Qa'a (The First Dynasty Book 3) Read online

  In all my years I had not learned to swim, yet my arms, as if propelled by Horus, fluttered wildly to keep me afloat. In another moment the hull of our boat broke through the surface and I grabbed for it. I now saw other men desperately swimming for it, too, but all I could do was hold on tight as I retched from swallowing so much salty water. Soon a man was on either side of me, coughing or retching, as the waves continued to crash down upon us. Thus we hung on for what seemed like an eternity.

  By now Ra struggled to rise in the heavens and in my heart I hoped this would portend an end to the storm that raked us. The waves still attacked us, but no longer did they contain the fury of those that had pummeled us in the darkness. They arrived closer together, but did not rise so high nor sink as low. The rain was constant, but not as driven, since the winds had subsided slightly.

  In another hour, Ra rose high enough to break through the clouds. Exhausted down to my very bones, I struggled to pull myself up onto the hull of our boat, which was still overturned. I looked around. Cargo floated all around us, thick as the marketplace stalls in Inabu-hedj. A few men clung to urns that bobbed in the calming seas. Others clung to a broken mast, or to bundles of reeds that had once been part of a ship. Still others floated face down, already journeying to the Afterlife.

  In the distance I could see the King’s ship, still upright, flying Kem’s flag upon her sail. She was coming toward us and I was glad in my heart that Qa’a had been spared. I thought I saw other ships far in the distance. I felt Ra’s light fall upon us and began a silent prayer to Horus, a prayer of thanks that was suddenly interrupted by one word, one word that only Apep, the evil serpent god, could have summoned from his horrible muts in the Underworld. It rose to our ears in a dreadful scream from one of the sailors. One word: sharks!

  SCROLL EIGHT

  Pwenet

  Merkha

  It was only after two days following our rescue that I was able to write the entire narrative of what had happened. King Qa’a’s boat and those others that had survived the storm intact, made their way to us and rescued us from the ravages of the sharks, may the gods curse them into oblivion. Two men were horrifically lost to their predation and they died before our eyes, torn apart as these savage beasts fed upon their still thrashing bodies in a feeding frenzy that none had ever before witnessed. Those poor souls will never be able to journey to the Afterlife, for their limbs are yet in the bellies of the beasts.

  When we finally made it to shore and counted those dead or missing, we had lost thirteen soldiers, three sailors and four merchants. None of the priests or priestesses had been lost. Many, including Khenemet and Buikkhu, had cuts and bruises. The King was safe and sound. But, for two days, only the soldiers and servants worked. The rest of us lay on the sand, sleeping fitfully or silently recounting in our hearts the terrible events of the storm. To this day I still recall the resigned look that a drowning man had given me as he slipped beneath the waves. And the grisly scene of the sharks feasting upon our men will plague me into the Afterlife.

  Khenemet stood before us on the second night to remind us that the storm was retribution from the gods for our sins and depredations. People were sapped of their strength, whether from the storm or the cleanup afterward, so they just lay in the sand and listened to him talk on about the weaknesses in the bas of our people and how we had become lazy with our indulgences and luxury goods. Yet those most deserving of his message, Qa’a and his relatives in the Royal Court, were gathered in a large tent off to the side of the cove we now occupied and were enjoying what little was left of the luxury foods and wines we had recovered from the ocean.

  Once we had searched the ocean’s surface and retrieved whatever cargo still floated, Qa’a sent a small group of soldiers to Nekhen to replenish our supplies. We also sent a stronger contingent of soldiers along the shoreline to commandeer whatever vessels would be suitable to complete our journey, for Qa’a was determined to do so.

  It took three full ten-days to complete the repairs to the ships, restock our stores, and be ready to go. I must say that we left reluctantly, those of us who were not soldiers or sailors, although I would bet that many of them were as frightened of continuing as were we. The captains assured us that they would be more mindful of approaching storms, avoiding them at all costs. As a precaution, we added several local fishermen to our expedition, men who were considered wise in the ways of the Red Sea’s moods and who delighted in the gold and wine offered from the King’s treasure.

  In another three ten-days we finally reached Pwenet. An advanced scout ship of soldiers had arrived days before and when we sailed into the harbor there was a huge crowd and a delegation of local shamans lining the shore. The small harbor was ringed in a lush forest such as none of us, except for two of the captains, had ever seen. There were green plants of every shade and size, a pleasure to our desert accustomed eyes.

  On the shore the delegation of Pwenetian shamans were dressed in elaborate leopard and lion skins, worn as kilts and long capes. Around their necks were necklaces of lions’ or leopards’ teeth and claws. Behind them we could see a large carry chair, which we assumed held their King. As Qa’a’s and our boat rowed closer, we could see the darker skin of their people. Their constitution was taller than ours and most were thin. Off to one side stood our soldiers who had arrived before us, dressed in their white kilts and leather belts and sash. We cautiously noted that none of them carried their weapons.

