“Paser – you’ll meet him tonight, Iry – makes sure crewmen have a place to sleep while they’re here,” Sety said. “He’s also in charge of the actual distribution of grain and beer and necessities to the local populace.”
Isu nodded. “Some of our craftsmen make goods for export – tools, stone items, beads, carved ivory.”
We briefly looked in on wood workers and brewers and bakers and potters and weavers and a few more craftsmen. The number and variety were impressive. Beyond the last workshop were the settlement’s six mud-brick warehouses. The area around them was a beehive of activity; a steady stream of men was passing in and out of each building. Porters were unloading donkeys beside the warehouse most distant, likely a caravan from the desert. Between the warehouses and the harbor, I’d never seen anyplace as busy place anywhere in the valley. The district was dusty and noisy – shouts and curses and grunts intermixed with a smattering of phrases in foreign tongues. For a few minutes I stood silent and merely observed. In those few minutes Hemu was interrupted by half a dozen porters asking where to find or store various goods.
“How do you keep track of what’s in all these warehouses?” I asked.
A girl approached, perhaps eighteen or so, very thin, the top of her head barely reaching my shoulder, lugging a jar half her size, clutching it with both hands against the light brown skin of her belly and chest. “My Lord Hemu.”
“Wait your turn, Girl,” he snapped. “Can’t you see I’m talking to royalty?” He said “royalty” in a sneering way.
His subtle insult didn’t really register because I was staring unthinkingly at the girl. I’d never seen golden hair before. A single long braid hung over the front of her left shoulder and reached halfway to her waist, shining in the sunlight. Her black eyes were outlined with green malachite. Sweat ran in rivulets down her arms and chest and back, in places leaving mud tracks in the layer of dust that lightly coated her skin. The day was hot and the jar was heavy. Her face was flushed from heat and exertion. Her coarse linen skirt was torn and filthy. She wore no jewelry, with the exception of an ivory comb topped with a bird at the back of her head. She was one of those commoners Matia had spoken of so fondly and I always went out of my way to avoid. She stepped back from Hemu, looked me up and down appraisingly. “I’ve never seen royalty.” Her tone evinced curiosity, not awe.
Hemu turned his back on her and rolled his eyes, irritated by her interruption. He addressed me. “I keep everything straight because I remember where everything is. Potmarks and sealings help me stay organized.”
“Potmarks?”
“Like my hippo,” the girl volunteered, twisting her jar around to show me the figure etched there. “My brother carves hippo ivory in a workshop. I deliver his carved objects to the warehouse in jars marked like this one.”
“Don’t make me tell you not to bother His Majesty again!” Hemu snarled at her, his lips curled in anger. “Keep it up and I’ll order your brother to beat you.”
The girl was undaunted. “He could try, I suppose.”
I suppressed a smile.
A porter was passing us carrying a jar of meat from Sety’s boat into the warehouse.
“That jar’s from Sety’s estate in the delta,” the girl told me matter-of-factly. “You can tell by the falcon.”
“I told you to keep quiet!” Hemu practically screamed, drawing the attention of everyone around us.
“Yes, you did,” she replied calmly.
“She’s right about the falcon being my symbol, Majesty,” Sety said.
“I remember seeing it that time I helped load your boat.”
“Does royalty usually load boats wherever it is you come from?” the girl asked me innocently.
“No,” I snapped. Did she assume royals were like her? Did she think royals talked to commoners like her? I turned my back on her. “I remember seeing potmarks when we were at Farkha, Sety – lines attached to rectangles or triangles or circles, plants, snakes, crisscrosses.”
“My estate’s potter etches the falcon onto my jars before they’re fired,” Sety said. “Tiaa was the first to mark my family’s pottery that way. It kept her jars distinct from other potters in Nekhen. The same is true everywhere in the valley now. Men like Hemu and Hori and Didia can tell at a glance where a jar was made.”
“And random girls, apparently,” I added.
