The Gardener and the Assassin

by Mark Gajewski

  Debhen eyed me appraisingly. “You’re Kairy. You brought us the boy.” He snorted. “I was in the audience hall when you argued with Pharaoh. Very impressive, the way you stood up to him. Or very stupid.”

  Maia joined us. She bowed respectfully. “Refreshments await, My Lords.” She indicated the area in front of our hut where the food was laid out.

  Debhen turned his attention to Maia, his gaze lingering. “I wasn’t aware you had female servants in this village, Neby.”

  “One woman, but not a servant,” Neby replied. “This is Maia. She was Pentawere’s wetnurse. She still takes care of him. We could hardly send her away after he was weaned, knowing what she knows about us and our village.”

  “I suppose not.” Debhen continued to stare at Maia, boldly.

  I dug my nails into my palms.

  Maia’s cheeks reddened under his scrutiny. “I’m Kairy’s wife, My Lord.”

  “Oh.” Debhen’s tone said that didn’t matter to him.

  Great. Now I had to worry about two traitorous leaders lusting after Maia. Debhen, based on what I’d observed at Pi–Ramesses, wasn’t a man who let marriage stand in the way of his pleasure. His marriage, or the woman’s.

  We followed Maia to our hut. “Please. Sit. Refresh yourselves,” she invited.

  Neby and Debhen and Nehi settled beside the platters of food Maia had arranged. She poured a cup of wine for each man. All immediately drank them dry. Maia refilled them.

  Debhen reached for a date. “Where’s the boy?”

  “With a herdsman’s sons, watching our sheep,” I replied.

  “Fetch him,” Debhen ordered Maia.

  She hurried off.

  “How did Pharaoh die, My Lord?” I asked. “His reign was awfully short.”

  “Illness? Weakness? Who can say?” Debhen emptied his cup again. “None of the third Ramesses’ sons had long lives. The gods’ judgment on his pitiful line, I’d say.”

  I smiled and nodded vigorously, as if in agreement. I’d mourn my pharaoh and friend later, in private. Ramesses had been good to me. With him dead, my job was now to keep his son Amenherkoshef on the throne. I wondered if he’d replace Neferronpet as vizier. If he did he’d be removing a man bent on Neset’s death. That would be good. Though why would Amenherkoshef replace him, and with whom?

  “You said you’d tell me the plan once we reached the oasis, My Lord,” Neby said impatiently. “Are we going to march on Djeme soon?”

  Nehi leaned forward eagerly.

  So they’d both been in the dark about what the higher–ups were planning. Interesting. Details were being very closely guarded at the top. Which implied the Chief wouldn’t reveal himself until the very day he challenged Pharaoh, which Maia and I had for all intents and purposes already concluded. Which meant my plan to escape the village along with Maia and Pentawere and report the traitors’ names to Pharaoh was definitely dead. When the traitors challenged Pharaoh it would be face to face. I assumed I’d be included in the actual confrontation so I could attest to Pentawere’s parentage. Which meant, if the traitors were more powerful at that point than Pharaoh, that I’d have to betray him so that I wouldn’t have to kill Pentawere. Which meant Pentawere might indeed sit the valley’s throne.

  Debhen smiled. “Patience, Neby. The boy’s still far too young for us to make our move. But I’ve come to the village to set the next phase of the Chief’s plan in motion. I’m going to begin personally educating the boy on what it means to be a pharaoh. The priest–scribes I’ve brought with me will teach him to read and write, and about the gods, and the priesthood.”

  “What about me?” Neby asked.

  “You’ll keep supplying the settlement. And convey specialized priests and scribes here from time to time. You’ll journey here far more often in the future.” Debhen’s eyes narrowed. “Commander Nehi, I want you to depart this oasis within the week and recruit fifty Nehesyuian mercenaries from south of the cataract. The nucleus of our future army.”

  So the traitors were going to raise a private army. To go along with the already–compromised Amen Division in Waset.

  “You want me to travel all the way to Ta Seti? And recruit wretches?”

  “I’ve brought leather pouches filled with gold to buy their loyalty. You’ll bring our mercenaries here. You’ll train them to fight. You’ll add more mercenaries to our army each year until we have a force fit to take on Pharaoh.”

