Heart of the Lotus

by Mary R Woldering

  Sahure brought us back together by asking you to instruct him, then Marai’s arrival with the neter stones made me question Hordjedtef. Now I see you speak to Dede as if you have been his closest friend for years… Wserkaf mused.

  “Come in, then.” Wserkaf ushered the man inside, took his lamp, and set it aside.

  Takes me back to times when he would come in at night when everyone slept. He would tell me tales of the gods and of wonder. It hurts me to realize how hard-hearted and stubborn we both were; how many years we missed – him seeing my sons growing up.

  He watched Userre the Wise, as he was known, move gingerly, eyeing his royal daughter-in-law as she stirred.

  “I don’t want to wake her. I know old Dede being here upset her, even though she made a bold face of it.”

  “I’m awake, Father Userre,” she whispered. “You may speak all to me too.”

  Wserkaf lifted a chair for his father and sat on the bed while Khentie sat up.

  “Now what is it?” Wse asked.

  “You were surprised to find your teacher here, weren’t you, my son?”

  Although he couldn’t see it, Wserkaf suspected a cryptic smile had spread on his father’s face.

  “Did you know of this?” he asked.

  “I did not. He arrived last night quite late, fearless of the river demons. He told me a spirit had said I was ill and it was time to put to rest our old disagreements.”

  “A spirit?” Wse’s mouth stayed open at the sheer gall of the man whom he had trusted forever as his mentor. “And you didn’t smell something?”

  “I did,” Userre whispered, urging Wserkaf to lower his voice. “But he is right. I have held onto hatred and anger far too long. As my time among men wanes, I must lighten my heart and give up these emotions so to face the gods with a heart fit to balance a feather.”

  “Don’t speak of death as if you welcome it,” Wse felt a heaviness descending over his shoulders. He knew his father was wise enough to see his own end coming soon, but he wasn’t comfortable with it. “You could fight it,” he began to pace.

  “Your desires are of the self, my son,” he whispered. “Because we now speak as men to one another, eh? A thing you have missed.” He paused, then added: “but again, not the real reason you, or dare I say our dubious friend Dede, have come. One of you comes out of lust, another out of duty.”

  Wserkaf understood.

  “Has Hordjedtef spoken to you about the box?” Wserkaf focused his father’s late night conversational drift.

  “He didn’t have to. He knows if you and I are at peace then he and I ought to resolve whatever has lain between us while I still breathe and can speak on it… so he will locate and seize his precious treasure before you do.”

  Wserkaf extended his hands in a gesture of frustration. “And he knows, Father, I could see it in his eyes. I’ve lived and worked at his side for so many years.”

  “Which is why you must get up from your bed and go to get it now. I will return to mine and know nothing of this meeting. You, on the other hand, and yes, Your Majesty…”

  Wserkaf picked up the lamp from the table. In the flickering light, he noticed his father’s proud smile.

  “It is important that you go with him, and quickly. You are the only choice remaining who can tell my son where these things lie,” Userre stepped to one side to allow Khentie room to rise from the cramped guest bed.

  “I am?” Khentie smoothed her clothing.

  “You search your heart, son. Tell her everything you know and when all of your truths are laid bare she will reveal what hides in her heart,” he smiled. “Your mother placed the thought in you before you left us,” his thoughts appeared to drift. “She was a sweet one. So many years ago she left and even now I still miss her.”

  Wserkaf knew that if they didn’t hurry, their voices might become as smoke and somehow drift to wherever Hordjedtef was lodged. He hoped they would be able to get into wherever this “flint box” was before his former teacher woke.

