The first pharaoh the fi.., p.2
The First Pharaoh (The First Dynasty Book 1), page 2
I passed my hands over the Queen’s body three times, while Hemamiya covered her eyes. “Ra, father of the sky and Upper Kem, we have done our best to prepare our Queen for life in the hereafter, even though she leaves us in the ascending years of life. She has been a good daughter, a good wife to King Scorpion, and a fair and just Queen. Her heart is light. She has worked hard to bear a son for the King. Please judge her with compassion and sail with her on the heavenly boat to your palace in the Western sky. Please make it so.”
Hemamiya looked up at me, her face flushed. “Hemamiya, you will need to draw upon all your strength for what I am about to do.” She stared straight back into my ka.
“I am ready.” I placed my finest flint knife on the Queen’s abdomen and traced my path with the handle. “I will make a cut from here to here. There will be much blood and it will look very bad,” I whispered, hardly believing I was speaking such words. “If necessary look away, but you must hold the skin firmly on your side and pull it gently toward you as I cut.” Tears steadily fell from Hemamiya’s cheeks onto the bed sheet, but she held herself from sobbing fully.
“Do you understand?” She only nodded. “I am depending on you to do this, Hemamiya, or I may cut through her womb and cut the baby, too.”
“You need not worry,” Hemamiya said.
I closed my eyes in prayer for a moment to ask the gods to guide my hands, and to beg their forgiveness if I did not succeed. Then I made an arcing cut from just above and to the side of the Queen’s navel, down toward her pubic bone and then back up the other side. I attached the three copper hooks of the retractor to the flesh near the lowest point of the arc, each hook with a rawhide cord attached. Still fixated on my cut, I handed the cords to Hemamiya and reminded her to pull back gently. I heard a muffled moan rise from deep in her throat and looked up to see her nose and eyes running freely now.
With the top layer of skin peeled back, the Queen’s swollen womb was clearly visible. I picked up a smaller flint knife and carefully cut into the base of the Queen’s womb. The sweat from my dripping brow stung my eyes. Blood quickly obscured my view. We mopped it away with rags from the pile Hemamiya had stacked by the bed. After what seemed like an eternity, the walls of the womb began to part and I could see strands of dark, matted hair. My heart quickened.
Placing my left hand into the womb to protect the baby’s head and upper trunk, my right hand traced the blade along the baby’s body, until the cut was large enough to free him. I put down the knife. Holding the baby under his arms, I pulled him firmly from the Queen’s limp body into Ra’s light and placed him on the bed sheet.
Next, I tied the umbilical cord with a thin piece of goat rawhide a few finger widths from the baby’s abdomen and tied it off again, a few finger widths away, then cut between them with a special, engraved flint knife that I had commissioned for the birth. As I turned the baby over onto my left hand, I noticed that Hemamiya stood rigidly, still holding the retractors.
“Hemamiya,” I whispered. “Hemamiya… let go the cords.” She registered no recognition, looking as if she were following the Queen into the netherworld.
“Hemamiya,” I said again, louder. “Help me with the Prince. Quickly now!”
At that, Hemamiya looked up at me with such dark, blank eyes, my blood ran cold. She dropped the laces as one might discard the pit of a date. Like the spirit of the dead, she shuffled a few feet down the bed, opposite to where I held the baby. She knows the Queen’s ka has left her body, I thought, and like the dutiful servant she is, hers has departed, too. My heart pained at the thought.
But for the moment my attention was focused on the lifeless baby perched face down in my hand. His neck was bent back from the strain he had endured in the womb. His color was of such a deep blue, I feared that he was stillborn. I gently probed the baby’s mouth and throat, checking for the mucous plug. With my right, I gave a series of light chops between the baby’s shoulder blades. But even after repeating the entire procedure more forcefully, the Prince lay limp in my hand. I desperately tried to think of what I might do next.
Behind the Queen’s bed, the sky was aflame with Ra’s departure, small clouds mottling the sky as if it were the underside of Horus’ outstretched falcon wings. Despite the pain in my heart, I took this as a strong omen, a sign that the Prince would be protected by Horus. I held his tiny body high in the air.
