A Matter of Degrees

by Alex Marcoux

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lukeman grew into a strong and handsome man. He demonstrated an uncanny knowledge of the mysteries. The other priests were envious of his ability to grasp the complex concepts of sacred geometry, divine wisdom, and spiritual enlightenment. He advanced quickly and, with the endorsement of Kek, became the youngest Hem Neter of Memphis. As the High Priest, Lukeman acted as the chief ceremonialist in all the processions, unless, of course, the pharaoh desired to preside.

  It was a festival day honoring Ptah, universal architect god, patron of masons, and the great god of Memphis. During this celebration, nobody worked, not even the servants. The smell of incense filled the air. The statue of Ptah, veiled from common eyes, was paraded through the courtyard. Lukeman led the procession, while other priests fanned around the statue, protecting Ptah from Ra’s sunrays with ostrich plumes. The Kher-Heb, or lector priest, followed Lukeman, carrying a sacred book on his shoulder. The procession reached the temple in the courtyard and the statue of Ptah was set on the altar where Lukeman performed the ritual for all people of Memphis to observe.

  Sometime later, the scent of roasted gazelle and baked bread replaced the odor of incense. Laughter, rather than chanting, was heard throughout the courtyard. And instead of water streaming from ritual vessels for libation offerings, pitchers of beer ran copiously through the crowd.

  In the midst of the festivities, Lukeman strolled through the crowded courtyard beside his dear friend, Asim. Since Asim had found Lukeman near death, twelve years earlier, their friendship had been unending. Asim and his family were Lukeman’s family.

  “My, how things have changed for you,” Asim said as he sauntered a step behind Lukeman, “from kitchen worker to high priest, responsible for the god’s needs and salvation of Memphis.”

  “I am still the same person,” Lukeman slowed so his friend walked beside him.

  Asim was so proud of Lukeman. He smiled. “In some ways you are the same.”

  Just barely above the rhythm of the crowd, a woman called out. “Father?”

  Asim and Lukeman stopped. They turned toward an approaching young woman. Her long, white dress emphasized her shapely figure and reminded Lukeman of the seasons that had passed. Her light brown eyes were wide, bright, and playful. She hugged Asim, and then turned toward Lukeman. “Lukeman, how are you?”

  Lukeman hadn’t seen Jamila in months. With each passing encounter, he marveled at her beauty. He smiled. “I am very well, Jamila. And how are you this day?”

  “Very well.” Jamila looked at Asim. “Father, Mother would like to show you some baskets. She’s on the south side of the courtyard.” She pointed across the square.

  Asim’s eyes met Lukeman’s. “Would you excuse us?”

  “Can’t Jamila walk with me a little? I haven’t seen her in months.” Although his words were for Asim, Lukeman watched Jamila.

  “That would be up to Jamila.” Uncharacteristically, Asim turned and left them.

  Jamila hesitated, then walked with Lukeman.

  “I don’t see you often, anymore,” Lukeman said. “I realize that I’m at the temple from time to time, but when I’m home,” his eyes met hers, “you’re usually away.”

  “You are a busy man, now that you are the Hem Neter,” she said distantly.

  “I liked it when we shared more time together.”

  “Things are different now.” There was distance in her tone.

  Lukeman sensed her detachment. “Are you avoiding me?”

  The courtyard was bustling with activity. Jamila knew that this was not the place to have a personal discussion with the Hem Neter.

  Mindful of eyes on both of them, she bowed. “Perhaps we can speak about this another time.”

  “Walk with me, tonight, after sunset.”

  Jamila hesitated. “I’m sorry, Lukeman, I cannot. I have things I need to tend to.”

  Lukeman stepped closer to Jamila. “I will call upon you after sunset.” He was serious, and then he softened with a smile. “I hope you will join me.”

  Jamila avoided eye contact. “I’ll see what I can do.” She slipped into the crowd.

  Lukeman watched her disappear into the festivities. Thoughtful, he moved through the crowd, returning greetings and good wishes, As the Hem Neter, he was well known, and since he lived among the working class, he was well liked. To many, he represented hope. He nodded, smiled, or expressed words of comfort as he passed the common people. For those who needed healing, he reached for them, channeling the universe’s energy. Without judgment, he trusted the cosmos to send the force to the life dimension in need, whether physical, mental, or spiritual.

