The first pharaoh the fi.., p.37
The First Pharaoh (The First Dynasty Book 1), page 37
“Would you like some?” I asked, offering him the bowl of grapes. His refusal only heightened my concern over how thin he had become of late.
“I have had an insight into our problem with Neith-hotep,” I began. “It comes from considering these questions; what is best for The Two Lands and what is best for Neith-hotep and me?” Anhotek turned more fully toward me, gripping his staff between his knobby knees.
“You have taught me that we must always do what is best for Towi, no matter what its cost to any one of us and I have tried to live my life with this wisdom in my heart. For that reason, I agree that a royal marriage between the houses of Dep and Nekhen was critical to mortar Unification and was ordained by Horus himself. Yet… there is something else I have learned from another teacher, my ka twin Neith-hotep. When the Queen is unhappy, the King is even more unhappy. Why this should be so is a mystery that is beyond my understanding, but it is so nevertheless. All the powers of mighty Towi that I control are of no consequence in light of my lover’s discontent.” A tiny smile began to form on my mentor’s lips.
“And when the King is unhappy, the Court suffers and so does the business of Towi.” I sat back, slowly swirling my barley beer in my cup.
“What do you propose to do about this revelation?” Anhotek asked. “There is no doubt that it is an eternal truth.”
“Wait, there is more!” I started. “I remember once when we discussed my pending marriage to Neith-hotep you said that there cannot be two Queens in one palace.” I stood, thinking again of these words.
“It sounds so simple, dear teacher, but truer words have never been spoken. What we have here is an impossible situation.” Now I turned back to Anhotek.
“Therefore, here is what I decided, though I wish to expose this to your scrutiny. I want Tawaret away from Inabu-hedj. I wish for you to have constructed a large addition for Tawaret and her retinue adjoining the palace in Tjeni. That will limit the daily reminders of her presence, even when the Court moves to Tjeni for festivals. And, placing her in Tjeni allows us to more carefully watch her alliances.”
Anhotek slowly tapped his staff on the brick floor, thinking through my plan. “I think this plan has good elements, Narmer. However, there is pressure from Tawaret’s quarters to consummate your marriage to her. I cannot think how you can avoid this much longer. How do you account for that?”
“I have thought of this, too.” I now paced back and forth. “In fact this thought has caused me many sleepless times. I know there are men who willingly shoot their seed into any willing receptacle, but that is not me, Anhotek. By Horus’ holy name, I have eyes only for my Neith-hotep. I will admit to you that there are times I would happily make love to her more times than she would prefer. Yet the thought of shooting my seed into another woman just to temporarily satisfy my desire makes me ill.”
“I know that, my son,” Anhotek said. “And ever was it so from the first moment you laid eyes on El-Or.” Anhotek leaned back to take a breath. “This still leaves us with the problem of consummating the marriage to Tawaret.”
“Yes, I know. And speaking with my heart, Anhotek, the truth is that I do not know that I can do it. What I mean is that I feel I would be able to perform, but I do not know if Neith-hotep will agree to this. And I plan to give her the final say in this matter.” Anhotek turned nearly all the way around in his seat to be sure he had heard me correctly.
“I will convey to Neith-hotep my plans to relocate Tawaret, as well as certain assurances regarding my contacts with Tawaret. Once she is back in Inabu-hedj we shall together make a decision regarding consummating the marriage to Tawaret.”
“And if she refuses to allow it?”
“Then so shall it be and we will have to make plans to deal with that complexity. Unification has never before happened, so what we do now has never before been done. There is no expectation. We lay the foundation for future expectations.”
And so it was that I, the most powerful man in the Two Lands and in all the surrounding lands, sent a papyrus to Neith-hotep pleading my case. And then, I waited.
The Chief Priest’s voice snapped me back to the discussion at hand. “It seems obvious that the delays in the temple at Tjeni might very well have been instigated by those evil two. We already suspect they are behind the recent sabotage events at the Horus temples in Lower Kem.” I recalled that in each instance important administrative papyrus scrolls had been burned. My blood heated with thoughts of her scheming.
