The Gardener and the Assassin

by Mark Gajewski

  “Exactly right! Pentawere will take many women to wife in years to come. But not you.” She leaned close. “You are, after all, the widow of a tomb robber! Have you confessed that to my husband?”

  I felt sick. Tiye had indeed been looking into my background, as I’d feared. She knew the dark secret I’d kept from Pharaoh. I knew exactly what would happen to me if Ramesses discovered I’d not been forthcoming with him – at a minimum loss of my position as overseer, at the worst exile or slavery or even execution. But why had Tiye investigated me? Why had she concerned herself with a gardener? And then my dead husband came to mind. I knew the spirits of the unsettled dead – those who’d died violently – could haunt the living and cause them distress. My husband’s spirit was a “mut,” that of a traitor, powerful and vindictive. Somehow, he must have influenced Tiye to suspect me and Pentawere. He must have created the impulse leading Tiye to drive us apart. I realized I should in fact have used a spell from one of Naunakht’s scrolls – not to bewitch Pentawere, but to protect myself from Mesedptah. But I hadn’t, and now it was too late. “No, Majesty. I didn’t tell Pharaoh about my husband.”

  A satisfied smile crossed Tiye’s lips. She had the upper hand. “Pentawere is destined for greatness, Whore. When he’s around you he loses focus. He should have been back at Pi–Ramesses weeks ago, insinuating himself more deeply with the high officials of the Northern capital. He’s dallied here because you cast a spell on him – I’m sure of it! I’ll see to it he remains at Pi–Ramesses from now on. He’ll forget about you and regain his focus and rise as high in this land as he should.” Tiye seized my upper arm in a powerful grip.

  I winced.

  “Stay away from my son!” she warned. “Don’t see him again or I’ll tell Pharaoh about your deception. You can guess what will happen then. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Majesty.” I felt intimidated, helpless. How could I possibly fight the wife of a pharaoh?

  An hour later I watched from a distance as Pentawere paced the quay beside the gangplank of the royal barque that was to carry him north. My heart ached. Tiye had promised to keep him in the North; I took her at her word. I’d probably never see him again. Pentawere scanned the harbor’s banks for a long while, obviously looking for me, then finally ascended the gangplank and stepped into the cabin amidships, disappointed. It hurt, knowing he must be thinking I didn’t care enough about him to see him off, especially after I’d promised I would. Sailors poled the barque into the canal. The boats loaded with Peye’s soldiers followed. Before long they reached the river and moved north with the current, oarsmen churning the water to give the vessels added speed. Only when the scarlet pennants atop the bow and stern and mast of Pentawere’s barque were lost to view did I turn to make my tired way to Grandfather’s hut, broken–hearted. I sensed that a very special time in my life had just come to an abrupt and unwelcome end. Pentawere loved me. He intended to return to me. But I expected that beginning today Tiye would throw an endless stream of powerful and beautiful and accomplished women into Pentawere’s path and before long his love for me would fade and he’d take comfort with one of them and eventually forget about me. That fate had always been inevitable; it might as well come to pass now as later. I accepted its hard reality. There was nothing I could do about it. But at least I had memories – glorious memories – of my time with Pentawere. No one – especially Tiye – would ever take them away from me. At least I hadn’t let myself fall for him – that would have made this parting so much worse.

  ***

  Shemu (Harvest)

  Pentawere

  ***

  An hour after dawn I walked reluctantly up the gangplank of my barque. My crewmen and the ones on adjacent vessels loaded with soldiers already had oars in hand, ready to pole away from Djeme’s quays. I’d been pacing the quay the past fifteen minutes, waiting for Neset so she could bid me goodbye as she’d promised. She hadn’t come. Unable to delay any longer, I’d finally boarded my boat. I scanned the harbor area one last time as it began to move, then entered the cabin amidships. I seated myself in a leather chair, confused. I’d just spent one of the most wonderful days of my life with the woman I loved. About this very moment the day before she’d confessed she cared for me. Had my vow we’d marry scared her off? Had she simply spent the day with me to avoid confronting me further about it? She’d been insistent we’d never be together. Had she arbitrarily decided to cut the cord now, put an end to us before we even began?