Hemu began pointing out various potmarks on goods stacked around us, either waiting to be taken inside the warehouse or carried to boats. “Many estates use a bird or fish along with another sign to identify their jars, similar to these. Some use rectangles, some near rectangles, some plants, some like those you described from Farkha. Over here are jars with tall narrow parallel lines, and lines with dots, and multiple lines, and angles, and crosses and crisscrosses, and triangles. Some estates use three types of lines, or two or three strokes in a pattern.”
“All of my porters are trained to know which sign goes with which estate,” Hori interjected.
Sety pointed out a ceramic vessel. “This estate painted its identifier, a snake, after the vessel was fired. More flexible that way, since the vessel didn’t have to be made on that estate. It was probably supplied from another, or maybe from the kiln here in Ptah’s Settlement.” He stooped, pointed to a leather pouch. “See the square of clay attached to the pouch? The image was made by rolling a stone cylinder seal across the clay when it was wet.”
“The potmarks tell you where the jar’s from but not what’s in it,” I observed.
“True,” Sety replied.
“Sometimes they do,” the girl interrupted again. “Everyone knows a jar marked with a hippo contains ivory from my brother’s workshop in Ptah’s Settlement. One with an ostrich comes from the ivory workshop in Farkha.”
Hemu swung his staff at the girl. He was portly and slow and she was scrawny and nimble despite grasping the heavy jar. She easily dodged the blow. That made Hemu even angrier. She didn’t look particularly chastened, just took a new position a bit out of his reach.
“If a jar’s reused the potmark’s meaningless,” Sety said.
“Very true,” Hemu concurred. “We often unload boats from the North that are carrying products in jars originally made in this valley. In that case, it’s up to me to remember what’s where in the warehouse.”
“As do I and my men,” Hori added.
“I’m amazed and impressed,” I told them. “I can’t imagine how you keep it all straight.” I glanced at the piles of goods. “From what Sety tells me, most of these goods are currently moving between the delta estates and Ptah’s Settlement to mutually support each other. But in the near future, goods are going to move to and from Ptah’s Settlement from both the Far North and Far South, not just from the delta.”
“Why is that, Majesty?” Hemu asked. He sounded interested.
“Because my father has established a distribution center in Setjet for Southern goods. Sakan. Because Sakan’s Northern goods need to be distributed into the South from somewhere. Here. Because goods from the South need to be transported to Sakan from somewhere. Here.”
Hemu looked at Hori. “That’s going to be quite a change for us.”
“Yes, it is. And there must be a better way to control the flow and storage of what’s going to be a massive amount of goods than a few men’s memories.”
“Memory’s served us well enough for generations,” Hori said defensively.
I had a feeling he was going to be an obstacle. When I took over, I’d need to surround myself with men who had an understanding of current realities, not ones content to live in the past. But this wasn’t the time to challenge Hori or anyone else. I had to make the settlement mine first. Sety and I bid Hemu and Hori goodbye.
“Now, Girl. Put your jar in the warehouse yourself,” Hemu ordered. “You know where it goes. Then get out of my sight before I beat you myself.”
Sety and I stationed ourselves in a patch of shade and observed the warehouses for a couple of hours.
He did his best to help me make sense of everything that was going on. At sunset he led me along several lanes deep with dust to one of the larger houses in the settlement, in the midst of others of similar size. All were shaded by tall palm trees. The lanes were far less crowded than in the warehouse and workshop and harbor districts.
“This is where the settlement’s elites and officials live,” Sety said. “Overseers like Hemu and Hori and Isu. This house belongs to Didia.”
We passed through a gate in a low wall of reed-plastered mud, through a large palm-shaded garden surrounding a small lotus-choked pool, into the house. The house was constructed of mud-brick and contained several rooms. Men were already seated cross-legged on the floor in one of them around bowls and platters full of meat and bread and vegetables and fruit. A serving girl was pouring wine into cups. The men stood.
I recognized Didia and Isu. One man was a stranger.