  Lukeman had just finished comforting an older woman. He backed into the crowd, turned, and saw her. He stood motionless, searching her familiar eyes. Silently, they remained face-to-face. Although he had seen her from afar over the years, they hadn’t been within an arm’s length of each other in over twelve years.

  Tears of joy formed. The moment he opened his arms, she nestled against his chest, and he held her silently. “My Dalila! How are you?” He whispered.

  Dalila withdrew from her brother’s arms and smiled. “Lukeman. I am so proud of you. For everything you have achieved.” She slipped her arm under his, and rested her other hand on top of his forearm.

  Dalila had grown into a striking woman. The resemblance to their mother was uncanny. Even the jewels that adorned her neckline reminded Lukeman of Eshe. With a finger he stroked a familiar gem hanging from her neck. His eyes darted to her eyes.

  As if understanding his question, she nodded. “It was mother’s.” She took his hand in hers. The siblings recalled memories of their mother. For Lukeman, it was mixed emotion without closure.

  “Are the two of you finished?” a young man asked with a nasal voice.

  Lukeman had been so distracted at stumbling upon his sister he hadn’t realized that she had an escort. A young man possessively attached his arm to her waist. At first Lukeman didn’t recognize his half-brother; then he saw Oba’s eyes. “Zuka?” Lukeman asked.

  “Yes, it is I, Lukeman.” Zuka turned to his sister, “Come, Dalila. Let us go.”

  “Zuka, give me a moment.”

  Zuka faltered, then he moved away from his siblings in a huff.

  Lukeman was sure that Zuka couldn’t hear them above the crowd’s noise. “You…and Zuka?” He didn’t believe it, but he had seen Zuka had put his arms around her.

  Dalila nodded. “Yes. We will marry after Shemu, our harvest. It’s been arranged by Father.”

  Lukeman wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Sadness? Anger? Or was it jealousy? “I’m sorry, Dalila. I guess I should have expected it, but somehow, it is a shock.”

  “You know Father believes it is critical to maintain the bloodline.” Dalila’s eyes were on Lukeman’s. “Over the years, I had hoped you would have returned for me.”

  Lukeman smiled. What could he say to her? His eyes wandered to his half-brother. He was much shorter than Lukeman, and much thinner. Compared to Lukeman’s developed pectorals, he had a sunken chest. The young man was clearly annoyed that he was waiting on Dalila. He stood arrogantly with his nose in the air, ignoring the commoners as they passed between them, enjoying their day of pleasure.

  He sighed, took Dalila’s hand, and moved to Zuka where he embraced his brother. “It is nice to see you, Zuka. How old are you, now? Sixteen?”

  Zuka huffed. “I’m seventeen.”

  “Seventeen? When are you starting the mystery schools?”

  “Before peret, before the fields are sowed.” Zuka’s hand possessively took hold of Dalila’s. “We are also to be married next year.”

  Lukeman’s heart ached, but he forced a weak smile. “Congratulations, Zuka. I wish both of you much happiness.”

  * * *

  That evening was perfect. The hot sun of Ra had long set, and the moon god, Thoth, provided sufficient light. Deep in thought, Lukeman sauntered the narrow passageway that divided the dwel
lings. He approached the familiar door. He had been here so many times, and knew he was always welcome. He knocked.

  Moments later Asim opened the door. “Lukeman.” Asim uncharacteristically avoided eye contact and gestured for Lukeman to enter. The men moved through the stall into the middle room. Asim’s home was less cramped now that his sons had moved out.

  Something didn’t feel right to Lukeman. This was the second time his friend had treated him distantly that day. “Asim, is everything all right?”

  Asim hesitated, and then he stuck his head in the back room entry. “Jamila?”

  Jamila appeared, but as her father had done, she evaded eye contact with Lukeman. She didn’t acknowledge him; rather, she exited through the stall.

