by Jerry Dubs
“He knew King Djoser’s father. He knew all about the Nubians and the land where gold rocks lay on the ground. But the gold, he said, is protected by giant beasts with white horns and others that are as tall as the tallest tree. He talked once with a man, blacker than the night, who had been in the cave where the river begins.”
Weneg smiled fondly and added, “But then he also claimed that he was by the river when Osiris and Seth battled as hippos.”
“Do you have family here?” Akila asked.
“I played in these streets as a boy. It was over there,” he pointed down the narrow street toward the river, “that I saw my first soldier. I knew that is what I wanted to be.” He grew silent as he looked at the deserted village.
“There was ma’at then,” he said, looking at Imhotep. “King Djoser was a god. You were building his great tomb. Boats filled the river, the marketplace was busy, the floods were full and the fields were green.”
Three crows started to caw as they took turns attacking a hawk, chasing it from their nest. Imhotep looked at the birds, their dark forms weaving through the sky as they swarmed around the larger bird. When he looked back at Weneg he saw hesitation on the young soldier’s face.
“I served under King Huni when he was called Siptah and he was a commander for General Khaba,” he said, his voice cowed.
Imhotep felt heat rush to his face at the mention of Khaba.
Head down, Weneg confessed, “I was at Zau.”
Akila looked at Hapu, wondering what was happening. Hapu stared at Imhotep, whose face was frozen as he remembered the bloody celebration of Neith and what had happened that night.
“I was one of the soldiers who escorted you to the temple,” Weneg continued, the words tumbling out in a rush of confession.
Imhotep had been marched between ranks of soldiers through the streets of Zau. Tjau had walked with him, silently sharing his father’s fears. And then they arrived at the temple where General Khaba and Merneith assassinated King Sekhemkhet. Tjau had recognized what was happening and tried to save the king. Restrained, Imhotep was unable to help his son.
Tjau had reached the king at the same moment the knife had entered King Sekhemkhet’s back. They had fallen together and Merneith had immediately shouted that Tjau had attacked the king.
And then ...
“I am sorry, Lord Imhotep,” Weneg said, “I saw it, too. I was one of the men restraining you. I saw Merneith and Khaba kill the king. And I saw ... ” his voice broke as he stifled a sob.
Shaking his head, Imhotep tried to ignore the memory of his son on the temple floor, his eyes filled with confusion and then pain as Merneith’s acolytes attacked him, driving their crude spears into his body.
He felt hands on his shoulders and realized that he had fallen and was sitting on the sandy road. Akila pulled him close and held him as he shivered from reliving his son’s murder. Looking up from Imhotep’s bowed head, Akila glared at Weneg, angry that he had rekindled this pain.
The soldier was crying also, standing with feet spread, his huge chest heaving as silent tears fell from his eyes.
“I never told anyone what I saw, Lord Imhotep. I was afraid. I was so afraid. I let them blame you and entomb you and I never spoke. Ma’at knows this. I have thought about this since we began our journey, always looking for signs that the Two Lands were not broken.
“But now, seeing my home deserted, my family gone. My heart is heavy and I know that Ma’at has fled the Two Lands. My silence five years ago was when it started.”
“You should have spoken, Weneg,” Hapu said with angry certainty. She stepped between the soldier and Imhotep. “You can’t stay silent. Lord Imhotep was wrapped and put in a tomb! If you see evil, you must speak! You can’t stay silent!”
“No,” Imhotep said softly. He looked up at Akila. “Help me to my feet,” he said gently.
Standing, he gave his staff to Akila and limped to Hapu. He rubbed her shoulder gently as he stepped past her to Weneg.
“The gods know what happened in the Temple of Neith, Weneg. They know that Merneith and Khaba acted against the Two Lands. Their kas will wonder Duat forever. The gods know that Tjau was innocent. He is living now in the Field of Reeds,” Imhotep said, standing in front of the soldier.
“But I didn’t speak,” Weneg insisted. “Hapu is right. It was wrong to stay silent.”