  Confirmation that the challenge to Pharaoh truly was years in the future. And I’d just gleaned that the priesthood plotting against him was a wealthy one, if it could afford to buy an army.

  “What gives you the authority to send me away from the village, Debhen? I’m in charge here,” Nehi blustered.

  Debhen was taken aback. “Our superior put me in charge. You report to me now.”

  “Did you bring a scroll to substantiate your authority?” Nehi queried.

  Debhen frowned, instantly angry. “I don’t need a scroll. You know that’s not how things work.”

  “So you say. I demand proof. Besides, there’s no one capable of protecting the heir and this village if I leave.”

  I stifled a laugh. I’d observed over the years that Nehi enjoyed ordering his men about from a seat in the shade. He personally did as little as possible. He rarely bestirred himself from in front of his hut when Neby wasn’t visiting the village. Not surprising he’d try to get out of traveling hundreds of miles across hot dusty desert to recruit men he apparently despised. Or gracefully accept a demotion. It pleased me immensely that Nehi had just squarely set himself against Debhen, as he already had against Neby. Another rift I might someday be able to exploit on Pharaoh’s behalf.

  “Send Kairy, My Lord Debhen,” Neby suggested. “He’s got nothing better to do.”

  I wasn’t surprised he’d volunteered me. In a sense, Neby’s fortunes were tied to mine. He’d arranged for me to steal Pentawere from under Pharaoh’s nose. The fact the traitors had a puppet to oppose Pharaoh with was largely due to Neby.

  “Ridiculous! What does a chariot driver know about forging an army?” Debhen bristled.

  Forging an army? An idea hit me like a thunderbolt. A way to possibly save Pharaoh and Pentawere and Neset and Aya and Maia at a single stroke. A way to put me in control the day the traitors challenged Pharaoh, instead of their Chief. I thanked the gods for Nehi’s laziness and self–importance, and Neby’s suggestion. What if I forged an army for the traitors? What if I could make the mercenaries loyal to me? What if I could turn them against the traitors? Recruiting and training would be a good starting point. Gaining their loyalty was certainly a long shot. But an army of my own – what might I be able to do with it? Time to sell myself to this pompous priest, take the first step on an unexpected but potentially fruitful path. “My Lord, I didn’t just drive the fourth Ramesses’ chariot. I established strategy with him before battles. I delivered him to the right place on the battlefield at the right time for a decade. I protected him from his enemies. I fought wretches. I marched beside him. I starved. I thirsted. Because of my abilities Pharaoh selected me to teach the Falcon in the Nest how to be a soldier – how to lead, strategy, logistics. I can forge you an army.”

  Debhen shook his head dismissively. “You reach for position far above your station, Kidnapper. Entrust you with creating an army? Hardly.”

  Had he guessed my intention? Probably not. I hadn’t even fully thought the scheme through yet. I was sure pitfalls lurked. “I sought merely to serve, My Lord,” I said humbly. I’d failed. An opportunity to save those I loved missed.

  “My Lord Debhen,” Neby hastily interjected. “I believe Kairy is truly one of us. He’s proven to my satisfaction these past five years that he’s committed to our cause. As he said, he’s qualified to recruit and train fighters. I quietly checked his background after I started negotiating with him to deliver the boy. If anything, he’s being modest about his accomplishments.”

  “You’re certain?” Debhen asked.

/>   “I am, My Lord.”

  Debhen stared for a long time at Nehi. Disgust was written on his face. Then he turned to me. “Go recruit me an army, Kairy,” Debhen ordered. “From now on your job at this oasis will be to train my mercenaries. Under Commander Nehi’s oversight, of course.”

  I hid my satisfaction. “Of course, My Lord.”

  “Nehi, you’ll command the army in battle.”

  “I’ll lead it to victory!” he promised.

  Not if I have anything to say about it.

  The men fell to eating. Debhen and Neby were famished from their journey; Nehi was merely a glutton. He appeared pleased he’d pawned the mercenary expedition off on me. He wasn’t half as pleased as I was. The three had nearly finished eating when Maia practically dragged Pentawere to the campfire by the hand. He was unhappy he’d been called away from the sheep. He greeted Neby, regarded Debhen without fear, ignored Nehi.

