by Jerry Dubs
And then she screamed.
He entered her, violently and angrily, not as a husband who wants to create a child, but as a man with another man.
He pushed into her, she screamed again. “No, Nebka, it hurts,” she cried.
He pushed again. She tried to pull away, but he held her tightly.
And then, suddenly spent, he withdrew and turned away.
She gathered her gown and ran from his room. Wiping her eyes as she ran down the dimly lit hallway, she failed to see Kheti, his hulking presence withdrawn into a dark alcove, his eyes also filled with tears.
In the General's House
Hetephernebti knew that the great contending between the god Horus and his evil uncle Seth lasted eighty years. Everyone in the Two Lands knew the story.
And everyone in the Two Lands knew that Horus and Seth fought a great battle in the desert near the first stone-filled narrowing of the river. Re took Horus’ side in the battle, directing his fierce stare at Seth’s army. The heat and the light confused the men and they attacked each other instead of Horus’ men.
Horus won a great victory, but in the confusion, Seth escaped.
And everyone knew that later Horus and Seth fought underwater as hippopotami for three months without resolution. And they knew that much later Seth ambushed Horus as he slept and gouged out his eyes and that Hathor restored them with the milk of a gazelle.
Everyone in the Two Lands knew these stories as well as they knew the taste of their mother’s milk.
And everyone in the Two Lands knew that Re eventually commanded the warring gods to cease their battle. And so Seth invited Horus to his home to celebrate their new friendship, but instead of reconciliation, Seth attempted one last trick. He bragged to the other gods that he would perform the labor of a male on Horus, planting his seed in the unsuspecting boy and so demonstrate his right to the throne by raping his nephew.
Hetephernebti had heard this story. But it was one of a thousand stories about the gods that formed the religious universe of the Two Lands. She had thrilled at the courage of Horus, wept at the faithfulness of Isis and trembled in outrage over the unrelenting evil of Seth.
But she had never given much thought to exactly what Seth had tried to do to Horus.
Now she knew; it was what Nebka tried to do to her.
Did men regularly do that with one another? No, she didn’t think so. The story of Horus and Seth made it seem like violence, not love. And what she had felt was not love.
She longed for her mother’s wisdom, for Djoser’s open inquisitiveness. They would have helped her.
But she had only Ipwet and Iput, and Hetephernebti knew that if she talked with the sisters that rumors would soon spread. People would hear either of the queen’s reluctance or the king’s iniquity. No, she decided, she couldn’t talk with them.
The day after the attack there had been blood in her stool, but she was afraid to send for Hesire. The next day there was less blood and the soreness had diminished. She felt well enough to sit alone in the garden, trying to reconcile her dreams with her life.
She and Djoser had talked of the difference between wanting and having.
Always believing that he could solve every problem, Djoser had argued that with enough strength, skill, planning and desire he could achieve anything. Hetephernebti had argued that only the gods could have what they wanted. She told her younger brother that people, even strong, smart princes, had to learn to desire what was within their reach; a fish couldn’t grow legs, an ox couldn’t learn to soar, but he had just smiled his confident all-knowing smile.
And now he was dead and she needed to train herself to accept her new life.
She had wanted to be a queen and mother like her own mother had been. Then she had come to realize that what she truly wanted was to devote herself to the gods, to Re in particular.
Was this the path to that service? Was she like a flax plant, to be scutched and beaten before she was pure enough to serve the gods? Should she submit? Or was this is a test, an obstacle that she needed to overcome? Should she fight?
Now, on the third night after the attack, as she fell asleep she felt relieved that at least Kheti had not been sent to take her to her husband’s room. She had another night to think about her life and her dreams.
But her dream turned not to her own life but to Djoser. She dreamed of him not as the boy who had left her but as a man. She dreamed that like Osiris, he was resurrected from the dead. She dreamed that like Horus he fought to claim the throne that was rightfully his. She dreamed that he released her from her marriage and that he told her that she was free to serve the gods.
As she dreamed a peace fell over her and in her sleep she knew that she was dreaming but she was sure that the dream was a message from the gods. Somehow it would come to pass.
And then she awoke with a rough hand over her mouth.
In the dim light she saw that Kheti was kneeling beside her, his face close to hers, and as she twisted to free herself she heard his soothing whisper.
“I’m not here to hurt you, my queen. Please, please don’t scream.”
She nodded against his hard hand and he released her.
“I relieved Kebu, your guard. It is the sixth decan, my queen.”
Hetephernebti shook her head, feeling the peace of her dream leave her, replaced by dread.
“King Nebka has left the palace,” Kheti said.
“Left?”
“Yes,” Kheti nodded. “Just as he did last night.”
“So he hasn’t gone, I mean, departed to visit one of the nomes?” Hetephernebti said.
“Oh,” Kheti said. “No, he is here in Waset. I mean he sneaked out of the palace.”
She shook her head again. “I don’t understand,” she said.
“I followed him last night,” Kheti said.
