The Gardener and the Assassin

by Mark Gajewski

  “For their benefit too,” I said hotly, knowing full well I wouldn’t trust someone who’d done what I was doing either. “I’m the only one who can testify to Pentawere’s parentage that Pharaoh’s officials will believe.”

  Neby shrugged.

  “What will I do at the oasis?”

  “Protect the boy for now. When he’s older, train him in personal combat and horsemanship.”

  In other words, nothing important. Despite Neby’s promises when we’d arranged our deal, I realized there was a pretty good chance the priests would simply dispose of me someday. If they decided they didn’t really need me to attest to Pentawere’s parentage they could kill me and claim when they challenged Pharaoh that I’d died after handing the boy over to them. If they ever figured out I was secretly working on Pharaoh’s behalf they’d execute me instantly. I was going to have to tread very carefully in the months to come, find ways to prove not only my loyalty but my value to these traitors. For if they disposed of me what I was doing – what I’d coerced Maia into doing – would be in vain. Her son would live and challenge Pharaoh. Pharaoh’s line might fail. Neset’s and Aya’s lives would be at risk.

  ***

  We arose well before dawn and set out while it was still relatively cool, the trail a well–trod path across the desert. Maia rode atop a donkey at the head of the procession next to Neby on his horse, where rolling dust from hooves wouldn’t affect Pentawere. I walked beside Maia, holding onto the donkey’s bridle, constantly offering her water from a leather pouch slung over my shoulder, holding an improvised sunscreen over her. The rest of the men and the laden beasts followed behind us. We rested in a strip of shade in the lee of a rock outcrop in the heat of midday, then continued on late in the afternoon, traveling for a couple of hours after the sun set. Neby was clearly familiar with the trail. The men set up camp and we ate and then stretched out on pallets on the sand. I slept next to Maia, a little away from the other men.

  And so it went, day after day for a week. The wind blew constant and hot, in many places wiping out all trace of the trail as it crossed the gently undulating desert. But we moved on confidently, using as landmarks cairns of large stones piled in the midst of the flat plains or atop occasional rock outcrops. Those cairns were ancient; I knew from family stories that some of these trails had been used by the Chiefs of Foreign Lands to send messengers to the lands south of the cataract in order to bypass the valley’s rightful rulers at Waset. There were also sherds of pottery vessels along the track, either from water jars emptied and abandoned during a journey or containers full of trade goods fallen from donkeyback and shattered. The ground around nearly every rock outcrop where travelers regularly rested was practically carpeted with sherds. Some of those outcrops were etched with ancient drawings of desert beasts too, no doubt from a time when the desert had been savannah and hunters had roamed it freely.

  A week to the day after leaving the river we reached the edge of a scarp at the northern edge of the oasis.

  “Behold your new home!” Neby said grandly.

  The trail ahead of us plunged down numerous steep hills and rocky outcrops engulfed by sand in a series of tight twisting turns. I drank in the view. For a couple of miles south of the foot of the scarp grew isolated patches of vegetation. Beyond them stretched an immensity of green – vast cultivated fields, groves of swaying palms, sunlight glinting silver on pools and small lakes. Along the eastern edge of the oasis marched a chain of dunes, their crests knife–sharp, relentlessly driven by the wind. After the drab immensity of the desert everyone’s spirits lifted.

  We descended the trail, slowly, carefully. I carried Pentawere in my arms on the steep sections so Maia could grip the donkey’s reins. We reached the bottom of the scarp, where the trail flattened. Before long we began to encounter isolated cultivated patches of land, each with a small nondescript hut.

  “The water’s close to the surface here, thus the cultivation,” Neby said. “There are hundreds of small pools in the oasis, and countless wells. It’s a matter of an hour or two to dig one.”

  “We’re not going to be the only farmers in the oasis, I gather.”

  “No. There are one or two small settlements and hundreds of individual farmers. The nearest settlement to our village is a half–hour’s walk or so.”

