I’m fading away; going invisible like I am now a spirit. Oh no, I can’t. It is like dying. Marai. I need to go to him and let him know, she thought, almost panicked, but then her hands solidified again.
She remembered Marai had said she glowed like moonlight the first night they were together on the road to Kemet. She had laughed wickedly and teased that the power of their bodies in pleasure was so strong that he must have imagined it… but then it happened at other times – she would fade slightly for no apparent reason, as if joy and pleasure were able to lift her into another realm.
I wish I had done this when I was with the prince. I wanted to disappear. Maybe that’s why Marai doesn’t want me to touch the stones or see through them now that he knows about our little Asar. Maybe there’s a magic in me I don’t yet understand.
Naibe wrapped the stones up in the chamois and put them away. She remembered explaining to Marai that he would not lose her that way… that the Children simply wouldn’t allow them to be apart like that again.
“Silly man” she had smiled stroking his cheek after lovemaking, while her glow still surrounded them both. “I’m carrying your child. If I were turning into fire and air, he could never come to be.” Her eyes had fluttered.
She recalled telling him of a vision of the child.
“Anyway, I’ve seen him. He will be born and we will name Asar, because your seed caused my womb to make him on the eve that you went to across the river and came to die, then return to me. He will grow to be a man so tall and lovely yet terrible to behold in his power! He will be born already a god, I think.”
She remembered that Marai had smiled at that, reassured that even as she spoke about it her aspect as a human, but gifted woman had gained some ground.
“Little one,” he had begun as if he was addressing her belly. “Named for the guiding starry one, Asar.”
Ariennu, resting on her bed, had overheard their whispers and had added: “Around the Great Green Sea they call their gods ‘dyaus’. So, he would be Dyaus Asterios, the starry god. We should go to a place my beast of a mother said the man who planted me in her belly was from. She wanted him to take her there but he never came back.”
“What was it called?” he had asked.
“Kallisti – A small island made of fire and volcano mountains” Ari had replied.
“Dyaus,” Marai contemplated a place they might all live once the adventures in Kemet were over, then sent an image to both women. “Kallisti,” he repeated.
“I see his face when he is a man,” Naibe cooed. “I just close my eyes and there he is standing before me,” she remembered telling him. “Tall and slim like Djerah. He has black waving hair down past his back, sometimes a beard, but mostly not and golden eyes; a mouth like mine.” ‘Beautiful’ she had thought. Like a goddess of love, as I am, but a young man instead.
Kallisti. Such a pretty name and a pretty child, Naibe opened her eyes and thought about that recent conversation. This morning, something seemed so distant about the dream, as if the pieces didn’t quite fit. When Marai is home, perhaps we’ll see why I would feel that way.
Chapter 25: One Last Meeting – For Old Times Sake
Count Prince Hordjedtef, son of Khufu the Great, Iri Nekhen stared at the contents of the nine boxes spread out in his nearly empty courtyard. In this light, what he had seen as marvelous in Userre’s courtyard now seemed unremarkable. The fired clay tablets from each gesso and painted container lay before him. Each one bore the name of the deity revered on the tablets. The old and beautiful text was pictographic, yet included shorthand notes he himself had written as a young sesh. There was no mystery.
I don’t understand, Hordjedtef thought, these look the same as the pieces I copied many years ago, but they are of such a lesser quality. Did Userre swap them over the years and hide the true ones elsewhere? He wouldn’t have dared risk fiery justice from the God Ra. I searched his heart for any treachery when I tended to his health. He’s a tough old fellow if he could yet lie to me, or withhold truth. I remember when he was a simpering young thing, bright but…
And yet, this simple waeb,
Deprived you of things important to your heart.
I have told you what must be done
But much of a thing you call time has passed,
I ask myself, can you still be as I intend?
Hordjedtef wanted to disappear. He sensed the disembodied voice in his thoughts before he heard it.
