The Gardener and the Assassin

by Mark Gajewski

  “But no great temples or statues or obelisks, like at Waset,” Beketaten said.

  “Those were millennia in the future,” I said. “Ancient Nekhenians built with mud, not stone.” I stood. “Let’s go find my family’s kiln.”

  “How will we recognize it?”

  “It’s in a deep cleft somewhere along the base of the cliff. There’s a drawing etched on the rock face over the kiln – two boats, with bodies representing my ancestors on their decks and a star guiding them to the heavens.”

  Beketaten spotted the kiln after we’d searched for an hour, well–back in a cleft, the walls smoke–blackened, thousands of wasters from misfired pots carpeting the ground and crunching underfoot.

  I craned my neck and looked up at the etchings. “Tiaa made the first boat. The figures on it are people she loved. The star represents their destination in the sky. Amenia created the second boat, to honor her grandmother Ipu.”

  “But there are two figures on deck,” Beketaten pointed out.

  “I have no idea who that is, or who put it there. It’s not mentioned in any of my family stories.”

  I picked up a waster, polished red, with a bit of an image in white. “Tiaa invented this style of pottery, right where we’re standing. Ankhmare, the trader who brought her to Nekhen, traded it throughout the valley. Many potters later copied it.” I closed my eyes. I could almost feel Tiaa and Amenia and Ipu’s presence, the same feeling I’d had standing beside the ka chapels of the kings and their graves at Abdju. I was the most current of a long line of talisman bearers. I wondered if someday one of my descendants would walk in my footsteps and remember stories about me. I tucked the waster into a pouch at my belt. “Let’s go visit the rulers’ cemetery.”

  The nearby terrace where Nekhen’s rulers rested was desolate, drifted with sand. The wind was strong today; windblown sand stung my cheek. Random pieces of reed and decayed wood poked from the sand, some with bits of painted plaster remaining.

  “This cemetery originally contained many halls of wood and reed, plastered and brightly painted,” I told Beketaten. “The whole was surrounded by a fence. A chapel contained a life–sized stone statue of one of the rulers, possibly the first in the entire valley. Graves arranged around the rulers’ tombs contained animals – including an elephant – and servants.”

  “So they could serve the rulers in the Afterlife?”

  “They were executed the day of each ruler’s burial.”

  “Rulers killed their servants?” Beketaten’s eyes were wide with disbelief.

  “Human sacrifice began here. It continued up until the time of King Narmer’s descendants. Then the practice died out, for obvious reasons.”

  “Why did it start?”

  “So the rulers could graphically portray that they had the power of life and death over their subjects. It was how they exercised unbridled control.”

  “How barbaric.”

  “It was. Anyway, the halls and tombs on this terrace were the predecessors of the great stone pyramids at Saqqara and Meidum and Dahshur and Giza and elsewhere, and temples spread across this valley. This is where rulers first raised structures of a formal, monumental type. What they built here in reed and wood and mud, pharaohs later duplicated in stone.”

  I heard a step and turned, instantly on guard. Kairy. Why was he following us?

  “What brings you two ladies here?” he asked politely, halting a few steps away.

  “Neset was telling me about this cemetery,” Beketaten volunteered.

  “How do you know of it, My Lady?” Kairy asked.

  “My ancestors lived in Nekhen a very long time ago.”

  “We just visited a kiln where they fired pottery,” Beketaten said.

  “I didn’t know you had a connection to Nekhen, My Lady.” Kairy smiled. “Nekhen’s my home. Several of my ancestors are buried a few paces from us. I pay them a visit whenever I can.”

  “Rulers, or servants?” Beketaten asked.

  “Three rulers.”

  “One of Neset’s ancestors ruled Nekhen too,” Beketaten said.

  “Really?”

  “His name was Dedi,” I replied. “He was the grandfather of a man named Nykara, a boat builder who married my ancestress Amenia. But he’s buried down by the river. According to family stories, the walls of his tomb were decorated with boats and animals and fighting men – even an image of Dedi smiting an enemy, the same as Pharaoh on the wall of Djeme’s temple.”