  “That being said,” Userre added, “you know I do not presume to control the will of the gods. Nothing we do can stop the future from happening any more than the stars can reverse in their courses. I, myself, taught you that,” he continued. “You want to know where the flint box is and to fetch it for our new king.” He breathed out, shaking his head as if he understood a sick but amusing joke. “The box is where the box is. It has never once been moved since it was placed there. The charts and plans of desire are still in it, I would suppose. You must go this very night, right now, go. Get right up,” he grinned. “If the gods intend, you will go right to them; easy as getting a next cup of beer. If not, it will be hidden until the one meant to find it comes.” With that, he gestured with the backs of both hands as if waving his priestly son away. It was a humorous gesture.

  “Alright. I’ll do just that,” Wserkaf smirked, pulling Khentie toward him. He was stunned that the years of secrecy about the box had evaporated in an instant and wondered even more what the box really contained if so many tricks and layers of deception lay around it in legend. Both Wserkaf and Khentie dressed in simple clothing that would allow freedom of movement.

  In moments, the Inspector embraced his father. Userre bowed to Khentie and kissed her offered hand.

  Remember this, my son. We have always known this day would come, even before the sojourners came with their portion.

  Wserkaf sensed the spirit of his mother and finally understood why the woman Ariennu had been able to summon her so easily that day he had been in their apartment making the initial inquiry. She had never really left him. He had just been too proud to hear her voice; or his father’s voice for that matter.

  They took lamps and silently moved in the direction of a low platform temple while the elder blessed them with a prayer for their safety.

  Chapter 13: Secret Journey

  In moments, Khentie and Wserkaf walked toward a lonely chute that emptied into a tunnel and what had once been a subterranean temple. The entry was distant and unkempt, set by a surrounding wall beneath a library room where the star charts were stored.

  In the bobbing lamplight Wse noticed Khentie’s concerned expression.

  “What is it?” he whispered.

  “Why did your father think I would know what to do here? Does he mistake me for your mother? She was the guardian in the legend. We were all taught that as girls in the school of worship. I didn’t even know this place really existed. Hordjedtef said…” she started.

  He hushed her. The concern in her voice was making it loud enough for someone to hear, even though they were headed to a far corner of the temple complex.

  “And from the look of it, no one is respecting it.” She continued whispering, but hastened her pace alongside him, rubbing her bare arms in the early morning air.

  Wserkaf paused, started to explain why it wasn’t, but then shook his head and urged her to continue before someone spotted them.

  “We’ll talk once we’re inside. It will be the grace of the gods if either of us can find where it is before the sun rises. With Dede here and suspecting us, I wouldn’t be surprised if we get misdirected. That’s trouble enough. If we find it, he’ll demand to examine the box when we bring it out. I don’t know what my father was thinking. He should have suggested a separate journey,” Wserkaf gestured that those were his last words until they were inside the entryway.

  What was he thinking? he asked himself as they approached the open stone stair that descended beyond some low shrubbery. I knew this place once, when Mother was alive, but now it’s fallen to disrepair. No guards. It used to be clean and revered. Khentie’s right. Anyone can come in here now and they certainly will as soon as dawn breaks and we don’t appear for the morning praises, even if there is no set business for the morning.

  The thoughts of betrayal by a loved one lurked in his thoughts. Would father do that to his own blood out of revenge for my departure but act meek and compliant all the while? He never had a good thin
g to say about my teacher, even before I went to study with him years ago. And now they are as friends?

  “Ooh!” Khentie stumbled over some broken brick on the last step of a short staircase just past the entrance. “I should speak to your father about the upkeep here. I just tripped. I could have turned my ankle.” She pulled Wserkaf inside and showed him where to shine the lamp so he could see the rubble in her path. “Are you certain this is the place? You were a child when you were here last. Certainly, the box has been moved to a better place.”

  “Just be careful. He said it wasn’t moved. You heard him. This whole place looks smaller than I remember…”

  “Looks like no one has visited it in years. Wasn’t it supposed to be somewhere else? Has no one even been curious?” Khentie shivered, rubbed her arms again, and looked around as Wserkaf shone the lamp around the dark chamber at the bottom of worn stairs. The room in which they stood appeared to be nothing more than a cool cellar for storing wine, beer, or dry goods. Instead of images or statues, there were jars, baskets, and two planks on jars that created stands for drying herbs and fruits.