And yet, at quiet times, when my heart imagined Mersyankh’s seemingly desperate actions, I felt as if I actually understood her frustrations, for the gods had placed upon her shoulders an impossible burden. She struggled, perhaps valiantly in her own heart of hearts, to overcome the obstacles placed in her path and to elevate herself, her son and, as she no doubt saw it, all the people of Lower Kem. Her youth, so full of beauty, so full of promise as Scorpion’s wife, now withered slowly on the vine.
I often questioned my tolerance of her bold behaviors and at these quiet times it came down to this; despite her faults, despite her evil actions, I had always considered her a worthy opponent. That her vision of Kem clashed with mine was not of her making. She was but an actor in a larger play of the gods. But, so was I, and only the gods themselves knew the ending. Yet my clear vision of Kem’s future always seemed to include her desperate plotting, anxiously watching at the edges of the play, waiting to make her grand entrance. Her presence only served to sharpen my vision, a role of which I am certain she was unaware.
Anhotek and I spoke of this when I was but a young man, soon after Scorpion’s death. He explained to me how a warrior never excels on the battlefield until he has worthy opponents to sharpen his skills. I never forgot that lesson, and thusly I viewed my strong, but misguided stepmother.
“Send a high-level delegation to Tjeni immediately” I finally commanded. “Have them stay until these delays are resolved. It should be accomplished before Inundation.”
“Agreed,” Anhotek responded.
“And I would like you to lead it,” I said to my mentor.
“I… I am too old for such a mission,” he quickly protested. “My bones ache. I must complete the legal scrolls and… I… I hate long journeys any more.”
My heart pained for my dear teacher. But, I believed that in trade for contributing to the aches in his bones, the trip would be good for his heart and ka. The priests and businessmen in Tjeni were fiercely loyal to Anhotek and would welcome a chance to entertain him. “I would like you to go, Anhotek. It is a short trip and the time on Mother Nile will be good for you. Meruka and Sennedjem will work on the scrolls in your absence. Take Kaipunesut with you. And I think you should also…”
Suddenly, I heard something scurrying across the floor of the room and a tiny voice yell: “Father, father, what is taking you so long?”
Prince Hor-aha ran toward me as fast as his five year-old legs could carry him and jumped into my lap. He wrapped his arms around my neck and I hugged him tightly to me as I rocked him back and forth.
“We are in the middle of a meeting, my little Prince, and…” I started to explain to him.
“But, Father, it is taking to-o-o-o long,” he protested. I could see Neith-hotep standing toward the back of the room. “You promised you would take me fishing!”
“Ah, the mystery of the other important meeting has been solved,” the Chief Priest said, smiling. “And who are we to keep the King from his most important duties?” He looked around at the other men, who smiled and nodded in agreement.
“Hor-Aha,” I said, turning my son around so that he faced my council. “You must tell my friends about the tiny perch you caught when we fished together last cycle.”
“It was not tiny!” Hor-Aha whined, turning to face me to see if I was serious. “It was huge, bigger than this!” he said, spreading his hands wide. “Even bigger than Anhotek’s staff!”
“That is big, indeed, mighty Prince Aha,” Kagemni roared in his deepest voice. “Even I would be afraid of such a fish.”
“Me, too!” Rekhmireh agreed, pounding his chest loudly.
“Well, my bold little Prince,” I continued, “I know where there are other such fish. I am almost done with my meeting. If you will wait for just a few more minutes, I will take you just as soon as I am done.”
He looked at me then, Prince Hor-Aha, and it was as if my ka drank from the love in his eyes. Every time I looked upon his tiny, perfectly formed body, with his black braid hanging neatly down the side of his head, I marveled at the miracle the gods had visited upon Neith-hotep and me.
“Alright,” he said, sliding off my lap. “But try to be quick. You all talk too much.” Amidst the ensuing laughter, Neith-hotep came to retrieve our son, a broad smile upon her lovely face, and I again thanked Horus for her love and devotion. She had managed to overcome her objections to my marriage to Tawaret, although she did set some firm boundaries on how it might be expressed.
“What a perfect name for him,” the Chief Priest said. “Horus’ warrior. He is full of the fighting spirit.”