  A few hours travel brought us to a region cut by deep wadis, separated from each other by long rocky outcrops. We entered a wadi that bent slightly east, its bed compacted by centuries of travel. A large square outcrop dominated scattered jagged boulders on its northern side. Two figures were seated atop the outcrop.

  “Your lookouts?” I asked Neby.

  “Here, and at other key locations in the oasis. But they actually report to the man in charge of our village, Commander Nehi. If anyone approaches he’ll know.”

  “I thought you’d be in charge.”

  “I’m not that important, Kairy. Expendable, I believe you called me when we met. I’ll be delivering supplies for the foreseeable future. Someday, when Pentawere takes the throne, I’ll hold a high position of some kind. My superiors haven’t told me what yet. Nehi, on the other hand, will be deputy commander of Pentawere’s army, or so he says. He claims his father will be its overall commander.”

  Occasionally we passed a small spring bubbling from the base of a rocky cleft. Some of the clefts were etched with images, mostly animals, though a few primitive humans. There was even one high–prowed boat – interesting to find one so far from the river. Neby pointed out a cairn that marked the intersection of the north–south and east–west trails that crossed the oasis. Both trails showed signs of recent travel. Another half hour and we arrived at a village consisting of more than a dozen mud–brick huts shaded by tall palms along the east bank of a small lake, connected by a winding stream to a chain of ponds both north and south. A few columns of smoke rose from campfires in front of the huts. Green fields stretched in every direction, being tended by farmers. I glimpsed a vineyard, lush with heavily–laden vines. Neby had been telling the truth about the wine. A few cattle and sheep grazed in the distance. There wasn’t a woman in sight.

  A group of men were waiting for us at the edge of the village, well armed. Hardened veterans of Pharaoh’s army by the looks of them, though I didn’t recognize anyone. Except their commander. Nehi. I remembered encountering him during the party I’d attended in Pi–Ramesses when I’d been assigned to train the Falcon in the Nest. I’d heard about him long before that night – comments about his laziness and unreliability. I recalled that Nehi’s father, Antef, commanded the Amen Division at Waset. If Nehi’s boast that Neby had reported to me earlier today was correct, Antef would command Pentawere’s future army. I’d just identified a very important traitor. The implication of Antef’s involvement in this conspiracy was that a quarter of Pharaoh’s army was already prepared to turn on him.

  Neby dismounted. I took Pentawere from Maia, then helped her down.

  “My scouts brought word of your approach a day ago, Neby,” Nehi said. “Food and drink are ready.”

  “It’s been a long journey,” Neby said wearily. He addressed Maia and me. “This is Commander Nehi. He’s in charge of this village.”

  “This is the boy?” Nehi asked, at the same time looking Maia up and down lasciviously.

  As had every man in the caravan on our journey here. Maia was uncommonly pretty, even though filthy from the trail – she’d filled out in the months after we’d made our arrangement, thanks to the foodstuffs I’d regularly supplied her with. Gone were the hollows in her cheeks and the sunken eyes and exposed ribs. Her hair was long, eyes dark and shining, body rounded. I’d discovered she had a natural innocence that drew men to her, like bees to a flower. That reaction was going to be heightened now that she was the only woman in a village full of men deprived of women. I’d put Maia in this situation. Protecting her from the advances of the traitors was my responsibility now. Without antagonizing anyone important who might dispose of me so he co
uld have her for himself. Unless, of course, Maia took a liking to one of these men and decided to take up with him, in which case I wouldn’t interfere. Marrying one of these traitors might serve Maia well, actually – putting distance between us so she wouldn’t be accused of collaborating with me when I turned on the traitors might be her salvation. I half–wished my traitorous guard’s wife had been an ugly shrew. It would have made the coming years so much easier for me.

  Maia lowered her eyes and blushed at Nehi’s scrutiny and moved closer to me.

  “Pentawere, second of his name,” Neby told Nehi. “This is his wetnurse, Maia. And Kairy. The kidnapper.” The last said distastefully.

