“They’ll form the roof over the grave.”
“What’s that past the east side of the grave?” I asked.
“A ceramic hippo. The cemetery’s guardian,” Heket replied.
She led us around the grave. The hippo was more than six feet long, made of fired clay, hollow inside, about the size of a six-month-old beast. It rested atop a raised terrace, the terrace’s edges smoothed at a forty-five degree angle. Two upright stone slabs were at the foot of the short slope below the terrace, probably marking the cemetery’s boundary. Numerous four-inch diameter polished red bowls were scattered around the hippo, all with worn centers, their edges scorched.
“We burn incense when we visit our ancestors,” Heket explained.
Iry indicated a section of the cemetery where a few bits of charred wood poked from the sand. “I wonder if that’s one of the halls Abar set ablaze to mask Amenia’s escape?” He laughed. “It’s rumored she lit the very complex Ma-ee had just finished constructing for himself. That’s partly why he was enraged enough to execute her.”
“Ma-ee was a vicious man,” Heket averred in a low voice, as if his spirit might rise from his grave and attack her. “He personally executed dozens of Aboo’s servants to accompany Aboo to the Afterlife – mostly young girls. Ma-ee also sacrificed many animals that same day – including an elephant.”
“Ma-ee was the first ruler in the valley to assert absolute authority over the lives of every person beholden to him,” Iry said. “That’s why he executed the servants. Death was his tool of choice to keep everyone in line. You’ve all seen images of a king smiting a captive with a mace – it’s a brutal promise and a warning. Resist the king and die.”
“A warning lapwings would do well to heed,” Heket averred. “We, royals and elites, are far more important than they are.”
Apparently commoners were as despised in Nekhen as they were in Tjeni, at least by the royal family.
“A concept pushed to the limit by Ma-ee,” Iry said. “He claimed more royal power for himself than any ruler had before. Every ruler since has adopted Ma-ee’s powers and added to them because no one resisted Ma-ee when he first took them.”
“How did rulers transform themselves from patriarchs of small bands, to regional rulers like Ma-ee who could raise funerary halls, to today’s kings?” I asked.
“That’s a very interesting and complicated question, shrouded by the mists of time, Matia,” Iry replied. “I’ll give you my best guess, based on what Father and Sety and others have told me. Keep in mind that the first people who settled the valley were hunters and gatherers first and farmers and herders second. And even though we royals live in settlements, the vast majority of people in this valley still live on farms or in small hamlets. There are two things all of us need – food and gods. The first rulers, patriarchs, had absolute power over the lives of everyone in their families – who married whom, where their bands wandered during the hunt, where they settled once they began to farm. Those patriarchs made sure their people were fed. They also led worship of the gods who looked after their people. Every leader has performed this dual function since the beginning.
“When multiple bands settled in the same area, and then combined, a single leader was necessary. Likely, the most charismatic or dominant patriarch was chosen to rule the combined bands. That ruler was beholden to the patriarchs who’d selected him, and so he treated them specially.”
“They became the elites?” I asked.
Iry nodded. “It wasn’t enough that the leader knew the elites were special – the common people needed to as well. So the ruler began providing his elites with objects to set them apart, to visibly display their superiority. Rulers began employing craftsmen to make luxury objects on their behalf. Rulers had to support those craftsmen, so they levied a share of what farmers and others beholden to them produced. Then, as hamlets grew into settlements and the population increased, rulers figured out they needed officials to manage many functions, officials they also had to support, along with their household staff and family members. Commoners complied with rulers’ assessments – first, because they’d been following rulers without question since the days of the patriarchs, and second, because at some point rulers began claiming all the land in their region as their own and allowing farmers to work it on their behalf. Some say Ma-ee was the first to do so. In effect, rulers claimed all the crops and let farmers keep a share for themselves.”
I thought about Harwa, at the amount of emmer he was required to deliver to Father’s officials every year. I’d helped him fill containers once. It hadn’t occurred to me that he might not have wanted to give up part of what he’d grown.