“Paser, this is Iry, son of King Scorpion,” Didia said.
“You distribute the settlement’s share of what arrives on boats,” I said.
“And oversee the granaries where we store our surplus against drought, Majesty,” Paser said.
“Please, join us,” Didia invited.
“Hemu and Hori will be along shortly,” Sety told him.
We all sat. The girl poured Sety and me cups of wine. I sipped mine. It was very good, the same that eventually ended up in father’s court. The food was good too, though the variety far less than in Father’s per’aa. As we ate, the missing overseers joined us. For an hour or so we exchanged pleasantries. Many of these elites had attended King Khab’s coronation; Sety and they discussed Nekhen’s workshops and the impact his threat to restrict distribution of Nekhen’s goods might have on trade.
Finally, Sety addressed the reason for our visit. “King Scorpion wants you elites who control Ptah’s Settlement to pledge fealty to him and his house.”
Immediate and intense outrage. A few curses. Raherka’s response all over again, multiplied. As I’d expected.
“I’m here to explain my father’s intentions and how they’ll affect you,” I said, talking over them. Sety and I had decided it would be best if we made the elites believe I was acting under Father’s orders, not my own initiative. I was far younger than any man in the room, without credibility.
“I don’t care what King Scorpion intends,” Paser said irately, his voice rising. “A king hundreds of miles from here? A king I’m not beholden to? He has no say in my settlement. Why should I bow down to a king who’s done nothing for me?”
“You’re already benefiting from my father’s actions, Paser,” I contradicted.
“Absurd!”
“Really? Aren’t more trade goods arriving in your harbor and being stored in your warehouses than at this time a year ago?”
“That’s true,” Hemu admitted.
“Yes,” Didia said tersely.
“Some of them luxury goods. Like the wine we’re drinking. Goods you skim a share of. Meaning every one of you elites is wealthier than you were a year ago.”
“What of it?”
“You’re receiving those extra goods because King Scorpion has eliminated Maadi as your rival. A portion of the goods traders formerly transported there they’re now transporting to you.” I leaned forward. “Right now Ptah’s Settlement is closely tied to delta estates – you’re mutually dependent on each other. But under Father’s control Ptah’s Settlement is going to become the key distribution center for the entire valley, funneling goods in both directions between the cataract and the sea and the Far North.”
“As you mentioned to me earlier,” Hemu said.
I swept the men with my eyes. “Pledge fealty to my father, and each of you will become fabulously wealthy.”
A few of the elites suddenly looked intrigued.
“What prompted King Scorpion to destroy Maadi?” Isu queried.
“Father and King Ika of Nubt arranged an alliance last year. It fell apart when King Ika’s son, Sabu, ordered one of his men to attack my sister, Heria. He almost killed her.” And me. But I wasn’t about to admit physical weakness to these men. “Father declared war on Nubt after Ika refused to turn Sabu over to him for execution. That made Maadi a threat to Father’s northern flank, since its inhabitants were beholden to the North and might’ve been influenced to block supplies he needs for his army. Ptah’s Settlement controls the river. Father wants you elites to pledge him fealty to ensure his flank will remain secure.”
“How did King Scorpion pull that off – making Maadi disappear?” Hori asked.
“During Peret, boatloads of farmers from Tjeni established settlements in the delta on every trade route between Maadi and the North and the Sinai,” I replied.
“We saw their boats pass,” Hori noted.
“Those settlements now intercept goods that used to be delivered to Maadi. Without raw materials or finished goods to barter there’s no point to Maadi. In addition, Sety convinced Raherka, Maadi’s leading man, to relocate the majority of his people to the North. Raherka founded a settlement at the northern end of the caravan trail between Setjet and the valley – Sakan. Sakan is now Father’s Northern distribution center. Goods from the Far North are already being stored there and routed to the valley. Goods from the valley are being delivered there for barter in the Far North. So, thanks to Father, Maadi’s been eliminated as your rival and you elites control the river.”
