The Gardener and the Assassin

by Mark Gajewski

  Debhen helped the priest dismount in the shade of palms at the edge of the village. “My Lord Sabestet.” He bowed.

  Sabestet wiped sweat from his brow with his forearm. Neby slid from his horse’s back and did likewise.

  Sabestet nodded at Debhen. Then he eyed me. “You look familiar.”

  “Kairy, My Lord.” I bowed. “I visited your villa many times when I was serving the fourth and fifth Ramesses in Pi–Ramesses.”

  “Kairy delivered Pentawere to us,” Debhen informed him.

  “I’m aware.” Sabestet sounded irritated that Debhen thought he wouldn’t know why I was in the village.

  “Now he’s in charge of the mercenaries,” Debhen reported.

  “Instead of Commander Nehi?” Sabestet was perturbed. “The Chief assigned Nehi to lead our army.”

  “Nehi directly oversees the soldiers we brought from the North to guard the village,” Debhen explained. “He supervises Kairy, too. But he doesn’t have Kairy’s military experience. That’s why I ordered Kairy to recruit and train our mercenaries.”

  “Experience? Driving the fourth Ramesses’ chariot? I don’t consider that military experience,” Sabestet scoffed.

  Why was I constantly having to justify myself to every new arrival over the same issue? Didn’t these traitors talk amongst themselves? Although, if Debhen hadn’t known Sabestet was part of the conspiracy, I supposed they didn’t. “My Lord, I accompanied the fourth Ramesses on campaign for a decade. I was involved in his strategy sessions. I trained the current pharaoh in the art of war when he was Falcon in the Nest.”

  “Frankly, My Lord, Nehi is lazy and incompetent,” Debhen added. “He has no business leading our army.”

  “Are you suggesting the Chief take command away from Nehi?” Sabestet asked, his voice rising. “That we alienate Nehi’s father? That we throw away the Amen Division?”

  “Of course not, My Lord,” Debhen replied hastily.

  “I want to inspect the mercenaries you’ve bought with our gold, Kairy,” Sabestet demanded. “I want to see what you’ve done with them. Or haven’t. Immediately!”

  “As you wish, My Lord.”

  “You’d better hope you didn’t make a mistake putting Kairy in command,” Sabestet told Debhen pointedly.

  Neby indicated the girls on the donkeys. “Debhen, order Maia to settle these two in one of the new huts. Tell her she’s going to be responsible for them from now on. Tell her to bathe them and dress them and make them presentable. Tell her to do it quickly. My Lord Sabestet will summon them soon.”

  Debhen nodded, fuming. He’d never taken an order from Neby before in his life. I suspected the only reason he wasn’t refusing was because he was unsure of the relationship between Neby and Sabestet. He must fear somehow irritating Sabestet more than he valued his overweening pride.

  The unexpected conflict pleased me. Even more volatility between the traitors. Debhen and Neby usually got along. I sensed no one was going to get along with Sabestet.

  I led him towards the military compound on the south bank of our small lake, a hundred yards or so from the center of the village. Neby gathered the bridles of the horses and followed.

  “Those three long low mud–brick structures are barracks,” I explained as we approached the cluster of buildings. “Those two are stables. We water the animals in that pond. The men use the lake. The horses graze in those fields. That building over there holds fodder for the dry season.”

  “How many men?”

  “I’ve gone south of the cataract three times and brought back fifty fighters each time. Plus a dozen men to care for the horses.”

  “Everyone can ride?”

  “Twice a week we train in the desert – half the troop at a time. We never leave the village unguarded. Once a season half the men go on a week–long exercise to toughen them and their horses, and the other half the next week.”

  “You train them personally?”

  “I do, My Lord.”

  “Then any inadequacies I discover in them will reflect on you.”

  “As they should, My Lord.” As if Sabestet would know a military inadequacy if it hit him in the face.

  “Put the men through their paces for me,” Sabestet ordered.

  I quickly assembled the troop, mounted and fully armed, and for the next hour Karakhamen and Ashemors, the two mercenary captains who assisted me, and I directed maneuvers. At some point during the demonstration Nehi joined Sabestet and they had a long conversation. Not once as they talked did Sabestet take his eyes off my men. I thought they acquitted themselves well. After I dismissed them Sabestet spoke briefly with Nehi. He said nothing to me.