Imhotep thought of all the evil that men had done to one another and the fearful silence of people who saw the cruelty and didn’t speak: companions of schoolyard bullies afraid to speak because they might be excluded from a clique; sycophants willing to overlook anything to advance their careers; government clerks pretending not to hear malevolent policy discussion; accountants willingly balancing illegal transactions.
The silence was always driven by fear, fear for loved ones, fear of not having enough money, fear of losing a job, fear of being punished, fear of being outcast, fear of being persecuted, fear of going to an imaginary hell, fear of being beaten or killed.
Weneg was watching him now, unsure of what Imhotep would do. He believed that Imhotep was as much a god as King Djoser had been. After all he had been wrapped in the bandages of a mummy and laid in a sealed tomb, Weneg had witnessed it himself. And yet here he was, frail, yet alive; tired, yet commanding.
Imhotep took a step closer, opened his arms and pulled Weneg into an embrace. Weneg expected fire or the sting of blades or the deathly breath from the mouth of Sobek, instead he felt only the thin strength of a frail man and the warmth of a loving heart.
“I kept silent to protect Meryt and Maya,” Imhotep whispered to him. “If you feel need of my forgiveness, you have it, Weneg. I feel no ill will toward you and I will tell Thoth and I will tell Ma’at and I will tell all the assembly of gods that you have done me no wrong.”
- 0 -
Back on the river, Hapu and Weneg sat below the sail as they rowed. Bata, lying on his stomach, slept at the bow while Akila and Imhotep sat at the stern, looking at the passing land.
“That is why they love you, Tim,” she said in English.
His eyes on the desolate shoreline, Imhotep said in English, “It feels like we are the last people alive. You, Hapu, Bata, Weneg and myself. We are helping each other, foraging for food, taking turns rowing. It is easy and it is right. We should help each other, not hurt each other.”
“But none of us wants to be king,” Akila said.
“I know,” Imhotep agreed. “But if we kept adding to our group, one person at a time and we kept sharing everything ... ”
“Conflict would arise. Two people would decide they wanted the same thing, extra food or the youngest woman,” Akila said with a sigh.
“Lord of the Flies,” Imhotep said under his breath.
“You are wearing the kilt with the blue trim, Tim. You’re the king here. Bata, Weneg and Hapu will do whatever you ask. I will, too.”
Imhotep turned from watching the shore and looked at Akila. “I came here, found the time portal in the tomb in Saqqara because I was trying to find Brian and Diane. Then, things happened and I just went from moment to moment.”
“But,” Akila said, “each moment leads to an infinite number of paths, Tim. Because of who you are, you chose the moments that created this life and your choices affected the lives of everyone around you. Weneg believes you are a god. So does Hapu. Bata is sure of it. People who have only seen you from a distance, people who have just heard about you, you have affected all of them, too.”
She took his hand in hers. “And I think you’ve probably made this a better world.”
They sat silently for a few minutes and then Akila said, “But you can’t control it. So,” she swept her hand over her head to push aside hair that was no longer there, caught herself and smiled, “So, we’ll take each moment and try to step thoughtfully and carefully into the next moment.”
The Temple of Khnum
They passed Kom Ombo where the walls of the Temple of Sobek loomed over the western river
bank.
“Brian was tortured there,” Imhotep told Akila. “He was tied to a stone chair as bait for a crocodile that was being trained to attack King Djoser.” He shook his head, finding the words he had spoken nearly unbelievable.
“He saved my life at Saqqara,” he said after a moment. “Djefi was holding me hostage outside the tomb of Kanakht. There are these polished disks we use to reflect sunlight into the tombs. Anyhow, Brian threw one at Djefi. It sliced his spine.”
Imhotep stopped and shook his head, “It all seems like it happened to someone else.”
“We’re almost there,” Weneg said between strokes.
