The Prince of Nubia

by Nathaniel Burns

  “My lord, my king, I call on you today to plead my case, to seek of you to correct a wrong and injustice served on me, one that involves your son,” Rameke calmly stated.

  King Shebitku looked from Rameke to Shabaka and remained silent for several moments as he considered the matter, and whether they would pursue it. The advisors also looked from one to the other, them mumbled among themselves. Shabaka had heard the gist of it, although his father had not said anything. Shabaka knew his father considered all men to be up to something when it came to the estates of their father’s.

  King Shebitku again looked at Rameke, tilting his head some before replying,

  “Yes, Rameke, eldest son of Dragi, what might I help you with, what have you brought before me?”

  “My lord, my king,” Rameke started, although the address was proper, Shabaka thought the proper note of respect was missing. “I call on you today to overrule a promise your son made to my father, an agreement reached between them without any knowledge of mine, or any input.”

  “A promise?” the king asked, before adding, “I do not know if my son would make any promises in the name of the palace or the kingdom. I am certain that he knows that such promises would be void within my court as he holds no power to either accept or decline on my behalf.”

  Shabaka looked at his father for a moment, questioning his obvious obtuse behavior. Shabaka also knew that King Shebitku was a brilliant observer of human nature, and that he could often deduce a person’s intent long before others could establish it. He again turned his attention to Rameke, who confidently spoke, “No, my lord, my king. The promise was made within his personal capacity.

  During Rameke’s address, the hall had fallen silent. Shabaka knew that although there would be numerous rumors about him and Aya, he realized that sooner or later an announcement from them would be expected, as soon as the official waiting period of three months had passed. Shabaka dreaded that day and hoped his father would see sense before that, although with Neti missing, he also saw little reason to oppose it any more.

  “And what is this promise my son made, with which I am to help you?” King Shebitku calmly asked.

  “My lord, my king, I am certain that you have been informed that my own excellent father has passed on, and that he is headed for the eternal life with Ra,” Rameke stated, watching Shabaka as he spoke.

  “Of this, I have been informed,” King Shebitku impatiently replied, for a moment looking at Shabaka before continuing. “If the purpose of your presence here today is in regard to the contract between your father and the palace, I will tell you that for now it is void. It ended with his death. I will reconsider such an agreement on the merits of the parties concerned. There is no promise my son could have made, on his behalf or on that of the kingdom, that I will honor.”

  Shabaka frowned at the firmness of his father’s stance on the matter, which he had not even considered at the time and was ready to counter any such claim. He knew his father was familiar enough with the matter, unlike others present in the assembly room.

  “My lord, my king, that I fully understand.”

  For some reason the way Rameke continued to address his father irked Shabaka. At times it felt overdone. There was no need to grovel so much. Beyond the fact that Shabaka knew what the young man would bring to light, and that he had no desire for it to be known to everyone within the assembly.

  “I trust that you will select the best possible servant for such an important chore,” Rameke continued, “however, my reason for applying to you today has nothing to do with the movement of goods from the city, but concerns the arrangements surrounding my father’s young wife.”

  “It is customary for the wife of a father to pass to a son,” one of the advisors said, his disbelief and failure to understand the reason for the matter evident, something that caused Shabaka to cringe. He would give Rameke the point there, he had chosen his audience well, they would be sympathetic to his cause. Until that moment, it had only been the traders and crafters who openly disliked Rameke, and even that could be explained away as a possible threat to their livelihood.

  “That might be so,” King Shebitku started, “nut it is my understanding that your father had a different opinion about the matter.”

  Shabaka watched Rameke’s reactions closely, in an attempt to make out his true character, knowing his father could infuriate even the mildest mannered individuals, if only to get to the cause of a matter.

  “Yes, my lord, my king. My father, just prior to his death, at a time I believe he was influenced by your son and his partner, changed his opinion and had your son agree to a marriage with her.”

  While Shabaka could not question Dragi’s actual state of mind at the time, he had never thought the man’s actions as being those of a madman. Dragi had been insistent and Shabaka had thought little would come of the matter. Shabaka knew that his father would have no opinion but to air his knowledge of that promise Shabaka had made to Dragi.

  King Shebitku turned to look at Shabaka, before he again addressed Rameke. “I am aware of such an arrangement, although I was under the impression that there was no objection from either of the parties involved.”

  Everyone present within the room appeared confused, accept for the palace advisor, who was looking at the others with alarm, another matter that concerned Shabaka.

  “Then, my lord, my king, they have deceived you, for there is an objection against the matter.”

  “How so?” the king was quick to reply. “The punishment for such a deception would be severe indeed.”

  “I believe that my father was wrongly influenced in making the decision.”

  King Shebitku smirked before replying, “I would imagine you would feel relieved from your obligation to accept a woman that once belonged to your father. I am certain my sons, with the exception of their mother, would view it as a burden.”

