Qa'a (The First Dynasty Book 3)

  Contents

  Title Page and Copyright

  Title Page and Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Quote

  Map

  Preface

  Book I

  Scroll one - No Longer a Virgin

  Scroll two - The Loneliest Day

  Scroll three - The Yoke Is Lifted

  Scroll four - For What Does He Know?

  Scroll five - Ascension

  Scroll six - Lessons for a King

  Scroll seven - The Storm

  Scroll eight - Pwenet

  Scroll nine - Before A Crocodile Strikes

  Scroll ten - With the Gods At Our Sides

  Scroll eleven - A Flower Blooms

  Scroll twelve - Beautiful Soul

  Scroll thirteen - Redemption

  Scroll fourteen - Desert Eagle's Canal

  Scroll fifteen - Should Not An Eagle Soar?

  Scroll sixteen - The Canal Runs Dry

  Scroll seventeen - A Most Valuable Ally

  Scroll eighteen - The Wedding Present

  Scroll nineteen - The Delta Simmers

  Book Two

  Scroll twenty - Minister to the King

  Scroll twenty-one - If It Comes to War

  Scroll twenty-two - To Win the Battle or the War?

  Scroll twenty-three - Dealing With Mut Spirits

  Scroll twenty-four - An Evil Brew

  Scroll twenty-five - The Cabal

  Scroll twenty-six - Dung Beetles

  Scroll twenty-seven - The Fate of a Nation

  Scroll twenty-eight - Lost Soul

  Scroll twenty-nine - The Business of War

  Scroll thirty - The Battle

  Scroll thirty-one - Like Goats to Slaughter

  Scroll thirty-two - Beginning of the End

  Scroll thirty-three - End of the Beginning

  Afterward

  QA’A

  Lester Picker

  Copyright © 2015 Lester Picker

  All rights reserved

  ISBN- 13:9781503019768

  ISBN- 10:1503019764

  Dedication

  The Grandkids

  Matthew, Tonya, Aidan, William, Terran, Ananda, Zach, Dylan and Lilly

  Acknowledgements

  Trite as it sounds, I could not have written this book without the wisdom and time of many generous people. I would like to acknowledge some of them here.

  Dr. Gunter Dreyer of the German Archaeological Institute, patiently spent many hours with me in Cairo and Berlin, by email and on the telephone, answering my questions and tutoring me about life in Narmer’s time.

  Dr. Toby Wilkinson of Christ’s College, Cambridge University, gave me fresh perspectives on early dynastic life and patiently answered my questions. He shared my enthusiasm for this project, for which I will be always grateful. His book, Early Dynastic Egypt (Routledge, 1999) is a wonderful, readable resource for those people serious about Egyptian civilization at the time of Narmer.

  Abdel Zaher Sulimaan, my Bedouin guide, patiently taught me about life in Egypt’s eastern desert and, more importantly, about life. Dr. Zawi Hawass, head of the Egyptian government’s archaeological program, without whose dedication and passion for his country’s ancient past much of the archaeological work that led to my writing this book would not have been possible.

  I also acknowledge the contribution to this work of Egyptologists Dr. Betsy Bryan (The Johns Hopkins University), Dr. Renee Friedman (The Hierakonpolis Society), Dr. Richard Jasnow (The Johns Hopkins University), Ethan Watrall (University of Indiana), and their many colleagues who spent time with me explaining aspects of early dynastic Egypt. These dedicated scientists toil, often in obscurity and always under trying conditions, to uncover our past so that we can understand ourselves better.

  William Cates, John Hurley, Jay Magenheim, Randy Richie and Joel Rosenberg, Dave Jaffe, Sherif Osman, and Scott Brown, my men’s teams, have collectively supported my vision, kept me on track and knocked-me-up-side-of-the-head when needed, usually regularly. I owe them a huge debt of gratitude but, of course, not as large as they owe me.

  Special thanks to Terry Sexton, my Tuesday-mornings-with-Terry writing companion, brainstorming partner, and personal editor. I can’t wait to celebrate publication of your books!

  As with any work of historical fiction, there may be numerous fabrications and embellishments in this story, although I suspect that there may not have needed to be had we known more about the actual facts of First Dynasty life. However, to the extent that there are historical inaccuracies in this work, I take full responsibility for them.

  Finally, and most importantly, I thank my incredible wife, Leslie, without whose abiding love and unconditional support I could never have written this book. She is the love of my life (and my first-line editor).

  Concerning Egypt I will now speak at length, because nowhere are there so many marvelous things, nor in the whole world beside are there to be seen so many works of unspeakable greatness.

  - Herodotus

  I have no right telling this story, for I have sinned, far beyond any man in the Two Lands and perhaps in all the lands beyond. But tell it I must, before my heavy heart is judged by Anubis and his never-erring scale.

