Khamose, the village proctor, spotted me. He called to me, loudly. “I can’t believe you escaped justice yesterday, Neset.”
Everyone fell silent and stared.
“Quite an act you put on, letting Sitmut take the blame.”
“She was a good one,” Wadjmose muttered.
“Evenings won’t be the same without her,” added my half–brother.
“If Pentawere hadn’t been so obviously smitten with you, you’d be rotting on a stake in Djeme’s courtyard right now,” Khonsu said disgustedly. Mesedptah had worked in his gang. “What did you do, Witch? Cast a spell on him?”
I refused to dignify his outrageous pronouncement with a reply. Pharaoh’s son hadn’t punished me because I hadn’t done anything wrong, not because he’d lusted after me. He’d never seen me before and never would again. Let these craftsmen believe what they would. I hurried on to the largest hut on the saddle, originally erected by Naunakht’s first husband. Hay was sitting on the step. Her four sons were with him.
“I’ve brought your dinner,” I told them, setting the basket down.
Kenhirkhopeshef, the eldest, thanked me and began rummaging inside.
“I warned your father not to marry you to Mesedptah,” Hay said consolingly. “His family’s been rotten for as long as anyone can remember. And I can remember a very long time. But Buneb refused to listen.”
Hay was nearly eighty, the oldest man in Ta Set Maat.
“Mesedptah was the best tomb painter who ever worked for me, but he had a wild streak,” Hay continued. “He was exactly like his ancestor, Paneb.”
“What do you know about Mesedptah’s ancestors?” I asked. “No one’s ever told me anything about them.”
“Please, sit. Share our meal,” Hay said.
Kenhirkhopeshef scooted to one side. He was on Hay’s step. His younger brothers Maaynakhtef and Amennakht and Neferhotep were sitting cross–legged on the ground. I squeezed in next to Hay.
As Hay placed items from the basket onto a plate for me I scanned the valley. From this vantage point I could see hills and desert and river–greened plain and distant Waset, all bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Directly east, across the river, sprawled Amen’s massive complex, Ipet–Isut. Gold– and electrum–clad obelisks and flagpole tips glittered. Colorful banners and pennants fluttered. Wisps of smoke, probably incense, rose from numerous temples and drifted towards the south.
I turned my attention to Hay’s hut. Most huts on the heights contained sleeping and sitting chambers, with limestone seats along their walls in a U shape and a floor paved with limestone. Hay’s, the largest, contained a third room, likely used by Kenhirkhopeshef as an office in the years he’d served as scribe overseer for pharaohs’ tombs. Many of the huts’ original builders had inscribed their names on stone seats and stone blocks; their descendants continued to use those same huts. I read the inscription on Hay’s seat: King’s Scribe in the Place of Truth, Ramose, his son who makes his name live, Kenhirkhopeshef.
I accepted the plate from Hay gratefully. “Naunakht said you make shabati during the day.”
“And small ancestor statues, and stelae.” He picked up a finished figure, showed it to me. “See the inscription?”
“In truth, I am here and I will come whenever you call me,” I read out loud.
“This shabati will work on its owner’s behalf in the Afterlife when the gods call his name.”
“Mesedptah commissioned you to make a stela of him and me praying to Amenhotep and Ahmes–Nefertari,” I said.
Hay nodded. “I also make stelae and shabati without inscriptions, on speculation. I add the inscription after someone barters for them.”
“Were you always a foreman, My Lord?”
“I owed my position to Kenhirkhopeshef. He chose me to succeed my father, Anhirkawi. Father died the same year as Pharaoh Merenptah – life, prosperity, health, justified. As soon as Merenptah was buried we workmen began excavating a tomb for his successor, his grandson Amenmesse. But Amenmesse’s father Seti disputed the succession – he claimed the throne and ruled the North. Amenmesse ruled here in the South. Anyway, Kenhirkhopeshef was well over seventy then. Amenmesse’s was the third royal tomb he’d been responsible for creating. I began overseeing my work gang when I was thirty–five. I continued as foreman for the next four decades, until the twenty–second regnal year of our current pharaoh.”
“You said you could tell me about Mesedptah’s family,” I reminded him.
Hay nodded. “When Kenhirkhopeshef appointed me foreman, the leader of the other work gang was Neferhotep. He and his wife Wabkhet adopted a young stonemason as his successor, Paneb. He’d worked in his gang and came from an old village family. Paneb was Mesedptah’s grandfather. Neferhotep arranged for Paneb to marry one of my relatives, Wa’bet, to strengthen the ties between the two gangs.”