“He is that and more,” I responded, thinking back to that time five years ago when we wrestled with his naming. “You men heard his command. We must be brief, or I shall face both his disappointment and his mother’s anger. What else is left to discuss?”
“A brief item,” Meruka called out. “Our midwives and shamans have noted that more mothers appear to survive birthing and more children survive their first year. The priests report the people are happy about this. They see this as a sign that the gods look favorably upon their King.” I smiled inwardly at this news, for I now knew how difficult it was for a woman to birth a child. I silently thanked Horus for this gift, a blessing that seemed to me no coincidence, for ever since we had named Prince Hor-Aha, the land itself seemed to have rejoiced. Anhotek believed that both mothers and infants benefited greatly from the extra stores of grain and the availability of many different foods in our markets.
As we all got up to leave, I called to Anhotek. “One thing more, dear teacher. I think you should also take Neith-hotep with you. The Prince will stay here with me.”
“If Neith-hotep is to go with them, then Rekhmireh should escort them… with a division of soldiers,” Kagemni said with authority.
“Make it so,” I said, looking at Anhotek, although I knew that it would be Meruka who would arrange the details. Anhotek seemed pale and shaken by my decision, but he raised no further objection. In two days time I stood with Hor-Aha on the shore of Mother Nile, hugging Neith-hotep farewell, while the Prince embraced her thigh.
“Be careful of the evil two,” I whispered in Neith-hotep’s ear. “Heed Anhotek’s advice if he should sense any omens. Promise?”
“I will,” she answered, before kissing me softly on the lips. “And you, my little Aha, you take good care of your father while I am away. Make sure he does not work too hard.”
“I will take him fishing on Mother Nile for a long time,” he whispered, loud enough for me to hear. “He likes that. And he never works when he fishes,” he added seriously.
I turned to bid Anhotek a safe journey, but he was already on board. As we stood waving to one another, Hor-aha held tightly to my leg. I felt a mighty urge to hug Anhotek to us, as if to form an unbroken circle. Instead, we looked into each other’s eyes deeply, until finally he nodded and held up his hand, his fingers forming the Horus blessing over me and my son.
For two, ten-day cycles, Aha and I experienced the joys of being together without too many disruptions of the Court. We often slept outdoors on the balcony of his bedroom, his head resting on my arm as we watched the lights of the gods in the sky. One night I explained to him a simple story of creation and for the next few nights he asked questions about it incessantly, until my head spun with confusion over what I had or had not told him. My heart went out to Anhotek then, for the suffering he must have endured under my constant barrage of insatiable questions. Yet my frustration was rewarded each time when, in the midst of an earnest answer, I would hear Aha’s regular breathing and I turned to see him asleep on his side, facing me, his body curled up next to my chest.
One of those evenings, as my heart swelled with the joy of my son sleeping beside me, I thought back to the day Neith-hotep sailed back to Inabu-hedj with our son. We had been separated for many months, yet I knew from our recent papyruses that we were each committed to solving the vexing problem of Tawaret.
Neith-hotep was much pleased with my decision to move Tawaret to Tjeni and with my promise to resolve this issue to her satisfaction before even seeing Tawaret again. She came to understand, perhaps through the guidance of her mother, how the fragile union between the Land of the Lotus and the Land of the Papyrus necessitated an equally tenuous union between its leaders. Thus, part of the agreement that Neith-hotep and I struck over the first ten-day cycle since her return was that I would travel to Tjeni to consummate the marriage and quell the objections of Tawaret’s relatives and advisors.
When my beloved first suggested this, I felt like I had been shocked by a Nile eel. I had thought I would have to plot exceedingly well to get her to agree to my consummating the marriage. But then she explained to me what she would exact in return and I smiled inwardly. First, I was never to discuss the actual coupling, nor describe Tawaret’s body, nor anything that transpired during that visit. Second, I was to return to Inabu-hedj and undergo thirty days of ritual purification, supervised by Meruka, before she would agree to lay together with me in the same bed. Finally, and most strangely, she insisted that during that purification period I empty my seed with my own hand at least seven times before she would allow me to enter her. If not for her own desirous nature, I feel certain that she would have insisted that I also place my member in boiling water to purify it before she would have consented to touch it.