  I am Merkha, Chief Horus Priest of Kem, Scholar of the Dynasty, Royal Advisor, Humble Servant of King Hotepsekhemwy, and once loyal servant of King Qa’a, may his name be blessed through all eternity. I have written and kept the scrolls of his life. I feel the prickles of his gaze upon my neck as he now watches my reed pen make the mark of the picture words for these final scrolls of his life’s story. I can only pray that, in the name of his brother Horus, he forgives me.

  Book I

  SCROLL ONE

  No Longer a Virgin

  The desert wadi was quiet, nestled protectively between the bare red rock mountains that rose on either side. Near the top of the mountain, a lone male ibex looked down nervously at the men below. In a moment, it panicked and skittered far up the mountain as the melodic chants of a Horus priest greeted Ra’s disk as he rose in the eastern skies. The priest’s voice faintly echoed from the high canyon walls before dissipating into Ra’s firmament. As the light brightened, the sands began to stir, teased awake by Ra’s rays as they warmed the air. Mild winds began to blow over the nested grains, loosening them from their angled embrace and scattering them down the dunes in hissing cascades.

  From a tattered tent, two army officers quickly emerged and split up, each hurrying to the opposite side of the tent to relieve themselves.

  “Aah, the simple pleasures of life!” the younger man called to his senior officer. “Too much of that foul army beer last night.”

  “I’ve seen you down more,” the General replied, laughing.

  “Not when we’re out on patrol,” the Captain answered. “Having the Prince with us throws off my training. It’s too easy to party with him here with us.” He shook his member vigorously, then dropped to the sands and bent over to stretch his back muscles.

  “I’m the one who who should be doing that,” the General remarked. “With this gut I should be doing that and more.” The Captain was about to reply, but held his tongue.

  “Is he still asleep?” the General asked, standing next to the Captain as he slipped on his tunic.

  “I didn’t notice. I’ll wake them all in a moment anyway,” the Captain said, groaning as he stretched his calf muscles. All around the tent, men slept out in the open, covered with tightly woven burlap blankets, with heaped up sand as their pillows. Some were already sitting up, squinting at Ra as he rose in the sky. One soldier sat cross-legged facing Ra’s disk, his lips moving in silent prayer, his eyes cl
osed, his hands resting in his lap.

  The Captain struggled to his feet, walked over to a clay pitcher and quaffed a ladle-full of water. He took another drink, rinsed his mouth and turned toward his soldiers.

  “Get up you sons of donkeys!” he yelled, walking among the men who were still sleeping and rolling them over with his foot. “Ra awaits your shining faces.”

  The men groaned and complained loudly, but in a few moments their blankets were rolled and tied, waiting for the pages to gather them and pile them on the pack donkeys.

  “Morning meal in ten minutes!” the Captain shouted, walking toward the cooks who were busily filling small alabaster bowls with honey or putting out baskets of grains. He tore a chunk of hard bread from a large loaf and swiped it in the honey, then grabbed a piece of cheese from a pile heaped on a woven reed tray. The sandy bread crunched between his teeth as he chewed.

  In minutes the entire unit of sixty men had eaten their fill. Some were squatting in the latrine dug in the dunes away from camp, while others gathered their spears and swords and began dressing for the day’s march.

  “So, how is the Prince doing this morning?” the General asked, standing next to a well-muscled fifteen year-old young man. The boy stopped toying with his cloth belt and turned to the older man.

  “General, if I may speak?”

  “Speak? You are the Prince of all Kem, dear boy,” the General laughed. “You may say anything you wish. I am but your servant.”

  “I was wondering if it would be advisable to call me by name, rather than my title? I’m a trained soldier now, and I’d like to be treated like all the other men here.”

  The General stared at the youth, trying to decide how to handle a matter that clearly was out of the realm of his military expertise. This was the Prince’s first mission since his training had ended and the General’s unit had the dubious honor of seeing to the Prince’s field training, and his safety.

  “I, I don’t know. I have sworn to your father, brother of Horus to train and protect you. But you are still the Prince, our future leader. How am I to call you…ummm…?”

  “Khenti. Just call me Khenti. That will work,” the Prince said, smiling. His youthful body was trim, not a measure of fat on it. The muscles in his arms and shoulders rippled as he heaved his knapsack over his back.

  “Khenti,” the General struggled to say. “I will try, but it cuts across my grain,” he added gruffly. “I can see your point, as far as the other men go is what I mean.”

  “Thank you, General,” Khenti said, as he tightened his waist cord. “Is there anything else?”

  “No, carry on.” The General turned and left.

  In an hour the entire group stood in double file, ready to march. The pages tied the last pottery urns, filled with foodstuff and cooking equipment, to the donkeys. One of the captains nodded to the General, who stood atop a small dune.

