In six days Khnum’s men picked me up after midnight as I waited in Turakh, camped next to the temple of Isis that was under construction. As had become customary, Nyla provided cover for me. Khnum’s men rowed us across Mother Nile and after we had landed they hiked with me until we were just a few cubits from the temple. I suspected Bakht had consulted his charts and picked this night when Ra’s silver disk was but a sliver for the meeting. The temple was surprisingly small, a mere outpost at the top of the bluff.
“Welcome, Queen Nubiti,” a voice called out from inside. “Enter quickly so that your silhouette is not visible to prying eyes.” I entered, but could make out nothing. “If you’ll hold out your hand I’ll escort you to a seat. It’ll take a while for your eyes to adjust.”
Although I could not see well, once I sat I could feel the walls close around me. Tiny arches were cut in each of the four walls. I soon made out the shape of an altar and an unlit brazier in the center of the room.
“Do you know the history of this temple?” Khnum’s voice whispered. I listened for other breathing to determine if Bakht was present. When I did not hear anything, I relaxed.
“No. Please enlighten me, Uncle.”
“Well, it was built during Scorpion’s reign, perhaps before, but not long before.”
“Narmer’s father.”
“Yes, Narmer’s father. But it has a unique history for us. As long as our stories go back, the people of the Delta have used this as an outpost. There was even a minor festival that was held here every year by our people. And so, when Scorpion or his father began to imagine conquering Lower Kem, they captured this bluff and built a symbolic temple here.
“As you can see it is fairly useless, tiny as it is. In fact, other than the initial blessing of the site, I know of only one other time that a Horus priest ever graced this place.”
“When was that?” I asked, intrigued by Khnum’s tale.
“It was during Narmer’s time, when Anhotek, his Vizier, met secretly with an informer who revealed to him a plot by Mersyankh.”
“Ah, Narmer’s second wife. One of our relatives, correct? Your penchant for irony shines nearly bright enough to light this Horus-forsaken temple,” I said, laughing.
“I thought you’d appreciate that,” my Uncle responded and from his voice I could hear him smiling. “I received your messages.”
“And I yours.”
“Good, then you are probably wondering what manner of information would bring me to call a meeting at this time.”
“Indeed.”
“It is this. Panahasi has joined us!”
“Panahasi! General Panahasi? That… whew, that’s wonderful news!”
“Better than wonderful. It’s an unintended consequence of that harlot Regent usurping the throne, for a soldier such as Panahasi would never have violated his oath unless he truly believed that Meryt-Neith is an abomination and threatens the good of Kem.”
“This… this is… enormous,” I mused, standing, then quickly sitting again when I lost my balance.
“This is the magic that Apep creates, as Bakht is quick to point out. This is the break that will turn the tide in our favor.”
“I hope so. My spies tell me that Mery may send Herihor to the Delta to deal with the rebellions.”
“Hope is what Herihor will have to hang onto, for Panahasi was his teacher and mentor. Panahasi is a great general who, I might add, still counts many soldiers under Herihor’s command as secretly loyal to him. They would come over to our side in an instant when Panahasi so commands them.”
Whether it was the irony of history or the excitement in Khnum’s voice, I soon felt a wave of intense emotion sweep through my ka. For an instant I clearly saw myself with the crown of the Queen of the Two Lands upon my head and before me a vanquished Mery, bowed low, still grieving the loss of her new love.
SCROLL TWELVE
Meryt-Neith
“They live on Abu Island, in the middle of Mother Nile, far south of Nekhen,” Tepemkau said, pointing his hand behind him as he faced me.
“And why have I not been told about them before?” I asked, irritated.
“There are many things we have not told you,” Amka chimed in. “And many more things that we have not been told by the gods. I had planned to take you there as part of your education as Regent. But we’ve had a few crises to deal with up to now, so it has not been a priority.”
“I wasn’t even aware there was an Abu Island. Why is it named so unusually?”