Shortly after the twentieth day since Anhotek left, a messenger arrived from Tjeni with a note from Neith-hotep, assuring me that the conflicts at the temple were resolved and that the delegation would be leaving in a day or two. I looked at her note again and again, for it buoyed my ka greatly. Although Aha and I spent days at a time fishing and hunting and doing his writing lessons, I sorely missed Neith-hotep’s sweet ba and her soft body cupped inside mine while we slept.
I was awakened the very next morning by the presence of a spirit staring upon my face. As I cracked open one eye, I saw Hor-Aha standing next to me, completely unclothed, yet unmoving. I opened my arms and he pressed against me so hard, I knew at once that he was rooting for the comfort of his mother’s breasts.
“What is it, my Prince?” I asked him. He did not respond. “Did you have a bad dream?”
“How can a person dream when he is not asleep?” he asked of me, in such a desultory spirit it made gooseflesh raise along my arms.
“It happens, little one. There are night dreams and day dreams. Each one carries a lesson with it.” I let my words sit softly within him.
“This dream made me feel bad,” he whispered.
“Did you see anyone you know in your dream?” I asked.
“No. It was a feeling… like when I swim in the waters of Mother Nile, only… only the coolness was inside me.” As I was about to ask him a question, I felt his rhythmic breathing against my chest and I knew that he already slept in the security of my arms. But I took his bad dream as an omen. Suddenly, the face of the hippopotamus I had sacrificed in Nekhen appeared to me, his eyes alerting me to danger.
Thus it came as no surprise when, later that day, as we were about to sit down for the evening meal, a messenger ran into my quarters breathless to report that our ships were sighted close to Inabu-hedj. I made Aha finish his meal and sent him off to his room with Ahpety. I walked with my King’s Guard to the shoreline to await the first ship, Mafdet at my side, her tail waving to keep away the flies. As I watched Neith-hotep’s ship approach the landing, a terrible sense of foreboding fell over me like a veil.
My feet were rooted to the spot I stood upon and as soon as the boat was fastened, Neith-hotep ran across the deck to me and hugged me so tightly I thought my ribs might crack. I barely lifted my arms in response, so heavy was my dread. She pushed me lightly away from the ship and held my arms in her hands. She looked deeply into my eyes.
“It is Anhotek, Narmer. He… he is in a bad way.”
Was there a mortal being who walked upon this land who could have expressed how I felt in that moment, or in all the moments that followed throughout the rest of my days? No. Not then. Not ever. I must have asked Neith-hotep what happened, for she began to relate to me the events of that horrible night, after she had sent to me the note assuring me that all was well. I heard some of her words, but I truly did not listen carefully, or perhaps at all, for on the horizon I saw a fleet of boats rowing at double-beat toward us. In a moment I made out Rekhmireh standing at the bow of the fastest boat, dressed in his full military uniform, urging on his men.
In a moment the boats came alongside the landing and upon Rekhmireh’s deck I could see a reed platform, upon which a man lay, covered with a bloody blanket. There was much commotion on the landing and suddenly Meruka appeared beside me and Neith-hotep. I found it exceedingly hard to make out individual words and instead heard a whooshing and beating sound in my ears. Meruka helped me aboard Rekhmireh’s boat and I nearly tripped on a rope as I stumbled toward the man on the platform.
If it was Anhotek, I would hardly have known, for his body was so battered it was difficult to recognize him. His arms were broken in so many places, they bent and bent again as they rested along his sides. His skin was a horrible patchwork of purple bruises and swelling. Someone had thoughtfully laid his staff alongside him and wrapped his broken and swollen fingers around it. As Rekhmireh’s soldiers removed his blanket to move him, I could see that his legs were similarly broken and a piece of bloody bone as long as a man’s hand protruded from his left shin. His nose was broken and bloodied and his face looked as if it had been hit squarely by a mace head. His skull was crushed on the right side and blood and hair were matted along the depression. I began to shake from the shock.