“The reason was simple,” Iry said. “The thing that most threatened a ruler’s position was famine, the possibility he might not be able to provide grain for his people. Here in the valley we’re at the mercy of the inundation. If it’s too high or too low it can ruin our crops. So at some point rulers began assessing a share of each farmer’s grain in times of plenty and storing it on behalf of the entire community and rationing it out in time of need. In effect, rulers were able to decide who lived and died.”
“Having control of the grain supply, and the support of the elites, rulers could do practically anything they wanted,” I supposed. “Including murdering innocent servants.”
“When power’s absolute, Matia, life’s cheap. That’s why Ma-ee was able to execute Aboo’s servants to serve their master for eternity with impunity. Since the days of the patriarchs, rulers had always had the power to execute captives and criminals, and to sacrifice animals to honor the gods. Sacrificing people was simply the next step. One thing’s true in this valley – the relationship between ruler and ruled is based on coercion and fear and always will be. Executions reinforce that.”
I thought about Sabu. That’s exactly how he’d rule if he ever gained the throne – coercion and fear. His murder of Hetshet proved that.
“Especially since rulers are for all practical purposes gods,” Iry continued. “Originally, patriarchs led worship of the gods. Ma-ee changed that – he claimed that he alone could intercede with the gods on the people’s behalf. That’s a reason he wanted to execute Amenia – how could Ma-ee be the sole intercessor when the falcon god had favored her family for thousands of years? Anyway, now, thanks to the precedent set by Ma-ee, kings have absolute spiritual and temporal power. They’ve come to believe they’re equal to the gods.”
“So, patriarchs who directed bands of twenty or thirty people have evolved into kings who lead thousands,” I concluded. “They provide judgment when cropland or water rights are disputed, resolve complaints, direct public works, oversee trade networks, dole out grain in times of want, supply elites with exotic goods, implore the gods on the peoples’ behalf, defend their people from enemies, execute captives and criminals, make assessments to support their families and officials and the community. They wear elaborate trappings – lion’s tails, leopard pelts, magnificent jewelry, crowns – the white of Nekhen and Tjeni, the red of Nubt – carry staffs and maces and scepters and sticks of office. They’re accompanied by fan bearers and sandal bearers and standard bearers, waited on by servants, guarded by warriors. They keep tabs on their people and brutally repress dissent.”
“Exactly,” Iry said. “Long story short, kingship evolved over time and from place to place. Rulers from one settlement adopted for themselves powers seized in others, an easy thing to do because every settlement in the valley’s connected by the same river. News travels easily. Today the kings of Tjeni and Nubt and Nekhen are virtually indistinguishable, except for the colors of their crowns and the specifics of their ceremonies and the gods with primacy in their regions.”
The sun was beginning to descend behind us, shadows to lengthen from the crest of the plateau towards the settlement.
“It’ll be dark in a couple of hours. We should get back,” Heket said.
“I’m going to look for Tiaa’s kiln,” Iry announced. “So
meone supposedly etched an image of Abar sailing on a boat towards the stars there after her execution. I’d like to try to find it, to see if it really exists.”
“Meaning her spirit might have someplace else to come back to instead of just the sherd in the oval court,” I said.
“Exactly.”
“I’ll help you look, Iry,” I volunteered. I had no intention of sitting in a room in Nekhen’s per’aa with these boring girls when I could be out exploring. Plus, being alone with Iry would give me further opportunity to discover whether or not King Scorpion intended to move against Nubt. I’d made a lot of assumptions so far, based on what Iry had said. Assumptions that might be entirely correct, or entirely wrong. I needed to find out which.
***
“Tell me about Tjeni,” I said when Iry and I were alone. We were strolling towards the base of the plateau. Sheer cliffs, their rocky faces cut by numerous clefts, rose skyward.
“It’s very large, Matia. Three or four times the size of Nekhen.”
So. Bigger than Nubt.
“The river’s narrow there, so it’s easy for Father to control traffic. Boats are constantly coming and going, laden with goods from the North and South. Caravans travel to us from the desert.”