“Horus!” I called out with all my strength. “I, Anhotek of Nekhen, priest of your temple, beseech you in your holy name. I have delivered the Prince from the darkness of the womb into the light of Ra. Beat your golden wings that they may blow the breath of life into the Prince… so that he may lead your people to greatness.” My words snapped Hemamiya out of her trance and she looked aghast at the Prince’s lifeless body. “I swear by your holy power, Horus, that if you choose to give him life, I will serve him faithfully until my dying breath.”
For what seemed like an eternity I held the lifeless child in my hands above my head. A vision entered my heart in that moment, a vision that it was not I, but Anubis who held him, weighing his heart in the underworld, as if he had already lived his life. I had no sensation of the Prince’s weight at all. He felt lighter than a feather.
And then the Prince sputtered and coughed and my vision of Anubis dissipated. Yet, he did not cry. Not once. Just as suddenly, I felt his full weight and murmured my thanks to Anubis for releasing his ka so that it could unite with his body. I hugged the Prince close to my chest, once again humbled by the magic that Horus flowed through me so that I might heal others.
“Good, little Prince,” I sighed, my shoulders slumped over and my arms suddenly unable to hold him anymore. “Today we shall announce to the world your arrival on the wings of Horus.” I offered the baby to the comfort of Hemamiya’s embrace. She stood wide-eyed, disbelieving all she had just witnessed. It would be but a few hours before the entire court knew of my actions.
“Here, dear Hemamiya, faithful servant of your mistress, Queen Neith-hotpu. You have borne witness to the power of Horus of Nekhen. Take the Prince, heir to the throne of Scorpion. Clean him up well, for soon he will be the object of all Upper Kem’s attention.”
Shaken by the Queen’s death and the spectacle of what she had just witnessed, Hemamiya slowly turned to grab a linen sheet, spread it on the bed and laid the baby on it.
With my heart heavier than I had ever before known, I gazed at the Queen’s face, now colorless, but still beautiful at the end of her greatest ordeal. I could feel Hemamiya’s eyes upon me as I checked the Queen’s vital signs again, to be certain she was dead.
“I must prepare the Queen’s body for the afterlife. Send a messenger to King Scorpion with this news.” Hemamiya glanced at me, as if to protest, but I did not want to entertain yet another of her diatribes against the King and his mistreatment of her beloved Queen. I ignored the curse she made under her breath.
I carefully removed the entire placenta and umbilical cord, washed them, and laid them out on a linen sheet, to be dried and saved in an alabaster jar so that, at his own death, the Prince’s ka would be complete in the underworld. I then performed the priestly blessing over the Queen’s body. I felt her ka still hovering close by and stood silently with it for a moment or two before ending my prayers and releasing it on its journey.
“It is done,” I said above the baby’s whimpering. Hemamiya cradled the baby in her arms, rocking it gently back and forth, looking as if she were in a trance. “The Queen has begun her journey to the next world. May the gods grant her a quick journey and … and an eternity of happiness.” The tears flowed down my cheeks.
Hemamiya could no longer contain herself. She quickly handed the baby to me and began to wail, an upwelling of emotion from deep in her soul, a soulful ululation of grief and anger. At that moment I felt a violent shaking begin in the arm that held the Prince and extend to my chest. At first I thought this shaking a result of my fatigue. Then I looked down at the tiny baby, the future King of Upper Kem, and felt I might become sick. The Prince had turned purplish-blue. Only the whites of his eyes were visible. He frothed at the mouth and his limbs twitched wildly.
And so it was, on that day, Horus changed the Prince’s destiny and in so doing changed mine and that of all Kem.
Scroll Two
The Scorpion’s Sting
It had been two weeks, perhaps even three, since I had written a papyrus, so absorbed was I in the affairs of the court during King Scorpion’s absence. As a Horus priest I was one of perhaps only a hundred in the entire land knowledgeable in the picture words and my habit was to write down important events that had occurred each week or new medical information I had recently acquired. I took this duty seriously, for writing is nothing less than creating order from the chaos that surrounds us.
