Once I entered the temple, Tepemkau and Amka took me into Horus’ chamber and conducted a prayer service to spiritually cleanse me. Tepemkau left to attend to other chores while Amka escorted me to the adjoining library. There, much like in Inabu-hedj, was a large room, larger even than the temple itself, where clay jars were stacked on their sides, one atop each other, from floor to ceiling. Large tables were distributed around the room. As soon as we entered, two young priests bowed low to me and quickly scurried out of the room.
Amka swept his hand to indicate one entire wall. “Here then it is,” he said, his voice surprisingly choked with emotion. “The sacred scrolls of King Narmer, may his name be blessed for all eternity, and those of Anhotek, his most loyal Vizier, scribe and shaman… and a Horus priest, too, of course,” he added, bowing slightly.
“Here, too, you will find Meruka’s scrolls, for he became an adept at the picture words, too. I will get you started, Meryt, and I will show you the order of the scrolls, starting when Anhotek became Vizier to Narmer’s father, Scorpion, who was basically illiterate.
“Anhotek kept meticulous records, until Narmer came of age. Then we have dual scrolls, Anhotek’s and Narmer’s, who was known as Meny as a child. It is interesting to compare the two records of the same events, I might add.”
“You say you will get me started. Are there not lessons you wish to teach? I mean certain learnings?” I could not imagine Amka passing up any teaching opportunity, for if there was ever one born to such a craft, it was the man who stood before me.
“Mery, I just spent a sleepless night meditating over this issue, and early this morning I asked Tepemkau for his opinion. We agree that this must be a private matter, an opportunity, while we await Nekau’s arrival, for you to connect with your lineage.” Amka sat down, looking tired.
“There is so much to say… so much. But I believe Narmer’s and Anhotek’s words will do a much better job. The gods gave us a blessed land, but they also placed mut spirits on it for balance and to help us to understand just how blessed we are. Never forget, Meryt, that the Two Lands were in great peril during Scorpion’s rule. Our people lived on a knife’s edge and could have been reduced to petty warring tribes. But difficult times sometimes produce great leaders. Anhotek, Narmer and Meruka were such leaders. They lived by a vision, a vision that sustained them, nourished them, and that ultimately guides us today.”
“What vision is that?” I asked, my curiosity peaked. Amka stood up, bowed and made ready to leave, picking up his staff.
“A great leader can only be gifted a vision by the gods,” he said solemnly. “Prepare to meet one who walked the Two Lands not long ago. You shall see whether or not King Narmer chooses to share his vision with you.”
For the next ten-day, Amka made certain that I was not interrupted from the time Ra rose in the heavens, and I appeared in the library, to the time Ra’s chariot set, at which time I spent a little time with Zenty. I hardly slept during this period and I ate only the bread, cheese and beer of the priests. Even Ti-Ameny kept her distance, to be sure due to Amka’s instruction, for I know she fretted about my eating and lack of sleep. And although Amka and I later discussed the fact that he suspected what was happening to me, the truth is that no man or woman who walks our land can ever know, ever truly understand, what transpired over the course of that ten-day and half of the next.
It started simply enough, just a story, albeit miraculous, of Narmer’s birth as described by Anhotek, who delivered him. For Narmer was truly born under Horus’ outspread wings, a day of clouds such as is rarely seen in Kem. Anhotek’s scrolls told of Narmer’s shaking illness and how hard he tried to find a cure, even journeying to distant lands for medicines that eventually controlled it but did not cure it. He told of the fears and disdain of Narmer’s father, Scorpion, for his son and of the rivalry between Narmer and his stepmother, Mersyankh, who was from the Delta. And, of course, it was here that I felt my first heart connection with my great-grandfather, but hardly the last.
When I read of his love for the desert, it forced me to reexamine my own views, for although we are born in its midst, we are also taught that those barren lands are filled with evil mut spirits, like vipers and scorpions, waterless territory to be avoided unless absolutely necessary. So I pledged to myself that from this point on I would become more acquainted with the territory that made up at least ninety percent of Upper Kem.
