from me as befit a jailer, though he promptly attended to any request Beketaten or I made. In fact, that he was in the garden at this time of day was quite unusual – he was normally asleep, for he patrolled the grounds during the hours of darkness. He stood before me now almost like a supplicant.

  “Of course, Kairy.”

  “Were you so certain during the trial that Tiye would sway the judges that you had to throw your life away?”

  I held it in his favor that he remained upset by my approaching execution. Though, given our shared past, it wasn’t surprising. “I couldn’t risk she wouldn’t. Especially after what I’d dreamed.”

  “Were you really that certain of your dream?”

  “If my family didn’t take our dreams seriously, your ancestors wouldn’t be buried in the rulers’ cemetery in Nekhen.”

  “Fair point.”

  “Do sit,” I said.

  He joined me on my bench. “How did you know you were supposed to save Ramesses and not Pentawere?” Kairy pressed after a moment. “Aya will be a descendant of the third Ramesses, just as the fourth is. If you’d let your dream play out, Ramesses would be dead and Pentawere would be Pharaoh and you could some day be the mother of a pharaoh. The mother of an equally legitimate line.”

  “I just felt in my heart that I was supposed to save Ramesses, especially after Pentawere committed murder,” I replied. “Besides, I’ve lost three daughters so far. There’s no guarantee Aya will survive her birth. For all I know, Pentawere’s line is going to fail. Meaning mine will too.”

  “I can’t believe the falcon god would be so cruel to you, after the way you unquestioningly carried out his will,” Kairy said. “He won’t let your line be wiped from the face of the earth after serving him for so many millennia.”

  “You have more confidence than me.”

  Kairy indicated a sheet of papyrus lying on the bench. “May I?”

  I nodded.

  He picked it up and scanned it. “One of your family stories?”

  “Passed from fathers and mothers to sons and daughters for thousands of years,” I said. “I won’t have that chance.” I looked away for a moment, wiped away tears that sprang unbidden to my eyes. That happened more and more often these days. The reality that I’d never see Aya grow up was beginning to haunt me. “These papyri are the only way Aya will know about her ancestors.”

  “So you do have some confidence she’ll survive.”

  I smiled slightly.

  “Would you mind if I read them?” Kairy asked. “At least, the ones about Nekhen?”

  “If you’d like.”

  “I promise I’ll keep these papyri safe for Aya, Neset. And tell her my family’s stories that intersect with yours too.”

  “Thank you.” A small kindness. But small kindnesses meant much these days.

  ***

  One evening, at dusk, during the second month of my captivity, Ani and Iput unexpectedly strolled up my garden path, accomp
anied by Kairy.

  I rushed – as much as was possible – from the veranda to greet them. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come for the Opet, and to procure supplies for the temple,” Ani explained. “My boat’s tied up at your quay.”

  “Kairy sent for me,” Iput said. “You’ll need a midwife and I’m Nekhen’s best. Plus, he said Beketaten could use some help.” She glanced at my stomach. “How much longer?”

  “About four months. What about your girls?”

  “Tiaa’s watching them. They’ll be fine.” She embraced me. “I’m so sorry for what you’re going through, Neset,” she said sympathetically. “Kairy wrote us how you sacrificed yourself to save Pharaoh. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you being treated like a criminal when Pharaoh should be throwing you a parade for saving him.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, Sister,” Kairy said.

  Beketaten and I had added him to our little group this past month by unspoken consent. It had been good for both of us to have someone else to talk to. Sometimes he simply sat and listened as I told my stories to Beketaten in the late afternoon, after he’d awakened. He ate dinner with us every evening; he was a surprisingly interesting conversationalist. Sometimes he told us stories about his travels and the campaigns he’d been on, or his family stories, or about the royal family. Occasionally he went to Djeme to report to Pharaoh and always brought back the most recent gossip. Most nights he sat with us in the garden until Beketaten and I sought our beds, at which time he began his patrol.