Khamsin, the Devil Wind of the Nile-Book
1
Every movie lately
seems to have “The Making of ...” clips. Well, here is a little insight into
“The Making of the Legends of the Winged
Scarab” series, Part 1.
With my historical saga, reaching back to 3080 BC,
the question was how much research a writer should do on his or her chosen era.
My answer: A lot. Next, how much “real history” should be incorporated into a
novel. I’d say, 10% (unless writers want to emulate James Michener – still one
of my favorite authors, by the way). These days, however, most of us must
remember, it’s fiction. Readers these days want to be entertained rather than
learn something.
As the premise for my conflict, I chose the strict laws of Ma'at - Ancient Egypt's "world order" that had to be strictly observed; those who failed could be punished by a horrible death.
When I started my research into Ancient Egypt (and
by that, I mean, really ancient), the biggest confusion was over city names. It
would have been easy to use Memphis, for instance. But that name – like most of
the commonly used ancient names – came from the Greeks, specifically the historian
Herodotus who described many of the wonders he found in Egypt during his visit around 490 BC. At the time,
Egypt was under Persian occupation in the 27th Dynasty - a full
three-thousand years after my story takes place
(during the 1st
Dynasty in the Old Kingdom).
Therefore, I resorted to
use the ancient Egyptian names (wherever I could find them). But, for my
readers, I enclosed an appendix with both names and a map in the hope this would
satisfy the historically curious. In recent years, Egypt
began to use Arabic names for its towns. Still, many of the tourist sites still
bear their familiar Greek names.
As to real people, I only used Aha, the Horus-King.
He is documented as the second king of the First Dynasty. Its first king and
founder of Egypt is usually said to have been Narmer (or Menes). There is also the
mysterious Scorpion King of Dynasty Zero. Egyptologists’ opinions on dates vary
greatly.
However, what “my” King Aha was or did stems solely
from the figment of my imagination (although, he really did have a son called
Djer; his successor).
The popular and entertaining astrophysicist Neil deGrasse
Tyson calls it “the Argument from Ignorance.”
However, I did have proof that Aha
was credited to have kept the newly unified kingdoms of Upper and Lower Egypt
together. Why? There are cartouches with him wearing the double crown indicating
both regions.
(Faience vessel fragment inscribed with the Horus-name Aha, on display at the British Museum)
And, of course, there is the dreaded khamsin (the devil wind of fifty
days), its choking red sand bringing death to those caught in the open.
Will it overcome our young lovers as they try to outrun their pursuers in a desperate
flight through the Wadi Hammamat. No longer awash, this arid gorge was already an
ancient trade route connecting the Nile to the Red Sea.
One of my biggest worry, however, was whether or not
there were donkeys at the time. You think that’s silly. But I poured over
volume after volume in hopes of finding a depiction of my desperately needed
flea-ridden ass (camels and horses were introduced only much later). Since donkeys
were used primarily by commoners and farmers, artists did not depict them on
tomb paintings and stone reliefs. At
last, I found one rare picture of the lowly donkey – sending up my thanks to
Horus. Phew.
I could now have my fictional King Aha (in disguise)
chafe his royal backside raw on a donkey. Perhaps he appreciated my ruse of
escape from enemies’ spies, for his real mummy was found buried with the
remains of ten donkeys to accompany him into the Afterlife. Would it have
mattered if wild asses had not yet been domesticated? Yes.
For instance, I read some Nile/Nefertiti novel in which the author describes a woman’s “strawberry-lips,” and “apricot-cheeks.” No strawberries. And precious apricots were brought in from Lebanon – in their dried form. Imagine a maiden’s puckered brown cheeks. Put me right off.
For instance, I read some Nile/Nefertiti novel in which the author describes a woman’s “strawberry-lips,” and “apricot-cheeks.” No strawberries. And precious apricots were brought in from Lebanon – in their dried form. Imagine a maiden’s puckered brown cheeks. Put me right off.
I didn’t want to make a mistake like that. Still, an
observant reader chided me for the use of royal “bark” instead of “barque.”
When I politely countered with an explanation about the 15th century
use of the Portuguese word “barque,” she graciously upped her review to a
glowing five stars. Needless to say, there was some private gloating on my
side. Mostly, though, it reinforced my belief that when in doubt, check and
double-check.
In the end, while Historical Fiction must ring true
to its time, it has to be readable. Loving or hating those characters, readers want
to care about them. Oh, and do we writers love to invent hateful people. They
are often the most intriguing of the bunch.
Take
my ugly vizier, Ebu al-Saqqara, for instance.
Lowly of birth, ambitious to the point of treason,
he is being interviewed by the
best-selling British author Helen
Hollick.
Read what my puffed-up Ebu al-Saqqara has to crow
about here:
http://devilwinds.blogspot.com/2018/10/king-ahas-malicious-vizier.html
http://devilwinds.blogspot.com/2018/10/king-ahas-malicious-vizier.html
(Note: All images - Public Domain)