“The same reason Father married me to Mesedptah,” I said. “Didn’t really work out.”
“As I said, I warned Buneb it wouldn’t. Anyway, Paneb was wild and unruly. He loved to get drunk and fight. Or fight sober. Everyone called him ‘Paneb the Thug.’ He embraced his nickname. Eventually his behavior drove a wedge between him and Neferhotep. So, when Paneb married Wa’bet and moved to his own house, Neferhotep adopted Hesysenebef, one of his servants, as a second son. Hesysenebef revered Neferhotep. He married Hunro, who’d divorced the painter Pendua, and they named their son and daughter after his adoptive parents.”
“That must have angered Paneb.”
“About a dozen years after Paneb’s marriage I witnessed him chasing Neferhotep down Ta Set Maat’s high street.”
“Why?”
“No one ever found out what had set him off. Neferhotep ran into his house and barred his door. That door saved him. It took half a dozen neighbors to pull Paneb away. He beat nine men that night, out of frustration and spite. Paneb’s rages were legendary and lasted for days. Neferhotep bypassed the village kenbet and reported Paneb’s attack directly to Amenmose, Pharaoh Merenptah’s vizier.”
“Why did Neferhotep go around the kenbet?”
“The village elders hadn’t responded to previous complaints about Paneb. They were afraid of him and his temper. Vizier Amenmose ordered that Paneb be punished. Before the sentence could be carried out Pharaoh died. So Paneb brought a complaint against the vizier. The new pharaoh, Amenmesse, dismissed the vizier.”
“Why?”
“Then, as now, workers were under oath to report anything untoward in the Great Place. Not reporting was the same as being involved. It’s possible Paneb accused Vizier Amenmose of overlooking irregularities. I, and many others, believe the new pharaoh’s high–ranking courtiers, who wanted to be rid of the prior pharaoh’s vizier, used that as an excuse to remove Amenmose from office.”
“Which no doubt emboldened Paneb.”
“It did. Feeling powerful, he set himself against Neferhotep’s family. Four years later Neferhotep was mysteriously killed and the new vizier, Khaemtjitry, appointed Paneb foreman in his place.”
“Did Paneb kill Neferhotep?”
“It was never proved one way or the other. But Neferhotep’s younger brother, Amennakht, accused Paneb of bribing Vizier Khaemtjitry with a gift of five servants to promote him to a post Amennakht believed should have been his, for Paneb was only an adopted son, not part of the bloodline.”
“The same Amennakht who gave my house to Penanuke yesterday?” I asked.
“No. His grandfather. The scribe was named after him,” Hay said.
I couldn’t help wonder if Amennakht would have overlooked my husband’s crime if he hadn’t been Paneb’s descendant. Feuds lasted long in Ta Set Maat.
“Paneb’s promotion split the village into two factions,” Hay continued. “His supporters, and the elder Amennakht’s. Soon after, Amennakht accused Paneb of stealing from the second Seti’s tomb – parts of tomb doors, chariot coverings, incense, wine, statues engraved with Seti’s name. He accused Paneb of
sitting drunkenly atop Seti’s sarcophagus after Seti was placed inside.”
“You mean Paneb stole goods while they were being placed in the tomb before it was even sealed?” That was astounding.
“That was the accusation.”
“How did Paneb get away with it?”
“He repeated before the kenbet the oath he’d taken ‘not to upset a stone in the neighborhood of Pharaoh.’ As a foreman his words were trusted, so the charges crumbled.”
“That was convenient.”
“Those were confusing years,” Hay said. “Pharaoh Merenptah was the father of the second Seti. Amenmesse was the son of Seti and his minor wife Takhat. For many years, Amenmesse served as his grandfather Merenptah’s viceroy in Kush. But two years before Merenptah died he replaced Amenmesse with Khaemtjitry.”
“The same man who was later vizier?”
“Yes. Anyway, five months after Seti succeeded his father Merenptah on the throne, Amenmesse proclaimed himself pharaoh. Using Viceroy Khaemtjitry’s forces, he seized control of the valley from the cataract all the way to the foot of the delta, leaving Seti in control of only the delta. The valley remained divided for the next four years until Seti, assisted by a royal butler named Bay, eliminated his son Amenmesse and reunited the valley.”