  “I didn’t realize the image was so ancient.”

  “One of Neset’s ancestors made Nekhen’s ruler into a king,” Beketaten announced.

  “Not exactly a king. But ruler of the entire surrounding region.”

  Kairy looked at me quizzically. “Really? How?”

  “You’re sure you’re interested? It’s a long story.”

  “I am.”

  “You should join us, then.”

  He sat down cross–legged, facing us.

  “Three thousand years ago my ancestress, Tiaa, lived beside a playa, a rain–fed lake on the savannah far south and west of this valley – this was long before the savannah had turned to desert. One night Tiaa had a dream. She saw herself confirming a man as ruler of a riverside settlement in front of thousands of people. She’d never seen that settlement or even the river. Shortly afterwards, a trader named Ankhmare appeared at her band’s camp. No trader had visited the playa in her lifetime, so you can imagine the excitement. A few days after Ankhmare departed for home Tiaa was given as wife to a vicious old man. He terrified her. On what was supposed to be her wedding night she slipped out of his hut under cover of darkness and ran for her life. She trailed Ankhmare’s caravan at a distance for weeks until she was sure he was so far from her camp he wouldn’t take her back. Then she attached herself to him and traveled with him to the valley. He’d left his boat moored along the river, probably near the cataract; Tiaa sailed north with him to his home at a hamlet called Badari, somewhere in the middle part of the valley. Along the way they passed Nekhen. Tiaa immediately recognized it as the place in her dream. Many years later she and Ankhmare returned to Nekhen and settled. Tiaa convinced the patriarch in charge of Nekhen that she had the favor of the falcon god – Horus.”

  “In those days there were no priests,” Kairy interrupted. “Nekhen’s leading patriarch petitioned Horus on the people’s behalf. For him to have accepted that Tiaa was special to Horus would have made her important.”

  “It did. The patriarch proclaimed that when he died Tiaa would name his successor. Ultimately, Tiaa chose and confirmed a man with your name, Kairy, as ruler in front of thousands of witnesses, just like in her dream. But not just as ruler of Nekhen. She convinced the patriarchs of every hamlet in the area to pledge him fealty. In effect, Kairy became ruler of the valley’s first small kingdom thanks to her. Though he never called himself a king.”

  Kairy regarded me curiously. “That Kairy was my ancestor, Neset. I was named after him. Just like the firstborn male of every generation. A story’s been handed down in my family too about that event. With a few more details than yours.”

  “Tell me,” I said, trying to contain my excitement. I’d proven at least one of my family stories was true in King Khufu’s ka chapel at Abdju. The kiln on the heights had confirmed several more. Could Kairy lend credence to another?

  “Kairy was one of Nekhen’s patriarchs,” he began. “He controlled herds of cattle and sheep that supplied the settlement with milk and meat and leather. As in your story, a woman named Tiaa came to Nekhen along with a trader and his wife. Tiaa convinced Nekhen’s ruling patriarch, Djaty, that she had the favor of the falcon god – Nekhen’s god from time immemorial. Not only did Tiaa have hair of gold, the color of the falcon god’s flesh, but she bore his image on her thigh, and carried a sacred object given her family by the god.”

  I pulled the hem of my skirt high on my thigh. “This image.” I slipped the talisman over my head and handed it to Kairy. “This is the very obj
ect Tiaa carried, cast from the sky in a fireball more than four millennia ago by the falcon god. He led my ancestress Aya to it in a crater in the savannah. I’m the two hundred–fortieth talisman–bearer.”

  Kairy inspected the talisman reverently, then handed it back. “As I said, the firstborn male in my family has always been named Kairy. So I suppose there have been a hundred or more of us too.”

  “Go on with your story,” I urged.

  “Tiaa celebrated alongside Djaty whenever the falcon god was honored.”

