House of Scorpion

by Mark Gajewski

I embraced her. I’d been alone for so long. Now I had both Khentetka and Nofret to keep me company.

  “A few months from now, Sety’s going to return home to the delta,” Iry told Harwa. “He’s going to take you and Khentetka with him. He’s going to create an estate for the two of you to operate near his. Like him, you’ll be my ally in the North. Like him, you’ll be wealthy.”

  Harwa and Khentetka were too overcome to speak.

  ***

  Three nights later I was awakened from a sound sleep by screams from the room next to mine. Nofret! Visions of Tamit in a pool of blood flashed before my eyes. Had one of Sabu’s supporters attacked Nofret? One of Ani’s relatives? I pulled on my skirt as quickly as I could and dashed from my room into the lamplit corridor. Khentetka was approaching from the opposite direction along with Harwa, and Heket. I heard steps behind me. Probably Iry and Sety. I snatched a lit bowl of oil from a stand and pushed the door to Nofret’s room open. By the flickering light I could see Nofret twisted in her sheet, hands covering her face, sobbing.

  “Keep everyone out!” I hissed at Khentetka. I slipped inside the room and shut the door behind me. I hurried to the bed, put the lamp on the floor, perched on the side.

  Nofret shrank from me, crying, terrified.

  “It’s me. Matia. You’re safe.”

  She peered up at me through tearful eyes.

  I helped Nofret to a sitting position, still crying. I took her in my arms. She was drenched with sweat. I pulled her head against my chest, stroked her hair. “A bad dream, Nofret?”

  “Horrible!” she sobbed.

  “Sabu?”

  I felt her head nod. I hugged her tighter. “I’m so sorry, Nofret. I never should have made you stay here in Nubt.”

  The door opened and closed. I was instantly angry until I saw it was Heket. She crossed the room and perched on the bed facing me and Nofret.

  “I thought I’d be done with him when he was dead,” Nofret choked out, looking from me to Heket. “But every time I close my eyes I see him.”

  The same way I still saw Pentu and Pabasa and Hetshet, murdered. I’d had intensely bad dreams too, for a very long time.

  Heket put her hand on Nofret’s. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Me too,” she whispered.

  “I’ll send you to Tjeni first thing in the morning, if you want,” I assured Nofret. “You don’t have to spend another day in Nubt.”

  “I don’t want to go away, Matia,” Nofret sniffed. “You’re the only family I’ll ever have. I need you.”

  “You have me too, Nofret,” Heket said. “I’ll help you as best I can. Anything you need. I know what you went through.”

  Nofret nodded. “Will you stay with me tonight?” Her eyes were beseeching.

  “I’ll share your room and your bed for as long as you want, Nofret,” Heket replied. “You don’t have to face the dark alone anymore.”

  “But your husband. Iry…”

  “He won’t mind, Nofret. We don’t share a room anyway. He respects my need to be alone, after Sabu…”

  When I softly closed the door behind me an hour later they were lying in each other’s arms, asleep.

  ***

  In the months that followed, Iry and Sety and I gradually restored Nubt to a semblance of order. Grain arrived from Tjeni, enough to stave off famine until the next harvest. I convinced Iry to withdraw Scorpion’s soldiers to a camp beside the river and no longer have them patrol the settlement, so that Nubt didn’t outwardly appear to be occupied. Nofret and Khentetka and I made a point of wandering the settlement daily, both the walled and unwalled sections, and nearby farms, engaging men and women in conversation, listening to their complaints, trying to resolve their issues. Occasionally Heket joined us, though she was treated with suspicion because she was Iry’s wife and had been Sabu’s. I attended Iry during his weekly audiences, sitting next to him atop the dais, providing background and perspective and counsel as petitioners addressed him.

  “I want you to conduct today’s audience, Matia,” Iry told me.

  We were breaking our fast together, as usual, along with Sety and Heket and his daughters and Nofret and Harwa and Khentetka. We’d become a close-knit group these past months. Our meals were boisterous affairs, accompanied by multiple simultaneous conversations and considerable laughter.

  I was surprised. “Conduct? Won’t you be there?”

  “No. Nor Sety.”

  “Why? Are you both too busy?”