“There are a number of large boulders that stick out of the river at that point, right after the cataract, and they resemble elephants, so the name Abu. The Ta-Setys believe that they were living elephants long ago and that they were turned to stone by the gods. They believe they will come to life when Mother Nile sends a disastrous flood and they will reduce the flood by sucking up the water with their trunks and spraying it far into the desert.”
“Pray to Horus that they come alive soon for we sorely need that flood,” I said sardonically. Amka and Tepemkau nodded in agreement.
“So what you are telling me is that there is a colony of black Horus priests on Abu Island?”
“Yes. They are descendents of a Ta-Sety man named Meruka and his closest relatives.”
“A Ta-Sety named Meruka?”
“That was his Horus name, given to him when he was made a Horus priest by Anhotek,” Tepemkau offered.
I was exasperated to a high degree. “So, you are telling me that Anhotek, Narmer’s Vizier and shaman, made this Ta-Sety, this Meruka, a Horus priest?”
“Yes, we are. Let me fill in the story,” Amka finally said.
“Well, thank you,” I said opening my arms. “Please, any time you feel I am worthy to know about the history of the lands I rule.”
Amka cleared his throat, a sure sign that I had pushed the sarcasm too far. “Anhotek received his early training traveling far and wide, from Lebanon to Ta-Sety, thus his unequaled knowledge of medicine and magic. While in Ta-Sety as a young man he lived with an old shaman, a medicine man who was highly respected by his people.
“Now when Narmer was a young boy, Anhotek traveled with him throughout Upper Kem and into Kush and Ta-Sety, mostly to avoid the ill feelings between Narmer and his father, Scorpion, and his step-mother, Mersyankh. This is all well documented in the scrolls that Anhotek meticulously kept, so that future generations might benefit from his knowledge.
“At any event, while he and Narmer were in Ta-Sety, they stayed with the same shaman that Anhotek had known. That is when Narmer took ill with the holy shaking sickness and nearly died.”
“Yes, I vaguely remember that from your teachings,” I interrupted.
“Well, it was actually Meruka who helped Narmer and from then on he and Anhotek were inseparable. Narmer, your great-grandfather, always considered Meruka his ka brother. When Anhotek passed on to the Afterlife, Narmer named Meruka his chief shaman. In old age, Meruka retired to Abu Island, so he could be closer to his native land and entertain visits from his family, but he maintained his first loyalty to Kem. There he established a temple to Horus and recruited his people, trained them and to this day they carry on the holy work.”
“Very interesting. I do wish I had known of them before this.” I took a sip of my beer. “And you feel they can help?”
“We do. I have sent messengers back and forth raising this issue with their leader, a priest named Nekau. He has agreed to serve as an intermediary with the Ta-Setys. He knows which tribe invaded our lands and he is eager to be of service. He has been waiting to be summoned.”
“And, so what makes them so different from the black priests that we already have here in Nekhen?” I asked, curious.
“They are different, for sure. Anhotek has written about this is his scrolls. Perhaps, while you are here in Nekhen, you will study the scrolls,” Amka offered.
“I’d love to do that, dear teacher, and we shall start tomorrow. But for now, what decision do you need from me?”
“Shall we send for Nekau?” Tepemkau asked.
“Yes, of course. Send for him. Immediately, go, make it so,” I said, waving my hands at them.
It wasn’t until late morning that I recalled how much I disliked being in Nekhen during Shomu, with its oppressive heat. It baked us like an oven, not even a breeze blowing to cool one’s skin, except in the depths of the night. Normally this would be an active time of year when our farmers were busy gathering crops. But this year even the soil was baked hard into bricks that burned their feet.
Over the objections of Tepemkau, I commanded him to take me along the streets of Nekhen and into the fields to see for myself the plight of my people. The sights I saw plagued me terribly. The ancient streets of Nekhen are narrower than those of Inabu-hedj. There were places were I had to climb down from my carry chair in order to pass between houses. Each rekhi house was build of simple mud-daub taken from Mother Nile’s shores, baked to a light brown by Ra’s light, with splotches of darker brown here and there where recent repairs had been made. The wall of one house was joined to its neighbor’s, so that the streets and alleyways were nothing but winding walls, punctuated by doorways and side entrances for goat pens.