  The boat moved from the canal into the river and headed north. I wouldn’t have an excuse to return to Djeme for many months. Would Neset be waiting for me as she’d promised? Or had I seen the last of her? I pounded the arm of my chair in frustration so hard the wood splintered.

  I had nothing to do the next two weeks as we drifted north but dwell on my situation. By the time we reached Pi–Ramesses I was an emotional wreck, torn with doubts and regrets and fears that had kept me awake most of every night. Despite my exhaustion I immediately threw myself into the organizational void left by my brother’s death, partly to prove to Father I was worthy of commanding his cavalry, partly so I’d have something to occupy my thoughts besides Neset. I went straight from the harbor to the grounds across the river where the cavalry were camped. As I’d expected, with no one in charge discipline had become lax and morale poor. Some units’ officers had been sticklers for daily routine; others hadn’t. Half the men resented that they’d had to train hard while the rest had taken it easy. I called the officers together, informed them it was certain Father would put me in command of the cavalry, told them that anyone who failed to meet my standards would find himself a common horseman once again. There was dramatic improvement immediately.

  Thereafter, my cavalry trained daily and made weekly forays into the surrounding desert to toughen up men and animals. The harvest would be completed in Retenu and Setjet two months or so from now and storehouses would be brimming. I assumed Father would send Ramesses on campaign then, to collect tribute from the heathen. I vowed that when Ramesses appeared at Pi–Ramesses to begin planning the campaign the cavalry and I would be ready.

  I set the workshops I was responsible for to turning out an abundance of weapons for the campaign and saw to the repair and refurbishment of the army’s chariots, as well as the construction of many more. I also recruited new cavalrymen and charioteers. When Ramesses next sallied forth into the North he’d command the most powerful force he’d ever led.

  “There’s someone here to see you,” Peyes announced late one afternoon.

  My men and I had just finished a jaunt through the nearby delta. I was going over plans for the next day with several officers in a pavilion in the center of my encampment.

  A man entered, hesitant, bowing deeply, skin sun–darkened, filthy, gaunt. I noted dried blood on his torn kilt.

  “This is Iunre,” Peyes said. “He had charge of one of Pharaoh’s caravans.”

  “What’s your business here?”

  “Majesty, five days ago I was leading a caravan on the Ways of Horus. A band of Shasu attacked. They seized my donkeys. They killed all but three of my men. We survivors have been traveling by night ever since, from waterhole to waterhole.”

  I rose so quickly I overturned my chair. “Shasu dared steal from Pharaoh?” My eyes caught Peyes’. “This is what we get for not terrorizing the North these past decades!”

  “What was your cargo?” Peyes asked Iunre.

  “Wine from Retenu,” Iunre replied.

  “How many donkeys?”

  “Forty.”

  “How many Shasu?”

  “Fifty or sixty. Hard to tell in the confusion.”

  “How far from here were you attacked?” I queried.

  “Fifty miles.”

  “How far can your donkeys travel in a day?”

  “A dozen miles at most when loaded, Majesty. That’s when they’re on the Ways of Horus, with good grass and brimming waterholes. The Shasu will strike off into the wildern
ess at some point – so less.”

  “So… they’re probably about a hundred miles from here right now,” I calculated.

  “I believe so,” Iunre said.

  “Can you guide us to where you were attacked?”

  “Yes, Majesty. They’ll be easy to track after that – so many donkeys will leave a great deal of evidence of their passage.”

  I addressed my officers. “I want my two hundred best horsemen in the saddle, fully armed, ready to leave for the North the moment Re touches the horizon in the morning. I want extra horses. I want foodstuffs enough and water to last two weeks. Understood?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  They rushed from the pavilion.

  I turned to my aide. “Get this man some food and water and clean clothes. Find him a place to sleep. Get him a horse for tomorrow, too.”

  “Thank you, Majesty,” Iunre said. He followed my aide from the pavilion.

  “Can you believe my good luck!” I exclaimed when he was gone, clapping Peyes on the back.

  “Good luck? A stolen caravan?”