The past few weeks had not been good ones. The Prince had been continuously ill with a malaise that I found frustratingly difficult to treat. King Scorpion had not yet seen his son, distracted as he was by the wars with Lower Kem that had kept him away from Tjeni since the Prince’s birth. This I considered a fortunate gift from the gods.
The baby’s present illness caused me great concern. I needed new approaches for his condition. Each time he had a fever, the shakes would follow. The birthwort preparation I had been using was no longer as effective, despite my administration of increasingly larger doses, which I feared to continue. If we were fortunate enough to notice his symptoms before the shakes began, we would rush him to the vapor tent I had constructed in his room. There I would burn a few hemp leaves to calm him, but that often put him into a stupor that lasted much of the day.
So much of the vision that the gods had visited upon me for Kem’s future rested with the Prince’s well-being. I packed a papyrus scroll and writing implements into my goat leather carrying bag, adjusted the gold amulet around my neck and straightened my gold armband, embossed with Scorpion’s royal seal. I tightened my loincloth, satisfied that my abdomen was still trim, then started out the door.
We had arrived the night before in Nekhen, having sailed and rowed upstream from Tjeni, and set up camp on a plateau overlooking the city. The day’s heat was already searing. As I exited my tent, I gazed with pride down at the city, the largest in Upper Kem. It was covered in a haze of desert dust and smoke from the fires of hundreds of hearths and fine pottery kilns. Below me more than fifty thousand people worked and lived. Having traveled north to The Great Green and as far south as the forests of Ta-Sety and east and west across both great deserts, I knew how blessed Kem truly was. The life-giving Mother Nile nourished our land and the weather was predictable, just as the gods willed it. We had the luxury of devoting ourselves to noble pursuits that allowed us to grow and prosper.
On a low-lying rocky ridge, stretching for more than a thousand cubits, pottery kilns were crowded together, taking advantage of the gentle winds that continuously blew down the valley. The very constancy of the winds allowed the potters of Nekhen to fire their kilns hotter than at any other site in Kem, making their thin, elegant pottery the most valued in our land and in those of our neighbors. The swamp-dwellers of Lower Kem tried to imitate our delicate style, but their clumsy attempts always met with laughable failure.
I had planned to spend the day in prayer at the Temple of Horus, where the incantations I put on papyrus would invoke Horus’ holy blessings. I walked down to the city and in a few minutes, I was strolling through the narrow dirt alleys of my boyhood home. Life teemed around me. Goats rummaged through piles of refuse and small flocks of chickens scattered as I walked along the packed earth and sand walkways. The thick smell of people living close together, of sweat and cooking, of decaying refuse and perfumes, and of the yeasty aromas of Nekhen’s many breweries filled my nostrils.
On either side of me walls made from Mother Nile’s mud and fortified with dried reeds and rushes, loomed above my head. Each passing breeze caused the dried flower heads to flutter gently together. The altogether pleasant sound brought back memories of my youth, of guiding my sister and my twin younger brothers down the narrow alleys on our way to the market to barter my father’s spices and goods for foods for the evening meal. I would stand in the shade at the edge of the market, holding tight to the hands of my siblings, watching mothers scolding their children. Even now I wonder how differently my life might have turned out had my own mother not died during the birth of my youngest brothers. If my mother had been there to console him, would my father still have given me over to the service of Horus when my two brothers drowned? Certainly I could not complain about my position in life, nor the many blessings the gods had sent me. I felt proud of what I had so far accomplished in this life. But, still, I wondered what might have been.
The alleyways curved in patterns both random and familiar. Nekhen had grown considerably since my youth. The greatest city in Upper Kem had evolved into neighborhoods where people of the lowliest means could see their neighbors living under better circumstances and strive for better themselves. Throughout most of Upper and Lower Kem, farmers and peasants lived under the most difficult of circumstances. But, in Nekhen, Tjeni, Nubt and a sprinkling of other cities along the Nile, trade had created a large middle class with both leisure time and excess money beyond their immediate needs. Many families rose to nobility and were able to afford luxuries like mud-brick mastaba tombs with intricate and colorful wall paintings inside.