  Qa’a was carried ashore, dressed in his kilt, gold breastplate, and the double crown, the gold crook and flail held firmly across his chest. With his face painted in kohl and malachite he made an impressive figure. The Pwenetians oohed and aahed and pointed as he stood on the shore. Khenemet and Buikkhu came ashore and stood behind Qa’a. They were dressed in their own leopard skins, handed down to them through the generations from Meruka, King Narmer’s black shaman. His father had provided our priests with those skins from Meruka’s ancestral lands, which were probably not far from where we now stood.

  Suddenly the sea of people parted and the covered carry chair moved forward, borne by ten dark black and well-muscled slaves. From their appearance, I wondered if they might be related to the black priests of Abu Island, the descendants of Meruka and Nekau from the reigns of King Narmer and King Meryt-Neith. They placed the chair down softly before Qa’a and drew back the curtains. There sat both the King of Pwenet and his wife. First the King dismounted and stood before Qa’a. He reached out his hand in greeting. Khenemet stepped to Qa’a’s side and took the crook and flail from him. Qa’a reached out and locked his forearm with his counterpart. They stared at each other and hesitatingly smiled.

  A cheer erupted from the crowd as the Queen stepped down from the carry chair. She was a dwarf, with a horribly disfigured body. Her lower half was obese such as not often seen in Kem, folds of skin hanging from her thighs that covered her knees. Her upper half was not overly heavy, although her spine was twisted. Still, her broad, generous smile stopped the thoughtless stares of our men. She, too, offered her arm to Qa’a. He hesitated for a moment before reaching down to her.

  None in our retinue knew how to speak their language. One of their merchants spoke our language haltingly, and he was whisked to the front. Soon a dialogue began between Khenemet, Buikkhu and the merchant, who then stopped to decipher their words for our respective Kings. The merchant made it clear that the first order of business was to be a mid-day meal. While our sailors and soldiers stayed behind to eat on their own from the stores on our boats, the rest of us followed their King and Queen through the dense vegetation to their village, which sat less than a hundred cubits from the shore.

  The village was composed of a semi-circle of huts, each of which was perched on stilts cut from the trunks of trees and buried in the sandy soil. Each hut was round and made of branches woven tightly together in a walled circle. The roofs were unusual to the eyes of a Kemian. They were rounded, as if someone had cut a gigantic melon in half and simply sat it upsid
e-down atop the walls. Some of our merchants pointed to them with interest as we were led to the village. The King’s hut, easily twice the size of the others, was located in the center of the village. Women and children peeked out from the huts’ entrances.

  In the center of the semi-circle a huge fire pit sat, with five cooks, obviously slaves from the same tribe as the chair carriers, standing around it. A spit ran the length of the pit and skewered upon it was the skinned carcass of a large animal. Two of the cooks, sweating profusely in the heat, turned the animal slowly. Ringed around the edges of the fire pit were the skulls of a dozen monkeys, roasting slowly. One of the cooks tended the skulls, using two sticks to lift and turn them every so often. Various vegetables were arranged on large leaves, having completed their cooking and were waiting to be served.

  Woven grass mats were arranged in a circle around the fire pit and we were shown where to sit. On one side all the Kemians sat and on the other the Pwenetians. In the middle sat our Kings. The Queen had retired to her hut.

  The smell of the food caused my stomach to growl uncontrollably. One of their shamans stood and blessed the food we were about to eat. Not to be outdone, Khenemet stood and also recited a blessing, eliciting smiles from their King, who pointed at Khenemet’s robe and shook his head in approval. With the blessings over, the feasting began.

  Kemians are not used to eating large quantities of meat, but for the Pwenetians meat was their main source of food. The cooks dismounted the animal carcass from the spit and carried the beast to Qa’a, who looked up questioningly. He turned to Khenemet, who was also at a loss for what to do. Finally, their King motioned the cooks to bring the carcass closer to him and he reached out with both hands and simply tore a chunk of meat from the animals hind quarter and began to devour it. Juices ran down his chin and dripped onto his chest. Qa’a, Khenemet and Buikkhu laughed and when the carcass passed them they did not hesitate. Soon only the rib cage of the animal was left, as we picked the bones clean of the delicious meat.

  Next came the vegetables, colorfully arranged on wide leaves and placed upon woven platters. There was a root vegetable that had a skin around it and when broken open had an orange, fleshy meat inside. The Pwenetians drizzled honey over it and we Kemians marveled at its sweet, nutty, satisfying taste.

  Finally, with much fanfare, the King stood and said some words to the assembled group. He pointed to the monkey heads, smiling. The cooks placed one of the skulls on a platter and brought it before their King, who stood before Qa’a. Their King knelt down and lifted the top of the skull off the head. Steam wafted out and their King leaned over to inhale it. After expressing his satisfaction, their chief shaman brought over two golden utensils, giving one to each King. The Pwenetian King dipped his into the skull and brought forth a chunk of the meat. He held it up for all to see, again inhaled its aroma, and then slid it into his mouth, savoring it, tilting his head right and left, as if it were a gift from the gods. He pointed his utensil to Qa’a, urging him to do the same.