  Lukeman shot a questioning look at Asim, hoping for some answers to their peculiar behavior.

  “Good evening,” Asim said and retreated to the kitchen.

  * * *

  Lukeman watched Jamila as she walked toward the Nile. He trailed her, trying to sort out why his extended family was acting so detached from him.

  Jamila knew Lukeman was following her. When she reached the riverbank, she stopped, allowing him to draw near.

  He stopped short by a man’s length. “Are you well?” Her eyes met his and he knew something was amiss. “Tell me, Jamila. What is wrong?” He stepped closer.

  “Lukeman…” Jamila stopped. She searched for the right words, but the only thing that left her mouth was, “I cannot see you. We should not be seen together.”

  Lukeman, now close to her, eyed her. He felt her pain, but was confused by it. “So…you are avoiding me.” He reached for one of her hands. It was soft and warm. “What happened?”

  Jamila mustered up every ounce of strength she could find. “We are of two worlds. You are the Hem Neter and I am a servant’s daughter. You know that spending time with me could only bring you pain.”

  “Jamila, we are friends. A title will never change my friendship with you. I will always value it, as well as your father’s.”

  Although Lukeman was undoubtedly brilliant, he was naive regarding matters of the heart. Sensing this, Jamila didn’t know what else to say.

  Lukeman changed the subject, “Can we walk for a little?” He led her down the riverbank. Both, so preoccupied with their own thoughts, failed to notice the exquisiteness of the moon’s reflection in the streaming water. At last, he broke the silence. “I saw my sister at the festival today.”

  Jamila sensed he needed to talk. She stopped. “And?”

  “I was reminded of a sacrifice she has made, because I left home. And I’ve been troubled by that.”

  “What sacrifice?”

  “If I had stayed,” his eyes darted to the river, “Dalila and I would have married. I would eventually have become the vizier. But now…she is to wed my half-brother.”

  “Are you sad that she is marrying someone else? Or are you sad that you have chosen a life of celibacy?”

  Lukeman smiled. His queries exactly! He had spent so much time debating this philosophical subject matter. As a priest, he had been required to be celibate during his monthly temple shifts, because of ritual purity. The prevailing acceptance of marriage for high priests seemed contradictory to him. As a high priest, responsible for three services each day, where ritual purity was essential, celibacy seemed to be the only option. How could he be married and not copulate? How other priests had dealt with marriage and celibacy was their matter. It was too duplicitous for him. Besides, his clairvoyant visions always lacked female companionship. This was his best indicator that he was not meant to have a wife, and celibacy was his only choice.

  “You are very wise, Jamila. The same questions pester me.”

  “I know we’ve never talked about this, but why did you leave the Great House?” Her robe fluttered in the gentle breeze, and the moonlight revealed her feminine figure.

  Lukeman closed his eyes, recalling the horrid memories. “When I was a boy, my mother fell in love with a servant. My father discovered it and punished her. I believed she had been sent away. But for six years, he held her captive in a dungeon cell, here, in Memphis. In her dying moments, my father sent me to her. She died a slow and painful death. Alone.”

  Lukeman opened his eyes and Jamila saw his hatred. “But you were with her, when it mattered.” Her words were gentle and sensing his pain, Jamila impulsively took Lukeman’s hand.

  He felt the warmth of her energy radiate from her core.

  “I am so sorry for bringing up these memories.” Without warning, Jamila wrapped her arms around his hard body. She held him, feeling his pain. Then she withdrew and whispered, “You need to let go of the hatred, Lukeman. It will kill you.”

  Lukeman knew she was right. He smiled sadly. “How did you become so wise, my little Jamila?”

  But Jamila was not so little anymore. Lukeman’s eyesight wandered over her face. She had the most intense eyes he had ever seen, and the moonlight reflected in them luminously. She was indeed stunning. His eyes strayed to her full lips. Without contemplating what was happening, he drew to her mouth, and they kissed. Fervently, his lips parted and his tongue slipped alongside hers. As the flesh in their mouths met, their souls touched.

  Suddenly, Jamila backed away, her hand over her mouth.