As I approached the Temple, the Head Priest, dressed only in a white loincloth, greeted me warmly and escorted me to a private chamber within the Temple sanctuary. Throughout that day I fasted and meditated and wrote, often distracted by my worries about Scorpion’s court. The King was due back soon to the palace. My spies reported that Scorpion’s disposition had soured of late. He drank continuously, not the refined wines from Canaan, but the course barley beer of the lowest classes of Kem. I had often prayed that Scorpion would rise to the occasion of his kingship and become the unifying force that would benefit the Two Lands. But I had long ago accepted my disappointment, that his weaknesses far overpowered his strengths. Rather than developing a far-reaching vision for our lands, he blinded himself with short-sighted actions.
I meditated and prayed over the circumstances of the Prince’s birth, which the entire Horus priesthood believed to be extraordinary beyond imagining. There were signs within signs that pointed to greatness for the Prince and for Kem, protected as he was by Horus’ presence. But that protection also came at great peril, for the gods, seeking to achieve balance, would undoubtedly place many obstacles in our paths.
My own visions for a united Kem were intertwined with the Prince’s destiny. I saw with excitement that the notes I had just scrawled formed a pattern, a sketchy plan, a way to explain to Scorpion the significance of the Prince’s birth in achieving the gods’ vision. With my hopes renewed, with Horus’ presence infusing my ka with strength, we sailed back to Tjeni that very evening and by the time Ra’s disk was high in the heavens on the third day we tied up to the King’s docks. The Royal compound was a hive of activity. Scorpion had arrived, much earlier than I had expected. My heart skipped a beat. I walked through the gate of the outer walls. A group of army officers stood together, talking amongst themselves animatedly.
“Praise be to Anhotek!” one of the men said aloud and each of the others joined in a chorus of greetings.
“May the gods bless you, Kagemni,” I called out to the Chief General of Scorpion’s army, who stood a head taller than the other men. “Welcome home. Welcome all of you!” I said, holding my staff high and spreading my arms to include all the officers. “May the gods continue to protect you and to always return you here to your loved ones.”
Kagemni left the officers and rushed toward me. We stared at each other for a long moment. He smelled of sweat and dust.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” Kagemni started, agitated. “I tried to dissuade him, but…”
“What are you talking about?”
Kagemni opened his eyes wide in amazement. “You… you do not know?” Then he took my arm in his huge hand. “Scorpion pushed us hard, like… like he was possessed. I’m covered with dust and dung.” Indeed, sand dust adhered to every inch of Kagemni’s sculpted body, tiny grains visible even in the crow’s feet of his eyes.
“Anhotek, I do not know what has come over Scorpion. He has been so despondent and so damned miserable to live with lately. He…”
“Kagemni, we do not have much time.”
“Right,” Kagemni said, taking a breath. “Here it is, then. The King has confided in me. He is to be married again.” At that very moment I felt as if I had been hit by a mace. For Scorpion to consider such a significant undertaking without consulting me first was unthinkable. There were matters of state to consider, religious rituals, feasts to plan and favors to dispense.
“I can see you are shocked. Perhaps we should…”
“No, tell me the rest… quickly.”
“Under torture, a tribal chief in Lower Kem told us that gold and silver from King W’ash himself fueled these wars… the swine!” he said, spitting on the ground. “We mobilized to attack Dep. Then… I’m not even certain how it happened… I mean, it happened so fast. This Ihy, he… he arrived from King W’ash, with a royal escort and proposed to Scorpion a marriage to Mersyankh, W’ash’s cousin.”
“Who is this Ihy?”
“A shaman of some sort in W’ash’s Royal Court. Beyond that I do not know.”
“A shaman?”
“An emissary in this case, but my sources claim he is a powerful shaman, a magician of the old rites.” Kagemni paused to look around. “I will tell you this, Anhotek. His eyes are evil, as if Anubis himself stares out through them from the underworld. I do not like him one bit.”
My mind raced. I had heard of a powerful shaman in the Delta who still practiced the ancient dark magic, but I had dismissed the rumors as legends that the people of Lower Kem still clung to in order to elevate their lowly status.
