Qa'a (The First Dynasty Book 3)

by Lester Picker

  “Yes, that is correct. But household management, like cleaning, or shopping and cooking, or taking care of the children, that is not what I am speaking of. That is the natural order and based on the bas of women as opposed to men, for the gods have made them nurturers. No, what I am speaking of is women like Irisi, who go about planting ideas in women’s heads that are against ma’at.”

  “Such as?’

  “Such as owning businesses…”

  “But Kemian women have always owned businesses. I have seen it with my own eyes in the markets throughout Kem.”

  “Yes, but during your father’s reign he passed a law that allows them to pass those businesses on to whomever they choose, even choosing a daughter over their husband or first-born son! And that is not all. Irisi and her cohorts advocate women being allowed to divorce their husbands under a wide variety of circumstances, not just for a husband beating his wife.”

  Qa’a thought for a moment. “I feel embarrassed by my lack of knowledge of these matters.” He sat back on his chair, his fingertips tented under his chin. “But, did my father not confer with you and ask the advice and blessings of the Horus priesthood on these matters?”

  Khenemet tapped his staff lightly. “My King, I will speak candidly with you about this, as I am sworn to do, whether in this life or the Afterlife. Your father and I, by that I mean the Horus priesthood… I mean at least as I represented them… well, we sometimes disagreed on matters of policy. Such disagreement is natural, for the King is sworn to maintain the Two Lands and its people, while our role is to uphold ma’at and maintain Horus’ supremacy. There were times during your father’s brief rule that these two were… hmmm… in conflict. We can advise, but in the end we must support the King’s decisions, for he alone is Horus’ brother.”

  “I see. Yet this makes me wonder what will happen if you and I disagree about matters of Kem, Chief Priest?”

  “How would you prefer we handle such disagreements?” Khenemet deftly asked.

  “As I learned in the army; clearly state your position or your displeasure. I will take it under consideration.”

  I saw in Khenemet’s face that he saw no point pursuing the issue any further. “Whatever is your wish, my King, brother to Horus.” I knew it would not be long before he maneuvered Qa’a into a follow-up conversation on the matter.

  That evening, after Ra settled for the night and the King needed no further attention, Buikkhu appeared at the Temple at about the same time as did I. Although I had living quarters in the palace, my two assistant scribes dwelled within the Temple complex, which sometimes necessitated my visiting them. However, tonight I ventured to the Temple simply to say my devotions to Horus and Ra.

  Buikkhu, for his part, proceeded directly to the Chief Priest’s quarters and shut the door. In a moment he quickly opened it again and surprised me by beckoning me inside. My heart pounded, for I had already met with the King and he had told me the substance of what had transpired between he and Khenemet. As soon as I entered I could see that Khenemet was upset.

  “I met with the boy,” Khenemet began disrespectfully, “and I have come to believe he will present us with problems.” I remained silent. I dared not look at either of them.

  “I could see when you left the palace that you were not pleased,” Buikkhu offered.

  “Merkha, are you aware of why you are included in these deliberations?” I was caught off guard, but that very question had plagued me since the very first time Khenemet asked me to join them many months ago. My heart beat hard in my chest and I had no doubt that both men were well aware of that fact.

  “No, Chief Priest.” From the corner of my eye I saw Buikkhu glance at Khenemet.

  “I am sure you realize the position we are in.” Many seconds passed and I was unsure what Khenemet expected from me.

  “I am not certain what you are referring to.”

  Khenemet sighed and rose from his chair. He began pacing slowly back and forth before me. “Merkha, these are difficult times for the Horus priesthood, perhaps even grave times if the omens our seers detect are to be believed.” I nodded, unsure of where this conversation was going.

  “Surely you are aware of the setbacks to our power we suffered under the rule of Semerkhet, the bastard.” I was shocked by Khenemet’s disrespectful tone. “I told Qa’a that his father and I disagreed. Ha! We fought endlessly. He wanted all power concentrated in his hands. He insisted on ruling on every major dispute. He had the head of the treasury audit our holdings and slyly confiscated much of it. He nearly destroyed us in the process, Merkha. We, the Horus priests, who create order from chaos. Buikkhu can attest to that. He forced our hand…” Khenemet cast a furtive glance toward Buikkhu.

  “I knew that you two fought, but I thought…”

  “We kept you out of the fray, Merkha. We wanted you to gain the trust of Semerkhet and Khenti, so that when… when the time came, we would start to regain our strength from a more secure position.” Buikkhu nodded toward me.

  “Look, Merkha, you are a loyal Horus priest, as are we, sworn to…”

  “Sworn to be loyal to the King, brother of Horus,” I hurriedly added, hoping to deflect the thrust of the conversation.

  Khenemet again looked at Buikkhu, who betrayed no emotion. Khenemet paced slowly to the back of his chair, holding onto its back rail.

