Several minutes passed in gut-wrenching silence. I lay paralyzed, as if the unknown couldn’t hurt me if I couldn’t see it. Then, as if with a sixth sense, I felt it.
A looming presence floated into my room, although no footfalls scuffed the floor. Croc hissed and scrambled out the window. The permeation inched closer and closer, a chill sneaking in. Crushing pressure constricted my chest, and all the moisture drained from my mouth. The soft rustle of fabric came from behind. Squeezing my eyes closed, I attempted to create a light snoring sound.
The presence hovered over me. A cold sweat trickled down my back, and my heart raced so fast and loud whoever this was must’ve been able to hear it. Light pressure settled upon my shoulder, my body wanting to leap to the ceiling. But I held fast with a control I didn’t know I commanded. The touch grew heavier, and I grumbled as if waking from a deep sleep. Rolling over, I pulled the covers from my head and groaned as my heart beat so fast I thought it might take flight.
Slanted eyes glistened in the pale light six inches from my face. Jerking and shoving backwards, I hit my head against the wall. I swallowed and cleared my throat, “W-what is happening? Do you need something? Bread, beer?”
Akhenaten glared, the dark paint lining his eyes unmoving.
I rubbed my head, “Master?”
“I wanted to make sure you were sleeping soundly, after witnessing those terrors on our trip,” he whispered. “You didn’t go see your father again, did you?”
“No, but another servant offered to serve you dinner last night,” I lied. “That’s why you didn’t see me before bed. It’s taken me awhile to calm down from the excitement of our adventure, but now I’m exhausted.”
He didn’t move.
I swallowed, my skin crawling like bugs on my back.
“What did you hear?” he asked, stooping so his face met mine. His eyebrows formed a “v” at the bridge of his nose.
“What?”
After straightening, he spun around and disappeared into the black. Releasing a long, slow breath of relief, I watched the doorway. I couldn’t do that again; the terror was more than I could handle. But who had Akhenaten been talking to? And who was that cloaked figure? And why did Mutnedjmet lead me to some magician’s lab and then leave? I didn’t have any answers, and I had failed to help Nefertiti. Lying back down in frustration, I pulled the blanket over my head and waited long hours before sleep finally took me.
Awakening to a commotion, the early colored rays of the Aten already filtered through the reed curtain. Servants and guards ran up and down the corridors in droves, their footfalls echoing over their yelling.
I stepped into the hall and witnessed a group of servant men whispering amongst themselves. Weird, people didn’t usually congregate near my room. Inching closer, one said, “They say he was stricken with plague. But he’s been healthy and was fine just yesterday.”
A gaunt servant whispered, licking and moistening his thick lips. “How could he have brought the plague?”
“Who brought the plague?” I asked.
The servants spun, their eyes wide. One covered his wetted mouth, accentuating his red eye shadow.
“Who?” I demanded, my mind whisking through possibilities. Akhenaten? Mahu or Suty? Nefertiti! “Who brought the plague?” I asked louder this time. “Akhenaten?”
“Please, boy,” said a tall man whose squinty eyes filled with pity. He held out a hand to keep me away. “We’re not blaming you.”
My lower lip trembled, fearing the answer. Running as fast as I could to Pharaoh’s wing, I shoved past servants and guards. I stopped outside an entrance where two soldiers stood watch with brandished swords.
“No!” I cried.
“You can’t enter,” one said, halting me with an open palm. “The doctor, priest, and magician need to decontaminate and bless the area to wipe away the disease.”
I stepped back. What possibly could have happened? Father and I spent the late hours together just a few nights ago. He didn’t act as if he’d fallen ill.
After a brief pause to put the guards at ease, I darted between them. They yelled but wouldn’t enter the room. A body lay under a brown blanket. Several men performed some sort of ritual, appearing oddly familiar. A heavyset man jotted on a writing palette. Sweat beads dribbled down his face, which resembled a watermelon with no distinguishable chin or cheeks. An elder bald man adorned in a sash shook a bronze wand, bouncing the fat rolls of the cat perched on his shoulder. His face was covered beneath deep black lines, running like a tangled spider’s web. I’d seen this magician before, somewhere … although not in Thebes. And no priest stood with them.
Angling between the men, I lunged at Father’s bed. Shaking the body, I tore away the blanket. The inner strength I’d found on the Nile fled my body as I gazed into lifeless eyes buried beneath a blue fog. My knees trembled and I slumped onto the ground beside his bed, tears streaming down my cheeks.