  The others in the room smiled at the king’s words.

  “That might be so, my lord, my king. But as you have looked on her yourself, you could understand that it would be no hardship for anyone to whom she is married.”

  Rameke’s words caused everyone in the hall to fall silent, turning their gaze on the king.

  “You would have those in the room believe that I have wrongly looked on her,” the king firmly reprimanded Rameke. Even Shabaka was shocked at the vehemence in his father’s tone.

  “Never, my lord, my king!” Rameke was quick to reply, “Only that her presence in the palace is not one that is easily overlooked.”

  “Then I do believe you speak like a man who is in love,” King Shebitku calmly said, looking from Rameke to Shabaka. Everyone in the room then turned their attention to Rameke, who lowered his head some as he spoke.

  “I do confess, my lord, my king, that I am that a man in love.

  Shabaka’s brow furrowed, as Rameke’s action and the delivery seemed too contrived. He could not place it. However, the others seemed to accept it at face value.

  The king then remained silent for several moments and Shabaka turned to look at his father, wondering if he too had seen the artifice in the man’s actions.

  “If that is so, then I might question your part in your father’s demise, for I am certain that any such knowledge on his part would have caused concern,” the king calmly said, causing Shabaka to turn his attention to Rameke, noticing how the young man’s back and shoulders stiffened at that.

  Rameke’s head flew up and, without groveling, he harshly responded, “You accuse me of having anything to do with my beloved father’s death!” He raised a hand to point at Shabaka, “When he and that Hittite woman were present throughout the remainder of it; they even took him down to the river the night of his death.”

  The air in the room grew thick as everyone present looked toward Shabaka to refute the claim. Shabaka looked toward his father for several moments, before turning to Rameke, replying, “Your father believed he was dying and requested to view the sunset from the river one mor
e time. He believed it to be the best vantage point.”

  “And you allowed it, knowing his life was endangered, threatened!” Rameke challenged Shabaka.

  “I have known men to kill for lesser reasons,” the king flatly stated, not impressed by either side’s reaction. Shabaka only too late realized that things had shifted, into a territory he would not want, also placing his father in a difficult situation.

  “Well, men have murdered for lesser things,” the king calmly replied, “and a man affected by love will find some rationalization for his actions. This most of us understand. I realize you had nothing to do with your father’s demise. I was informed that his own great heart had stopped, that he was not murdered, attacked, or poisoned by any means.” The calmness with which his father said it had the air of expectation and the room suddenly cleared.

  “My lord, my king, as a son I would not have wished such fortune on my own beloved father. He was, remains, a great man. But, as his son, I ask only what would have been rightfully mine.”

  “Even that I understand, but the betrothal of his wife to my son remains standing. Unless there is any objection from their side, there is little I can do to overturn it.”

  Shabaka remained silent, for he knew his father knew of his objection and could readily enough overturn it if he had the desire to do so.

  “My lord, my king, I know not under what the agreement was made, but as a party concerned, I feel I have the right to object. My opinion was not sought on the matter. I will not rest properly until it has been addressed.”

  King Shebitku remained silent for several moments, before he spoke, “I have no desire and no reason to overturn the wishes of your father, or those my son promised him.” The king’s words caused several to gasp. “We are still within the official mourning period, and I dare say few would be thought to make wise decisions during such time. Aya, the woman of whom you speak, has been given proper leave to mourn her husband. There is no announcement of her and my son’s impending marriage. Both will be counseled first about their decision, as you would realize there is a considerable difference between being the wife of a trader and being the wife of a prince. My wife and I will first ascertain her suitability for such a position, after she has been allowed to mourn the loss of her husband.”

  Everyone present in the room nodded their heads, whether in agreement Shabaka could not decide. He had never thought of matters in such light, and he made a point to later speak to his father, for he was wholly confused.

  “We are also within the compulsory three-moon period from your father’s death, to ensure she is not with your father’s child. Thus, until those periods have been observed, and the persons properly counseled, I will not be pushed to overrule any agreements. Should circumstances between her and Shabaka alter, or she be found to be with child, then I will reassess the entire situation to determine the best course.”

  “I have another matter that I want tended to.”

  “Your father’s involvement in the warehouse.”

  “I would like it handed over to me.”

  “That matter, along with your request for his wife to be returned to you, require more time than we have here today, so they are matters that I will attend to at a more opportune moment.”

  “You have no interest in even hearing my complaints,” Rameke accused the king. “He is your son. You will only consider claims against mere men. He might do as he wished, be involved with whatever he wishes. My requests are just; I demand they be heard.”

  “And they have been heard!” the king firmly, harshly replied. “Now, if you are insinuating that I will consider these matters differently because my youngest son is concerned, I fear you fail to grasp the responsibility of my position. There matters you have brought before me require the application of my mind, and the thought as to how such decisions will affect others. There are several people who make a livelihood from that storage area. Thus many will be affected by my decision. I will not be pushed into making such a decision, when I have not applied my mind to it.”