  “Not at all. I know you’ve dreamed of ruling Nubt your whole life, Matia. After everything you’ve done to stabilize Nubt since Father returned to Tjeni, you’ve earned the right – if only for a single day.”

  I was overcome with gratitude. “Thank you, Iry. I won’t disappoint you.”

  Iry shook his head. “You don’t have to try to impress me, Matia. You already do.”

  I entered the empty hall a few minutes before the audience was scheduled to begin and ascended the dais and settled into what had been my father’s throne. I’d decided to use it today to amplify my authority. I rested my hands on the familiar worn armrests, remembered all the times I’d been in this hall, an observer, inconsequential, ignored. Now I was presiding, what I’d desired for as long as I could remember. I was going to make the most of it.

  Khentetka moved to my side and handed me a cup of wine.

  “Thank you.” I sipped, took a deep breath. “Open the door,” I ordered the herald.

  I suppressed a smile at the shock I saw on faces as elites and overseers and petitioners entered and arranged themselves in their designated positions. Many heads bent close, whispering, gazing in my direction, some clearly appalled that I was seated on Nubt’s throne, fewer merely curious.

  I spotted Harwa in the midst of the overseers. He was a good person to start with, a friend, a capable and competent man. “Your report, Overseer?” I asked pleasantly.

  He strode briskly to the space in front of me and bowed. “The best inundation in eight years, Majesty!” he proclaimed.

  Cheers rang throughout the hall. Nubt had been poised on the brink of famine for far too long. To have pulled back from the edge was a relief.

  “The flood was so high my hut dissolved.”

  “You bring me good news indeed, Harwa! Good news for everyone in Nubt!”

  Farmers’ huts always had to be rebuilt when the inundation was good. Harwa had taught me that in the years I’d taken refuge with him and Khentetka to escape my chores. The loss of Harwa’s hut didn’t really matter to him, though – he slept in the per’aa now.

  “I’ve visited every farm in this region that supports Nubt and I’ve calculated this year’s yield, Majesty. We’ll have surplus enough to fill every one of Nubt’s granaries at harvest time.”

  One of the scribes Iry had relocated from Tjeni was standing close by, his arms full of wooden planks covered with thin layers of clay. He nodded vigorously.

  I was ecstatic. Iry and I wouldn’t have to deal with famine. One less thing for us to worry about.

  “His Majesty and I will assign fields one week from today,” Harwa continued. “The flood will have subsided enough.”

  “I want to go along, Harwa.”

  “As you wish, Majesty. I’ll arrange a palanquin.”

  That’d be welcome. I was six months along in my pregnancy and walking from sunup to sundown would be exhausting.

  I called next upon the overseer in charge of Nubt’s warehouses. Padiu was a portly lazy man who’d always done just enough to get by, keeping his position by secretly funneling luxuries to whatever elite had charge of storage at the time. I wasn’t going to tolerate incompetence or sloth or theft anymore, not from him or anyone. I was determined that Nubt was going to operate just like Tjeni. No doubt every overseer in the hall thought he could bluff me or push me around today because I was a woman. They were so wrong. I intended to impose my will on Padiu and the rest.

  “A caravan’s due from the gold mines in three days, Majesty,”
he reported.

  “Excellent. Tell me, Padiu, how many copper ingots are in King Scorpion’s warehouses?”

  “A thousand or so, Majesty,” Padiu replied flippantly.

  I beckoned a scribe. He ascended the dais and handed me a plank. It’d been a struggle, but Iry had finally helped me understand Tamit’s system, at least enough for me to get by. I consulted the plank. “Seven hundred ingots. Not a thousand.”

  Padiu didn’t look particularly chastened.

  I addressed the overseer of the copper smelters. “Prehotep, is that enough ore to keep your men busy?” I was aware he let his underlings supervise his smelters while he took his ease with whatever woman would tolerate him. I doubted he had any idea.

  “Perhaps, Majesty.”

  “Perhaps?” I asked sharply. “Do you need all the men you currently employ to smelt the seven hundred ingots, or can you get by with fewer given the amount of work you need to accomplish?”

  “I couldn’t say.” Prehotep evinced no concern.

  A bit of nervous laughter in the hall.

