“No, My Love,” I whispered, my mouth next to his ear. “You are king of Tjeni and Nubt. Nekhen’s dependent on you. You command in the North. You’re the ancestor of the unifier. You are Scorpion, the mightiest king who ever lived!”
Whether he heard me or not I did not know. Scorpion took one long shuddering breath and passed into oblivion.
I should’ve immediately keened in sorrow to honor my husband and king. But no one could know Scorpion was dead until the men in this room agreed upon his successor. I’d made Scorpion a promise to put Iry on his throne. That he’d included Sety in the group I had to convince would help. He’d be my ally. I had to deliver. Otherwise, once news Scorpion was dead spread through Tjeni, conflict would rip the settlement and valley apart. I was now regent. Me. The daughter of Nubt’s king. A decade ago Scorpion had been my enemy. Now I was head of his house. I had to keep what Scorpion had spent his life creating whole.
“Shall we summon the king’s sons and daughters now? And the kings and rulers?” Minnefer asked impatiently.
“Not until we agree on who’ll be Tjeni’s next king.”
“Minnefer and I have already decided,” Perneb informed me. “Mekatre. You have no say.”
I held up my stick. “Scorpion made it clear I do have a say. He appointed me regent specifically to make sure his chosen successor sits his throne. And it’s not Mekatre.”
“Regent? You took advantage of a dying man and forced him to name you so you could shape Tjeni to suit yourself,” Perneb charged. “Scorpion was clearly too weak at the end to resist you.”
“Nonsense. If my stick isn’t authority enough, and the fact you’ve pledged me fealty, I’m Scorpion’s wife.”
“Were his wife,” Perneb said sharply. He eyed me possessively.
“And the mother of his son,” I added.
“The youngest and least consequential,” Minnefer said, glancing at Gehes in Nofret’s arms.
He had no idea how truly consequential Gehes was. “Let’s get to it,” I said crisply, brushing aside Minnefer’s and Perneb’s attempt to take control of the situation. “As you said, you both want Mekatre to be Tjeni’s next king. You, Perneb, because Mekatre’s promised me to you.”
“He did what!” Minnefer exclaimed.
“Did you think I suddenly switched my support from Lagus for no reason?” Perneb asked.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to be your wife, Perneb. Mekatre’s not going to be king. Scorpion’s choice is. Iry.”
Perneb snorted. He wasn’t going to give me up without a fight. “Convenient, Matia. The only son who’ll have anything to do with you.”
“And yet, they all should,” Sety said quietly. “And don’t forget your place, Perneb. ‘Majesty,’ not ‘Matia.’”
“You have no say in Tjeni’s affairs,” Minnefer snarled. “You’re from the delta.”
“I represent the falcon god,” Sety replied coolly. “A god who’s chosen Her Majesty to shape the future of this valley.”
“Absurd!” Minnefer scoffed.
Sety looked at me. Only a handful of people knew about Sety’s dream. A secret kept by all of us on purpose. We’d known how dangerous it’d be for Gehes if Lagus and Mekatre found out his importance. But the time for secrecy was past. I needed every bit of ammunition I had if I was to put Iry on the throne. I nodded.
“The falcon god sent me a dream many years ago,” Sety told the elites, “long before I met Her Majesty. He showed me Her Majesty bearing a child that mingled the blood of Tjeni and Nubt. That child.” He pointed to the sleeping Gehes. “The god showed me one of Her Majesty’s descendants, several generations from now, uniting this entire valley. The god showed me that descendant carrying out the work King Scorpion began when he united Tjeni and Nubt. My dream is the reason King Scorpion married Her Majesty.”
“If either Lagus or Mekatre takes Tjeni’s throne we’ll have civil war,” I said. “Whoever isn’t named will try to overthrow the other. North pitted against South. All four of us know it. All the steps Scorpion took towards unification – thrown away.” I eyed the men. “The only reason you two support Mekatre is because he’s promised you and your families position and authority. Right?”
Neither answered. Neither had to.
