The Dagger of Isis (The First Dynasty Book 2)

by Lester Picker

  Finally we reached the necropolis, which stood on a plateau above the city. We climbed from our chairs and walked up the path to the necropolis grounds. Menetnashte grabbed my arm and turned me around and for the first time I had a clear grasp of the immensity of the crowds. Stretched from the base of the mountains, even up the mountain slopes, all the way into Inabu-hedj, was a solid wall of people, all looking intently in our direction. A warm breeze blew over the plateau. Above us Ra burned brightly. The heat from above, combined with the hot air flowing up from the valley floor, was oppressive. Servants circulated throughout the nobility with pitchers of water.

  As I turned back toward the necropolis, I was struck dumb by the building that I confronted. Somehow Den had managed to complete a mastaba, the shear size of which had never before been seen in the Two Lands. It adjoined his father’s tomb, but Mery’s funerary complex covered an even larger area of land. The building was low and flat, its roof supported by evenly spaced columns that stood outside a thick mud-brick wall. Around the building stood nearly forty much smaller tombs, all joined together. Pits had been dug in each tomb to accommodate the bodies of those loyal servants who would soon accompany Mery on her journey.

  The Horus priests began their incantations as Mery’s heavily wrapped body was taken from her carry platform. Then teams of priests took off the jars containing her organs. Mery’s body was placed in a wood coffin. The priests then placed her gold breastplate, signifying her role as King Regnant, upon her chest. They adorned her body with various other pieces of jewelry, reciting the appropriate prayers for each. Finally, they moved her inside, where they performed the Opening of the Mouth ritual, so that she would be able to breathe and eat in the Afterworld. Then Mery was placed in her stone coffin and buried in the deep pit that waited. The priests exited solemnly and workers covered the coffin and a team of masons was sent in to brick in the coffin and mortar it in place against jackals and thieves. It took many hours for this to be accomplished and during that time servants circulated with light refreshments and water.

  When they were done with their work, Tepemkau stepped forward and held his hands high. All in the necropolis silenced themselves. From the rear of Mery’s mastaba came a long line of people, all dressed in the finest white linen. At the head of the line was Herihor, dressed differently from the rest, in his finest military uniform. Even at his age he looked trim and fit and my heart pained at the sight of him. Yet I groaned with the knowledge of what he had come forward to do. Bakht and Menetnashte turned toward me and I tried to keep my eyes from tearing, but my efforts were doomed.

  One by one the loyal servants entered the outer room of Mery’s mastaba, some shaking uncontrollably, others stiff and erect, still others smiling with glorious anticipation. There was her boat maker and chief potter and many of her artisans and handmaidens. Each was carried out moments later on a reed stretcher and lowered into his or her own tomb. They were carefully placed on their sides, facing east toward Ra’s rising, so they could wake early each day in the Afterlife to serve their Queen. Their respective tools were placed with them. Thirty-nine loyal, loving servants were buried that day with Mery.

  Finally it was Herihor’s turn. I had wondered how Amka, Tepemkau and Nekau had positioned him in Mery’s Afterlife, for it was beyond question that Mery was eternally wedded to Wadjet in the eyes of the gods. Then I realized why Herihor was the only one dressed formally, in his army regalia, for he was to be Mery’s personal guardian during her journey and would serve as Wadjet’s and Mery’s guardian for all eternity. I imagined that he now prayed fervently to Horus that his friend and master would forgive the liberties he took with Mery.

  Then it was over. Herihor was taken from the mastaba and placed in the tomb closest to Mery’s and bitter tears rolled down my cheeks at what might have been. I watched, my heart numb, as they placed Herihor’s shield upon his chest and closed his fist around his sword. The teams of masons reappeared and sealed each tomb and finally the entrance to Mery’s mastaba. With Ra waning in the late afternoon sky, the ram’s horns sounded, sending Mery and her servants to their fateful meetings with Anubis. I shuddered.

  The crowds began to leave the necropolis. Already businessmen walked in twos and threes, talking animatedly, making deals that they had delayed for the past seventy days. I lingered, watching the priests packing their incense, scrolls and poisons.