  “A chance to prove myself, Peyes! A chance to show Father I deserve to lead his cavalry! If I hadn’t whipped the men into shape when I returned to Pi–Ramesses we’d have to concede the loss. But now, when I return with Father’s stolen wine, he’ll have no choice but to name me commander. Plus, a chance for glory! I finally get to fight!”

  We left at dawn, traveling fast and light. First we rode north, skirting the river and edge of the delta. By that evening we were a few miles from the Wadjet–Wer, with the smell of salt in the air. The next morning we set out on the Ways of Horus, the road that predated Narmer’s unification of the valley and linked the river to Setjet and Retenu. I felt a thrill. Thutmose’s armies had passed this way, and Ramesses the Great’s. I could almost feel the two pharaohs’ presence. The path was deeply worn; caravans had been using it for millennia to bring the products of the North and the Sinai to the valley. Water reservoirs had been strategically placed ages ago where the distance between natural waterholes was too great. Granaries were currently well–stocked. We’d only had to bring with us fodder enough for the pursuit into the desert.

  Riding hard, using every hour of daylight, we reached the site of the attack in two and a half days. I left a few men to bury the bloated bodies of the dead, then continued on. Half a day more and we discovered where the Shasu had turned east off the road into wadi–laced desert. Their trail was clear. As Iunre had predicted, there was no way for them to hide the passage of so many beasts. Based on the distance between their nightly camping places, they were apparently in no hurry to reach their own land. They didn’t fear pursuit.

  They’ve judged Father and Ramesses properly, I thought gleefully. But they’ve never dealt with me.

  Three days later we reached a small waterhole a little before midday. Normally we would have found whatever shade we could and passed the hottest part of the day there, but all signs indicated the Shasu weren’t very far ahead. Impatient, I pressed forward once half my horses had been watered, leaving the rest of my men to water theirs and catch up. A mile farther east a scout met me.

  “Majesty, the Shasu are about a hundred yards ahead around the bend,” he said, his voice low. He jumped from his horse, scratched a quick map in the dirt. “They’re resting in a strip of shade along the right side of the wadi, just behind a jumble of boulders. There may be a small waterhole. The donkeys are tethered about fifty yards farther east, in a larger patch of shade. Unloaded.”

  “How many Shasu?”

  “Hard to say. I’d guess fifty or so.”

  “Any lookouts?”

  “A few.”

  “The floor of the wadi?”

  “Flat. Sandy. No obstructions. Three or four men can easily ride abreast.”

  “The sides?”

  “Steep. Not much chance of escape by climbing.”

  I summoned an aide. “Return to the waterhole as fast as you can. Fetch the rest of my cavalry.”

  He mounted and headed west in a spray of dirt.

  “While we’re waiting I’ll go ahead and get the lay of the land,” Peyes said.

  “And risk a Shasu lookout spotting you and raising the alarm? No, Peyes. My scout’s given us information enough. We’re attacking right now, while we have surprise on our side.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise, Majesty?” he asked cautiously. “Wouldn’t it be better to plan this attack?”

  “I’ve been waiting to fight my whole life, Peyes,” I said. “Time to act.” I raised up in my saddle, drew my sword. “After me, men! Glory awaits!”

  All hundred of us were in full gallop when we rounded the bend. The pounding of our horses’ hooves announced us, amplified by and echoing off the wadi walls, making our host seem larger than it was. Surprised Shasu scrambled groggily from the shade, let loose a wild cry that was taken up by my horsemen. My blood was running hot. Some Shasu sprinted towards the donkeys. Some hastily sheltered behind boulders. A few tried to escape by climbing the sides of the wadi. We thundered through their midst, slashing with knives and swords and axes, stabbing with lances, leaving bodies in our wake. We pulled up just before the tethered donkeys, wheeled around. A few arrows whizzed harmlessly over our heads. My men loosed arrows. The handful of Shasu climbing the wadi’s walls tumbled to earth.

  “You men – go after the Shasu fleeing east,” I ordered. “The rest of you – on me!” I kicked my horse into a gallop, headed back west over ground littered with Shasu bodies.