“Lagus is ineffective. Ineb-hedj has grown because of what Iry set in motion, in spite of Lagus. All he cares about is the trappings of power and accumulating luxuries for himself.” I could have added sleeping with every woman in sight, but I resisted the urge. “Mekatre’s a horrible leader. Have you forgotten how he turned Nubt against Scorpion’s house – my house – in less than a month? Convince me he’s done any better in Tjeni. You can’t. Perneb – you’ll be constantly looking over your shoulder if he becomes king. All Minnefer would have to do is suggest you’re disloyal, that your true allegiance still lies with Lagus, and Mekatre would execute you and your entire family. That’s the lesson of Mekatre’s short rule in Nubt.”
“I’d never…” Minnefer spluttered.
“You might,” I said calmly. “You’re an ambitious man, Minnefer. You’d prefer to be Mekatre’s only counselor. You were slated to be until Mekatre promised me to Perneb.” I addressed Perneb. “Do you want to risk being executed?”
His face told me the seed I’d planted had already sprouted. Good.
“Look at what Iry’s accomplished,” I said. “He founded Ineb-hedj.”
“Already the most important settlement in the North,” Sety interjected. “The key settlement in the entire valley.”
“He instituted controls on goods and foodstuffs from Tjeni all the way to the delta. He saved Tjeni from famine because of his connections in the North. He built an army and fleet when Mekatre failed to.”
“An army whose commanders and men are loyal to him,” Sety added pointedly.
An ungentle reminder that Iry could take the throne by force if he wanted to. “Iry kidnapped Sabu. He forced Nubt to surrender without the loss of a single Tjenian life. He constructed Scorpion’s grave. Scorpion told you he wants Iry to lay him in it. As successors do for their predecessors. As Scorpion did for Bull.” I leaned towards the men. “Iry will work in concert with both of you and your houses. He won’t favor one of you over the other. Can either of you say that about Lagus or Mekatre?”
“No,” Minnefer admitted.
“We can’t just consider today,” Sety said. “We have to consider the future too. Gehes is going to have to carry on what Scorpion started when he’s grown, as his son will after him. Iry will yield the throne to Gehes when he’s of age. His brothers will kill Gehes, out of jealousy. Her Majesty too. What Scorpion did will have been for nothing.”
“Scorpion should’ve been able to entirely unify the South after he conquered Nubt,” I said. “Yes, Nubt belongs to Tjeni, and Tjeni controls Nekhen’s future. But Nubt still needs to be integrated into Tjeni, not consider itself an occupied possession. The damage Mekatre did has to be undone. When King Khab dies, Tjeni’s king must appoint his successor and integrate Nekhen into the Tjeni confederation as well. It’s clear the South will never be unified if Tjeni is splintered internally. All of us in this room – every elite in Tjeni – has to unite behind Scorpion’s choice for king – Iry. He’s the only man with the vision and ability to complete what Scorpion started.”
“Assuming we decide to support Iry, we can’t crown him until after Scorpion’s buried,” Minnefer said. “Do you really expect any elites will let you rule Tjeni until then? Regent or not? You’re the daughter of an enemy king. You’re loyal to Nubt. You’ll look out for Nubt’s interests, not ours.”
“If that was true, King Scorpion wouldn’t have made her regent,” Sety said firmly. “Her Majesty was the architect of our victory over Nubt. Our victory was bloodless because of her. She risked her life to kidnap her own brother on Scorpion’s behalf. Do not doubt her loyalty to Scorpion’s house – any of you! She’s the mother of Scorpion’s son, Gehes. And, as I’ve explained, Gehes is the key to
our future.” Sety grasped his talisman and held it up. “I promise – if either of you does anything to obstruct Her Majesty or Gehes, either before or after Iry is sitting Tjeni’s throne, Horus will rain vengeance upon you and all your descendants for eternity.”
A long silence. Sety’s threat hung in the air.
“I’ll support Iry,” Minnefer said at last.
“And I,” Perneb agreed.
A hurdle jumped.
“Now what?” Minnefer asked.
“You and Perneb may leave. Sety, send Iry to me.”
***
I met Iry at the door of Scorpion’s room.
“Your father’s dead,” I told him gently.
He’d expected it, since I’d summoned him at this late hour. He entered, went straight to the bed, knelt at its side, took Scorpion’s hand in his.
I closed the door so no passersby would see. I sat next to Gehes and Nofret and waited while Iry grieved. Nofret put her arm around my shoulders.