  I wandered toward Mery’s mastaba. Before the mortared entrance I turned around and gooseflesh immediately rose on my arms and back, for Den’s architect had laid out the mastaba so that its door looked over Mother Nile and faced directly toward the Gates to the Afterworld, a split in the distant mountains through which the priests tell us the souls of the departed sailed.

  Then I saw Den’s cortege approaching. Den sat upon his throne, the crook and staff across his chest, the kohl under his eyes smeared and streaked. His carriers came closer and closer and when they were nearly abreast of me Den looked down and saw me there. At first he did not register who I was, but slowly his expression changed. Yet instead of a look of rage I noticed that tears began to run down his cheeks. He looked so pitiful, trying to contain himself. Finally, he could do so no longer and he uttered a pathetic sound between a cry and a cough and began sobbing uncontrollably. Nekau looked up at his master then back to me, then commanded the procession to continue.

  Seeing Den’s cortege, Menetnashte worked his way through the crowd and arrived just as Den passed me. I was suddenly filled with pride at my son’s manly body, his dark, brooding looks and regal bearing. I could not help but draw a comparison between him and the slightly built, effeminate Den.

  Below us the crowds appeared like an army of ants. Most headed toward Inabu-hedj to celebrate and hoist cups of beer to Mery’s safe journey. I took Menetnashte’s hand in mine.

  “Look hard at the spectacle below us, my son,” I said, sweeping my free arm before me. “This, all of this, could have been yours.” I watched Den’s cortege slowly retreat from view.

  “Could have been… and… and yet may.”

  Afterward

  Meryt-Neith lived approximately 3100 B.C. She is buried in Abydos in a tomb that is situated very much as it is described in the book. Her mastaba complex was the most elaborate of all the First Dynasty kings to that date, an indication of her respected status. The opening to her complex overlooks the Gates to the Afterworld, a revered site in ancient Egyptian religion.

  .

  Due to many factors we do not know many details about Meryt-Neith’s life. We do know that she reined for approximately seventeen years, which leads some Egyptologists to speculate that she governed as Regent for her son, King Den. There is also debate over whether she was originally from the Delta or Upper Egypt (which the ancient Egyptians called Kem).

  .

  For those interested in learning more about Meryt-Neith and her times, I recommend two scholarly books by one of my mentors for this project, Toby A. H. Wilkinson of Cambridge University, England.

  Genesis of the Pharaohs, Thames & Hudson, 2003.

  Early Dynastic Egypt, Routledge, 1999.

  For an expanded list of references, as well as the latest archaeological discoveries about Meryt-Neith, please visit my website: http://www.lesterpicker.com

  .

  Les Picker spent nearly ten years researching and then writing his First Dynasty trilogy, consisting of The First Pharaoh, The Dagger of Isis and the upcoming Qa’a.

  Acknowledgements

  Trite as it sounds, I could not have written this book without the wisdom and time of many generous people. I would like to acknowledge some of them here.

  Dr. Gunter Dreyer of the German Archaeological Institute, patiently spent many hours with me in Cairo and Berlin, by email and on the telephone, answering my questions and tutoring me about life in Narmer’s time.

  Dr. Toby Wilkinson of Christ’s College, Cambridge University, gave me fresh perspectives on early dynastic life and patiently answered my questions. He sh
ared my enthusiasm for this project, for which I will be always grateful. His book, Early Dynastic Egypt (Routledge, 1999) is a wonderful, readable resource for those people serious about Egyptian civilization at the time of Narmer.

  Abdel Zaher Sulimaan, my Bedouin guide, patiently taught me about life in Egypt’s eastern desert and, more importantly, about life. Dr. Zawi Hawass, head of the Egyptian government’s archaeological program, without whose dedication and passion for his country’s ancient past much of the archaeological work that led to my writing this book would not have been possible.

  I also acknowledge the contribution to this work of Egyptologists Dr. Betsy Bryan (The Johns Hopkins University), Dr. Renee Friedman (The Hierakonpolis Society), Dr. Richard Jasnow (The Johns Hopkins University), Ethan Watrall (University of Indiana), and their many colleagues who spent time with me explaining aspects of early dynastic Egypt. These dedicated scientists toil, often in obscurity and always under trying conditions, to uncover our past so that we can understand ourselves better.