  “Can His Majesty ride?” Sabestet asked as he and Neby and I strolled towards the village.

  Nehi had already disappeared.

  “Like he was born on a horse, My Lord.”

  “Where is His Majesty?” Sabestet asked.

  “At this time of day, usually with the scribes. At his lessons,” I replied.

  “I want to observe him,” Sabestet informed Neby. “Now.”

  Clearly a man with no patience.

  We slipped into the grove of palms where several priests were hovering about Pentawere. One was reciting a passage from an unrolled scroll and Pentawere was recording the words on a wooden tablet covered with plaster using a sharpened reed. Another priest was looking over his shoulder, pointing out mistakes. Debhen, his message to Maia delivered, was directing the instruction. Pentawere was restless; he hated his lessons. He preferred to be on horseback or roaming nearby fields and ponds with his friends. Or me. Or Ashemors and Karakhamen.

  Debhen moved away from the priests and joined us.

  “You’ve personally supervised his education?” Sabestet queried.

  “I have, My Lord. The past four years – ever since he was five years old. That’s when I came with the priest–scribes to the village. He lives in my hut. I watch over him day and night.”

  “What’s he learned so far?”

  “He’s mastered the Kemit.”

  “I remember studying it at his age – the polite phrases and model letters and guidance to young scribes,” Sabestet interjected.

  “He’s halfway through the Wisdom Texts now.”

  Sabestet looked surprised. “So quickly?”

  “His Majesty always complains that ‘lesson time endures forever, like the mountains.’ But he’s a bright boy and learns faster than any scribe I’ve ever taught.”

  “He’s more studious than his father, then. Interesting. What else?”

  “I’ve personally taught him about the gods, and the priesthood, and the responsibilities of rule,” Debhen replied.

  “Kairy’s been instructing him in horsemanship and sword play and archery and the military arts,” Neby added.

  Neither man mentioned Pentawere’s most important instructor. Maia. She’d kept him grounded through all the adoration heaped upon him these past years. She was shaping him to be a good person, not just a priests’ puppet, even though he no longer shared our hut. The priests had no clue of the impact she’d had and was having on him. That she influenced Pentawere never crossed their minds.

  “What does His Majesty know about his father, or what we have planned for him?” Sabestet asked.

  “Only what I’ve been authorized to tell him – that his father was the first Pentawere and his mother was Neset, that his uncle executed his father and mother and seized the throne that belongs to him, and that some day we’ll restore it to him.”

  “It’s time to tell him much more,” Sabestet said. “Take me somewhere I won’t be overheard by a mercenary or farmer or servant. Then bring His Majesty to me.”

  “Just the two of you?” Debhen asked, his voice saying he felt slighted.

  “And you, and Neby.” Sabestet regarded me thoughtfully. “Kairy as well. I suppose he needs to know what I have to say. Better send for Nehi too.”

  Neby led us to an isolated grove of palm trees at the edge o
f the lake and we all seated ourselves. A warm breeze ruffled the water, which brightly reflected the sun. Frogs croaked in patches of reeds along the shore. A few birds swooped and whistled, others swayed side to side grasping the tops of reeds. Nehi eventually shuffled into view and sat down among us. Sabestet didn’t say a single word to any of us while we waited for Pentawere. He was imperious and haughty and we were apparently too inconsequential for him to waste his time with in idle conversation. At least, that was my impression. I expected he’d lord it over me from now on, like the rest of these priests did. I could care less. But I was going to truly enjoy seeing Nehi and Debhen under his thumb. Their days of bickering over which of them was the most important conspirator in the village had just abruptly ended. As of today, neither of them was.

  Debhen arrived along with Pentawere. We all rose.

  “This is Sabestet, Majesty,” Debhen said. “My superior.”

  “Your Majesty.” Sabestet bowed deeply.