  The entire hall remained silent at that. Rameke lowered his head.

  The king continued, “Thus until such time, consider that I have heard your requests, that they have been noted. However, I will only address them when I have had the proper time to apply my mind to the results. You may now leave this area, or one of the palace guards will escort you out.”

  Rameke looked at the king, with a mixture of loathing and disbelief, before forcefully adding, “I had hoped that you would see sense in these matters, I will however have to await your decisions.”

  The latter came out more as an insult, however, Shabaka noticed that the king did not respond to the jibe, merely indicating that the guard was to escort Rameke out.

  Shabaka watched as the man was led from the hall, trying to ascertain his character. The elderly trader had eluded to the fact that the other traders and the crafters did not trust him, although he had at first thought it due to rumor. Traders at the best of times were not the most honorable characters, so too crafters, but for both sides to unite on something like this was indication enough that something was amiss.

  Chapter Eight

  The following morning, just as they settled for their meal, one of the messengers rushed into the room. He looked about, somewhat bewildered, for several moments before his gaze finally settled on the king, for a moment flitting to Shabaka before again settling on the king. His hesitance was not overlooked by those within the room as he finally spoke, “My lord, my king,” before lowering to his knee in address, “I was sent here in haste, there is trouble at the storage rooms once again.”

  “Again?” the king demanded.

  This time the palace advisor stepped forward, “We have not yet had opportunity to council you on the matter. Shabaka resolved it.”

  “Which explains the messenger’s hesitation; what is the matter this time?”

  “The creators and traders are threatening to burn down the storage rooms.”

  “Fools! When will they ever learn that no one stands to benefit from such actions,” the king said, turning to Shabaka, “You can tell me the details on the way there.” He then rose from his position at the table.

  “You require my assistance?” Shabaka asked, shocked, his gaze for a moment moving to Moses, as they were to start gathering information. “I thought the matter resolved.”

  “Obviously the people do not think so, especially not if they are threatening to burn down the place.”

  “But surely you do not need me there, father,” Shabaka tried to reason, only to have his father turn a pointed stare at him.

  “You addressed the matter last time, you are still here. The people would accept a unified front from us.”

  Shabaka nodded in understanding, turning to look at Moses, lifting his shoulders as a means of apology before rising from his position.

  “You can collect information this afternoon, I’m certain there is little that could wait,” the king said, before turning to one of the palace guards, “Have my chariot prepared; the sooner we resolve, this the better.”

  On their way to the storage houses, Shabaka informed his father about the discord between the traders and crafters, however, nothing prepared them for what they found there. There was a multitude of bodies milling around, shouting chants. Where on the previous occasion there had only been a few people, now the numbers alone made it difficult for them to proceed to the pylons that marked the gates of the storage area.

  There were numerous shouts from all sides. Much of it was even properly understood, giving the impression that many people had no idea as to what the uproar was about, only that it seemed convenient. They passed several men holding lit torches, chanting, “Burn it down, burn it down. No good, burn it down!”

  “Any idea as to what caused this?” the king shouted above the noise.

  “No, it was not this bad last time.”

  “We should have brought more guards,” the king replied, as they slo
wly progressed through the crowd, many people only making way when they recognized the occupants of the chariot.

  On arrival at the gate, the onlookers settled, in expectation of the king addressing them. There were several mumbles in the crowds and fingers pointed at Shabaka.

  The scribe at the warehouse was the first to address the king, thanking him profusely for attending to the matter as swiftly as possible, although Shabaka could see how the situation annoyed his father. A loud horn was blown, which caused everyone to turn silent, their attention focused on the king.

  “I want to know the meaning of this. I was informed that the matter between the traders and the crafters was resolved.”

  All those present looked about them, as if seeking someone else. It was only after some time that one of them stepped forward. “We heard of your meeting with Rameke yesterday. We heard of his demands! He wants to take what we have worked so hard for!” the man shouted, “We will not let him have it, we will burn it first!”

  “He will not have what is ours!” the others chanted. “The prince might succumb to his demands, but we won’t!”

  The king looked at Shabaka, and then calmly spoke, “It has just gotten complicated.”

  Shabaka nodded, before making to talk to the crowd, however he was drowned out.

  Again a horn ballast silenced the crowd as he spoke, “Did I not promise you mere days ago that the matter would be resolved, that nothing would change?”

  “That was before Rameke staked his claim. There are many of us who remember his father’s input, and the king could heed to such demands. What then of us?” the elderly craftsman demanded, “Rameke is not after fine goods, he is after riches, debben. He could not care if we starve.”

  “And how can you be certain of such a thing?” Shabaka asked, his curiosity far greater than his political aptitude. Glancing at his father, he knew it had been the wrong thing to ask.