  “This is Debhen, my superior,” Neby said.

  As I’d taught Pentawere, he bowed. “My Lord.”

  “I am not your lord,” Debhen said, himself rising and bowing to Pentawere. “You will never refer to anyone in the entire world by that title again. Do you understand?”

  Pentawere looked at Maia, then me, then Debhen. “No.”

  “How much does he know?” Debhen asked Neby.

  “Absolutely nothing.”

  “Come. Stand before me,” Debhen ordered Pentawere.

  “Shall I depart, My Lord?” Maia asked.

  Debhen ran his eyes over her again, shook his head. “We are, all of us, in service to the same cause. Soon everyone in this village will finally know their true purpose for being here. You might as well find out now. Stay.” He looked Pentawere up and down. “What do you know about your parents?”

  “They’re dead,” Pentawere replied. “Neby told me. Kairy and Mother Maia take care of me.”

  “Your true mother was named Neset,” Debhen said.

  Maia stiffened.

  “She was overseer of gardens for Pharaoh Ramesses, third of his name. Your father was Pentawere, first of his name, a son of Pharaoh Ramesses. Pharaoh Ramesses, fourth of his name, your father’s brother and your uncle, executed your father and mother.”

  “Why?” Pentawere asked, more curious than shaken, which I supposed was more or less normal since he hadn’t known either Neset or the first Pentawere, or either Ramesses for that matter.

  “He wanted your father’s throne,” Debhen said. “The throne that now rightfully belongs to you.”

  Pentawere looked at Maia and me again. “I don’t understand.”

  Who would at age five, living in an isolated oasis a week’s travel from the valley?

  “There are men in this land – me, Neby, Nehi, the priests I’ve brought with me, more – who intend to restore you to your throne when the time is right. The evil fourth Ramesses has just died. His son will soon take your throne. I’ve come to prepare you for the day when we move against him and make you ruler of the valley instead.”

  Pentawere slowly processed the information. “You mean, everyone will have to obey me?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Even the boys who herd the animals?”

  I could tell Pentawere was having trouble grasping the concept of ruler.

  “Everyone at the oasis and eventually the entire valley,” Debhen replied. “Beginning tomorrow I’m going to teach you how to be a pharaoh – how to read and write…”

  “Kairy’s been teaching me,” Pentawere announced.

  “A few basics,” I said.

  “I suppose that’s good. Anyway, I’m going to teach you to sit in judgment, to command, to oversee officials. Nehi’s going to teach you to be a warrior and to lead an army in battle.”

  “Assuming you bring me a scroll, laying out your authority for giving me orders.”

  Debhen addressed Neby, extremely irritated. “Obtain a scroll when you return to the valley. Bring it back immediately.”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  Nehi’s shoulders sagged. He knew as well as the rest of us that he had indeed been demoted and he was simply putting off the inevitable. He wouldn’t be able to shirk this new duty, not with Debhen in residence in the village, constantly looking over his shoulder. One more reason for him to resent Debhen.

  “Kairy’s going to build you an army of your own,” Debhen continued.

  I thought Debhen was telling a five year–old far too much at once. Pentawere seemed overwhelmed. And concerned with other things than rule. “Did you know my father and mother?” he asked Debhen.

  “I knew your father well. For many years he oversaw the military facilities at Pi–Ramesses in the delta. I was his friend.”

  “My father was a soldier?”

  “He fought well,” Debhen replied. “I’ll tell you about his exploits some evening.”

  Meaning Pentawere’s single expedition to recover stolen wine. Should be interesting to hear Debhen exaggerate its importance.

  “What about my mother?”

  “I never met her,” Debhen admitted.

  “Kairy knew her quite well,” Neby said.

  “Neset was a fine woman,” I told Pentawere. “She was, as My Lord Debhen said, Pharaoh’s chief gardener. She could make anything grow. She was caring, smart, and beautiful. She loved your father very much.” Up to the point he betrayed her and Pharaoh and Ramesses.