“Many caravans come to Nubt too,” I said. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to visit with caravanners and boat captains and crewmen and listen to their tales of distant lands.”
“You said you sneak out of the per’aa.”
“To a farm where no one sees me. Hanging out around the quays would be a different matter.”
“Your father would lock you away.”
“Probably. I can’t risk it.” I sighed. “I’d really like to see the rest of the valley someday.”
“I don’t know any girls who want to travel.”
“I’m not like other girls,” I insisted. “My sister and the elite girls I know spend their time gossiping and weaving linen and making themselves pretty for men. But I know how to do things.”
“Such as?”
“I can plant and care for and harvest barley and emmer and vegetables. I can fish. Snare birds in the marsh. Spin flax into thread. Care for beehives. Weave linen on a ground loom. Grind grain into flour. Bake bread. Brew beer.”
“You’ll make a commoner a fine wife some day,” Iry said facetiously.
“You really don’t care for commoners, do you?”
“I don’t know any. I keep my distance – except for servants, of course.”
Arrogant. The attitude of the privileged. An attitude I had to admit I usually shared. As did every royal and elite I knew. “I guess I don’t think of Khentetka as a commoner. She’s more a sister to me than my half-sister Nebetah is.”
“Unlike you, I had my mother until I was five, Matia. She died giving birth to my sister Heria. Do you ever think you might die that way?”
“What woman doesn’t? It happens so often. I’m in no hurry to start having babies.” Though as soon as I married Baki I’d have no choice. He’d demand a son or three, beginning immediately. As would Antef, if Sabu’s alliance became real. Kings’ sons needed heirs to hold the throne after them.
“I share your interest in the valley,” Iry said. “This is my first trip beyond Tjeni’s region.”
“Tell me more about your home.”
“Life’s very easy, at least for royals and elites. The farmland’s good, so there’s plenty of emmer and barley. Good grazing for cattle.”
“Is Tjeni surrounded by walls?”
“No. I noticed only part of Nubt is walled when we passed it on the way here.”
“The section where elites and royals live.”
“Anyway, we receive goods from the western oases and delta estates and settlements, and the Far North,” Iry continued. “We trade with Nubt, of course, but not with Nekhen. You obtain luxury objects from Nekhen and trade them to us. It’s been like that since Ma-ee murdered Abar. We have many warehouses. We have many granaries to guard against famine.”
“What about you, Iry? What do you do all day?”
“I certainly don’t work on a farm.” Iry laughed. “Mostly I study, preparing myself to rule.”
“The settlement you mentioned?” Would he reveal more?
“Yes.”
“Have you actually been there?”
“Possibly.”
Iry was frustrating. “What does that mean?”
“Father has something in the works, which might or might not happen.”
So… if Iry had never traveled beyond the area immediately surrounding Tjeni – except to Nekhen – he was either destined to rule a hamlet already pledged to Scorpion or this very settlement. Based on the enthusiasm with which he’d embraced our tour today, I had every reason to believe Scorpion intended to conquer Nekhen and put Iry in charge afterwards. Perhaps that’s what Iry meant when he said Scorpion had something in the works. My decision to remain with Iry had paid off. Sabu had been right. If Scorpion intended to make Nekhen his, he had to seize Nubt first.
“I regularly observe Father in his audience hall,” Iry continued. “There’s so much to learn about governing. I’m supposed to spend time practicing with weapons and hunting, but to tell the truth I’m hopeless at that kind of thing. I study to compensate for my physical inadequacies.”
“And apparently spend much time listening to stories.”
“Sety’s have given me perspective on the entire valley and the struggles people have gone through.”
“What about Mekatre?” I was now certain he was slated to rule Nubt, and thus me. The more I could find out about him the better.
“He’s the best hunter and fighter of we three brothers by far. He’s much like Father in that. Mekatre does everything he can to avoid studying. I rarely see him in the audience hall. He’s usually out chasing girls. Or, more accurately, letting them chase him.” Iry smiled ruefully. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”
So… the man who’d rule Nubt had limited leadership skills. Which usually implied a heavy hand to compensate.
