Written stories become static, they don’t evolve with the times and it becomes harder to teach the young the values expressed in the oldest of ways. As he was thinking this, he caught sight of a movement of people in the corner of his eye. A small crowd had begun to gather around an old man, sitting cross-legged, an old donkey standing obediently behind him.
‘Who is he?’ Djoser asked a young man next to him.
‘He’s Old Bebi, a travelling storyteller who comes to regale us every year around this time with his tales. Some old, some new, always entertaining. He comes riding or trailing his donkey, he entertains us for a week or so, we feed him and his donkey and then he moves on. He’s been coming every year since I can remember. I think there will be great sadness when he doesn’t come. He looks a hundred years old now but this is exactly how he looked the first time I saw him, carried here in my mother’s arms.’
There was a murmur of anticipation from the gathering throng.
‘He doesn’t change, just as the peace and prosperity of this city doesn’t change while he still comes here. People hereabouts secretly think it’s Old Bebi visiting once a year, shortly before the inundation and the start of the new year, with his gifts of stories, that helps protect us. Parents often scold their children with threats they won’t be taken to hear Old Bebi if they don’t behave. He is important to the city; I hope the world never loses people like him. My wish is, he doesn’t just become a story written down and then forgotten, a myth which people stop believing in. If that were to happen the world would lose much joy.’
Djoser was impressed by the eloquence of the young man at his side. He hadn’t seen him arrive and hadn’t looked at him properly when he asked him the question. He was probably in his early to mid-twenties, well dressed, tall, good-looking with an open, smiling face and deep brown eyes. His dress, but more particularly his jewellery, indicated he was not a commoner. Djoser looked at him more carefully; there was a familiarity about this young man.
‘Do I know you? Have we met before?’ Djoser asked.
‘My father tells me,’ came the reply, ‘that I was a suckling babe the last time you were in our house. He says, the next time you come to our city on a camel, in a cart, or on a broken-down donkey, you come straight to the house and don’t waste valuable time in a beer house in the town. The brewer in my father’s house is one of the best in all of the Two Lands. We supply the palaces in Waset and Ineb-Hedj, his beer is that good. May I introduce myself? I’m Pihuri, son of Perneb, your host for your stay in Iunet.’
‘But…., what…? How….?’
‘Djoser, son of Kha, nothing happens in this sepat, let alone in this city without my father knowing about it. Arriving on a camel is not exactly travelling in secret. I hope you don’t mind, I have arranged for your beast to be brought to my father’s residence, there are going to be many happy children today, a camel is such a novelty. Shall I call for a litter or shall we walk?’
‘Let’s walk,’ said Djoser, ‘it will give me time to get over the shock.’
Pihuri laughed, an easy, friendly laugh. Djoser immediately felt comfortable in this young man’s company. They stood and listened to Old Bebi for a few minutes, it was an ancient story about a sailor, shipwrecked on an island, which Djoser had known since his childhood, but it came alive in the tone and intonation of the storyteller. It was fresh, it was new, it had the audience enraptured.
They tore themselves away and walked along the river until they came to the landing stage beside the Governor’s residence. There were guards at the entrance; they appeared to be more ceremonial than protective. They stepped aside as Djoser and Pihuri walked past. Djoser stood for a moment looking along the river’s flow, towards the bend in the river about three hundred paces away. Djoser wondered if the man he wanted to meet would indeed stop here or whether he would just have to watch the procession of barges sailing regally by. It shouldn’t be long before he found out.
From the landing stage, Djoser and Pihuri went through a portal in the high wall which surrounded the residence. Djoser was immediately hit by a sudden wave of perfume. The garden was stunning in its beauty. He remembered his last visit here when the garden was big, but had clearly been in its infancy. Now, saplings had grown into fully fledged trees creating shade and light under which flowers, of every colour and hue, grew in shows of scented splendour. He recognised sycomore palms and acacia trees, ripe pomegranates and figs, apples and apricots, his mother’s favourites. As they walked toward the spacious house they skirted a large pond with papyrus and water lilies. Beside the path, a profusion of lavender filling Djoser’s senses with its heady fragrance. Djoser’s daughters taught him that lavender was an important plant. Used in cosmetics, medicines and, when mixed with fat and oil, it could be shaped into cones, fixed on top of people’s heads to deodorise during formal functions. The gardens were magnificent, the house at the top of the steps in front of them, equally impressive.
With great diplomacy, as they neared the residence, Pihuri turned to Djoser.
‘I prevented you from bathing in the river this morning. Please follow my servant girl to your quarters. There is a bathing pool available and fresh clothes. You’ll need ointment for those bites on your legs. My parents will be waiting for you in the dining area in the courtyard at the back of the house; they said you will remember where it is. It’s where you asked the daughter of one of our servant girls to marry you.’
Djoser laughed. He remembered the occasion well, even though he was probably only about seven years old. He had been lucky to have met her that day, even luckier years later, when they married and she bore him his three beautiful daughters. A terrible disease had taken his beloved wife away from him, he had plunged into despair.