  That’s how I’d be known from now on by this group of men. As well as “traitor.” I supposed they were probably calling me that in the valley too. I wondered how many soldiers Pharaoh had sent to search for me, though I was confident he’d sent men he was sure wouldn’t find me. It stung, knowing Ani and Iput would eventually hear I’d kidnapped Neset’s son and had run away with him and betrayed Pharaoh. I wondered what they’d make of the news, knowing that Neset hadn’t given birth to a boy and that Aya was safe on their farm. Would they think I’d turned traitor for real and was planning to use an imposter to someday challenge Pharaoh? What else could they think? I wished I could have told Ani what I was planning before the night of Aya’s birth, and why. But I’d decided against it. Not knowing would serve him and the rest better if they were ever questioned about me.

  While men began unloading the donkeys and carrying containers into one of the huts, Neby and Maia and Nehi and I seated ourselves in the shade of a grove of palm trees. As promised, food had been laid out on platters. One of the guards filled our cups while we sat cross–legged on the ground and began to eat.

  “How many men live in this village, Commander?” I asked.

  “Roughly forty, including guards and scouts, and farmers and herdsmen who feed us, plus a couple of men who cook and haul water and cut wood and wash clothes and such. Every man is trained to fight – even the farmers. I assure you, I’ll be able to protect Pentawere if any of Pharaoh’s soldiers stumble on this place.”

  “Where will I sleep?” Maia asked, rocking Pentawere back and forth in her arms.

  “The hut closest to the lake belongs to you and the boy,” Neby replied. “Commander Nehi’s is next to it – that’s where I’ll stay whenever I’m here.” He looked at me. “You can sleep with the farmers.”

  I saw fear in Maia’s eyes. She hadn’t expected to be plopped down in the midst of so many men, the only woman. She hadn’t expected to be so vulnerable.

  “Pentawere is my responsibility,” I told Neby firmly. “I’ll be sleeping in front of his hut. That’s the job you gave me, right? Protecting the boy?”

  Neby half–smiled. His expression said he didn’t believe the boy was my real reason for wanting to sleep so close to Maia. He’d eyed her lustfully the entire journey too, once he’d gotten over his suspicions. He assumed I had designs on her.

  But I wasn’t about to get involved with Maia. Not when I knew I was going to someday kill her son and abandon her to the traitors. Besides, even if I was so inclined, why would she be? I was almost a dozen years older. Why would she take an interest in me when there were so many men around the village closer to her age? Most of them already interested in her, if the few hours we’d spent in the village so far were any indication. She’d attracted much attention since our arrival. I had a specific reason for being at the oasis – to identify traitors, preserve Pharaoh’s line, and protect Neset and Aya. I wasn’t going to let Maia distract me from that.

  “Yes. That’s your job, Kairy,” Neby affirmed.

  That night, after everyone else had gone to bed and campfires had burned to coals, I sat with my back against a palm tree at the edge of the lake, facing towards the village and away from the water, cradling Pentawere while Maia bathed. She took a long time; I didn’t blame her for luxuriating after a hard week’s travel across the desert. Eventually I heard soft steps rustling the grass. She sat down next to me, back resting against the same tree, her dripping hair pulled over the front of her right shoulder, her skirt clinging to her still–wet legs. Cleaned up, lit by moonlight, she looked spectacularly desirable. She was going to be a temptation for the village’s men. I handed Pentawere to her.

  The moon path danced on the lake beside us. The wind sighed through palm fronds high overhead, obscuring and then revealing a river of stars as they swayed back and forth, caressing us with gentle warmth.

  “Thank you for insisting that you guard my hut, Kairy. I don’t like the way the men in this village leer at me.”

  “What makes you think I’m any better than them, Maia, that I won’t take advantage of you? You’re in this situation because of me.”

  “You’ve been nothing but kind and caring since we met, Kairy. You could have taken advantage of me whenever you wanted after you first came to my farm, but you didn’t. Instead, you saved me from an awful fate in the valley. I would have been forced to sink low to take care of my son. You spared me humiliation and worse. And you told me the truth about what we’re doing when I asked.”

  “You kind of made it impossible for me not to,” I said wryly. Though I hadn’t told her everything.