The God; the one who can be all. Now he comes to taunt me. Without turning to face the location of the voice that had now externalized, the elder gingerly stumbled to his knees and bent to place his forehead on the tiles in respect.
“Great Eminence, what is it you wish?” his voice rasped out, tentative. Hordjedtef worried. He had been frightened enough that the entity was able to toy with his heart the last time he visited.
The entity moved to stand in his line of vision as Hordjedtef dared to look up.
“Rise and gaze upon me, then.”
As he did, he recognized the blue helmed countenance of the Ptah form, but noticed it had combined with the image of a hawk that transitioned into a curve-beaked ibis.
The infinite combinations, the elder mused. He responded just above a whisper, embarrassed. “All. You are all. Now you torment me with these images. Which one is real?”
“All are real and created as aspects of the basic elements. So all humans can understand,” the entity paused, as if sifting through some eons old thought of his own before continuing: “You have all human wants: long life, riches, intellect, power, fame… Yet, you want to see and know more; to be an earthly god and king. A small request, yet best earned and not given.” What had appeared as a hand transformed into a red and scaled talon before it turned into a human hand again. It reached forward to grasp Hordjedtef.
“Eminence,” the elder priest dodged the hand and began to ask another question, but the dark voice blasted through his heart.
“You brought these things from the boxes of wood but… The box made of flint? Why is it not here? Do not answer. I know all. In your obsession, you allowed an illusion to be placed on them. The one of flint was thus guarded by the Priest of Ra and his son.”
Hordjedtef simmered, but tried not to show it. The entity, this creature who might be Ra, or Ptah, or Amun, or all the great creators was taunting him. I know I left it with them, to bait them both into working the translations from Akkad and Sanghir.
“Be advised, Great Eminence, just as the sun ascends to the midpoint of day, my Dear Inspector, not knowing all, will bring it to me after showing it to the king. Once that is safe, Prince Maatkare will complete his mission of fomenting rebellion in the south as I have instructed. When the king goes to fight them, to lead his troops in battle, he will die. Then, the remaining neter stones will find protection with the proper and trustworthy priests as you requested long ago. They will be sealed away from improper eyes.”
The chill in the air continued. If he had to interpret it, the elder priest saw what he took as an expression of dispassion on the ethereal face beneath the helmet. That face turned profile and looked away. The apparition paused as if lost in thought and wondering how to phrase what came next.
“Yes. Those. All do need to be in a protected state. Unlike the sojourner who steadily plods his task without my aid, I have always been with you, within soul, within skin. I could breathe out and you would be gone, as would all memory of you never begun.” The form faded quietly and once more Hordjedtef’s vision became a disembodied voice in his thoughts.
I told you the last time I showed myself to you,
That I would allow you another chance
You could not accept that this
‘Dear Son of the Heart’ would ever part from your tutelage,
Bring him back to the light of truth
If you are truly mine…
You will even surrender yourself,
Your king, your daughter’s son
And even
your precious Wserkaf Irimaat…
If you must.
The mid-morning returned and enveloped the elder priest in a sense of calm. Hordjedtef stared at the boxes, dismayed, and began to stack the ostraca inside each.
Not worthless, at least. He did not cause them to burst into flame… so there must be some truth in them. He noticed his hands were shaking as he held them up and read the prayers inscribed on the pieces. Wse. He even wants Wse and feels my dearest one is a threat to the mission of centralizing the information and the tools of the gods, when once he was my stoutest ally. I cannot. We’ve argued and disagreed, but we’ve always allowed this as the wit between us… respected each other’s own hearts, even about the sojourners. Is it something the god of intelligences, the creator of mankind would ask? It’s another test. It must be.
He placed the lids carefully on the boxes, went into his small chapel, and stared at the statue of Ptah. Near it, in a smaller box, was the broken statue of Djehuti. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to throw the pieces away. He had tried a variety of glues, and they worked to an extent, but he knew it would never again stand alone in its niche.
Master Djedi gave me this. Odd that it would break the first time the Lord of Intelligences came, he mused, then mouthed a prayer.