Looking upriver Imhotep saw a cone of ripples where the water converged after cutting around the rocky foundation of the island of Abu, home of the Temple of Khnum. The island was shaped like an elephant tusk. The tip pointed north toward the Two Lands. The thicker base of the shape was on the southern end of the island near the collection of boulders that made the river impassable and marked the southern edge of the country.
“There is a wharf on the eastern side of the island,” Imhotep told Weneg, pointing to their left as they approached the land.
The soldier let his oar drag in the water and the boat swung beneath him. When it was pointed up the eastern channel, he began to row again.
“Do you see anyone?” he asked Akila, who shook her head in response.
“I don’t either.”
The northern tip of the island held a triangular beach that tapered away into the water. Imhotep remembered it well from his first visit to the island.
Following the eastern channel they looked up at the river bank which was higher than the island. On the island side they passed a natural wall of smooth, rounded boulders. Green leaves from sycamore trees peeked over their tops.
“They say that Khnum lives in hidden caves beneath the island,” Imhotep told Akila, his excitement growing as they passed the boulders and he saw the island curve away to their right to reveal a gently rounded beach with several wooden piers.
Imhotep got to his feet and walked over to the short mast. Bata rose and joined him. “I can do this Lord Imhotep,” he said. He stretched his arms overhead and then to his side. “The muscles pull, but the pain is gone.” He leaned forward, a smile on his mouth and whispered loudly enough that all could hear him, “I think Akila’s heka is much stronger than yours.”
“It is the magical silver ring in her lip,” Imhotep whispered back just as loudly. “Without the ring, she is weak as a baby.”
“Let your oar rest in the water,” Weneg said to Hapu who was sitting beside him. She held the oar blade in the water, Weneg leaned back as he rowed and the boat swung sharply toward the island.
The sail flapped in Imhotep’s face as the boat came about. Imhotep pushed against the sail and then, nodding to Bata he knelt beside Weneg.
“We can put in there,” he said, pointing to the empty piers.
“Yes,” Weneg said.
“There should be boats here,” Imhotep said, voicing the concern they all felt.
- 0 -
“Weneg!” a man shouted as he jogged through the low scrub that lined the edge of the beach.
His back to the shore, Weneg shipped his oar and twisted around to see who had called his name. “Teta?” he called in answer.
“Who else?” Teta answered as he reached the edge of the wooden wharf. He squatted down and reached to grab the boat’s gunwale to hold it steady. He pulled it snug and Weneg handed him a rope to tie the boat fast to a post.
After the boat was secured, Teta offered Weneg a hand as he stepped to the wharf. The men hugged briefly and then turned to help the others from the boat.
“Bata!” Teta said as he helped him ashore.
“Yes, Teta, I live,” Bata said with a forgiving smile as he took the arm of one of the men who had left him behind with the archers.
“You were delirious ... ” Teta began.
Bata shook his head, dismissing Teta’s apology. “I would have slowed everyone. How are Meryt and Maya?” he asked.
Teta lowered his eyes in thanks. “They are well, Bata. They will be excited to see you, they’ve talked of you constantly.”
“How many of you are here?” Weneg asked.
Teta turned to help Akila from the boat.
“We weren’t sure you would find us here,” he said, not answering Weneg’s question.
“We saw a few rebel soldiers,” Weneg said, turning to spit his disgust, “if you can call them soldiers. A few children and old men. But then we saw no one. The towns are empty ... ”
“King Huni ordered them emptied,” Teta said, taking Hapu’s arm. “He wants the rebel army to dry up like water in a thirsty channel.”
Weneg nodded. “We put ashore above Waset with a company of archers.”
“Where is everyone?” Imhotep asked, waiting in the boat.
Teta helped him to the wharf and then said, “In the temple, Lord Imhotep.”
- 0 -
The Temple of Khnum sat on the southern end of the island, built there to welcome the rising waters of the annual flood. Each year when Sopdet appeared in the sky, all of the Two Lands looked to the Temple of Khnum to unleash the life-giving flood that would replenish the farm lands.