People came out from their houses and stopped whatever work they did in the fields to catch a glimpse of their exalted King and to prostrate themselves before me. But in the midst of such grinding poverty, I hardly felt exalted.
The people were emaciated, their eyes set deep into their sockets, ribs protruding from overly thin bodies. Pitifully thin goats and chickens scavenged for whatever they could find. Refuse accumulated in the alleys and the stench of it as it decomposed in the hot sun was overpowering and I had to discreetly cover my nose with a piece of my perfumed gown to keep from gagging.
Yet wherever I went, the people ran into their houses to find something of value, a trinket or flower, to give to their King. They cried and shouted, asking for me to intervene as the chosen of Horus to end their plight. One extended family, in particular, drew my attention. They lived in an alley off the main street, but from my chair I caught a glimpse of them as we passed. I instructed my carriers to put me down and with my King’s Guard leading the way, I approached. I could hardly breathe from the overwhelming stench, for there was a dead cat that no one had bothered to remove and a sick goat that had voided its runny bowels into the alley. The heat was oppressive, too.
The family lay about, listless, taking advantage of the meager shade. An elderly grandmother, her skin dark and wrinkled, held her tiny granddaughter in her lap. Both of them were deplorably skinny, their eyes distant and vacant. The grandfather lay on a blanket next to the house, his fingers twisted and his spine bent from a lifetime of working in the fields. The mother tended another child, a boy of perhaps eight years. She dished out a scant piece of cheese placed upon a crumb of old bread. She wore the black shawl of widowhood. Yet when I approached they tried to bend low to the ground.
“No, please, humble servants of Ra, do not bow low, for it is I who am indebted to you,” I said, tears now flooding my eyes. They stared at me uncomprehending. Slowly they stumbled to their feet, still unsure of whom it was who addressed them. I knew it was futile to explain. My guards looked at me questioningly.
I reached behind me and unclasped my breastplate, not my ceremonial gold one, but a bejeweled one of far greater value for it contained silver, imported from far away lands.
“Here,” I said, reaching out, “take it.” The mother looked toward the grandmother, who looked toward me, her mouth agape, revealing her toothless cavity. Still, no one moved.
“Take this. Sell it in the market. It will fetch a good price. Feed your family. Find some shelter. Help others. Come, take it, mother,” I repeated, thrusting the breastplate out to her.
Finally, the mother reached out hesitantly. Bowing slightly she reached out with her hand. As I handed it to her, I watched her dirty, chapped hands wrap around the carefully polished jewels. She stood and gazed at the deep blue lapis-lazuli and orange carnelians jewels, all set artfully in silver brackets. They must have appeared to her as if they were of another world and she probably wondered if she had, indeed, entered the Afterlife. She looked from her mother, back to me and then again to the treasure in her hand, the worth of which far surpassed the lifetime earnings of her entire family and friends and neighbors. Ever so slowly she closed her hand around the jewels and pressed them to her own breast. She shook her head and raised her eyebrows as if asking for permission. I shook mine back and tried a wan smile. Then she dropped to the ground and crawled to me to kiss my hand, but my guards prevented her from touching me.
Back on the main roadway we also heard shouts of another kind that day, ones that caused some of my King’s Guard to break rank and drag away a protesting husband or father. The experience I had that day was surely not pleasant, but I swore from that moment on, whether in good times or bad, I would never again lose my connection to my people, and each week I stayed in Nekhen, I again went out to distribute what limited aid I could directly to my people. I also forbade any parties or special events in the Royal Court, other than holidays for the gods, for the thought of living in such abundance as my people starved had become anathema to me.
Thank Horus, Zenty was with me in Nekhen, for he provided what little pleasant relief I had from my endless meetings and hours each day taken up by judging land disputes and property settlements in divorce cases of the nobility and merchants, cases that the senior Horus priests were unable to resolve.