The fat doctor said, “Get away, boy! He carries death itself.” He grabbed my shoulder, but I shrugged him off.
“Father!” I wailed, tears spraying. Father’s skin was the color of ash. When I touched him the rigidity and cold of his flesh made me jerk away. I shook him again, and a stream of red fluid dribbled from the corner of his lips. Making a fist, I struck him on the chest just as Mahu had done to revive Akhenaten. But his clammy tissue swallowed my blow. A guard wrapped me in a bear hug from behind, squeezed, and hoisted me out. Throwing me to the ground, he blocked the entryway. I sobbed on the cold floor like a baby.
Nudging me with his foot, the plump doctor lowered his writing palette and said, “I regret to inform you your father has fled to the underworld. But you’re not only putting yourself at risk, you’re putting all of us in danger by being exposed. We do not fully understand the cause of his death. I fear it’s the black plague, although there’re no others with signs or symptoms. His eyes bulge, and black circles and yellow spots cover his body. The Aten may be angry.”
The Aten? My jaw dropped in shock, guilt pummeling my insides. Was this all my fault? Memories of the desert night when curses spewed from my mouth came flooding back. God had heard me after all, and took Father for it! I was the worst son the world had ever known. Why didn’t he take me?
Ruffling through sheets of papyrus, the doctor’s fat face wrinkled with annoyance. His eyes moved back and forth, reading. “Mudads, send the boy directly to his room. There’s no woman listed. If he doesn’t have a mother, make sure to inform whatever family he still has. Find Akhenaten two servants to replace him. The boy needs a week off duty. He could be a carrier, and until we know more he must be isolated.”
Mudads, a guard with a potbelly and spindly limbs, grabbed my sidelock. Using my hair to stand me up sent stinging pain across my scalp, and I winced. He escorted me back to my room, where no one waited. “You’re to stay in here for the remainder of the week,” Mudads said in a slow drawl as I fell onto my bed, hid my head, and wept with grief.
Croc landed beside me, although he rarely appeared during the day. Strutting over, he rubbed back and forth against my leg before lying down. It barely lifted my spirits. I sobbed for hours, mulling over recent events as I pet my cat. I needed to see Father, to tell him goodbye. Even if my punishment would be death, I didn’t care; I had essentially killed him. I deserved to die. I’d bring the broken amulet to him. Perhaps it would help save his soul.
Standing, I swept Croc up in one arm and peeked under the reed curtain covering the window. The height of the window only allowed me to see the dark sky and pale moonlight. Creeping to the doorway, I glanced into the hall. A single oil lamp flickered against the walls of the empty corridor.
Mudads hadn’t stayed on watch, and only a handful of guards would be awake and at their posts. But would Akhenaten be sleeping, or would his ghostly presence be floating about the palace?
With Croc in my arms I slunk into the shadows, my bad ankle clicking every few steps. Images of punishment filled my mind and I had to
push back my fear, reminding myself Father was dead.
Approaching Akhenaten’s room, my hands and knees shook with trepidation. A glimmer of light reflected around the next corner, along with the echo of footsteps.
Journal Translation
COVERING CROC’S MOUTH AND EYES with my free hand, I froze. If he hissed or if his eyes reflected the light, he’d give me away. I ducked into the closest doorway, one down from Akhenaten’s. Inside the chamber it was too dark to see.
The footsteps paused.
My breathing stopped as I waited, my teeth chattering with dread. After a minute I scouted out the door. Three figures stood in the corridor, one holding a torch. I recognized the ugly beast of a man with a pig’s ear. Suty. I was hiding inside this ogre’s doorway, hoping he was headed somewhere else.
Beside Suty slinked two slender women. One wore her white dress tight around her chest, her hair brushed and her makeup done. The other wore no top, adorned only in a small white kilt. Their heavy floral perfume wafted down the hall.
The ogre motioned for the dressed woman to enter my master’s bedroom. Then he and the other woman turned toward me. Stepping closer and closer, I was forced to duck back inside.
Their footsteps grew louder. My heart sank with realization. I couldn’t be suspected of spying again or I’d be whipped. Dropping Croc onto the floor, I pushed him out with my foot. He hissed and darted off.
“Damn cats,” Suty said, his voice higher-pitched, as if surprised. The woman giggled. “Shut ya mouth, whore.” The sharp slap of skin on skin sounded as they entered. Suty held the torch aloft, inspecting his abode.