  “Was she the very first chantress in the valley?” Beketaten wondered.

  “Perhaps. Djaty was already old when Tiaa settled at Nekhen. As in your story, he announced that Tiaa would confirm his successor. In those days patriarchs weren’t necessarily succeeded by their sons. Nekhen’s patriarchs got together and chose the next leader from their midst. Djaty’s grandson had strongly positioned himself to be chosen, but he was a grasping greedy man. One night Tiaa appeared at Kairy’s campfire, right over there.”

  Kairy pointed to the terrace on the opposite side of the wadi from the rulers’ cemetery. Mud–brick foundations were still visible, though mostly drifted over with sand. My ancestors had also lived in huts on that terrace.

  “Tiaa told Kairy she wanted to confirm him as Nekhen’s next ruler instead of the grandson. That was strange, because to that point there’d been only bad blood between Tiaa and Kairy. Long story short, when Djaty died Tiaa convinced the rest of the patriarchs in Nekhen and the surrounding hamlets to support Kairy. She confirmed him as ruler in the oval court, as you said, in front of thousands of people.”

  “And here we are, Tiaa and Kairy’s descendants, brought together by fate thousands of years later,” I said, marveling at the odds. “You said three of your ancestors led Nekhen, Kairy.”

  “Kairy, Kairy’s oldest son, and his oldest son’s son, the last two chosen by the other patriarchs.” He idly plucked a blade of grass and twisted it between his fingers. “According to family stories, the grandson married Tiaa’s daughter. There’s a tradition of naming daughters after her. I have a niece by that name.”

  “You two are related!” Beketaten exclaimed.

  “Tiaa passed the talisman to either a son or grandson when she died, not a daughter,” I said. “Which means Tiaa is our common ancestor.”

  Kairy looked as amazed as I felt.

  “What about your other ancestors?” Beketaten asked Kairy.

  “Common laborers, herdsmen and farmers mostly. In fact, farming’s what I love best. But my father’s farm was too small to be divided among me and all my brothers, so I left Nekhen to serve in His Majesty’s army.”

  “Even though you’re the oldest, and by rights have first say on the land?” I asked.

  “My younger brothers weren’t cut out to be anything but farmers. I have other skills. So I yielded the farm to them.”

  “Rather noble of you.”

  “Practical, not noble.”

  Gazing at Kairy, knowing what I now knew about him, it occurred to me that the falcon god might have brought the two of us together today, at this spot, for a specific reason. I’d warned Pharaoh he was still at risk of being executed, even though his father’s murderers had been caught. He hadn’t taken me seriously. Maybe Kairy would. Especially since Kairy was so protective of Ramesses. Time to feel him out. “Isn’t it strange that our ancestors saved Nekhen from an awful man millennia ago, and the two of us just saved Pharaoh from being murdered?”

  Kairy looked at my talisman. “The god continues to guide all of Tiaa’s descendants, apparently.”

  “I believe he does. And so, I need your help.”

  “For what, My Lady?”

  “I’m very afraid Pentawere and Tiye are going to escape justice and Pharaoh’s going to be executed for his father’s murder.”

  Kairy stared at me for a long moment. His eyes registered disbelief. “Impossible. I saw Heket kill the third Ramesses. I saw Mayernu attack the fourth Ramesses and stab you. You overheard Pentawere and Tiye setting the assassination in motion. Why do you think Pharaoh’s at risk?”

  I touched my talisman. “Kairy, years ago the falcon god sent me a dream about the fourth Ramesses and the third’s murder.”

  “A dream like the god sent Tiaa?”

  “Yes. Several talisman bearers have received dreams, Kairy, not just Tiaa. Every dream has come true in every detail.”

  “I see.” He took a deep breath. “Tell me your dream.”

  “Before I do, you should know I told Pentawere and Tiye about it years ago. I think it convinced them they could kill Pharaoh and place the blame on Ramesses. I imagine they must be trying to figure out right now how to how to turn my dream to their advantage.”