It was on the eighth day that I awoke earlier than usual. Ra had still not risen and all in the Royal compound were asleep. I quickly bathed, brushed my teeth and hair and left to walk alone to the temple, wrapped in my shawl so that I would not be recognized.
In the library I was surprised to find two papyrus scrolls already set upon the table, each opened to a particular section. On top of them was a note, from Amka: My heart tells me you are now ready for this.
With trepidation I began to read Anhotek’s description of Narmer’s first vision experience, visited upon him by none other than Horus himself. I had to remind myself that this account was written by a shaman priest who had experienced miracles and wonders beyond imagining as he traveled throughout Kem and nearly all the known lands beyond.
Anhotek nursed Narmer through that long night of visioning, fearing many times that Narmer would not survive the night, so violent were his shakes. That Horus believed that such a young boy could handle the responsibilities of such a weighty vision convinced Anhotek that night of Narmer’s greatness. As Narmer lost his reasoning and lapsed into one shaking fit after another, Anhotek knew without a doubt that the boy was chosen to bring Unification to the Two Lands.
It was night when I began reading Narmer’s own accounts of his visions, compiled by Anhotek into one scroll called The Visions Scroll. I had not eaten all day. The food left by the priests that morning went untouched. I had even forgotten to go back to the court to put Zenty to bed. Yet I knew in my heart that Amka was right, that the past eight days were spent preparing me for what lay unfurled before me.
I lit candles all around the table, which had the effect of walling me off from the outside. The light nighttime breezes began and by the flickering of candlelight, I began my journey, Narmer’s journey, the journey of the Two Lands. The picture words took on a life of their own as shadows and light played across their surface.
In one moment Narmer felt normal and in the next he lay unaware on the ground shaking violently. He was transported then to what he called the Other World, a world with no mortal bounds. He saw the great light and in the magic of his descriptive words I, too, saw it. It is my belief that I did read Narmer’s words that night, but I could no more swear to that than I could swear I was the true mortal representative of Horus. Instead I felt it, I experienced it and it was more real than anything I had experienced before.
I flew. That was the first thing I remembered. My finger pointed to the text, but I flew from my earthly body and ascended effortlessly to the light, and the light warmed me and infused my ka, it became my ka. I had no body, not even wings, yet I saw through the eyes of Horus. And what I was shown was a magic I had never dared imagine.
I shared Narmer’s vision. I flew through the sky, back and forth over Mother Nile as she wound her way from the lush mountains of Kush, painted in shades of green such as I had never before known. Down, down, I flew to our southern desert border. I sailed upon the winds, high above her watery body as she turned and twisted from village to village, from Nekhen to Inabu-hedj. Then Mother Nile fanned out into five tributaries and I saw the marshes of Lower Kem as never before, connected by Mother Nile’s unbroken, life-giving string.
I do not say that I saw all of Narmer’s vision, but I will swear upon Horus that I grasped its miraculous essence and it is this, simple in its message, elegant in its beauty. Mother Nile gives us life. She sustains us, she nourishes us, she blesses and punishes us. But throughout her journey she is one, unified, whole. Mother Nile does not differentiate the Land of the Lotus from the Land of the Papyrus, Kush from Kem, man fro
m beast. She nourishes us all. She is one. We are one. And that is the gift the gods gave Narmer. We are one. One people, one culture, one nation. Only through Unification could ma’at thrive. Only united as one people could we ever live in balance with our plants and animals and achieve the greatness that was our destiny.
Narmer’s scroll tells of the thriving nation he witnessed in his Other World, of the monuments he saw built of everlasting stone, not feeble mud bricks. He described great white cities shimmering in Ra’s light and immense temples worthy of the gods themselves. Until that night, sitting in the library of the Temple of Horus in Nekhen, I did not comprehend my role in that vision. I felt like a weak link in a chain of leaders needed to achieve Narmer’s vision. I vowed that very night to repair that link and to hand to my son the unbroken strength of Narmer’s vision, a strong Kem, one people governed by one ruler.