“Djehuti, Lord of Khmenu,
You were self-created, not birthed.
You brought to this world the craft of writing
And recording the mighty works of the god.
I have done and given all to guard and decipher the wisdom;
Protect it from unschooled eyes.”
He stopped. Flaws. Yes, I suppose, but when I saw there was no one to pass on these truths, not even my king; that there was no one walking in flesh fit to rule Kemet save me… but it’s a thing I have always known. It’s not about the monuments one builds but the wisdom and knowledge one passes on. I hear it rumored that even the pyr-akh of my brother Djedephre has begun to crumble from within, helped by thieves and raiders. No god stops them from that work if these buildings are even meant to stand. But the knowledge; the sojourner had it, I thought, but he was only a cursed courier. He never was supposed to know anything. Those seeking to spread this knowledge, the children of the neter, became rivals because of the way they chose to strengthen him and bring him to us. Wse defied me when he helped that man escape. Now I must stop my Dear One or all will fail, Hordjedtef realized the turn his thoughts had taken. He understood what the great god meant.
He went out to his wicker chair in the sun and waited for Wserkaf’s arrival with the box. But what shall I do? he asked himself.
One last meeting, Wserkaf took a deep breath as he unlatched and pushed open the rear gate at Count Prince Hordjedtef’s city home. He wrapped his arm tightly around the flint box, minus the newly discovered wdjat, and stepped inside as soon as he heard:
“Dear One…Wse, come in! Have a seat and a sop with me.”
The elder approached and beckoned excitedly as an old friend who waited on a long overdue reunion, although they had seen each other briefly yesterday at the king’s audience when the old man had invited him to visit.
Hordjedtef moved toward the open plaza without his canes, but paused to grasp familiar places as he returned to his chair. A luncheon of pulled goose and spicy sops for the gravy prepared by the few remaining servants was being set for the men. The old man indicated a low dining couch for Wse near the table.
“I was just about to dine, thinking some business had delayed you. Go put that box down by the wooden ones and we’ll go over that after we eat.”
Seems pleasant today. Maybe the journey was good for all of us. He was almost hospitable yesterday too, the Inspector thought. Still…
Wserkaf set the box on top of one of the wood boxes, folded his deep blue cape, set aside his walking staff, and then reclined on the couch near the table.
After a pause, when the elder had settled in his own seat, he poured a drink, sipped from his cup to test it, and then filled Wserkaf’s cup, offering it.
“Your business for His Majesty is complete for the day?” he asked, looking wistfully over the rim of the cup.
“It is,” Wse carefully partitioned his thoughts, keeping his eyes low enough to seem respectful but not entirely avoiding eye contact. Shepsesi and Khentie didn’t need to warn me about possible treachery today. What I’ve done will reveal how much he knows.
“The journey was tiring, but now that we’ve brought young Kakai back, he can move into our old home and prepare it for the arrival of the younger Lady Khentie, my cousin’s daughter. They will begin life together shortly after the ascension.” Wse picked up a torn piece of bread as he watched Hordjedtef. He dipped it in the broth and then loaded it with meat and took a bite. I can feel you starting at me, he thought.
“The younger Lady Khentie,” Hordjedtef laughed. “Enterprising parents to name her for our Great Lady as if fifteen years ago they were far-seeing enough to know how elevated her name would become. We should hire their oracle, Wse, should we not? Though predicted,” he continued, “there is still so much unsaid and unresolved with the coming ascensions, eh?”
His teacher reached his wrinkled hand forward. Wse noticed he wore the black leather brace that helped him with his spells. He had worn it when he dealt with the neters or one of those who were hosts. He had worn it when working his healings with Menkaure too.
Why this? He knows I am no host… unless he somehow feels that I have become one. Wse thought then spoke aloud: “True.”
“So where will you live then?” Hordjedtef asked, a frown crossing his brow as if he sensed Wse had guarded something from him.