“And Lagus?”
“Barely more studious than Mekatre. Just as interested in hunting and fighting. But he gets bored easily. He’s more content with the way things are than Father or Mekatre or me.”
A chance to confirm my guesses. “You three aren’t content?”
“Mekatre would try to conquer the entire valley if he was king,” Iry averred.
Unification was a goal in Scorpion’s court for at least one royal. “Will he, Iry? Become king?”
“Father intends for Lagus to succeed him, not Mekatre. But Tjeni’s elites will have the final say. It’ll probably be one of my brothers.”
“Not you, Iry?”
“A third son? Not likely.” He snorted. “But Tjeni would be better off if they chose me.”
I’d gleaned a few more tidbits. Mekatre was ambitious and dangerous. Lagus possibly accommodating. Iry obviously believed he should be king instead of either of them.
We reached the foot of the plateau.
“The kiln is supposedly deep inside a cleft somewhere along here,” Iry informed me, turning his attention to our quest.
We thoroughly explored every cleft we encountered, and there were many. Some held kilns, some were too shallow. Some were still in use, as Heket had said. Apparently the steady wind high up made the terrace an excellent location to fire pottery. None of the clefts contained the etching Iry sought.
“I envy you, that you know so much about the valley, Iry,” I said sincerely.
“I’ve known Sety for a long time. Unlike my family, which has only lived in Nekhen and Tjeni, Sety’s has ranged the length of the valley and even deep into the western desert. His stories are enlightening.”
“No one tells me anything about the valley,” I complained.
“Women aren’t educated in Tjeni either,” Iry observed.
“Which is ridiculous,” I bristled. “Truth is, I have more common sense than my half-brother
Sabu, Nubt’s future king. While he’s off hunting and having fun – and chasing women like your brother – I attend Father in his audience hall. Much like you do.”
“Your Father lets a woman take part in his audiences?”
I couldn’t tell if Iry was appalled or amused. “Not exactly. I stand near his throne and pour his wine and present him with honeyed cakes. He has no idea I’m there with an ulterior motive. To pay attention to what’s happening and learn from it.”
“Devious as well as bold.” A hint of admiration in Iry’s voice. “Intelligent and taking pains to hide it.”
“How else am I supposed to have a semblance of control over my own life?” I shook my head. “I daresay I know more about how to render justice, and fairly assign fields, and apportion crops between farmers and storage, and what officials actually do than my brother. I should be a ruler – or at least married to one who’d have enough sense to take advantage of my abilities.”
“Women shouldn’t have to worry about ruling,” Iry said condescendingly.
I stiffened. “I’ve observed that men care about power and women care about other people. Perhaps a female ruler would strike a better balance.”
“Perhaps,” Iry said. “But elites will never follow a woman. Kings intercede with the gods – believe they themselves are gods. Would elites believe that of a woman?”
I laughed. “You’ve been telling me all day how men followed Sety’s female ancestors. According to you, the gods favored Aya and Tiaa and Amenia and men followed them. And a woman not favored by the gods, your own ancestress Abar.”
“I surrender. You win the argument.” Iry threw up his hands. “So, if you can’t rule Nubt, Matia, what will you do with your life?”
“I suppose I’ll continue to assist Father when we honor Nubt’s god, Seth, as a singer and dancer. The woman in charge of Father’s household tries to make me weave linen but, as I said, I’m accomplished at escaping the per’aa and roaming the countryside instead. But I’m painfully aware that my freedom won’t last much longer. Soon I’ll be married, for political reasons.” As Sabu had made abundantly clear right before he killed Hetshet. “In fact, I’m already pledged.” Though to whom was now up in the air. If Sabu formed his alliance and took Nubt’s throne he’d give Nebetah to Baki and give me to Antef. If he failed I’d spend my life with Baki. If Scorpion conquered Nubt only the gods knew what would happen to me. I wasn’t sure which of the three outcomes would be worse.
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