  Debhen rose. “That’s quite enough for today, I think. I need to rest and recuperate from my journey. Tomorrow we’ll begin your education, Majesty.” With that he bowed, gazed at Maia one last time, then headed with Neby towards his hut.

  Nehi grabbed a half–full jar of beer and departed for his hut, no doubt to stew over his lost prestige and authority.

  “What does ‘majesty’ mean?” Pentawere asked Maia once the three of us were alone.

  ***

  “You promised you’d tell me about my father going to war, Debhen,” Pentawere prompted one evening almost a week later as Debhen and Neby and Nehi and I were eating beside Maia’s and my campfire, picking morsels with our fingers from an assortment of bowls and platters she’d set out for us. After that she’d gone to the pond to bathe.

  A warm wind sighed through the palms that shaded our hut by day. A few night birds chittered in the reeds that lined the nearby lake, settling for the night. In the far distance a few of the village’s cattle lowed.

  “Indeed I did, Majesty.”

  Every man in the village was now addressing Pentawere by that title, treating him like a future pharaoh. Debhen had officially filled everyone in on their true purpose for being at the oasis the day after his arrival. Pentawere didn’t seem to care what the adults called him. But he’d lorded over his playmates the next two days, insisting they address him properly, until Maia overheard and sternly took him to task for being unkind to his friends.

  Maia and I had talked deep into the night in our hut afterwards, lying side by side on our pallet in the darkness. I’d asked how she thought Pentawere was reacting to the sudden changes.

  “Being treated as royalty? He’s baffled, Kairy. He hasn’t truly grasped what Debhen’s told him. I’m afraid he’ll change once he starts to understand. Everyone around here bowing to him and treating him like a god? We have to ground him, Kairy. You and I. Between us, we have to keep him decent and strong.” She’d rolled onto her side, lowered her voice. “Do you know what Pentawere told me right after Debhen told him Neset was his mother? He said that even if I didn’t give birth to him I’m still his real mother.” She’d started to sob.

  I’d taken her into my arms. Her skin had been soft and smooth and warm.

  “It’s so hard, keeping the truth from him,” she’d said.

  “You have to keep the secret, Maia.”

  “I know,” she’d sniffed. “I won’t put Pentawere’s life at risk.”

  Neby took a long stick and stirred the fire.

  “Your uncle, the fourth Ramesses, commanded his fat
her’s army,” Debhen began. “It was stationed at Pi–Ramesses in the delta.”

  “Kairy drew me a map and told me about the main cities in the valley,” Pentawere announced proudly.

  “The priests who’ll be teaching you will make sure you have accurate information about the valley,” Debhen said dismissively.

  I clearly hadn’t won him over, despite the new responsibility he’d given me.

  “Anyway, Majesty, Ramesses’ brother, Amenhirkoshef, commanded the army’s cavalry. But he died. Ramesses went to Waset for his burial. While Ramesses was in the South the infantry and cavalry at Pi–Ramesses fell apart. Instead of continuing to train and prepare for war, the soldiers sat around, visited Pi–Ramesses, consorted with women and grew soft.”

  “What does ‘consorted’ mean?”

  Nehi snorted.

  He and his guards could certainly tell Pentawere a thing or two about consorting with women. I wondered how he was going to sneak away from camp in the future, with Debhen scrutinizing his every move. Unless, of course, Nehi took Debhen with him. That wouldn’t surprise me a bit, knowing what I did about Debhen.

  Debhen suddenly looked uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to dealing with young children. “You’ll find out some day, when you’re much older.”

  “Perhaps you should return to your story, My Lord,” Neby suggested.

  Debhen seemed thankful for his intervention. “Yes. Your father returned to Pi–Ramesses from his brother’s burial and was appalled by what he saw, Majesty. He fully expected your grandfather would appoint him commander of the cavalry in his dead brother’s place, so on his own initiative he started training the men.”

  “What’s initiative?”

  “It means your father didn’t wait for someone to tell him to train the men, Majesty. He did it on his own,” Neby replied.

  “Frankly, Majesty,” Debhen continued, “creating a strong cavalry unit was just the start of what your father intended to do. He planned to eventually take command of the entire army and wield it to forge an empire.”

  “Like the third Thutmose, and Ramesses the Great?” Pentawere asked.