With Ra’s rebirth, I walked the few cubits to the sanctuary of Horus. Tepemkau was already in the vestibule, preparing for morning prayers. When he saw me he smiled, stepped aside and waved me into the Inner Sanctuary.
It is hard to describe now how I felt, turning the corner and seeing Horus’ presence there, for the statue of Horus in the temple of Nekhen is the oldest and holiest in all Kem. Yet I did not waver or feel fear. I looked into Horus penetrating eyes and I knew at once that he saw me and understood. I knelt before him, fell to the floor and prayed. Tears fell freely, but they were tears of gratitude. I thanked Horus for the honor of King Narmer’s visit, for his ka was surely borne on Horus’ wings.
For the next two days I slept, on and off. Amka said that I tossed and turned in a feverish pitch, murmuring, my limbs twitching. Of course he and I knew that I was possessed with Narmer’s ka, and every day since, when I make my offerings, I thank my great-grandfather for visiting with me and clarifying my purpose.
On the fifteenth day after beginning my studies, I awoke refreshed, knowing that while many scrolls remained, I had extracted from them enough to begin the difficult work ahead. Amka would copy the rest and bring them with us back to Inabu-hedj. That very day I called in Herihor without discussing my intent with Amka.
“Herihor, what do you make of the desert?” I asked.
“Hmmm, interesting question, master. In what sense do you mean that?”
“Do you find it interesting or frightening? Is it mysterious or understandable to you?”
“It is all those things, and more. The desert is our friend and our enemy. It is beautiful and terrifying. A sandstorm is impressive from afar, but I have lost men to them when they descend upon us directly. A viper is a terrifying creature, but its skin is beautiful to behold.”
“Herihor, I wish for you to take me into the desert, where your troops are camped.”
“But, master, that would not be wise. It…” And later Herihor would tell me that although he was surprised at my request, he knew at once that it could not be denied, that something in my ba had changed since our last visit.
In a few days Amka had run through all his objections to no avail. Herihor made arrangements for a suitable encampment in the eastern desert, for that was his admitted favorite, since its mountains and rocky soil were more diverse and interesting. When I first laid eyes on my desert tent, it was as if my heart was finally comfortable in my chest and I recalled reading of Narmer’s own deep love for this land.
The large tent stood in a narrow ravine between two mountains, one with brown rocks and the other with vibrant blue. A contingent of King’s Guards blocked the entrance to the ravine affording me protection, yet they were far enough away for me to be able to conduct business without prying ears and eyes. Herihor had thoughtfully placed the tents of my retinue outside the ravine.
For the next ten-day, Herihor and I met twice a day, once in the morning before the desert’s heat and once after the evening meal when the desert was still warm but not oppressively hot. We settled into a comfortable routine. The morning session was devoted to instruction in the desert’s mountains, wadis, sands and rocks, as well as the living things that hid so well in every available crevice and even buried in the sand. We discussed the mut scorpions we saw, but also the graceful ibex standing so precariously upon just a sliver of rock. We climbed a mountain and watched dik-diks scurrying across the desert floor, pursued by a lioness and watched one morning as a falcon circled above us, piercing the air with its shrill cries.
On the second day of our outings, we came upon a strange pattern of ripples progressing up a small sand dune. When I asked Herihor what these were, he laughed.
“Let’s see,” he said. “But do be careful. Stay behind me and keep your distance.” We climbed the dune slowly and at the top Herihor pointed. Slithering down the other side was the most hideous viper imaginable, its head almost a perfect triangle and its body easily the length of Herihor’s. I instinctively grabbed Herihor’s arm with both my hands and trembled.
“Let’s go!” I cried out.
“We’ll go if you insist, but I assure you that viper will not be a threat to us. It is more afraid of us then we are of it.”
“By the love of Isis that is an ugly animal!” I ventured. “And so evil looking.”
“My master, I do not agree,” he said, turning half towards me yet keeping a watchful eye on the beast. “It’s certainly not ugly to a female viper, nor is it evil, except when a man is about to step on it. They bury themselves in the sand like this,” he said eagerly, making motions with his hand and lowering his head to his shoulders. “They wait for a small desert mouse or perhaps a scorpion or a dung beetle, then strike. If a man accidentally steps on it, the poor mut hardly knows what it’s doing, it merely strikes in self-defense. Ask Amka, for he knows more about these creatures, but I find no malice in the way they behave.”