  Another plank. “One of His Majesty’s scribes has calculated that you have too many men by half. Your workshop is a drain on royal resources, Prehotep. You need to get rid of your least productive workers. And their families. Immediately. Meaning you need to find another enterprise for them to work in. I will not have any of your workers starve because of your incompetence. Either that, or obtain enough copper ore to keep them fully occupied. Immediately.”

  Prehotep was chastened. And shocked. “Yes, Majesty,” he muttered.

  “I expect you to be prepared to answer my questions fully and accurately the next time you enter this hall, Prehotep. Otherwise, don’t bother coming.”

  “Yes, Majesty.” His face flamed red.

  “That goes for you too, Padiu. And the rest of you overseers, with the exception of Harwa. As you all saw, he was well prepared. That’s what I expect from each of you from now on.” I regarded them. All were now shifting on their feet uncomfortably. “In fact, I’m going to assign a scribe to each of you. He’s going to teach you how to use planks to manage your enterprises. It’s what overseers do in Tjeni – it’s what we’re going to do from now on too.” I handed the planks I’d been holding back to the scribe and he stepped away. “Be aware – your scribes will make copies of their planks and deliver them to me before every audience from now on. I’ll know as much about each of your enterprises as you do.”

  I worked through the rest of the overseers one by one, then the petitioners. Every single petitioner accepted my decision without protest. They were clearly frightened of me, after how I’d taken the overseers to task. It was late when I rendered my final decision and the hall cleared out. Khentetka poured me a cup of wine and I took it gratefully.

  “Have some yourself,” I said. I leaned back in the throne and surveyed the hall while she poured a cup. I was satisfied. Today had gone better than I’d imagined it would. I hadn’t just gone through the motions, as both Father and Sabu had for so many years. I’d made a difference. I’d put every overseer – except Harwa – on notice. I’d put my stamp on Nubt, set it on course to being better.

  For one day, at least, thanks to Iry, I’d actually ruled Nubt. I’d always be grateful to him for giving me the opportunity. That he’d done it, not out of pity, but because he believed I’d earned the chance made it extraordinarily special. How I wished I could do it again.

  3251 BC: 15th regnal year of Scorpion, King of Tjeni

  Peret (Seed)

  Iry

  Five months into the new year Father and Sety and I entered the birth bower Khentetka had erected for Matia on Harwa’s farm outside Nubt. Matia had insisted on the farm for the bower instead of the per’aa’s garden; she’d given birth to Pabasa there. The bower was a few paces from the riverbank, the side facing the river open, the others hung with mats and decorated with fragrant flowers. Protective amulets of all kinds were scattered everywhere.

  Matia was laying on a pallet, drenched with sweat, exhausted, smiling, a babe at her breast. Khentetka and Nofret and Heket were hovering over them protectively. Heket caught my eye and smiled. We’d settled into an easy companionship these past months, spending most evenings together along with Sety and my girls. Our initial reticence at being forced to marry had faded away once we’d realized we were protecting each other from what neither wanted – an actual marriage. I’d never love any woman but Tamit; Heket would never trust any man. My girls liked Heket and she liked them. For all intents and purposes, she was now their mother and they were her daughters. She was a pleasant woman, mostly quiet except when she was around Nofret, thanks to their shared experiences. The first time I’d met Heket, at King Khab’s coronation, she’d been haughty, arrogant, sure of herself. But Sabu had broken her. She wasn’t that woman anymore. There was in her eyes a haunted look, a deep pain. She continued to share Nofret’s room and bed so she could comfort her when the bad dreams came. Heket’s presence had made an impact; Nofret’s dreams were less frequent these days. Heket had benefitted from Nofret’s companionship too.

  “You have a son, Husband,” Matia announced proudly. “Gehes – Crocodile.”

  Abar and Neith dashed to the pallet and started cooing over their new uncle.

  Father knelt next to the pallet and brushed damp hair from Matia’s brow. “You’ve done well, Matia.” He stroked Gehes’ back lightly with his fingertips. “A beautiful boy.”

  Sety squeezed in next to Neith. He removed his talisman and touched it to Gehes. “As the falcon god foretold, in you flows the royal blood of Tjeni and Nubt. From you will come a king to unify this entire valley. May Horus keep and protect and guide you, Gehes, all the days of your life.” He touched the talisman to Matia. “And you, Majesty. Ancestress of the unifier.”