Wserkaf felt the old man trying to get inside his thoughts again. “I should live on my boat, Sun’s Wisdom, for the amount I will be on her and sailing between Per-A-At, Khmenu, and here when I fully assume the position of Great Seer – for the first cycle of the sun, anyway. I may see a small cottage built outside the palace grounds then. I know a perfect spot near the royal gardens,” Wserkaf sipped the drink, frowned at the taste, and then stared in it at the contents, amused. “This,” he held forward the cup. “This is unlike you, Great One.”
“Oh?”
“After all the railing and complaining of the sojourner, Lady Ariennu’s, white flower tea that she made for Our Father and he demanded after she was gone, I come here and find you serving it to me?” Wserkaf smiled. “With a good store of honey too, just the way I recall King Menkaure preferred.”
“Oh, that.” The elder laughed, the tension between them dissolving. “My objection, dear Wse, was that it would be useless for one as grievously aggravated in spirit as Our Father. He needed the dried Joy Plant added to his wine. When she accused me of… well all those things…” Hordjedtef looked away.
Rivalry over medication choices? That’s it? Wse wondered. “She was a healer,” he spoke aloud, then added. “You found some after she was gone?”
“Wshht!” Hordjedtef scoffed, “Healer. She was a self-trained one at best; an undocumented herbalist who peddled slick-belly and sweet acacia pessaries to cleanse the womb of a suspiciously sired child or commence a tardy moon. I tested the properties of her calming tea and found them gentle enough, then began to use it myself. I’ve recommended it to quite a few of my colleagues and perhaps ought to send a box to your father.”
Wserkaf sipped again, feeling the warmth of the heated tea begin to set him at ease. Even so, he watched his mentor carefully to make sure that each time he took a sip, the elder did too. He recalled the earlier visit in which he had imagined Hordjedtef had put something in his beer that made him feel like babbling and made him sweat. It hadn’t been anything, it turned out, but his own anxiety. The same thoughts went through him when he found Hordjedtef was dosing his father and that the old man had mysteriously come to trust the Great One. And the king… It was Khentie, Lady Ariennu, and Shepseskaf who convinced him of the poison. Maybe he didn’t do anything deliberate to Menkaure. Maybe Menkaure poisoned
himself – accidentally took too much, he half-shrugged. Maybe I am dreaming too much. It seems so possible, though.
“And when Prince Maatkare returns with Lady Ariennu, will she be respected?” Wse shifted the conversation back again, catching himself before he said something about Marai being alive.
“I suppose that would depend on His Highness, wouldn’t you think?” Hordjedtef’s mouth twitched slightly. “He will have had enough time to become acquainted with her, shall we say – wisdom on the journey. She and her young friend are ripe ones, who might be an asset to any noble home as concubines or possibly even secondary wives if Maatkare Raemkai himself doesn’t want to keep them. I’ll put in a word that they have exonerated themselves and proven not traitorous and ought to be provided for. Perhaps you could take the young one, yourself. I understand…”
Wserkaf raised his hand to stop him. And so, he goes into forbidden talk.
“Her Majesty and I discussed a second wife for me when I met the woman. I know many busy men maintain more than one, but I cannot see I would have time to devote to another woman, at least not this year. Perhaps when I have schooled some assistants and delegated certain tasks throughout the lower ranks of the priesthoods, we will see where we are.”
Wserkaf sat silently, thinking of Naibe for a few moments. He sipped the tea and took a bite of the bread, absent mindedly, noticing a flight of birds overhead and a high mist of thinnest cloud beyond that.
“You think about her often, don’t you?” the elder added.
Noticed me. Can’t help it, Wse thought of all the emotion and drama with Naibe when she first came to him and how it upended almost everything in his life. A second woman or more in the house was natural for a noble, but Khentie had been unnerved by her presence and psychic energy. If I chose a second wife. She would have to be pretty and fertile, but lesser in personality.
“I do,” Wse bowed his head. “I really don’t think…” he started.
Heart of the Lotus Page 30