I marveled at Herihor’s view of the viper and looked up at him. Suddenly, I realized I was squeezing his arm and let go quickly, embarrassed.
“Besides,” he said, continuing as if nothing had happened, “the viper plays an important role in King Narmer’s history.”
“How… how do you know about Narmer’s history?” I asked, curiously.
Herihor turned to me and Ra’s rays cast the scar on his cheek in deep shadow, making it appear more pronounced. “For years I have studied his scrolls, as well as Anhotek’s, and every scroll written by Narmer’s top generals. Amka has instructed me. From time to time Tepemkau, too.”
I was shocked at this revelation. “Dear Horus, I cannot believe that! I have done little else but study them for the past two ten-days.”
“Yes, we’ve all noticed your absence.”
And so began the most extraordinary series of conversations I ever had with another person. Every day we would compare notes on the scrolls and what we learned from them. For Herihor, the scrolls provided wise counsel on the historical aspects of war and leadership, combined with Anhotek’s and Meruka’s careful observations about treatments for battlefield injuries and meticulous descriptions of the various animals and plants of Kem.
For me, the experience of sharing my newfound enthusiasm with Herihor is difficult to describe. For the first time I found someone, other than Amka, who could engage with me on a topic, question me, challenge my positions and freely offer his own.
On those days when Abana brought Zenty to me for a visit, he and Herihor had a marvelous time together. Herihor had one of his men fashion a dagger and sword made of wood for Zenty and from then on the two of them battled each other constantly. Zenty would lie in wait, hiding, until Herihor came into view and then he would pounce from behind a rock and chase poor Herihor around and around the tent and up and down dunes, giggling until he hiccupped uncontrollably. Then they would both fall down laughing and Zenty would jump on top of him. So much for the saying that little boys grow up to be men. I think the opposite more true. It takes but a spark, a new toy or the loud expulsion of foul vapors from a friend’s rear end, to see the instant transformation from man back to boy.
But t
hankfully, Zenty still dwelled in his mother’s house. I cherished those evenings in the desert before Ra set, when Zenty and I would walk, hand in hand, across the dunes, watched over by the King’s Guards. Once, Amka arrived for two days to discuss some urgent Court matters. He joined us, with Zenty walking between us, holding each of our hands. It pleased me greatly to have Zenty know Amka, but it also saddened me to know that the day would come when Zenty and I would no longer have Amka in this world. Who would take his place? Who would be there to answer the detailed questions for which only Amka had the wisdom and experience to know the answers?
And I still marveled at how this little boy, this bundle of joy, emanated from Djet’s and my ka and came forth so perfectly formed from my own body. Our kas were entwined for all eternity. How could this tiny person grow to become the King of the Two Lands? As he ran up the side of a tall dune and then rolled down, again and again, I realized how awesome was our responsibility. I shuddered with the enormity of the task before us.
It was after a three-day visit by Zenty that Herihor and I went for our evening walk and discussion.
“You do seem in an excellent mood tonight,” Herihor commented.
“Yes, it is Zenty’s visit. He’s so inquisitive, I sometimes find it hard to even keep up with his many questions. I feel like I am in the midst of a sandstorm!”
Herihor laughed. “Yes, he’s becoming more independent. I think that Amka’s way of teaching allows him to think more deeply of things, to… to try to make sense of all the amazing things the gods have put in our world.”
Certainly, Herihor was right. “Yet it worries me greatly that we have only ten or twelve years before he is old enough to rule the Two Lands. How will we ever teach him all he needs to know?” At that we walked in silence for a long way before Herihor spoke.
“Narmer’s vision, that is it,” Herihor said.
“Meaning?”
“We each have a role to play in his education. But the most important thing he will need is King Narmer’s vision. If he blesses him with his vision, then all else is but details.”
The Dagger of Isis (The First Dynasty Book 2) Page 22