  William Cates, John Hurley, Jay Magenheim, Randy Richie and Joel Rosenberg, Dave Jaffe, Sherif Osman, and Scott Brown, my men’s teams, have collectively supported my vision, kept me on track and knocked-me-up-side-of-the-head when needed, usually regularly. I owe them a huge debt of gratitude but, of course, not as large as they owe me.

  Special thanks to Cathy Cohen, my able assistant at the inception of this project and Lu Maistros, my extraordinary research assistant, who is now off doing her own writing. And to Terry Sexton, my Tuesday-mornings-with-Terry writing companion, brainstorming partner, and personal editor, I can’t wait to celebrate publication of your books!

  As with any work of historical fiction, there may be numerous fabrications and embellishments in this story, although I suspect that there may not have needed to be had we known more about the actual facts of Narmer’s life. However, to the extent that there are historical inaccuracies in this work, I take full responsibility for them.

  Finally, and most importantly, I thank my incredible wife, Leslie, without whose abiding love and unconditional support I could never have written this book. She is the love of my life (and my first-line editor).

  About the Author

  Les Picker has more than 600 writing and photo credits in National Geographic Society publications, Better Homes & Gardens, Forbes, Time, Inc. Publications, Money, Fortune Small Business, Bloomberg Personal Finance, National Parks Magazine, and dozens of other publications. He is a former newspaper reporter, photographer and editor. For three years Les was a columnist for Oceans Magazine and for four years was Editor-In-Chief for a national environmental magazine. Les is a member of the American Society of Journalists and Authors (ASJA), Nikon Professional Services (NPS) and Hasselblad Professionals.

  For four years, Les was a weekly columnist for The Baltimore Sun and continues as a freelance feature travel writer. For three years, Les was a regular commentator on National Public Radio's Marketplace, carried on 260 stations nationwide.

  Les has an earned doctorate in ecology from the University of Maine, was a faculty member at the University of Delaware and an adjunct faculty at The Johns Hopkins University. His writing website is http://www.lesterpicker.com. His photography work can be found at http://www.lesterpickerphoto.com. Les was the winner of the prestigious 2011 Canada Northern Lights Award for Best Travel Photography.

  His novels include:

  The First Pharaoh (Book One of a three-part series). The story of the uniting of Upper and Lower Egypt into a dynasty that lasted for 3,000 years.

  The Dagger of Isis (Book Two of a three-part series). Traces the life and times of the first female Pharaoh.

  The Underground. How does a woman solve the mystery of a murdered mother and a doting father?

  Sargent Mountain. A happily married woman deals with the death of her husband and the other woman.

  Les can be contacted through his website or at: lespicker@gmail.com com. You can follow him on Facebook and on Twitter: http://twitter.com/lespicker

  The Dagger of Isis Reader’s Guide

  1. Where does the title come from?

  2. Could things have worked out differently for Nubiti’s and Meryt-Neith’s relationship?

  3. Did Meryt-Neith’s near rape at the beginning of the book affect her in any way for the rest of her life?

  4. How did King Narmer’s unseen presence affect the characters?

  5. One of the aspects of ancient Egyptian life was the legal rights given to women, including the right to initiate divorce proceedings, to own a business, and to inherit property. Did learning that in the novel surprise you?

  6. Would Nubiti have turned out the way she did without her mother’s influence?

  7. How would you characterize the relationship between Nubiti and Bakht?

  8. The mid-East even today is riven by tribal loyalties and conflicts. Much of that cultural influence dates back to the time before Meryt-Neith. How does Bakht’s priesthood reinforce that tribal culture?

  9. In the preface, Nubit says: Anubis, I am Nubiti, half-sister of King Wadjet and daughter of Shepsit and King Djer. Before your scales I swear that my heart is light as a feather. Before you lay the scrolls of my life as told to my scribes. Please do not judge Meryt-Neith’s actions harshly. Allow my sister to visit with me in the Afterlife. My words are Truth. Does this reveal anything about Nubiti’s character?