“I remember my grandfather telling me his father, Semenre, gained position at Ta Set Maat when Pharaoh Amenmesse disappeared.”
“Seti did indeed demote men who’d supported Amenmesse,” Hay confirmed. “He replaced Khaemtjitry as viceroy with Paraemheb. He set Ta Set Maat’s craftsmen to mutilating Viceroy Khaemtjitry’s monuments. Anyway, two years later Pharaoh Seti died. Now, Seti’s great wife Tawosret hadn’t produced a son. Seti’s only living descendant was his grandson, Siptah, Amenmesse’s son. The royal butler Bay managed to put Siptah on the throne, even though he was young and sickly. Tawosret, his stepmother, served as his regent, assisted by Bay.”
“According to one of my family stories Siptah executed Bay.”
Hay nodded. “Tawosret was behind it. Apparently, after putting two men on the throne, Bay believed himself the most powerful man in the kingdom. So Tawosret named him ‘the great enemy’ and killed him in Siptah’s name. Eighteen months later Siptah was dead too, and Tawosret claimed the throne in her own right.”
“A female pharaoh?”
“Seti had granted her a tomb in the Great Place as his favored wife. After Tawosret took the throne, she ordered the workmen of Ta Set Maat to enlarge her tomb to a size befitting a pharaoh. Her titles and headgear were recarved on its walls, reflecting her new status. But there were many in the land who disputed her right to rule, and some who accused her of murdering Siptah. Setnakhte, a man of unknown origins, rose from the mist to challenge her. After two years he restored order and took the throne himself.”
“The third Ramesses’ father?”
“Yes. I supervised workmen who carved a stela that Pharaoh Setnakhte set up at Abu to commemorate his victory. I still remember the wording: The great assembly of the gods is pleased with his plans, since the land had been in confusion... The great god stretched out his arm and selected his person – life, prosperity, health – from among the millions, dismissing the hundreds of thousands prior to him. Fear of him has seized the hearts of opponents before him – they flee like flocks of sparrows with a falcon after them. On year two there were no more opponents of his person in any lands. They came to inform his person: ‘Let your heart be happy, O lord of this land; those things that the god foretold have come to pass and your foes do not exist in the land.’”
“Those sound like busy years for the craftsmen.”
“First Merenptah’s tomb, then Amenmesse’s, then Seti’s. Then Siptah’s and Tawosret’s and even one for Bay. Paneb chose that time to divert workers from the Great Place to build his own tomb.”
“I suppose he got away with it?”
“Of course. Even though Amennakht accused Paneb of taking four cut stones from the doorway of Seti’s tomb to use as columns in his own tomb. Paneb again escaped justice.”
“How?”
“While half the village hated Paneb, he maintained a skilled and loyal workforce at a time when an unprecedented five tombs were being constructed. Plus, he supported a large family, was beloved by his men, and was popular with the village’s women. But in this instance the vizier sentenced Paneb’s eldest son, Aaphate, his deputy, to be beaten. Everyone, even the vizier, was afraid to challenge Paneb, so his son paid for his crime. As you can imagine, from that time Aaphate and his father were at odds.”
“Aaphate was Mesedptah’s father?” I guessed.
“Yes. Now, one day Aaphate went to the village doorkeeper and charged that his father had made love to the lady Tuy when she was the workman Kenna’s wife, that he’d made love to the lady Hunro both times she was married, first to Pendua, then to Hesysenebef…”
“Wait – Paneb slept with the wife of the other son Neferhotep adopted? His half–brother, as it were?”
“That’s right. And Aaphate claimed Paneb had debauched her daughter, Wabkhet, too.”
Mesedptah had truly followed in his grandfather’s footsteps.
“Turns out Aaphate had also seduced both Hunro and Wabkhet,” Hay continued. “That’s the reason he brought charges against his father – jealousy.”
My head was starting to spin.
“As soon as Setnakht became pharaoh we villagers began working on his tomb. While doing so we accidentally breached Amenmesse’s. Pharaoh Setnakht considered Amenmesse to have been a usurper, and even though Amenmesse hadn’t been buried in his tomb Setnakht ordered us to defile it. We removed statues from inside and chipped images of the gods from the walls. We then enlarged Tawosret’s sealed tomb for Setnakht instead of starting from scratch. He died two years later and the third Ramesses took the throne.”