  “I did, didn’t I.” Maia laughed.

  So she had pressured me to tell her what was going on when she knew I couldn’t afford not to. Add cunning to intelligent.

  “As unusual as this situation is, Kairy, I’m sure I’ll have a far better life here than I would have had there. No fields to tend or grain to grind or fowl to snare.”

  Another wave of guilt. I gazed at her sleeping son. I was going to murder him someday. So much for Maia’s better life. “I’ll do my best to keep you and Pentawere safe,” I lied.

  Pentawere stirred and Maia stroked his cheek until he settled. “Tell me about Neset, Kairy. Did you know her well?”

  “I’d met her in passing a few times over the years. After she was sentenced to death Pharaoh assigned me to guard her on her estate. I got to know her fairly well then. Unfortunately, she came to despise me. And rightly so.”

  “You mentioned that before. Why?”

  “I used Neset as bait to trap the traitors your husband was involved with. I didn’t tell her she was at risk of being kidnapped, or that I was using her. She despised me after the attack because I’d put her and her friends’ lives at risk. We barely spoke two words after that. It’s a long story and I’ll tell you sometime if you really want to know. Anyway, Neset was the overseer of Pharaoh’s gardens on the west and east banks, appointed by the third Ramesses. Pentawere was the love of her life, up to the moment he killed his father and betrayed her. Even so, I think deep down he’ll always hold her heart. I sense she’s not the kind of woman who easily moves from one man to another. She was the bravest, kindest, most impressive woman I’ve ever known. She once threw herself in front of a knife stroke intended for the fourth Ramesses and saved his life. She nearly died because of it. Then she saved him again during the traitors’ trial. Despite that, she was sentenced by the Great Kenbet to die.”

  “Even though she despised you, you still sent her and her daughter to safety, using my son. And faked her death and burned a body your guards thought was hers so no one would try to find her.”

  “I did.”

  Maia laughed lightly. “You are a most peculiar man, Kairy.”

  “I suppose I am.”

  “I expect Pharaoh will reward you greatly once you identify the traitors.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Why not?”

  “When I faked Neset’s death I subverted the will of the Great Kenbet, which had ordered her to be executed. I had no right to do that. In fact, I never told Pharaoh that Neset was going to have a daughter. I was afraid the vizier would execute her out of spite. Pharaoh and the vizier truly believe that your son is actually Neset’s – it was the only way I could think of to keep Aya safe. But
if either of them ever discover the truth I’ll have to answer for my duplicity. Even Pharaoh can’t overrule a Great Kenbet. I expect that when this is over I’ll either be executed or have to flee for my life.”

  Maia reached out and took my hand. “I’m sorry, Kairy.”

  “I’m sorry too, Maia, for getting you involved in this.”

  “What’s done is done. I’m going to sleep now. Will you walk me back to my hut?”

  “Of course.”

  1152 BC: 2nd Regnal Year of Ramesses, Fourth of His Name

  Peret (Seed)

  Kairy

  Nehi and Neby and I were seated cross–legged in a rough circle in front of Maia’s hut, surrounding bowls and platters laden with food set out by the cook who prepared our meals. Night had fallen and stars were winking into the sky. Maia was nursing Pentawere, sitting a little apart from us, shadows and light cast by her flickering campfire dancing across her face. Nehi was, as always, staring boldly at Maia. Of all her numerous suitors in our village he was the most persistent. And, according to her, the most unwelcome.

  After a year, this pool–studded palm–shaded section of the oasis had come to feel like home to me. I hadn’t lived in one place for so long since I’d left Nekhen as a boy. We’d added three storage huts the past month to the original number – Maia’s, Nehi’s, several for guards and our brewer and baker and other servants, more for farmers who tended the oasis fields and herdsmen who cared for a few cattle and sheep and goats. As of this afternoon, the new huts were crammed with supplies Neby had just transported from the valley. While we were for the most part self–sufficient, Neby regularly brought us necessities we couldn’t produce ourselves, such as linen and leather and metal tools and weapons.