Kingmaker And The Scribe

Chapter 6

6

We name our daughter Masika, a child born of the rain. She has now lived for three seasons of the rain and today Masika is accompanying me as we walk to visit Ibiaw. He has sent a message through one of the village children who carry such words that he has news to share with me.

“Audax, my friend. Please come and sit with me in the courtyard where the sun will warm us.” He turns to Masika, standing close by my thigh. “Masika, you are as beautiful as your mother. Thank the gods, you did not receive your father’s nose,” He laughs when Masika glances up at me and squeezes her own little nose.

“And how goes your wife?” he continues.

Chara has birthed another child, a son, who when it is time for the naming ceremony, we will call Jabari, one who is brave. This child was born at the time of harvest and still suckles at his mother’s breast.

“My wife and son are well. She sends her greetings.”

Eboni, who has brought cups of beer and dates stuffed with goat cheese, sits down beside her husband. Like ducklings, their two sons follow their mother into the courtyard and sit cross-legged beside their father.

We gossip for a time about the harvest—one of the best they say—and rumors about the new stone baths the pharaoh plans to add to the palace compound. As we talk, I can see Ibiaw is more animated than usual and lights dance in his eyes.

“So, you have news to share?” I ask. “You are like a bee watching the honey overflow the comb.”

“Yes, news. As you know, Father has not been well.”

“That is what you have told me,” I say and send a silent prayer to the gods. “I pray his health improves.”

“Thank you. His spirit is strong, and he tells me he is not yet ready to travel to the underworld. But…” He shrugs one shoulder and continues.

“Father has been tasked by the pharaoh himself to build the new baths. He has already designed it and arranged for stones to be brought here. With his confinement, I am going forth with the plans. Except,” he holds up one finger and I see the light has returned to his eyes. “I wish to amend the plans as such.”

Ibiaw unrolls a papyrus and sets stones on the corners to keep it flat to the ground. The baths have high domed ceilings, one space devoted to the water itself, and another to an area where curved lounges will sit. Massive columns hold up the roof and I can see in the drawing they have been painted with scenes of life in the kingdom. Over the middle of the water, the bath is open to the sky, and Ibiaw has drawn tall urns with flames that will light the space at night. I have never seen anything so wondrous. I tell him as much.

“I have never seen anything like this. It will truly be a gift fit for a pharaoh.”

“Yes,” he comments. “Father is impressed with the changes. I meet with the royal court when the sun rises tomorrow.”

“The royal court?” I exclaim. The pharaoh and his wife live apart from villagers who live outside the walls. I have never seen them since we arrived although I have heard of their hunts and have seen the majestic boats, they used to travel the river.

“Yes,” Ibiaw says again.

Masika becomes restless beside me. She has played with Ibiaw’s sons many times, and I can see they are eager to explore.

“Come,” Eboni says and motions the children to follow her.

I have worked beside Ibiaw since Chara and I arrived in the city, arranging for the workers and supplies and tallying the day’s activities and costs. With this change, I wonder if my service will continue or he will have one of the officials assist him. I start to ask just that when he speaks.

“You, my friend Audax, have been a help, and I respect our friendship.”

I nod, unsure where the conversation will go.

“I will need such a trusted assistant in this new adventure.”

My heart lifts.

“I see you smile. Does that mean you will continue to assist and keep my records?” he asks.

“I will,” I agree.

“Good, then we will meet before tomorrow’s sun and make our way to the palace of the pharaoh.”

The next day we start out as the sun begins to throw a welcome to the new day. The palace walls, covered with white clay that captures the rose and yellow of dawn, awe me. The high walls, of course, are always a presence but this day—with anticipation of a look inside rarely viewed—they seem to glow with promise.

At the dinner meal the evening before, I had told Chara about Ibiaw’s plans and the next morning’s visit. She clapped her hands excitedly. “Tell me everything about the inside,” she ordered when I told her we would be entering the compound. “I hear the walls are adorned with the most brilliant scenes of royal life and there are striped tiger skins to warm the cold nights. Everywhere there are mosaics and bright rooms.”