  “Sabestet.” Pentawere nodded and seated himself cross–legged on the ground. Then the rest of us did. I suppressed a smile. Pentawere had figured out years ago that these priests loved rank and status and observed a strict hierarchy among themselves. He didn’t care for any of them. So he took advantage of his own status to treat them like fawning subjects. In contrast, he treated his friends among the herdsmen and his favorites among the mercenaries, particularly the two captains, familiarly.

  “I’ve come from the Far North, Majesty,” Sabestet said grandly. “There is much we must discuss.”

  “Please. Proceed,” Pentawere said politely.

  “Majesty, who was the greatest pharaoh to rule the valley?”

  I could tell Pentawere wanted to roll his eyes, though he didn’t. A stranger checking on his education? “Some say Ramesses the Great. Others the third Thutmose.”

  “Quite right, Majesty. Thutmose built a great empire. Ramesses maintained it. Ever since his death it’s been in decline. The decline has accelerated since the third Ramesses and his son and grandson took the throne.”

  “That’s what I’ve been taught,” Pentawere said.

  “Your father dreamed of restoring Thutmose’s empire,” Sabestet said. “That task has now fallen to you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “In a few years you are going to challenge Pharaoh and take his throne,” Sabestet said.

  “Yes. Debhen and the other priests have been preparing me.”

  “You’ll have the backing of the army when you make your move, Majesty.”

  Disconcerting news. Was more than just the Amen Division prepared to rebel?

  “You’ll also be backed by the wealth of a great priesthood, which owns villages and estates and farms and fleets and servants and administrators. Our priesthood has tentacles throughout the valley. When you challenge Pharaoh he’ll be forced to yield the throne to you.”

  “Your priesthood is more powerful than Pharaoh?”

  “Our priesthood is wealthier than Pharaoh,” Sabestet bragged. “And so we are more powerful.”

  “Do you really expect men to follow me?” Pentawere asked. “A boy?”

  “You’ll be older when we issue our challenge, Majesty. But do not worry. Our Chief will serve as your regent and guide you until you’re old enough to rule independently. After that, he’ll serve as your vizier and administer the day–to–day affairs of the valley on your behalf. That way, you’ll be free to invade the lands beyond the valley at the head of your army and finally create the empire your father envisioned.”

  The priests’ power play was now evident to me. Put Pentawere on the throne, then get him out of the valley so they could do whatever they wanted. I’d just learned much more that would be useful to Pharaoh. But without the names of the Chief and the conspirators ranking between him and Sabestet – if there were any – my information would do Pharaoh no good. Even if I could find a way to communicate it to him.

  “When will I challenge Pharaoh, Sabestet?”

  “It’s hard to say, Majesty. The Chief is waiting for the proper time. It could be a year, it could be five. Until then, you will continue to prepare in this village. From now on I will instruct you.”

  Debhen was crestfallen. He’d just been demoted.

  Nehi didn’t hide his glee.

  Pentawere looked at me and this time he did roll his eyes. What he hated most – schooling.

  “Neby, go fetch the girls,” Sabestet ordered.

  He hurried off.

  “What will be your role when I’m Pharaoh, Sabestet?” Pentawere asked.

  “I’ll be First God’s Servant, in charge of the Amen priesthood at Waset.”

  “And you, Debhen?”

  “The Greatest of Craftsmen, serving Ptah at Mennefer.”

  I had no doubt that another traitorous priest was lined up to lead the Re priesthood at Iunu. These traitors were truly going to control every aspect of the valley.

  Ten minutes later Neby returned with the two young women who’d ridden the donkeys, along with Maia. Both girls were wearing opaque white dresses and glittered with jewels, their dark eyes colored with kohl, bewigged. Both were presentable but far from beautiful. Unless I missed my guess they were sisters. The older looked around sixteen. The younger perhaps fourteen, maybe less.

  “Majesty, meet Nefertari and Meritaten,” Sabestet said.

  Both bowed, then regarded Pentawere boldly, sizing him up. Both were taller than him.

  Pentawere reddened slightly under their stares. Maia was the only female he’d ever seen.

  “They’re named after wives of Ramesses the Great, Majesty,” Sabestet said. “They’re both daughters of our Chief.” He glanced at each of us in turn. “They’ve been instructed not to reveal their father’s name under any circumstance to anyone.”

  Both girls nodded vigorously.