  “Yes, loyal to the King, for ma’at depends upon a pyramid of power, with the King on top. But we are also sworn to a higher purpose, dear Merkha. For upon our shoulders is placed the holy responsibility to maintain ma’at through Horus, the patron god of Nekhen. Without ma’at there is chaos. When the gods shake the very ground we stand upon, even the strongest buildings topple. If the gods are displeased, there is no flood, no King, no Kem. The desolate darkness of Nun would envelope and crush us.” My skin crawled with visions of the cold fog of Nun swirling around me.

  “And… and what are you saying?” I managed to croak. My throat was dry from fear. The implication of Khenemet’s words was too frightening to contemplate. My thoughts flew to the hushed whispers surrounding Semerkhet’s painful death.

  “What I am saying, loyal servant of Horus, is that we are at a delicate balance point in Kem’s proud history. Remember that it took Anhotek, the most revered of all Horus priests, to raise King Narmer, may his name be blessed for all eternity. All Narmer’s great accomplishments can be traced to Anhotek’s holy influence. Our fate can tip one way or other, up on Horus’ wings toward the warm embrace of Ra, from which ma’at and stability emanates for Kem, or down into the damp, cold chaos of Nun. That difficult responsibility rests upon our shoulders, Merkha, and our shoulders alone. That is the ultimate burden that all-seeing Horus places upon us.”

  I could hardly breathe, for there was something in Khenemet’s words, sobering as they were, that unsettled me. Yet his powers of persuasion were so strong I could not focus on what it was that made me feel uncomfortable. He stared at me expectantly, as if he had asked me a question, and my ka burned under his gaze. “What… what would you have me do?”

  Khenemet returned to his chair and leaned toward me. “We three are the closest to the King. You, most of all, Merkha, must be our eyes and ears, for you are in the palace every day. You must report to us everything that goes on in the palace, whether for good or evil. We will depend on you to uncover rumors, undercurrents, even the faintest of breezes that may portend winds of change. It is far easier to change the course of a river while it is still a mountain stream. If we work together, the three of us, we can influence the King’s decisions and thus align his desires with the interests of ma’at.”

  “The interests of ma’at or of the priesthood?” I blurted and instantly wished I could take back those words. Khenemet’s face reflected his displeasure.

  Buikkhu walked to Khenemet’s side. “They are one and the same, Merkha. You are a humble man, a scholar Priest knowledgable in the ancient scrolls, and we are all the better for that. You have done well the job you were
trained for, serving the Royal Court and teaching Khenti. But you must trust that there are far deeper understandings that a chosen few of the Horus priesthood are called upon to know. Maintaining ma’at is a difficult thing, brother. It is our prayerful intercessions each morning that keep Ra looking favorably upon Kem. It is our prayers that keep the desert muts from overpowering our people. Like you and your teaching, those of us who have gained this deeper understanding work hard to fulfill our roles. But, unless we work together, the entire building collapses and we all will be devoured by the mut forces that surround us.”

  I could only stare at my Horus brothers, contemplating what their words might mean to my future. My stomach ached and I felt the very ground beneath me shift.

  “In a month, Qa’a and his advisors and a military escort will leave for Pwenet on an important trading expedition that was planned even before Semerkhet’s passing. The three of us will be part of that expedition. We will visit many temples of Horus on the way there and back. It will be a good time for us to learn to work together.” I could feel Khenemet’s stare as he measured the strength of my ba.

  “Can we depend on you?” Buikkhu asked.

  For a moment I thought of bolting from my chair and running far into the desert, far from such grave responsibilities, to distance myself from the intrigue and deception, the half-truths and lies that I knew my answer would entail. Yet my training, the self-discipline that the Horus priesthood instilled in me, prevented me from such a shameful act of disobedience. “Yes,” I muttered, staring at the floor. “You can depend on me.”

  SCROLL SEVEN

  The Storm

  Merkha

  Over the next three ten-days, the Royal Court was thrust into the throes of readying for a major expedition. A fleet of reed and even some elegant wood boats were brought to the palace’s docks and laden with all manor of provisions for the journey. Goods designated for trade were also loaded. One boat held nothing but our wines and even though we all knew they were inferior to Babylonian vintages, we imagined they were still superior to the ones of Pwenet. Other boats held our best linen cloth goods or fine, black-rimmed pottery from Upper Kem and grains and exotic dried sea creatures from the Great Green of Lower Kem. Breweries from Nekhen and its surrounding towns had petitioned the King for permission to outfit one boat with urns of the finest Kamut wheat beers.

  So, on a day that dawned bright blue and clear, the rams horns were sounded as Ra’s disk rose over the Two Lands, and our boats took off slowly upriver on our journey, the oarsmen rowing to the heavy beat of the drummer. Three fine reed and wood boats held the King and those from the Royal Court chosen to accompany us. The remainder of the entourage, some thirty ships in all, held our supplies, boats of soldiers from the King’s Guard, and our trade items. Along the shore, crowds of rekhi gathered to see us off and to cheer Qa’a and ask for his intercession with the gods for all manner of afflictions. Flower petals floated thick on the surface of Mother Nile. And as I watched them float serenely by, I wondered what cross-currents waited below, hidden by their alluring colors and enticing perfumes.