Despite its importance, the temple was small. A modest pylon with a wide entrance formed the front wall. The three side walls were lower, intended to do nothing more than enclose the large courtyard where ceremonies were held to appease Khnum, Hapi, Satet and any other gods who might help the river flood.
The back third of the temple was given over to rooms for the five priests who lived there, the inner temples where a golden statue of Khnum lived and a stone-lined, ninety-step staircase descending into the river that the priests used to measure the flood.
The western wall of the courtyard was lined with a series of storage rooms and guest rooms, all joined by an enclosed hallway that ran between them and the wall. The hallway was filled with a series of false doors intended to allow the gods to easily enter the temple grounds.
Imhotep found his excitement and his anxiety increasing with each halting step he took up the rutted pathway that led to the temple.
“Where are the cattle and goats?” he asked Teta, looking over the empty land in front of the temple.
“We have some supplies in the temple,” Teta answered.
“How many are here?” Weneg asked, repeating his question from earlier.
“The priests are here, of course,” Teta said.
Weneg stopped walking and grabbed Teta’s arm. “You are here alone, aren’t you?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yes,” Teta said, meeting Weneg’s eyes. Then he shrugged and pulled his arm free. “Kewab was told to come here to meet the army. When we got here there were a few families and the priests, but no soldiers.
“They said that King Huni was on the eastern shore. Kewab left me here to guard the women while he went across the channel to find the army. He was gone two days. When he returned he said that the army had gone and the village was empty.”
Weneg shook his head.
“Why didn’t you follow the army?”
“Weneg, we don’t know where they went. King Huni might be following a wide circle through the desert to get behind the rebels. He might have gone into Ta-Seti to hide or to hire archers; they say he is carrying a great treasure. Either way, we don’t know where he is. And we can’t follow the river any farther because of the cataract. We can’t go north again, there’s nothing there but the rebel army. We can’t go into the red land. What would we do for food and water?”
“I didn’t follow all of that,” Akila said to Imhotep in English after Teta had stopped talking.
“We’re here alone hoping that the rebels grow tired of marching or that King Huni returns or that the gods decide to rescue us,” he said. Then he turned and walked at his fastest pace toward the temple entrance.
Preparations
Their arms scratche
d and fingernails bloody, Bata, Weneg, and Teta carried a bundle of branches through the temple entrance. It was late morning and it was their third trip from the temple to the scrub land where they had scavenged the thickest and strongest branches from the few trees on the island.
Kewab had decided to turn the temple into a fort. He had thought about dragging the boats around the cataract and taking his chances in Ta-Seti, but the priests had disappeared overnight, taking both boats with them, along with much of the food and all the gold and jewels they could carry.
Imhotep, Meryt, Maya, and Hapu were sitting in the courtyard sharpening the branches Bata and Teta had brought in earlier. Kewab planned to use the sharpened sticks to fortify the temple walls and to create a forest of spikes at the entrance.
The soldiers knew that it was a useless plan; there was too much wall for them to defend. If the rebels decided to take the temple there was no way they could stop them.
Still, it kept them busy and there was little else to do. There was no game to hunt on the small island and without boats, there was no place they could go.
As Bata laid his bundle of branches on the ground he picked up Imhotep’s heavy staff.
“We’re not cutting that,” Imhotep told Bata as he scraped bark from a branch with a sharp stone.
“No, I was thinking that we should train with it. I could teach you how to use it as a weapon. I saw you battle the hunchback,” he said with a grin, “and you definitely could use a lesson.”
As he spoke Bata raised the staff overhead with two hands and slowly swirled it in a circle. Looking upward at the staff, he began to twirl it faster, twisting his wrists and passing it from hand to hand.
Then he lowered his arms and extended them in front of his chest, still spinning the staff so quickly that it created the illusion of a brown circle swirling like a river whirlpool. Suddenly he stopped the motion and held the staff horizontally with both hands. Stepping forward he pulled back his left arm and straightened his right. The tip of the staff shot away from him.