  “I’m so sorry, Jamila,” he whispered hoarsely. How could this have happened? This was his best friend’s daughter, and his thoughts were so impure. “Forgive me,” he hung his head. “It will never happen again. You have my word.”

  Emotion overtook Jamila. “This is why we should not be together, Lukeman,” Tears swelled in her eyes. “It is too hard to be your friend. I’m not a little girl anymore. I am a woman. My feelings for you could beget trouble.”

  “Feelings?”

  “All those years…getting to know you…friendship, companionship,” she sobbed, “of falling in love with you.” Tears streamed down her face. “Father and I have spoken of this.” She backed away. “Please do not call upon me anymore. It hurts too much, Lukeman.” She turned and scurried off.

  Lukeman watched her go. “What have I done?” he whispered. He was confused. Could he have feelings for this woman? For a second he pondered the adverse reaction of the pharaoh if he learned Lukeman was seen with a servant’s girl. He shook the thought from his head. He had made a commitment to become the Hem Neter, and had dedicated himself to a life of service. He knew his soul’s purpose was to provide for the spiritual needs of Memphis. As he watched Jamila’s silhouette disappear into the shadows, he knew these corporeal feelings betrayed his divine aspirations.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Lukeman put time and distance between himself and Jamila. Temporarily, he left his dwelling and lived at the temple, seeking comfort through meditation. He realized how insensitive he had been to continually seek Jamila’s friendship, placing her in a painful situation. He tried to pinpoint over the years when her feelings became more complicated. This is how he realized that his feelings went beyond friendship. Through meditation and prayer he convinced himself that his physical and emotional feelings for Jamila were immaterial, and he was to serve a higher purpose. By the time the fields were seeded, he returned to his humble dwelling, living again among the profane.

  Over the year, Zuka entered the mystery school. Although Zuka never showed interest in learning the mysteries, Kek took a personal interest in the vizier’s son. After the harvest, and from afar, Lukeman watched Dalila marry their half-brother. Lukeman’s interaction with the pharaoh increased dramatically. It was only a matter of time before he would be expected to have dealings with the vizier, his father.

  The Royal Offering ritual was performed to soothe troubled spirits of necropolis, the city of the dead. The pharaoh anticipated the passing of his brother and Lukeman stood before the altar at the temple’s shrine performing the ritual. Facing the altar was a tomb with a statue of Ka. Baskets of fresh bread, pitchers of beer, and plates of roasted meat surrounded him. Lukeman with right
hand extended, chanted in a strange voice:

  Send forth thy voice to grant refreshment: she is given a thousand of bread, she is given a thousand of beer, a thousand of oxen and fowl, fine ointment and clothing. She is given all things good and pure, all things on which the Neteru live.

  Lukeman’s praying ceased, the sacrifices were presented, and the spirits had been appeased. The pharaoh thanked Lukeman for performing the powerful rite, then the king’s party left him. After meditating, Lukeman left the sanctuary and entered the hypostyle hallway. He walked the narrow passageway, bordered by tall pillars. It was dark and the limestone columns cast eerie shadows.

  “Lukeman. Let us talk.” A nearby voice startled him.

  Instinctively, his adrenaline spiked. From the corner of his eye, he saw a silhouette amid the pillars. Although it had been over thirteen years since he had spoken directly with him, Lukeman would never forget his father’s voice. He spoke calmly. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “You are now the prophet of the Neter, Lukeman. You are expected to interact with the Royal House regarding divinatory matters. You cannot hide from me forever.”

  “I am not hiding from you.” Lukeman’s fists were clenched as he tried to control his caged anger.

  “For the good of Egypt—move on. You are responsible for the spiritual needs of our land. You cannot serve Egypt if you refuse to speak to me.”

  “When I need to speak with the pharaoh, I will go directly to him.”

  “You will not,” Oba’s voice escalated. “You owe me and will show me respect.”

  “I owe you nothing. I show respect to those who deserve it.”

  “You owe me everything. How do you think you got into the mystery school? How do you think you became Hem Neter?’’

  Lukeman tried to grasp the implication of his questions. Surely his father could not have manipulated his life. “You’re lying. I earned Hem Neter.”