  10. In the preface, Meryt-Neith says: I am Meryt-Neith, Queen of the Two Lands, loyal wife of King Wadjet and mother of King Den, son of King Wadjet, son of King Djer, son of King Hor-Aha, son of the god-King Narmer. I swear before you, Anubis, that these scrolls are the True Telling of My Life. I was a good niece, a good wife and good mother. I was the caretaker of our beloved Kem until my son, King Den, came of age. I beg you to be lenient toward the sins of my sister, Nubiti, so that she may enjoy the rewards of the Afterlife. I await your judgment. What does this reveal about Meryt-Neith’s character?

  11. Who was responsible for the tragedy of Meryt-Neith’s and Ti-Ameny’s relationship?

  12. Did Nubiti gain any lasting lessons from her father’s death?

  13. Was Meryt-Neith a good mother? Was she overly protective? What were the most important life lessons she imparted to Zenty?

  14. Does the Apep priesthood bear any resemblance to modern-day conditions in the Middle East? In what ways?

  15. Did Meryt-Neith make the right choice in exiling Nubiti to Abu Island?

  16. How would you characterize Herihor’s relationship with Zenty? Who gained the most from their relationship?

  17. Some Egyptologists believe that the first Egyptians were dark-skinned tribesmen from what is now Sudan. Whether or not that is true, early Egyptians interacted with their southern neighbors frequently. Did any aspects of Nekau’s relationship with the Royal Court surprise you?

  18. Why did Meryt-Neith call Nubiti to her death bed?

  19. What did Meryt-Neith mean on her death bed when she said to Nubiti: “It is alright. I have seen it. All is forgiven”?

  Excerpt from the first book in The First Dynasty series,

  The First Pharaoh by Lester Picker.

  .

  Concerning Egypt I will now speak at length, because nowhere are there so many marvelous things, nor in the whole world beside are there to be seen so many works of unspeakable greatness.

  - Herodotus

  .

  Book I

  Anhotek

  That I am dead when you read these words is of no consequence. That I once walked the Two Lands of my beloved Kem, served my King and wrote this account of his life is all that matters. I birthed his mortal flesh from his mother’s womb, I changed his swaddling clothes, I traveled with him to all reaches of our lands and beyond. Future generations will revere him as a God-King and I, above all others, would agree.

  These words I swear in Ra’s name to be a true account of my beloved King’s life. Read them that you shall know how Kem achieved its own greatness. Read them a
nd you shall know the story of how the son of Ra walked the Two Lands, loved its people and fought its enemies, both within and without.

  - I am Anhotek, Chief Scribe and Shaman of King Narmer, Beloved of Horus, Unifier of Upper and Lower Kem, Ruler of the Lands of the Lotus and Papyrus.

  Scroll One

  Under The Wings of Horus

  The bright afternoon sun changed color slowly, now taking on a reddish hue, not a favorable sign from the gods. I tried to think what it was we might have done that had angered Ra, but my weary mind swam in a fog, so that I felt like a blind beggar on the streets of Tjeni. I was exhausted, standing by the bed of the Queen, watching the great orb of Ra descend under the portico, between two square mud brick columns in the courtyard. It had been almost two days since the Queen started labor and her strength was waning. With her tiny stature and frail nature it was a miracle that she had lasted this long.

  Servants, dressed alike in coarse white linen robes that draped their ankles, scurried barefoot around the Queen’s quarters like bees in a hive. One of them brought water to the Queen’s bedside, while two others changed the fine linen sheets upon which she lay. The water-bearer wiped the sweat from the Queen’s naked body.

  A young girl, not yet ten years judging by her unformed breasts, carried pomegranates, dates and figs to refresh the bowls of fruits and nuts that were carefully arranged on long, brightly painted wooden tables around the periphery of the spacious birth pavilion. Like all children, she wore her single, pleated braid down the side of her head. The rest of her head was shaved clean.

  The dry afternoon winds blew freely through the gardens, lightly rustling the dark green columbine leaves that spiraled around each of the pavilion’s many columns.