“No more competition’s good for us,” Didia observed.
“What about Pe and Dep? Isn’t King Scorpion concerned about what King Ny-Hor might do in the delta after he launches his war?” Hemu asked.
“By intercepting goods in the North, Sakan will eventually reduce the amount of goods King Ny-Hor receives. That’ll weaken him too,” I replied. “In addition, the new settlements in the delta, and old ones like Farkha, will keep an eye on Pe and Dep and restrict Ny-Hor to his small corner of the delta.”
“Our role in the future will be to funnel goods to King Scorpion,” Hori inferred. “Is that right?”
“In far greater quantities than today. And we must find a way to route those goods to Tjeni quickly – that’ll be critical once Father attacks Nubt. I toured the harbor and warehouses and workshops earlier today, as you all know. Your control of goods relies on the memory of individuals. That has to change. Controls must be strengthened and expanded so your warehouses can better meet Father’s needs.”
“How?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet,” I admitted. “But I will. And another thing. Your warehouses are vulnerable to barbarian attack. A raid could wipe out everything you’ve accumulated. So priority must be given to constructing a wall around the warehouses and granaries to make them invulnerable.”
“You’re speaking as if you’re in charge of our settlement instead of us,” Hori said, irritated.
“I am,” I said decisively. I’d learned from watching Father to be assertive. As I’d have to be once I became king. Which I might be if I made a success of Ptah’s Settlement. “Follow me and pledge fealty to King Scorpion – or I’ll find men who will.”
“You can’t just march in here and tell us what to do!” Didia exclaimed.
“King Scorpion could’ve sent an army to back Iry,” Sety said. “I convinced him that wasn’t necessary. I convinced him you’re all reasonable men.”
“Those boats of settlers you saw could just as easily have been full of soldiers,” I said. “They still can.”
My news and demand weren’t what any of these elites had expected when they’d sat down to eat with me. I knew I had to be direct and forceful and not give them a chance to turn me down. I had to be bold. There wasn’t time to worm my way to a place of primacy and gradually win them over. I saw some resentment, some acceptance, some calculating looks on faces.
“Many workers will be idled when the inundation reaches our settlement in a week or two,” Isu volunteered. “There’ll be men available to work on a wall.”
Isu’s was one of the accepting expressions. “Good. You’re in charge of construction. You and I will get together tomorrow and figure out how large to make the defensive enclosure and how to feed and house and supply the workmen.”
“Assuming we agree to your demand,” Paser said.
I ignored his challenge. “In addition, from now on, Didia and Hemu, you need to assess a larger share of the grain that’s delivered to the settlement. We need to construct more granaries to hold that excess, not only to inoculate the populace here against drought, but in case Father has need of barley for his army. And for our additional population. Ptah’s Settlement is about to grow much larger. Father will soon be sending more settlers here from Tjeni – skilled craftsmen and the like.”
“What’s in it for us, if we go along with this?” Hori asked.
“As I promised, Father will make each of you wealthy. You’ll receive the finest objects produced by Nekhen’s craftsmen. You’ll receive gold. You’ll have plenty of wine. Each of you will carry a stick of authority, so everyone will know you’re overseeing a function in King Scorpion’s name.”
“A king who has no business here,” Didia groused.
“A king who’s going to make this the most important settlement in the entire world,” I rejoined. “You can be part of it, or you can step aside. It’s up to you.”
The elites and I discussed and argued and debated long into the night. Slowly, oh so slowly, they came around to my way of thinking. By the time the men departed for their own homes a little before dawn Ptah’s Settlement was Father’s – and mine.
***
A couple of hours later, after seeing Sety off at the harbor, I headed towards the warehouse district to meet with Isu. I wanted to get an immediate start on erecting my protective walls. As I neared the largest warehouse I heard shouting from inside. Shouting loud enough that every porter in the area had paused to listen. Suddenly the girl with golden hair I’d seen yesterday rushed out.
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