After a long time Iry rose. He glanced around the room. “Where are my brothers and sisters?”
“They don’t know Scorpion’s dead yet. We need to settle something before I send for them.” I picked up my stick, strode to him.
He glanced at it. “Father appointed you regent.”
“He did. He ordered me to make sure his chosen son succeeds him.”
“Gehes. I know. He has my support, Matia, as I promised.”
“Not Gehes. You.”
Iry shook his head. “Father was crystal clear about the succession in your birth bower, Matia. Gehes is his heir, not me.”
“Scorpion didn’t expect to die within months, Iry. He thought Gehes would be a grown man when he passed, not an infant. It’s impractical to appoint a regent to serve the next fifteen years. Nubt’s union with Tjeni is precarious. Antef can’t be trusted in the North. Neither can Khab at Nekhen. Tjeni needs a strong king right now.”
“If I seize the crown, Lagus and Mekatre will unite and go to war against me, Matia,” Iry argued. “Once I’m dead they’ll fight each other for primacy. The North and South will declare independence while they’re occupied with each other. Whoever wins will kill Gehes and you.”
“Your brothers can’t realistically fight you, Iry,” I disagreed. “Tjeni’s army is loyal to you, not either of them.”
“The army’s disbanded, except for the few soldiers stationed at Nubt. Six days to send a message to summon them, six days for them to travel here. Useless.”
“Tjeni’s farmers would leave their fields instantly at your call, Iry. Who can Lagus call? The rulers in the delta? They’d laugh at him. The men of Ineb-hedj? They’re all loyal to you. Nubt’s loyal to me. Nubtians will fight for you if I ask. As for Mekatre, he has no one.”
“Don’t underestimate Minnefer and his network of elites, Matia. They back Mekatre.”
“Minnefer and Perneb agreed to support you a few minutes ago.”
Iry looked at me in disbelief. “Why?”
“I convinced them, just before I sent for you. With Sety’s help.”
Iry ran his hand through his hair.
“You’re the only man who can keep Sety’s dream on track, Iry. The only man who can make sure Gehes takes his throne when he’s of age.”
Iry glanced at his sleeping half-brother, so small, so innocent, so unaware. So important.
“Scorpion died regretting his life’s work was incomplete, Iry. Those were his last words. You once had grand plans for yourself. Resurrect them! Don’t die with regrets of your own.”
“Regrets? The day you married Father I reconciled myself to never being king, Matia. I accepted that as the god’s will.”
“What you mistakenly believed was the god’s will, Iry. Abar’s blood flows through you. She set her descendants on the path of unifying the valley. Your Father took a giant step on it. You can’t step off. You can’t go backwards. You have an important role to play in unification. It’s up to you to integrate Tjeni and Nubt and Nekhen while Gehes is growing up. It’s up to you to tie the South to the North once he sits the throne. You promised to look out for Gehes. Gehes is the key to our future. You have to prepare him to be king. You have to keep whole the lands he’ll rule. You have to protect Gehes from Lagus and Mekatre.”
“I know,” Iry admitted.
I drew myself up before him. I held up my stick. “The valley’s future is in your hands, Iry. Without you on the throne Gehes will die, and with him Sety’s dream. If Gehes dies this valley may never be unified. It’ll remain a bunch of squabbling settlements. Tjeni may even dry up and blow away. So… will you accept Tjeni’s crown?”
Iry was silent for a long time, glancing over and over at Scorpion’s body. In the faint light Scorpion appeared to be merely sleeping. Iry was clearly struggling. At last – “Yes, Matia. I accept.”
“Thank you.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Another hurdle jumped.
“I’ll let everyone know Father’s dead,” Iry said. He hurriedly exited the room.
I moved next to Scorpion and looked down at him. “I kept my promise,” I whispered. Then I began to keen.
***
Akhet (Flood)
Iry
***
At dawn the procession set out from the riverbank at Abdju, Father’s linen-wrapped corpse carried on a litter by four men who’d served him in life. He’d been dead a week; all the rulers and kings and elites who’d attended Father’s hunt had sailed with us from Tjeni yesterday morning for today’s burial. We’d camped beside the river last night, the vessels moored along a half-mile long stretch. Never had any funeral in the valley been so widely attended.