  “So?”

  “In my dream I saw Ramesses standing bound before a Great Kenbet. I saw judges convict him of Pharaoh’s murder. I saw him dragged into Djeme’s forecourt and burned alive.” I put my hand on Kairy’s forearm, leaned towards him. “I told the fourth Ramesses about my dream after the attack. I warned him to take precautions. He didn’t take me seriously. I’m afraid for him, Kairy. I don’t know what to do.”

  Kairy pondered. “Let’s assume you’re right, My Lady, that Pharaoh will be found guilty by a Great Kenbet. For that to happen the judges will have to be bribed, which means there must be conspirators roaming free who are still in contact with Pentawere.”

  “Or Tiye.”

  “I don’t know how they’d pull it off,” Kairy said. “The judges haven’t even been announced yet. They’re sure to be honorable men.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t take me seriously either.”

  “I wouldn’t be properly serving Pharaoh if I didn’t,” Kairy replied. “I promise you this, My Lady. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. I’ll treat your warning like a real threat. I’ll do everything I can to protect Pharaoh.”

  I was relieved. “Thank you, Kairy. And please, call me Neset from now on. No more ‘My Lady.’ We’re family, after all, even if distantly related.”

  “As you wish.” He stood. “Will you be feasting with Pharaoh in the governor’s residence tonight?”

  I looked at Beketaten. “No one invited us.”

  “Would the two of you care to join me for dinner, then? As I told you in the garden in Djeme, Neset, Pharaoh awarded me an estate near Nekhen – my next–youngest brother and oldest sister have already settled there. Ani is second prophet of Horus’ temple. He’d love to hear your stories – especially ones about your talisman since he serves your god as priest. And since we’re all related.”

  Half an hour’s walk brought us to a farm not far south of Nekhen. The sun was setting, casting golden light across fields of stubble and sparkling on the river. A small mud–brick hut, rather dilapidated, was set a hundred yards back from the water on a bit of high ground. Smoke curled from a blazing fire a dozen paces in its front, at the edge of a withered garden. Women and girls were moving beside the fire, tending to bubbling pots. A man was sitting on the ground with his back against the hut, watching.

  “It’s not much,” Kairy said apologetically. “But someday… a large house with a wing for my sister and her girls, and Ani and his family, and me and mine. A garden practically surrounding the house. Over there, to the right, a vineyard. Down along the river a quay and a fishing punt or two. And, of course, vast fields of emmer and barley. Perhaps an orchard.”

  Much like my estate near Djeme. Seeing what Kairy had been given, and how much work it was going to take him to make something of it, I appreciated mine even more.

  We headed across the dusty field towards the hut, dodging the stubble.

  “Ani’s two years younger than me,” Kairy said. “He’s been second prophet for a decade. The high priest, the Keeper of the Temple, is Nebmose. His wife, Mutemwia, is Horus’ chantress. Their daughter Aatmeret is married to Setau, the high priest of Nekhbet across the river. Anyway, Ani’s been living in a hut in town near the temple, but he’s g
oing to run the estate for me until my service to Pharaoh ends.”

  “Does Ani have a wife?”

  “No. My sister Iput was married, but her husband died five years ago. She’s four years older than me, the firstborn in my family. Her five daughters range in age from seventeen to nine. She’s been keeping Ani’s hut in town ever since her husband’s death. It’s been horribly crowded with the six of them. They’ll have room here.” He gazed at the hut and laughed. “Eventually.”

  “Are any of your nieces married?” Beketaten asked.

  “Three are of age,” Kairy replied. “But Iput’s given them permission to choose their husbands. None has so far. They’re all temple chantresses.”

  “Let me guess – Iput was forced into a marriage she didn’t want.”

  Kairy smiled wryly.

  We approached the flurry of activity around the fire. An older woman I assumed was Iput was directing and girls were carrying out her orders.