I clasp her to me, mostly to stop the talking. I fear that too much of this will anger the gods and they will bar our entrance.

“I will tell you,” I whisper into hair mussed by the day, “but say nothing more for now.”

The inside of the pharaoh’s compound leaves me with mouth agape and without words. Ibiaw, too, for once cannot convince words to pass his teeth. A servant leads us through a long hall lined with statutes and across mosaic floors in intricate designs. We travel along walkways and through courtyards, some with plants and one with a fountain that cools the air. Still we walk. Finally, we reach heavy doors guarded by stone creatures with the faces of men but with the bodies of beasts.

We enter and take our place near a group of men dressed in richly decorated clothing. On a raised dais at the end of the great room sit the thrones of the pharaoh and his great royal wife. Servants attending to them make sure they bow low as they serve food and drink and stir the warm air with fans. Beside the dais are guards who stand stoic and watchful. When it is our turn, we are motioned forward, and we kneel to honor the living gods.

I am glad the presentation takes time, and my forehead must touch the floor in the bow, because it gives me time to gather my thoughts and veil my surprise. The paintings of the royal family that adorn state buildings reveal them as majestic: tall with supple limbs and unblemished skin. I cannot reconcile these images with the pharaoh and his wife sitting on their elaborate thrones.

Both have pale skin, not surprising since husband and wife are also brother and sister. He is soft and his belly protrudes over the top of his kilt. He leans to one side as if his headdress is heavy, but to me, it appears his back is crooked. His wife, the queen, is not as fat but one eye wanders differently than the other as if it seeks something in the shadows. The eye that does focus on Ibiaw as he explains the plans, however, is shrewd and she moves her gaze between her husband and a tall dark man with curly hair like Eboni who rests on a low chair beside them.

“The son of my mother’s sister,” the pharaoh explains of the curly-haired man. He does not much resemble his cousins and I wonder if this young man was a product of marriage or by one of the aunt’s consorts.

While the king and queen eat bread dipped in honey held before them by kneeling slaves, the cousin listens and asks questions of Ibiaw. The pharaoh’s eyes droop after a while but the queen listens intently, her one good eye shifting back and forth between my friend and her cousin.

Ibiaw stops talking. The king is asleep, dribble sliding from one corner of an open mouth. The queen is studying the plans again.

The cousin looks to his queen who nods her head once. She nudges her husband-brother.So it shall be,” the pharaoh declares after he awakes, and we are ushered out of the room.

Chara will not believe me, I think, as the guards lead us back through rooms and courtyards to the place where the baths will be built.

There we meet the unnamed cousin again. “Here, I will show you where the baths are to be built,” he tells Ibiaw and leads us to a large empty area inside the compound walls.

“Workers will remove the outer wall so that the baths can overlook the great river,” he tells us, pointing in that direction.

The royal compound is built on a rise so it will not flood when the rains come. It gives a view of both the river and beyond to the sandy hills on the other side. Ibiaw walks the site looking north and south and then to the east and west. From the intent look on his face, I suspect he is revising the plans again to take advantage of the view, and the morning light.

“Your father has begun the arrangements for the workers and stone?” the cousin asks Ibiaw.

“He has.” Then as if just realizing I was there, turns to me. “My friend Audax will be assisting. He knows measurements and will record each day’s activities.”

The royal cousin gives me an appraising look. I stand taller and do not seek his eyes as a sign of respect.

“We have scribes who can make a record of this,” he tells Ibiaw.

“Yes, but Audax’s writing is easy for me to understand. I trust his calculations and we have been friends since boyhood.” His mouth widens. “I saved the boy from the asp.”

Ibiaw tells the story ending with, “my spear was true, and the serpent died pinned to the sand.”

“Ah,” the royal cousin agrees, and like that, I am approved to be the keeper of the records.