  Wserkaf moved Khentie to the back of the chamber and shone the lamp around the edges of the wall.

  “There was a place, but back then I could only see it. I wasn’t tall enough to reach it. Now…” he felt with his left hand around the top of stone in the back of the chamber. “Ah. Now!” he exclaimed.

  Khentie moved closer, eyes staring up as he continued to feel and then to tug the stone forward. It wouldn’t budge.

  “Is it a secret door?” she asked.

  “Yes, but there’s no way I’ll get in it. I thought, when I was a child, that all this was open and that I went into a long tunnel before my father found me. When I got to the end of it there was another door and that was sealed. I thought I would just have to grow up and have a man’s strength, but…”

  Both felt movement and heard a grinding noise as if the stone had moved slightly. Wse put both hands into the opening that had formed and pulled but the stone would not move. “Need Marai here,” he grumbled. “Told you he cracked part of the lid on the stone box where he lay for the trials, didn’t I? Even near to death he did that. And then, remember what he did to our entry gate.”

  “You said Count Hordjedtef came here once when he was younger, didn’t you? Do you know if he got in?” Khentie ignored his question about the stories and put her hands beside Wserkaf’s hands.

  “Dede said he opened it, but I’ve learned how he twists stories to suit himself. I think only a god…” he noticed the calming feel of her hands and then sensed a whisper as if a resident spirit was giving him a hint.

  Or the daughter of the god.

  Mother, Wserkaf smiled inwardly. Thanks.

  “Let me help,” Khentie began to tug, her hands beside his. It did not move. “I, Khentkawes, daughter of the god Menkaure; Lady of the Sycamore…” she tugged “…Command… Uh… You, be open.” A sensation of laughter filled the chamber. “Wse, this is a trick,” she half-growled. “No one’s going to open this. I’m ashamed for us now.”

  Wserkaf felt the presence of disembodied sarcasm in the room, as if a different spirit, a teasing entity this time, had emerged.

  “Don’t pay that any attention,” he huffed. “It’s likely a guardian of some kind. I don’t think it means harm. Try it with me once more. I want to think my mother is here and giving us hints.” He grabbed the edge, then braced with his feet while she tugged. Suddenly the stone popped and a ghastly odor escaped along with putrid dust.

  “Death in here,” she let go of the stone and stumbled backward, hand over her nose as if she was ready to quit the back of the room. “Don’t breathe it, Wse! Cover your face,” he thought he heard her say but he didn’t feel any effect from the mustiness and had already squeezed through the opening, the light extended in his hand. He reached backward to grasp her hand.

  “Good thing both of us are somewhat slender for our ages. Come in, but see if you can find something that will brace the stone open in case it wants to slide shut after we’re in there.”

  As Wserkaf held the light, Khentie looked around and grabbed a basket full of something that gave it weight. She inserted it in the crack and hustled inside the opening to peer into the dark beside him.

  Wserkaf held the lamp up and stared open-mouthed at the beginning of a long tunnel that stretched down into a darkened area. At this point, the original odor that flooded out when they opened the chamber had dissipated.

  “Entrance to a cave?” he asked himself, astonished. “I don’t understand. This is near the widening of the river. There was marsh here in the time of the gods, not solid rock, father told me. Ptah-tenen the builder, raised it up from the bottom of the river so that it would be dry, but this is certainly not… what…” his voice trailed, broken in wonder “…or where…”

  “The mound of creation? Certainly not!” Khentie paused, looking around and trying to see anything further away from the light. “Follow the tunnel down, then…” she urged. “Wait. Hold your light up, Wse. I think there are some torches stuck along the way so we can see.”