“Why?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I didn’t mean to, my queen. I mean, I didn’t know who it was. I was outside and I saw someone slipping from shadow to shadow and I wondered who it was. I started to follow them and then I realized it was King Nebka, but he was alone. So I thought I would follow him to protect him and then after awhile I wondered where he was going that he didn’t take any guards with him.”
Hetephernebti was fully awake now. She stood and walked to one of her tables where a water bowl was kept. She scooped a cup of water from the bowl and drank. As the water soothed her dry throat she realized that she hadn’t limped when she walked.
She looked at Kheti, his open face showing an intense anxiety; and she realized that again the guard was trying to tell her something in his bashful, hesitant way. She took another drink and then held out a second cup to the stocky guard. He shook his head.
“Where did the king go?” she asked.
“I didn’t know the house, it is near the river, but up on a small embankment, to protect it from the floods. The houses are bigger there and farther apart. Down beyond the market.”
Hetephernebti knew which neighborhood he meant. Wakare and other court officials lived there, along with some of the wealthier merchants. She realized suddenly that she didn’t know where Kanakht lived. Perhaps he never left the palace.
She nodded to Kehti. “I know where you mean.”
He smiled thankfully.
“What happened then?” she asked.
His smile turned into a frown.
“He didn’t go in through the door of the house. He slipped into the shadows beside the house. There are trees there. I waited and he didn’t come out, so I went in there, too, to make sure he hadn’t been attacked in the shadows. The side of the house is a solid wall. I followed it around to the back but I didn’t see the king. By the back window there was a small ladder. He must have used it to crawl through the window.”
Hetephernebti had trouble picturing Nebka outside the palace, walking alone through the night and especially climbing a ladder.
She couldn’t imagine why he would leave the palace alone.
<
br /> Did he have a lover? If he did, there was no reason for him to keep it a secret. He was king, he could have as many lovers and minor wives as he chose. The people of the Two Lands would only respect him more if he fathered many children.
Was he meeting a merchant? An emissary from another land? A spy?
She shook her head. There was no reason for him to meet anyone in secret.
And yet he was.
“I went back to the neighborhood today,” Kheti said. “It is the house of General Babaef.”
Hetephernebti walked to the window and looked out over the dark garden. There was so much that she didn’t know. She had lived in the palace all her life but she had no idea how things were done.
“I waited by the house last night. He didn’t emerge until the last decan before dawn,” Kheti said.
Looking into the garden, Hetephernebti saw how dark it was, almost impossible to see where the garden wall and sky separated. She tried to focus her thoughts.
General Babaef had been with the army when King Kha-Sekhemwy and Djoser were killed. She didn’t know much about him. Djoser had told her that he was a great planner and very exacting. The soldiers were warned that they had to hold their spears in their right hand, the tips pointed just a little to the right and a little forward when they stood for review before the general. Then as he passed they were to snap the spears back toward their chest. They had practiced it over and over.
She shook her head. Why was the king meeting secretly with the general? It made no sense.
She was tired of not knowing things but she didn’t know where to turn for answers. Wakare or Kanakht would never take the time to explain anything to her and she was afraid of Nebka. He had changed since their marriage, or perhaps she had never really known him.
She thought again of Djoser, her little brother who was filling her dreams and thoughts. What would he do? He would simply go there and find out for himself.
She turned to Kheti and said, “Take me there.”
***
Waset at night: Nut arching overhead was a bespangled dome of white jewels; the air, cooler as the moisture fell from it, was flavored with the smell of burning wood from evening cook fires; palm trees lost their jagged texture to the darkness and their towering fronds appeared as dark blades slicing into the night sky. There were no honking geese, no laughing children, no distant, comforting conversations.
Kheti had been nervous about leaving the palace with Hetephernebti, but once he had seen that she was determined to go to General Babaef’s house, he had nodded his head and reached for her hand.
They went out through the garden and walked past the pond to the most distant wall. Kheti pulled himself to the top of the wall and reached down for Hetephernebti’s hand. As she reached up to him she turned and looked back at the palace, picking out her own, dark window. It looked so small and distant, like the girl she had been just a few months ago.
Outside the garden wall, Kheti led her away from the market, taking a roundabout pathway toward the river.
“Some of the farmers sleep there,” Kheti told her, nodding toward the narrow streets that led to the market. “We’ll turn up that way when we get a few streets from the river,” he said.
“Are we staying away from the river because fishermen are sleeping there?” she whispered.
Kheti shrugged. “I was thinking more of the crocodiles. They are more active at night.”
“Here? In Waset?”
“Sure, they are everywhere, all up and down the river. They’re worse down in the delta. I’ve heard there are parts of the river there where you could walk from one side to the other by stepping on their backs.”
“No,” Hetephernebti said.
Kheti chuckled. “I don’t believe it either, but it’s fun to think about.”
“If you aren’t in the delta,” Hetephernebti said.
“Yes, if you’re not in the delta,” he agreed, thinking that there were different dangers here in Waset.