  In his defense, I will state for the holy scrolls that Qa’a had, since childhood, spent much time in the Royal menagerie, where he was particularly fond of the playful monkeys brought back from lands to our south. He even had a favorite monkey for which Semerkhet had his jewelers fashion a gold collar. That most fortunate animal was constantly by Qa’a’s side during his youth. The monkey was frequently preoccupied, playing with Qa’a’s side braid, pulling on it, swatting it, and chewing on it. To say that Qa’a loved that animal would be like saying that Horus was merely a bird.

  And so, their King knelt with his gold utensil pointed toward Qa’a. Then he pointed to Qa’a’s utensil, miming that Qa’a was to also indulge in this special treat. Yet all that Qa’a could do was to stare at the King’s face, aghast. He looked at the dish before him and swallowed hard.

  One of the cooks now stood in front of me and his dark features lit a spark within me. Without thinking, I asked him in what I hoped was his language whether he spoke the language of the tribes that the great shaman Meruka and Nekau had come from. He immediately turned toward me, and with the look of surprise still on his face, he nodded. Having studied their language from the holy scrolls left by Meruka, I asked if he would interpret something to the King. Wide-eyed, he nodded again.

  In another moment, the cook approached their shaman and, with head lowered, spoke to him in hushed tones. The shaman looked from the slave to me. I nodded my approval. He then reached out and touched the King’s arm and spoke some words to him. Slowly, the King withdrew the utensil and placed it in the hands of his shaman. A crisis in protocol had been averted.

  “How did you know his language?” Buikkhu later asked me.

  “I took a chance that he was from the same ancestral area of our black priests on Abu Island. I truly did not expect him to understand me.”

  “And you know their language? They themselves speak only Kemian,” Khenemet noted. Qa’a sat in a chair next to Khenemet.

  “Fortunately, they still sometimes speak their ancestral language amongst themselves. I studied Meruka’s and Nekau’s scrolls as a young priest and I am able to practice the language when I have had contact with our black priests.”

  “It is of no matter,” Qa’a interjected. “You did well, teacher. I thought I was about to gag. How barbaric these people are!”

  “Perhaps,” Buikkhu said, “but surely no more barbaric in their foods than other people we trade with, people who eat insects or intestines, or the large rats that infest their villages and marshes. Each people think their foods are the best.”

  “Still, I’ll stay with Kemian foods,” Qa’a said with some finality.

  Every day of the next ten-day was devoted to work. I was kept busy serving as an interpreter, as was the Pwenetian merchant who spoke bits and pieces of Kemian. We hustled from merchant to merchant, as cargo was taken off our ships, sampled and then bartered for Pwenetian goods. In one set of trades, in particular, Khenemet was directly involved, for securing an abundance of frankincense and myrrh, critical for rituals in our temples, was his top priority. Under the persuasion of Khenemet and Buikkhu, Qa’a had released an entire boatload of goods from his royal workshops for this purpose. The two priestesses who accompanied us also bartered for frankincense and myrrh, but they also traded in strange herbals which they said would be used for perfumes and unguents and medicines.

  Some five days after the start of bartering, the second set of boats and merchants appeared in the harbor, brought by the contingent of soldiers that Qa’a had sent back from the site of the storm. The priests of Nekhen, having been told of our plight, immediately put together a second, smaller expedition that would augment ours. We were pleased to see their arrival. Aside from additional soldiers, we knew by then that we had a ready market for all the goods we wished to sell or barter.

  The Pwenetians, for their part, had done well. Once they determined what it was that we wanted, they sent runners to nearby tribes and secured all manner of goods, profiting from their role as middlemen. Piles of ivory tusks were heaped on one side of the harbor. Baskets full of gold stood ready for trade. Tree trunks, dark and richly grained, were carefully stacked on the sand. On blankets, the skins of leopards, lions, zebras and other exotic animals were spread, ready for our merchants to examine for imperfections. In the village itself, pens had been erected to hold wild animals that we would take back for the menageries of the King and his Royal family.

  That first night, we had a gathering for the new arrivals in the large tent that had been erected on the sandy beach. The Pwenetians, we discovered, were particularly fond of our beers, some of which were produced by Horus priests near to the Temple in Nekhen. As the groups mingled and talked, one of the new arrivals, a young man from Nekhen, no more than a few years older than Qa’a, broke away from his fellow merchants and approached Qa’a. Khenemet quickly came between them.

  “King Qa’a, allow me to introduce you to Nomti, a young merchant from Nekhen. I know his fam
ily well.” The portly Nomti bowed low before Qa’a. “His father successfully ran our temple’s brewery business for many years. Sadly, Nomti wants no part of it.”

  “And why not, Nomti?” Qa’a asked the smiling man. “It is a profitable business, is it not?”

  “Oh, I suppose it is, Master, but it does not excite me, not at all.”

  “I shall leave you two to discuss business. I must greet some of the others.”

  “Besides” Nomti continued as if Khenemet had not said a word, “I dislike dealing with these priests.” Qa’a shot a glance at Nomti and burst out laughing.

  “Nor do I, Nomti, nor do I!”