  Wserkaf saw torches that had wadding wrapped around the ends. Standing on tiptoe, he grabbed one and touched it to the flame in his lamp. When he had replaced it, the torchlight showed a dark tunnel that was partly hewn and stone-lined. He moved to the next torch but stopped, wondering if he needed to light it. The visibility was terrible, but he felt the two of them might still manage to see enough by putting flame to only every other light. That way, if some of them began to go out, others would be left to show them the way back out.

  They moved slowly along the path into cooler, lower regions. He noticed Khentie stopping and rubbing her arms again, but knew he hadn’t brought any extra cloaking. His beautiful blue travel cloak was folded neatly in the room where they had spent the night.

  Should have brought it, he thought. Didn’t know what I would find here, though. Can’t go back now.

  “Are you too chilled to go on?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her. “We could…”

  “No,” her voice was short. “We’ll go. It’s important, Wse. Once we have the box secure I’ll wrap up in blankets and take warming drinks to raise my spirits. How much further do you think…” she started, but then quieted, tagging along as Wserkaf lit the torches intermittently.

  He had no idea what was here. There had been rumors that former high priests were buried here in secret, honoring each one of the eight gods of creation the way they were worshipped in the old days when the gods were no longer walking earth. During the beginning of the era of the great god-kings, it was no longer accepted as truth.

  He paused. The tunnel eased in its downward slope. Wserkaf remembered Hordjedtef explaining to him of his own disappointment when he explored this secret place even though it had been clean and guarded then. He had entered with a retinue of servants and acolytes. Userre was fifteen years younger and a mere waeb at the time, so he did not accompany those who searched.

  You will find a room down a long tube that has eight stone tombs within; four to the right and four to the left, a pathway through the middle. Old priests were said to rest there, though it is perhaps some of their things of ceremony and not the khat they relinquished at death. It is merely legend now.

  Wserkaf knew that legend had also stated the “box” was below the chart room.

  “Maybe it isn’t even here, Khentie. There is a chart room at Khmenu and at all major worship centers.”

  “Well,” she paused as if thinking. “We came here for a reason, Wse. Maybe the spirits are telling us we need to do it; that there is something else important here. What else do you know from legend?”

  “That if we look, there would be another door at the back and it would have a safety latch to lock it up as well as a device to unlock it that was known only to the highest of priests.” Wserkaf shone the lamp around and saw an inset portion taller than a man, but shorter than the ceiling. “There; and if
I can’t find anything that works the latch, or if it comes unfastened too easily, I’ll know the box isn’t there and we can leave.” He moved toward the place, then handed Khentie the lamp. When he stared at the stone inset with the smaller stone door in it, he noticed a heavy wooden crossbeam stretched across the surface.

  The key, he thought, should be nearby or Father would have given it to me before we left. He felt around the sides and moved his hand behind the latch. Then, he reached high. A large piece of wood came loose in his hands.

  “Here it is,” he showed the device to Khentie. “Shine your light on it.”

  “What is that, a puzzle tool?”

  “I believe so. Hordjedtef saw some like these that had come from Sanghir and the Akkad kings and wanted to learn how to devise them. He said it reduced the need for live guards. I never knew he had created one.”

  She ran her hand over the ridged piece then watched as Wserkaf examined the crosspiece. It wasn’t solid, but had a hole for a bar lined with pegs of varied heights to go inside it.

  “How does it work?” she asked. “I hope it’s fast,” she glanced around.

  “It hasn’t been so far,” Wserkaf grumbled over how little time might be left before sunrise. “These pegs go in, and when you push up on it the door can move.” He shoved the bar in and wriggled it until the pegs mated with interior ridges. Fortunately, he felt the device rise as soon as he pushed up. Wserkaf sighed in relief. “It could have taken much longer, but this whole thing has still taken too long,” he noticed a thinner, carved stone layer was easy to move aside, as if it waited for him.

  “Quick, Khen, follow me in here. I’ll light the torches and you see if you can set up something that will warn us if Dede comes down here to stop us. I hope to the gods he’s feeling weary and father can make up a story about where we might be this morning.”