The longer they were in the open night of Waset the more nervous Hetephernebti grew.
She liked the structure of life in the palace and even more she longed for the ritual of temple life. She realized that without thinking about it, her resolve to enter the service of the gods had grown stronger and, as it did, her attachment to the life she was living grew more fragile. She felt her ka was already moving from this palace life, tugging her toward the temples.
But now she forced herself to follow Kheti’s broad back through the night.
“We’re almost there, my queen,” he said as he slowed and motioned for her to join him by a short, loose stone wall.
The road narrowed to little more than a path wide enough for two people to walk beside each other. There were more trees and shrubs and the air, saturated with moisture, seemed to tug at her.
Kheti pointed off the path to a darker valley of grass beside the road.
“There’s a canal here, it passes under a wooden bridge over there,” he pointed back to the road. “The general’s house is just beyond the canal, on the river side. We need to be very quiet now.”
Hetephernebti nodded.
“We’ll follow the wall of the house toward the river, then turn around to the back of it. There’s a window right around the corner. That’s where the king went last night.”
“You can wait here, I’ll go alone,” Hetephernebti said.
Kheti shook his head.
“I can be quieter by myself,” she said. She smiled at him and added, “Don’t worry, I won’t let a crocodile eat me.”
He grabbed her arm in his quarryman’s grip. Hetephernebti put her hand atop his. “Really, Kheti, let me go alone. If I feel threatened, I’ll shout for you. I’ll feel better if you’re out here. You can make sure no one comes out of the house and catches me.”
She heard him sigh deeply and his grip relaxed on her arm.
“I’ll be fine, Kheti,” she said with more bravery than she felt. Then she slipped into the shadows toward the house of General Babaef.
***
Hetephernebti shivered as she left the dusty street. She had never spent any time away from the palace without an escort, either Ipwet or another servant, and usually two palace guards. It was exciting and frightening to walk the deserted streets of Waset at night and now to leave the openness of the road for the trees beside General Babaef’s house.
She didn’t know what to expect or what she hoped to find, but she was tired of living in darkness. She pictured Re’s light falling on the Two Lands, bringing order and clarity and knowledge. That was what she sought.
Her hands found and followed the rough clay wall of the general’s house. The clay was warmer than the air around it as if the house was a living thing. The trees beside the house hid the moon and starlight and as Hetephernebti looked down toward her feet she saw only darkness. She lifted a foot and slid it slowly forward, then set it softly down on the sandy soil.
Step after cautious step she followed the side of the house, listening for voices, for footsteps behind her, for snakes and for scurrying of lizards or mice in the undergrowth.
As she neared the back wall of the house a soft glow from the rear window fell on the dark leaves of the trees, changing them from black to dark green. Hetephernebti smiled; the light brought truth to the darkness.
She moved more slowly now, straining to hear, careful to explore each step before setting down her foot.
Before she reached the corner she heard Nebka’s voice, an indistinct murmur, softer and gentler, different than she had ever heard it before, but definitely his voice.
She paused.
The murmur stopped and then turned to gasps, short, powerful pantings that grew faster and more urgent. She knew immediately that it was the sound of sex, Nebka was nearing the little death that Iput had re-enacted. So there is a mistress, she thought.
And I am an inconvenient wife.
Suddenly another voice joined Nebka’s, a deeper, hoarser panting.
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Hetephernebti crept to the rear corner of the house.
The sounds within gathered strength and speed, Nebka’s panting and the deeper gasping. Now more guttural and hoarse, growing in volume.
She turned the corner of the house. The window was less than an arm’s length away, the light brighter here. She leaned toward the light straining for an angle to see within the house.
At first she didn’t understand.
She was looking at a rapid bucking motion of bare skin, buttocks, larger than Nebka’s. Then she caught a glimpse of the back of Nebka’s head, his neck arched. Sweat filled the king’s face as he opened his mouth and growled.
The other man, who was kneeling behind Nebka, roared and shuddered. On his hands and knees facing away from the other man, Nebka shouted and then both men began to laugh as Nebka, the king of the Two Lands, and General Babaef, commander of the king’s army, collapsed together on the floor.
Hetephernebti stifled a gasp and leaned back against the wall, suddenly understanding everything.
Nebka needed to sneak away to the general’s house because the king couldn’t be seen as a lover of other men, he needed to be like Horus, not Seth. He needed to produce children. It didn’t matter that he found his pleasure with a man, his duty was to the Two Lands and to his wife.
The beer jars! She understood now, he needed to be released from the weight of his own expectations, from his shame.
She understood everything.
Nebka was as trapped in his role as king and husband as she was in hers as queen and wife. Compassion washed over her and she began to imagine how she and Nebka could come to an understanding, a loving compromise.
And then the lovers began to talk.
Seth the typhon
“You need to get her pregnant,” she heard General Babaef say.
“I don’t want to talk about it now,” Kebka said, his voice petulant. “Let’s just enjoy ourselves.”