  “Men, today is likely the day we confront the Ta-Tjehenus,” the General called out. “The scouts have picked up signs. Two days ago the enemy raided an outpost near where they now camp. Stay sharp, eyes and weapons at the ready. If we do engage them, make Kem proud.” With that the General turned and began to march through the rocky wadi, his sandals kicking up sand and pebbles with each step. The soldiers followed in two lines, thankful that the trail they walked was hard-packed from the caravans that traveled through the western desert from the white-walled capital of Inabu-hedj to the Shedet oasis.

  Ra’s disk hung heavy in the sky as the men marched in the open desert. The pages ran water skins back and forth for the soldiers, who sipped sparingly. It was the second month of Shomu the hottest season of the year, and within an hour Ra’s rays stung fiercely. After four hours of continuous marching, the columns stopped at a series of rolling dunes for the mid-day meal. Men sought out dune ridges that offered whatever meager shade they could find from Ra’s scorching rays. To even breathe deeply caused pain in their lungs. With their hands they dug down to cooler sands, careful that none of the feared desert vipers were hiding where they might sit. Rations were plentiful, since their departure point had been the capital just days before. Some men hurriedly finished their meal so they could nap and the staccato sounds of snoring soon mixed with groups of men sitting, talking and laughing.

  As the men rested, three scouts could be seen in the distance running back to camp. They arrived breathless and obviously dehydrated. They hurriedly conferred with the General and his six captains before the General dispatched them back to the pages for food and water. The soldiers watched the General, as he talked animatedly with his junior officers.

  Immediately one of the captains sounded the call to assemble. As soon as the men lined up, the General called out to them. “The Ta-Tjehenus have been spotted up ahead at the next wadi. All you men should drink now, for we march double time to attack.”

  As the pages circulated among the men with water skins and weapons, Prince Khenti broke from his rank and edged through a crowd of soldiers toward the General.

  “May I have a word with you, General?” he asked.

  “Quickly,” the General replied. “We must make haste.”

  “I know this wadi well, sir, for I have traveled back and forth through it three times before with my father for ceremonies in Shedet. On our last visit we hunted an ibex along its ridges.” Khenti waited for recognition from the General, but his stoic face betrayed nothing.

  “In any event,” Khenti went on, “I would like to suggest a change to your strategy… if I may, that is.”

  The General’s wide eyes reflected his surprise. He looked around to see if any of his captains were nearby, but they were busy readying their troops. “Go ahead,” he finally said, his brow screwed up, his eyes riveted on the young Prince.

  “That wadi is narrow and we would be hard pressed to win a battle there, even if they were willing to engage us. If the Ta-Tjehenus run, as they usually do, we will pursue them to no avail, just as you have said happened before. They travel far lighter than do we.” The General looked impatient.

  “Are you suggesting we not confront them?” he asked, quizzically.

  “No, sir. I suggest we eliminate them for good.” He hesitated, gauging the General’s reaction. “If you send two of the teams ahead and have them circle wide to the northeast, above the plateau, they could mirror signal us from atop there. As they move into position on the far side of the wadi, the main force marches double-time to the entrance to the wadi. If the enemy tries to run, we can cut them off while our main contingent presses them. If they stand and fight, we crush them from the rear.”

  The General kicked the sand in front of him. “When you say ‘we can cut them off’ I’m not sure of your meaning.”

  The young prince cleared his throat. “I would like to be part of the advance troops, General. I have climbed that plateau before. I assure you, they will not see us coming.”

  The General stared in the distance toward where the caravan route disappeared. “You know my promise to your father. If I let you…”

  “General, I beg you to hear me out. I am better trained than almost every common soldier here.” The Prince instantly regretted his mistake, since he knew that the General had climbed the ranks from his poor rekhi beginnings

  “What I mean to say is that I have won top honors in our competitions. You know I am capable. You cannot shield me from battle and still expect me to lead Kem’s army when I am crowned King. I ask you to take this chance. You have told me before that battle is unpredictable. You cannot always control its ebb and flow. I could be killed by an enemy’s arrow as I tended the water skins.”

  The General looked hard at the boy-man, seeing for the first time the strength of his ba. He saw not only his youthful enthusiasm, but his willingness to take on leadership.

  “Nebibi,” he finally replied softly, looking directly into the Prince’s questioning eyes. “That is my name… Nebibi. But for now it is still General to you,” he said, thrusting his finger into Khe
nti’s chest and smiling.

  The General motioned to his page, who came running immediately. He whispered in the boy’s ear and within minutes the Captain of Khenti’s unit reported to the General, along with another Captain.

  “We will try a new tactic with the Ta-Tjehenus,” he began. “The, umm… Khenti here has visited this area before and knows well the wadi where our enemy is camped. The two of you will get a head start and take your units around the far side of the wadi to trap them. We will then engage the Ta-Tjehenus in a frontal assault and you will come up behind them to prevent them from escaping. But not too soon. Wait to see if they run or fight and choose your positions accordingly.” The captains shook their heads as they followed the General’s orders.