Now six years old, Zenty was required to study every day with Amka, as had his father before him. But with Amka’s busy schedule, Zenty’s lessons were often entrusted to Amka’s able assistant, a rising Horus priest named Semni. On this day, however, when I went to check on Zenty’s lessons, I found Amka hard at work.
“But how did it all start… before the gods and before men came along?” Zenty asked.
“Oh, my, what an inquisitive mind you have, my dear boy. Perhaps if you study your picture letters harder, I might tell you the Creation story, the real Creation story, not the one your mother tells you. But until you give me your promise to learn at least ten characters this ten-day, I’m afraid I will not be able to tell you this amazing story.”
Zenty tried to think of a way out of his predicament, but he relented. “Alright, I give you my promise, but they cannot all be hard picture words, Amka.”
“Oh, so now you have become a great negotiator, eh?” So they bantered back and forth in their loving way and soon Zenty was sitting knees-to-knees with Amka, completely absorbed in the Creation story, all the while asking questions of the old man, to which Amka would respond with a tease or even a downright insult, followed by a laugh. I thought to myself how easily Zenty was learning this male banter and then it dawned on me that perhaps this was one of the ways that men acquired their thick skin when it came to withstanding the trials of relationships.
“Well, what did you think of it? Amka asked of Zenty when he was finished with the story.
“It was interesting,” Zenty replied thoughtfully and I instantly marveled at how much he sounded like Amka. “But I will have to think more on it, for I do not think I yet understand about the egg of creation.”
“Good, we can discuss it more tomorrow. For now, I notice that Semni is preparing your history lesson.” Semni had unrolled a scroll and placed weights in each corner to hold it open.
“Please, Amka, it is too hot to study any more today. I would rather go swimming,” Zenty pleaded, sneaking a peak towards me to see if I would intercede on his behalf. Instead I looked down.
“You are quite right,” Amka said with a smile. “And that is why Semni has prepared only a short history lesson for you about your great-great grandfather, King Narmer. As soon as it is over and you answer a few questions correctly, you two will go for a swim, right Semni?” Semni nodded.
Zenty dragged himself over to me and laid his sweaty head on my shoulder. I grabbed a fan fr
om the table next to me and slowly moved it over him. He sighed.
“I am so proud of you,” I whispered into his ear. “You are so smart, even Amka has a hard time keeping up with you.”
Zenty turned his head to face me and stood on his tiptoes to whisper back to me. “Yes, but it is hard work, mama. And I have to always be careful not to ask old Amka too many questions. He’s not as patient as Semni.” I reached down and hugged Zenty and suppressed my laughter so as not to upset Amka, but when I looked up I saw that my old teacher had heard Zenty and he smiled broadly. With that Zenty reluctantly trudged off.
“And when, dear teacher, will you instruct me on Narmer’s scrolls, and Anhotek’s, too?” I asked as soon as Zenty left.
Amka looked up at me and struggled to stand. He walked to the food table and gulped down water. I noted that he hardly ate anything during the day, but always drank of Mother Nile’s bounty, which he considered an elixir. “We should begin immediately. It was always my intention to prepare Zenty to become King. Your ascension came so quickly, with so many crises, I had not prioritized your education. Now, it is time.” Amka leaned against the table and thought.
“I will assign Semni to Zenty’s lessons while we are here in Nekhen and we will use that time to study together. I have copies of all of Anhotek’s important scrolls back in the library at Inabu-hedj. While in Nekhen, we will focus on Narmer’s scrolls and any we have not completed I will assign the temple scribes to copy so we may take them with us.” And so began one of the most important experiences in my entire rule, and one that had implications for my personal life as well.
The very next day Ti-Ameny woke me early and told me that Amka had instructed her to tell me to take a ritual bath and for Ti-Ameny to shave my head and genitals, for as Regent and chosen of Horus I was to enter the holy of holies, the Temple of Horus in Nekhen.
The Dagger of Isis (The First Dynasty Book 2) Page 21