“This was thirty years ago?”
“About. Ramesses’ first vizier was Hori. As soon as Hori was appointed, Amennakht went to him and accused Paneb of sixteen crimes.”
“So many?”
“Amennakht claimed Paneb had prevented villagers from making offerings at Foreman Neferhotep’s tomb chapel and threw stones at them and got drunk at parties. He said Paneb had ordered him to feed Paneb’s ox for two months without pay. He said Paneb had taken tools from the Great Place. He claimed Paneb had stripped the lady Yemyemwah – Amennakht’s sister – and raped her. He claimed Paneb had been Hunro’s lover during both of her marriages, as I told you earlier. His final accusation was that Paneb had entered the tomb of Henutmire, daughter of the first Seti and wife of Ramesses the Great, and had taken a gilded goose, Amen’s symbol. After a search, the goose was found in Paneb’s house. Vizier Hori executed both Paneb and Aaphate.”
“What happened after that?”
“I continued to oversee my gang. Several elderly men oversaw the other gang in the next decade. The second of them, Ipy, was the brother of Neferabu, a painter blinded by the gods for his impiety. Ipy’s oldest son, another Amennakht, a painter, should have succeeded his father as foreman, but because he was only twenty–five when Ipy died another elderly man, Nekhenmut, a friend of Paneb’s and a member of his former gang, was appointed instead. He died after a few years, but the foremanship was secured by his son, Khonsu.”
“Who is still foreman of the right gang.”
“As a consequence, the scribe Amennakht tends to side with villagers who are still at odds with Paneb’s family and friends.”
“Thus yesterday’s proceedings,” I inferred. “You side with Amennakht, don’t you My Lord?”
“He’s married to one of my daughters.”
The workmen had finished eating while Hay and I were talking. Women had gathered bowls and plates and jars and placed them in their baskets and already departed for Ta Set Maat. The men were playing games or talking or working on grave goods. One man was playing a harp. I noted a scribe making notes on ostraca, likely work orders for tomorrow.
; My father approached, trailed by a young boy holding his belly with both hands. I stiffened.
“This boy carries water to the workers in the Great Place,” Father said.
No, “did you find a place to sleep last night, Neset, are you well, Neset, I’m sorry for turning you away in your time of need, Neset.”
“He’s sick. Khonsu wants you to take him home. Khonsu wants you to return in the morning and take his place carrying water. You’ve got nothing better to do.”
Without giving me a chance to refuse Father spun on his heel and left.
I sighed, rose, collected the dishes and jars and placed them in the empty basket. “It was a pleasure talking with you, My Lord.”
“And I you,” Hay said. “You brightened my evening, Neset. Come again. Any time.”
“I will, My Lord. Tomorrow, apparently.” Taking the boy’s hand I set out on the path to Ta Set Maat.
***
I returned to the rest house the next morning before the workmen finished breaking their fast. Soon afterwards they began trudging by twos and threes across the crest of the plateau on the path to the Great Place.
“Walk with me, Neset,” Hay said, stepping to my side.
“You’re going too, My Lord?”
“I oversaw construction of Pharaoh’s tomb three decades ago. I’ve a mind to see what they’re doing to it.”
We fell in at the end of line.
“Have you ever visited the Great Place, Neset?”
“Before I was married I used to sit at the edge of the cliff above Hatshepsut’s temple on the morning of the Beautiful Feast to watch the gods’ barques sail from Ipet–Isut to the west bank. That’s as close as I’ve ever gotten.”
Our narrow dusty path hugged the edge of the plateau, high above a sandy barren plain. We stopped often so Hay could catch his breath, gradually falling behind the workmen. I didn’t mind. The view was spectacular. Thanks to a cooling breeze the morning was pleasant despite an already hot sun. To my left were hills dozens of miles away that overlooked the Eastern Sea. To my right spread the entire valley – the silver river lined on both banks by green and brown fields, depending on whether they’d been harvested, towns, hamlets, farms, all disappearing in the distance in a haze of dust kicked up off the desert. Shadows were receding from Waset’s buildings and temples as the sun climbed the sky. Sunlight reflected from the gold–clad obelisks and flagpoles of Ipet–Isut, shining beacons visible for miles. The streets of Waset and the temple precincts and the quays were alive with people, ant–like at this distance. Boats were traveling both directions.
The Gardener and the Assassin Page 7