  For three days we rowed near to the shoreline to avoid the swift current in the middle of the river. As we passed various spits of land, immense crocodiles slithered into the water amidst the curses of the sailors, every one of whom had at least one friend who had lost life or limb to these hideous muts.

  Yet as we rowed south we also came upon lush farm fields that grew abundantly with emmer and kamut wheat, all manner of vegetables, and flax. These green fields were a delight for the eye to behold. As a priest I knew that the gods were good to us, for they provided us with all the sustenance we needed. Ma’at seemed strong throughout the lands we passed.

  So, too, did we pass temples devoted to Horus. Buikkhu had sent messengers ahead of us and at each temple a delegation of priests awaited us on the shore in their finest white robes, paying homage to their new King and the brother of the deity they worshipped. At some temples we stopped so that the King might commemorate them by his presence; at others we merely stopped to exchange information and then spent the next few hours rowing double-time trying to catch up to our procession. After many such visits, I noted that a pattern had emerged. Wherever we stopped with Qa’a, the priests that officiated were close friends of Khenemet. This was a great honor for them, but it also meant gifts would arrive from the King’s treasury and workshops, and thus cemented their allegiance to Khenemet. I said nothing of this to either Khenemet or Buikkhu, but they watched my reactions with great interest. I thought it best not to mention my observations to Qa’a until I understood better what it was that I saw.

  Finally, we reached a small village on the east bank of Mother Nile, but still a few hours sail from Nekhen. There we disembarked and made our way to tents that had already been erected for us by priests from Nekhen. Simply by our presence the village had doubled in size overnight and soon a flurry of activity began in order to prepare us for the next part of the journey.

  Before our eyes, each ship was emptied of its cargo by a crew of local rekhi. Each boat was then de-masted, stripped down and, in the cases of some of the small wood boats, completely disassembled. Over the next few days, the cargo and boat parts were placed on two hundred donkeys and many sledges and two or three times a day a caravan of them would leave our site for the difficult trek across the Eastern Desert to the Red Sea. Each caravan flew the pennant of King Qa’a, so that they would not be marauded by desert-dwelling thieves.

  By the end of the ten-day the Nekhen priests struck the last tent and Qa’a, his King’s Guard, merchants, priests and priestesses began our journey across the vast Eastern Desert. Twenty-five of the King’s Guard led the procession, while a similar number walked behind. Qa’a spent little time in his carry chair, preferring to walk with his troops and visit with his ministers and relatives. But Khenemet usually rode in his chair, or atop a donkey, with Buikkhu or me walking by his side.

  Although Horus priests are trained in the ways of the desert, nothing could have prepared me for this journey. We could immediately see why Ra did not favor desert travelers, land of the dreaded desert vipers. He blazed his fury at us mercilessly, willing us to turn back.

  At first we were jovial, but by mid-afternoon of the very first day the intense heat made even the attempt to talk burdensome. We trudged along a well-worn, rocky caravan path, our eyes following our feet, silent and absorbed in nothing but our thoughts of the cooling embrace of Mother Nile who we had just left. Even riding atop a donkey was no help, as the body heat of the miserable animals, and their distinct reek of urine and feces, only intensified our misery. Water was carefully rationed from the urns that the pack donkeys carried.

  Each night we rested before Ra completed his journey, so that we might prepare our small tents and ready ourselves for night. As the cooks prepared our meals, we dressed in layer upon layer of clothing to ward off the desert cold. Few people gathered around the fire circle, but instead retreated to their tents to stay warm. But the cold was preferable to the miseries that the hot sands brought us each morning. After four days of travel our eyes burned from dryness, sand dust covered us from head to toe, and if even a tiny patch of skin was left exposed, that person would suffer burns for days.

  By the fifth day of our journey across the desert we began to enter the mountainous territory near the Red Sea. I had heard of these mountains many times, but I had never seen them with my own eyes. They were beautiful beyond description, rising from the desert floor in all manner of shapes and colors. There were blue mountains, red mountains, white and gray ones, too. Ibex calves, well camouflaged by their colors that imitated the rocks, scurried over boulders to their mothers’ side as our caravan approached. Small groups of sand-colored dik-diks ran away from us at full speed along the wadi floors, as if they were being pursued by lions and, on one occasion, actually were.

  Being younger, the King’s Guard each evening went off on their own after the meal to compete with each othe
r in games of skill or strength. They often raced each other along the rocky wadis or up a steep mountain, or wrestled or engaged in mock sword fights, encouraged by their captains. One night, as we were camped in a wadi at the base of a red mountain, protected by a group of lovely acacia trees, two of the guards came running back to camp, screaming as they approached. Those few of us who sat around the fire circle immediately stood to see what caused the commotion.