After her death, Djoser became obsessed with gathering wealth. With more money they could have lived in a better home, maybe she wouldn’t have been in the place where she caught the disease, perhaps a better doctor could have saved her. All maybes and regrets about losing her, guilt that he could, or should, have done more. His mother had assured him these were natural feelings felt by everyone who loses a loved one, but her words didn’t lessen the heartache. Even, with the passage of time, those feelings still returned whenever he thought of her. It’s true his first thoughts were always of his great love for her, then anger at the loss of that love and finally the guilt and the ‘maybe ifs’ returned.
Djoser bathed, enjoyed a perfumed massage, before donning the fine linen garment left out for him and with eyes kohled, he stepped out into the mid-morning brightness and walked down the steps to the rear courtyard. Even if he didn’t know the way, he needed only to follow the bright, cheerful conversation emanating from behind a screen of vines. He walked until he found a gap. Almost entirely surrounded and covered, it was sheltered from the sun, creating a cool, calm, convivial place to sit. There were a number of small tables organised neatly. Sofas and cushions were scattered around. There was room for thirty or more people to sit comfortably.
As Djoser entered, four people were seated. The Governor, Perneb, and his wife Nofret he knew already. They had been frequent visitors to his father’s house, much less grand than this, but they had never seemed to mind. An elegant young woman sat beside Pihuri. The young man saw Djoser as he entered and rose to greet him. Djoser was not sure of the proper etiquette, in a Governor’s house, when greeting the host but any attempt to drop to his knees was quickly blocked by Pihuri, who warmly wrapped his arms around the visitor. Feigning anger, Perneb also rose and walked over to the now very nervous Djoser.
‘Son of Kha, who is the brother of my heart, how dare you come to my city without informing me? How dare you enter my sepat on a camel without first asking my permission? Riding a camel? – What are you? A trader from Retjenu? A spy? I am appalled.’
Djoser looked up at the stern face and suddenly felt both nervous and ashamed.
‘M-m-my L- Lord,’ he beg
an to stutter.
Perneb could not keep up the pretence.
‘Oh Djoser, don’t call me “My Lord.” I’m your uncle, we are your family, it brings joy to our house and our hearts to see you here. You should have come yesterday when you arrived. By the way, my grandchildren have fallen in love with your camel so please let my scribe know how much you want for it, you won’t need it for going home, you can come with us in our barge, we’ll be leaving in four days and you will join us.’
‘Perneb, you are so very kind.’
Djoser managed to hold back the tears. There had been a lot of emotion building up in him over the last few days and it took all of his strength to dam the flood which was threatening to escape.
‘If the children like the camel then they should have it as a gift. I would not dream of selling it to you.’
‘Let’s not debate this now. Come and say hello to Nofret and Pihuri’s goddess of a wife, Takhat – how someone as beautiful as she would want to marry my son, I’ll never understand.’
Nofret extended her hand to Djoser to kiss, while much more formally, Takhat stood, bowed slightly and said, ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’
Nofret ushered Djoser to a low sofa between her and her husband and Djoser sank into the cushions. It was very comfortable.
‘So what brings you here nephew? Looking for a new wife?’
They all laughed. Even Takhat must have been told the story because she also joined in.
‘What news of your father and mother?’ Perneb asked without waiting for an answer to his earlier question. It wasn’t the fact he had no interest in the answer, he had seen a slight shadow pass the eyes of his guest and thought the reason for the visit should best be discussed at a later, more private, time.
‘Kha is getting older and more cantankerous every day,’ said Djoser, ‘I think his strength is failing him. It’s a struggle for him to make the journey from the village to the site. He’s determined to finish the job but honestly Perneb, I’m not sure he will. My mother and sister Merit are both well, they are worried about my father’s failing health and are doing everything they can to get him to slow down, but you know him.’
‘The obstinate old fool will live forever,’ replied Perneb. ‘The gods wouldn’t want him and his heart would be too tough even for Ammut to eat.’
Djoser smiled.
‘Maybe so Perneb, but I know he has ordered his coffin and sarcophagus to be made.’
‘That news does not fill me with joy, Djoser. I’ll go to see him as soon as I arrive in Waset.’
A true sadness came over the Governor but very quickly, diplomatic training took over.
‘You must be hungry Djoser. Kama, bring us the food,’ he called over to his chief servant, who had been standing patiently awaiting just such instructions, ‘and let’s have some music to lift our spirits. Perhaps Takhat will sing for us.’
‘Perhaps not,’ said the young girl.
‘Djoser, help me, I hope you have greater control over the women in your household,’ pleaded Perneb.
‘Oh, yes Perneb, everything in my house runs smoothly, I lay down the law and the girls do everything I ask, provided they don’t disagree of course, in which case, they do exactly the opposite and I have no choice but to accept it. It all works out perfectly.’
Everyone laughed genuinely and for the next few hours they chatted happily, enjoying each other’s company. Djoser was able to forget the purpose of his visit and its inevitable outcome. Drinking wine and beer, which, he had to admit, was some of the best he had ever tasted, eating from the endless plates of delicious food placed on the tables in front of them. Listening to the harpist and chatter around him. Djoser felt a part of this family just like he did in his own home on similar, although much less lavish, occasions.