  The Chief was apparently taking every possible step to keep his identity secret.

  “Majesty, as of today, Nefertari and Meritaten are your wives,” Sabestet announced, beaming.

  Pentawere looked from Maia to me and back, confused.

  Maia looked appalled.

  “Nefertari will be your great wife,” Sabestet continued. “Unless you put a baby in Meritaten’s belly first.”

  Pentawere blushed deeply. The girls did not.

  “His Majesty is only nine years old!” Maia exclaimed.

  “Who are you?” Sabestet challenged irately.

  “Maia, Kairy’s wife,” Debhen said hurriedly. “She was Pentawere’s wetnurse. Her first husband was killed trying to kidnap His Majesty before he was born. Maia still serves His Majesty.”

  “At my insistence,” Pentawere said firmly.

  Debhen had tried to separate Maia from Pentawere when he moved him into his hut. Pentawere had made it clear he’d associate with Maia whenever he wanted, and Debhen had been forced to yield. Pentawere spent most evenings beside our campfire with Maia and me and his half–sister, Semat. She toddled after him everywhere he went. Pentawere had no idea she was actually his sister.

  Sabestet eyed Maia coolly. “It’s not really any of your business, but they aren’t going to share his bed until he’s twelve, fifteen at the latest. Unless he seizes the throne sooner.”

  Maia fumed. Pentawere was indeed her business, though she didn’t dare say so.

  “They’ll live in the new huts you’ve constructed on the other side of the lake, Kairy,” Neby said. “Maia, you’ll be responsible for them from now on.”

  “What about the girls and women who came with them?” Maia queried.

  “They’ll serve their future majesties.”

  Maia addressed Sabestet, hands on hips. “Do you have any idea how they’re going to affect the women–starved men serving His Majesty in this village?” she asked belligerently. That was one thing I very much admired about her – she didn’t tolerate foolishness, not even from men like Sabestet.

  “I’m sure Commander Nehi can keep the men and women separated,
” Neby said.

  “Absolutely,” Nehi promised.

  The only absolute was that Nehi would be one of the most frequent visitors to the female quarters. He wouldn’t have to travel to the distant village anymore, nor would his Northern guards. I was immensely pleased by this development – now there’d be dissent among the village’s workers and soldiers too, not just its leaders. Dissent the distant Chief would never know about – until it came time to challenge Pharaoh.

  “Why do I need two wives?” Pentawere asked Sabestet.

  “Two? These are just the first, Majesty,” Sabestet replied. “Your grandfather, the third Ramesses, had four. You’ll acquire many more as you build your empire. Daughters of kings to forge alliances. And concubines gained when you capture towns and cities.”

  Maia was furious, her lips pressed tightly together.

  “What’s a concubine?” Pentawere asked.

  The girls looked at each other and twittered.

  “Do not worry, Majesty,” Sabestet assured him. “I’ll teach you about alliances and concubines and many other important things in years to come. You’ll be well prepared by the time you take your throne.”

  ***

  “I’m frightened for Pentawere, Kairy,” Maia whispered that evening as we sat in the shadows of a grove of palm trees, our backs against a tree trunk, our arms touching, our heads close together. We met here anytime we wanted to talk freely without being overheard by the traitors, usually after Semat had fallen asleep on her pallet in our hut. The newly–arrived women who’d been splashing on the west side of the lake, washing the grime of their journey to the oasis off, were moving in a body towards their huts, their laughter and chatter becoming more indistinct by the second. Maia had settled them in during the afternoon and early evening, as ordered.

  “This conspiracy is out of control, Kairy. Wives! Two of them! At Pentawere’s age! Really? Those girls will eat him alive. And concubines? Pentawere’s just a boy. And now he finally knows what these men intend for him. To lead an army! To build an empire! It’s been hard enough for me to keep him humble so far. How’s he going to start acting once he fully understands his future and the implications sink in? Though he’ll have no clue about his real future. Sabestet will mislead Pentawere with honeyed words, make him believe he’s truly going to rule the valley, but it’s obvious the Chief they keep referring to intends to sit the throne in Pentawere’s name. The Chief will send Pentawere away from the valley with the army to keep him out of his way.”