  The surviving Shasu we’d passed in our initial assault fled before us, just as my remaining men swept around the bend. The wretches were trapped between us.

  Those few who didn’t die surrendered.

  Afterwards, I tended to a minor wound on my arm as my men cut the penises from the enemy dead. Trophies for Father.

  “Not a man or horse lost!” Peyes exulted, joining me in a patch of shade. “According to Iunre, every donkey accounted for, and all the wine except for what the Shasu drank.”

  “And what we’ll drink tonight to celebrate our victory,” I told him, throwing my arm around his shoulder.

  We set out for home at dawn, my men exuberant, the dozen sullen Shasu survivors, their hands tied, walking in the rolling dust behind the donkeys. Our return was leisurely. We traveled only early and late, rested in the heat of day. I passed from campfire to campfire each evening, swapping stories about the fight with my men, promising someday we’d go after bigger game – towns and cities and entire kingdoms. Everyone was happy, triumphant, dreaming of future booty and women.

  We reached the fringe of the cavalry encampment directly across the river from Pi–Ramesses late in the afternoon. Sunlight was slanting across the delta and turning the buildings and obelisks and statues of the city golden. We were spotted by cavalrymen I’d left behind. A trumpet sounded, then another. Men exploded from tents, came running. They saw laden donkeys and began to cheer. I trotted my horse through the gate in the embankment topped with shields that surrounded the camp, leading my column alongside Peyes, saluting men to left and right, savoring the moment, basking in the glow of victory. I knew those who’d been left behind would practically reek with envy when their comrades told tales about our expedition tonight. Those tales would spread into the city, likely becoming wilder with each retelling. Officials would clamor to hold banquets to honor us and gain my favor. My status in Pi–Ramesses would expand exponentially. Yes – things were turning out exactly how I’d always dreamed.

  To my surprise, Ramesses was waiting for me in front of the pavilion I’d been using since I’d assumed command of the cavalry. He was dressed in his co–ruler’s regalia, attended by my nephew, Amenherkoshef, and his chariot driver, Kairy. Ramesses did not look happy.

  “You took my cavalry into battle without permission!” he accused angrily before I could even dismount.

  I was taken aback. A lecture instead of the congratulatio
ns I deserved? I stiffened. I purposefully remained on horseback so Ramesses would have to look up at me. I pointed to the line of donkeys trudging into camp, dust rolling from their hooves, the bound prisoners walking behind them, all flanked by my men. “Of course I did, Brother. Shasu attacked one of Father’s caravans. I went after them and recovered the wine they stole. And took the Shasu that survived prisoner.”

  “You had no right to use my cavalry without my authorization!” Ramesses glanced at Peyes. “What were you thinking? You’re in charge of the entire army in my absence.”

  Peyes’ face reddened.

  I was nonplussed. “If I hadn’t acted immediately the Shasu would have gotten away with Father’s wine. You’d have me ignore their affront to Father? Really?”

  “Preserving the cavalry is more important than jars of wine.”

  “I didn’t lose a single man or horse, Brother,” I pointed out.

  “You could have.” Ramesses shook his head, unhappy. “But I suppose what’s done is done.”

  “Were you wounded, Uncle?” Amenherkoshef asked wide–eyed, indicating the linen bandage around my bicep.

  “A scratch,” I said. “I expect it’ll leave a scar.”

  “I want to know everything about your battle,” he said excitedly, eyes shining.

  “I’ll tell you tonight, Nephew. I promise.”

  “You and I need to speak now,” Ramesses ordered brusquely. “Inside the pavilion. You too, Peyes.”

  I dismounted, handed my reins to an aide. I slapped dust from my kilt, followed him inside.

  Ramesses took my chair. Amenherkoshef seated himself in the one next to him. Kairy stood at attention behind them. Ramesses didn’t ask me to sit. I remained standing, fuming, hurt. Peyes was to my right. If this was how Ramesses rewarded success thank the gods I hadn’t failed. I thought it better to switch the discussion from my “transgression” to him. “Have you come to Pi–Ramesses to ready the army for your next campaign?” I asked pleasantly.