As dusk turned to night and the torches were lit, Perneb called to Djoser.
‘Will you take a walk with me, Djoser? I’d like to do some catching up.’
Djoser followed his host out into the rear garden. They retraced the steps Djoser had taken a few hours earlier. The house was constructed of stone. Two storeys, built on four sides around a central garden, planted with fruit trees, vegetables and a herb garden. They strolled, unhampered, through the guarded portal which Djoser had entered with Perneb this morning. Once through the gateway, they walked to the end of the landing stage. A servant opened two folding stools, setting them down in front of the men.
‘You may go inside now,’ he said politely but with authority. The servant bowed and walked away.
‘Djoser, tomorrow is going to be a very busy day. This landing stage must be turned into a garden, fit for greeting a queen, along with the King’s Lieutenant and his wife. Queen Kirgipa will be arriving the day after tomorrow, thankfully I’m told she will only be stopping with ten or fifteen servants, the rest are travelling straight to Waset to prepare for her arrival there. Your father’s old friend Yuya will also be coming. Although if my suspicions are correct maybe your visit to me is not entirely coincidental and Yuya’s visit was already known to you.’
Djoser’s mood was now sombre.
‘No Perneb, it was not known to me, I hoped to speak to him if he happened to be here. Once he arrives in Waset it will be impossible get near him. But, the Queen? I didn’t expect him to be travelling with Queen Kirgipa. I’m sorry for invading your home at this time Perneb, I can’t stay.’
‘Djoser, don’t be ridiculous, you’re my guest. Kirgipa is one of the sweetest, kindest, loveliest people I have ever met. You will enjoy her company, if she decides to eat with us of course. Now unless it involves secrets of state can you tell me why, after all these years, you’ve decided to avail yourself of my hospitality?’
Perneb and Yuya were the closest friends Djoser’s father ever had. After their release from prison they had worked, as a team, helping Yuya organise the country’s grain production and collecting taxes. Perneb was rewarded with the governorship of the sixth sepat and had settled quickly and comfortably into his role. Kha didn’t settle so well into the court and diplomatic life. He was an artist, a man used to working hard with his hands. He decided, against the advice of his friends, to return to the manual work he believed he was destined for and used his great skills on the monuments and tombs and lived, in relative simplicity, in the village. Perneb always made a point of visiting when he was in Waset and was a very welcome guest in their home. Kha unfailingly took out the old senet board he made in prison. Perneb joked that it had been finished after he had been sentenced to death, so playing the game now, reminded him he was lucky to be alive and how good a friend Kha had been with the treasured items he had presented to him.
Djoser told Perneb everything. It was like floodgates had opened. The dream, meetings with Nahkt, the plans of the tomb, organising the thefts from the ancient tombs of the nobles, everything. Perneb listened in silence and let Djoser finish.
‘Are you sure this is everything? Are you sure you have never desecrated, nor organised the desecration of, a tomb of a member of the royal family?’
‘No Perneb, I swear.’
The Governor stood up and began pacing up and down along the landing stage.
‘Djoser, Djoser, Djoser, you have been incredibly stupid. I realise many of the nobles have obtained their earthly wealth through unfair means and probably most of them, in the reckoning, had their hearts eaten by Ammut so their wealth was doing them no good, but how could you Djoser? You’ve turned yourself into a common thief.’
Then he began to laugh, profoundly, loudly and for such a long time Djoser thought he was going crazy.
‘Djoser, just for a moment, I’d forgotten who I was and where I came from. I’d forgotten how I met your father and Yuya. I’d forgotten how I only managed to avoid the hangman’s rope because Yuya pleaded for me. Your father crafted a gift which I will take with me to my tomb. I learned my lesson the
hard way. You have friends here Djoser. I can’t promise all of this will turn out well, but I do promise that you will be dealt with fairly. It’s greatly in your favour you’ve come to your senses and are facing up to this before any real harm has been done. Go to your room now, we’ll talk tomorrow.’
They retraced their steps. A servant was standing just inside the house. Perneb instructed him to take Djoser to his sleeping quarters and make sure he was given every comfort.
‘If your comfort includes the company of a servant girl for the night,’ whispered Perneb with a twinkle in his eye, ‘just remember, you don’t have to marry her.’
Djoser smiled and turned to his host.
‘Thank you Perneb, my thoughts are on many things tonight, they don’t include such forms of entertainment. I pray I don’t dream.’
Perneb stood, watching his guest walk two paces behind the servant. His shoulders hunched as if carrying a heavy burden upon them.
‘How like your father you are Djoser. I hope all goes well as it did for me,’ he thought.
chapter nineteen
Djoser woke early. After bathing and dressing, he ate the bread and dates brought to him by a servant, and took a stroll through the gardens. Even at this early hour the place was busy, with servants and artisans rushing around. A commotion, coming from the landing stage, attracted his attention. As he approached, Pihuri was gesticulating at a servant carrying an enormous plant in a pot. Perneb, Nofret and Takhat were talking with servants and pointing. As he walked on to the landing stage, chaos greeted him. Two boats were moored, each overflowing with plants and flowers. Servants trying to unload but each getting in the way of another.
The Awakening Aten Page 22