  Matia smiled.

  “Once you’ve completed the afterbirth rituals we’ll return to Tjeni,” Father told Matia.

  Matia gazed at Father, her face impassive, but I knew she was going to hate leaving Nubt. She’d enjoyed helping me rule and she’d done extremely well. I hoped Father would come to realize what she was capable of some day, as he had Tamit, and let her help him oversee Tjeni. But, knowing Father as I did, probably not.

  “Before you all, I name Gehes my heir,” Father said solemnly. “When I die he’ll sit my throne.”

  “And be well on the way to unifying the valley,” Sety said. “Tjeni and Nubt combined. Nekhen tied to your house through Iry and Heket’s marriage. Ineb-hedj positioned to unite the North.”

  “Won’t Lagus object?” Matia asked. “You named him heir when he was a boy. He expects to take your place, Husband. And Mekatre’s been angling to push Lagus aside his whole life.”

  “Sety’s dream changed everything for me,” Father said. “His dream foretold Gehes, not Lagus or Mekatre. Or you, Iry.”

  “My brothers don’t know about the dream, Father,” I reminded him. “Only we few.” And Sety’s wife and son. But not Heket or Nofret or Khentetka. They had no idea what we were talking about.

  “Lagus won’t dare make a move against Gehes while I’m alive,” Father said. “I’m not so sure about Mekatre. So, for now, we’re going to have to keep my choice of Gehes a secret. We must continue to portray the fiction that Lagus will succeed me. Let Mekatre spend his energy fighting Lagus. When Gehes is of age I’ll tell them and Tjeni’s elites about Sety’s dream and that Gehes is my heir. They’ll all have to accept my decision.”

  “Understood, Father.”

  “I don’t expect my sons to yield gracefully,” Father continued. “After I’m dead, Iry, you and Sety will have to protect Gehes from them.”

  Father had now officially chosen his successor. I’d never be king, as I’d known since the night he’d married Matia. My role from now on was to pave the way for my half-brother and his descendants, not rule on my own. “Gehes presses forward the dream of unification my ancestress Abar set in motion,” I said. “He’s the chosen one, blesse
d by the falcon god. He’s the fulfilment of Sety’s dream. In obedience to the falcon god’s will, and yours, Father, I promise I’ll protect him all the days of my life.”

  “And I,” Sety seconded.

  “A son and heir. A good inundation for the first time in eight years. They’re no coincidence,” Father said. “Horus is smiling on me and the valley.”

  ***

  Two weeks after giving birth, Matia returned to the per’aa, the appropriate rituals concluded. Father announced he and Matia would be returning to Tjeni in three days. Nofret would go with them. Sety too; he’d continue home from there to the delta. He’d take Harwa and Khentetka with him to establish their estate.

  “Father, I’ve got something to show you in the desert before you go.”

  We rode out on donkeys an hour before dawn the next morning along with Sety and a dozen soldiers, following the caravan trail west from Nubt. Coolness gave way to blazing heat the moment the sun leapt above the horizon, but we pressed on. Early in the afternoon we ascended a plateau where lay the trail that connected Hiw in the north to Waset in the south. We turned south on that trail and traveled a short distance atop the high ground. Just before the trail began to descend to low desert we reached a sheer limestone face jutting from the side of a ridge, a mostly-flat surface interspersed with small undulations and split in two by a large fissure. Just below the flattest and highest section rain had worn away part of the cliff, creating an overhang deep enough that the ground below it was shaded. I’d ordered a scene to be deeply carved high on the limestone where it’d be visible to every passerby, on an untouched section in the midst of numerous ancient images. I’d been inspired by the tableaux Matia had shown me on our way to kill Sabu.

  I dismounted, as did my companions. “I believe hunters etched images on this cliff when this area was still savannah and they were following herds of game, Father. See these ibex? Probably carved by hunters to gain power over their prey.” I squatted on my haunches. “See this layer of flint nodules exposed by the rain? See the flint chips on the ground? Hunters probably fashioned the flints they used to make their drawings right here.”