I was unshaven and my stomach rumbled with hunger. As was tradition, I’d continue to eat very little and leave my hair uncut until I was crowned. That’d happen once we returned to Tjeni after the funeral. As Tjeni’s next king, and as Father had wished, I was going to preside today.
Last evening I’d taken Abar and Neith to visit Tamit’s grave for the first time. Father had buried her as befit a king’s wife, supporting the illusion she was Matia. He’d taken many of the finest grave goods from his warehouse and buried them with her. He’d provided well for her afterlife, out of love for her. Abar was six and Neith three, both old enough to understand. We’d spent half the night there, talking, resting our backs against the mound of dirt that protected Tamit. I’d told them story after story about a mother Neith barely remembered. Abar had vowed to grow up to be just like Tamit.
The procession was led by three men carrying standards atop ebony poles – Father’s scorpion, flanked by images of Horus and Wepwawet. Women in skirts, crying, ululating, bending constantly to grab handfuls of dust and throw them on their hair, followed the standards and Father’s body. Behind them were more women clapping ivory wands together to keep a rhythm, chanting ancient incantations designed to protect the dead. I strode behind them, next to Matia. She too was grabbing handfuls of dust over and over. Nofret walked beside her, Gehes in her arms, accompanied by Heket.
Every important person in the valley was in the procession. My brothers, Mekatre and Lagus, and their wives, Nebta of Farkha and Satiah of Pe and Dep. My sisters Weret and Heria, and Weret’s husband, Kama of Nekhen. Nebetah of Nubt, the dead king Ika’s daughter. Father had married her to one of Minnefer’s nephews, to keep her from tempting someone in Nubt from trying to claim Nubt’s throne through her. King Khab of Nekhen. Heby, ruler of Farkha. King Antef of Pe and Dep. The elites from every major settlement and those who’d owed fealty to Father. The procession strung out for nearly a mile.
We reached the cemetery. The oldest graves had sunk into the earth long ago, leaving small depressions. The mounds of dirt atop the graves of past kings and rulers were smaller than at the time of their creation; wind ate at them every day, constantly diminishing them in size. I supposed eventually they’d all disappear entirely.
The men carrying Father’s body stopped beside his grave and set his body down. Matia and I and
my family lined up facing him as the rest of the procession reached the grave and fanned out around it. Eleven of the twelve chambers had already been filled with thousands of jars and containers from the warehouse, so many they were piled atop each other in as many as four layers, as Tamit had planned. The cedar boxes in the treasury chamber glowed warmly in the sun. Only the burial chamber was empty, except for five large wood panels leaning against one wall that would soon be assembled into a roofed shrine.
Memories of Tamit swept over me at sight of the goods with their ivory labels, and the grave itself. I recalled our visit here with Father, the visits we’d made together as we’d constructed the grave. I couldn’t stop wishing she was beside me today. I couldn’t stop wishing she wasn’t lying in a grave next to Father’s. Instead, I was with Matia and my half-brother Gehes, Matia’s and Father’s child. That Matia and Gehes were alive today was due to Tamit’s death. Maybe it had been the god’s will that she be sacrificed for the future of the valley. Maybe Tamit and Matia and Gehes and I were merely pieces in a much larger puzzle that none of us would live to see completed.
Matia was dressed as befit a king’s wife, a gold necklace around her neck, gold bracelets on her wrist, gold pins in her hair, though her once-white linen skirt was now covered with dust. Tracks of mud marred her cheeks; her tears for Father had been real. Mekatre was sullen and Lagus angry. Both had wanted desperately to be king. Both had railed against my selection and Matia’s choice as regent and Minnefer and Perneb for abandoning them. I had a feeling they were going to try to sabotage me. The only question was how and when, and if they’d try individually or together. Gods help them if they tried. I was only holding the throne for Gehes. I’d defend it against anyone who tried to take it. Especially my brothers.
I signaled for the ceremony to begin.
Father was arranged on the palanquin in the fetal position. Sety knelt beside him. He’d told me of an ancient ritual his ancestress Amenia had instituted for the dead, and I’d asked him to do it for Father.
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