Terror had driven me to jump, scramble, and wedge my small frame into the high window. The awkward maneuver was difficult, especially with my ankle. But not many could accomplish such a feat—one advantage of my size. I had inched my frame through the thickness of the sill and tumbled out, crashing into the sand with a thud. Pain shot through my shoulder but I scampered to my knees.
“Thank you for the distraction, Croc!” I whispered. He’d probably want to bite me the next time I saw him.
Heavy footfalls and muttering carried out the window into the pale moonlit night. Then silence. Streaks of light appeared inside. In the guarded palace no one concerned themselves with our ventilation system, the high windows. Very few men who could jump to reach the window would be small enough to squeeze through.
Running and jumping again, I grabbed the outer windowsill of Suty’s room. I scrambled and pulled myself up, peeking through a slit in the reed curtain. Kissing the woman, Suty groped her naked body. She opened an eye, attempting to look toward me but the guard’s lips remained locked on hers. She must’ve heard me. My muscles tensed with fear. Letting go, I fell.
I’d circle around. More guards would be stationed outside than in, but I couldn’t risk trying to climb in through someone’s window—they’d hear my crashing entrance.
Picking my way along the wall of the palace, I avoided the intermittent crackling torches. The window to Father’s room loomed ahead, but a guard stood under a lamp ten rooms down. Thank the Aten, no torches sat mounted between the guard and me. Pressing against the white walls to use my kilt as camouflage, I inched toward my objective. The guard didn’t budge, his gaze fixed straight ahead. After taking a deep breath, I launched myself at the sill, my bad ankle popping and releasing a stabbing pain. Gritting my teeth with determination, I kicked myself up. Twisting my narrow shoulders, I wedged them through the opening. The remainder of my body slid through.
I fell into the dark, landing upon cold tile with a smack. My jaw tensed with apprehension. What if someone had heard me? I listened. Nothing. Faint firelight flickered red down the hallway but didn’t advance. Just a lamp.
Over the doorway hung a sheet of red cloth. Easing it aside, I peered into the corridor. Empty. I crept to the light, yanked it from its mount, and returned to scrutinize the room.
Lamplight danced around the interior, above my shaking hands. Father’s body was gone, his bed and other belongings also missing. Only strange symbols remained scribbled on the floor, and eerie hieroglyphics danced upon the walls. Images of men, frightening creatures, water, and fire loomed around me.
My breathing hastened as a feeling of being watched crept over me. Where would they have taken him?
I exited through the window and froze until I was convinced the closest guard hadn’t noticed. Slinking back along the palace walls, the weight of depression settled over me like a heavy load and dragged my shoulders down.
Would I ever be able to apologize to him, to say goodbye?
A glimmer of light grabbed my attention. In the distance, the white walls of the palace perimeter reflected moonlight, but there was another luminescence. Flickering arced from behind one of the pillars of a temple, beckoning me like a curious cat. The Temple of the Aten, with its massive columns and open roof, loomed over everything.
Holding my breath, I scanned around to make sure no one would see me before darting off. The scent of sweet incense wafted into the air as I navigated through a grove of trees then crunched across a garden. Ponds large and small reflected moonlight in the midst of flowering plants, shrubs, and shade trees. Melting my body into the closest pillar, I paused and surveyed the area. Equally spaced torches glowed along the palace’s exterior, while moonlight glinted off the perimeter wall and courtyard. No soldiers on patrol.
I peeked into the inner temple, where a single torch crackled. A stone slab and shield of blankets rested beneath a writhing flame. Hieroglyphics similar to those in Father’s room crawled across the ground.
Inching closer, I stepped over the writing, taking care not to disrupt anything. My hand froze and shook as I reached out for the blankets. Dragging back the covers revealed the bloated body of my dead father. Stinging tears brimmed in my eyes and my stomach churned with nausea. Fighting off both emotion and reflex, I wanted to scream into the night, to curse the Aten and myself for this life. This time I held back.
Removing the fragments of Bes from my kilt, I gently laid them on his chest and fit the pieces together to create the complete pendant. Two fragments slid off his clammy skin and clattered to the stone slab. I groaned with irritation. This wasn’t going to work; Mutnedjmet was right. Was there anything I could do? A memory of blood dribbling out of his lips the other morning returned. Perhaps I could stuff the pendant inside his mouth, to hold it together. The idea seemed morbid, but Bes could be there to protect his body forever.
I opened his jaw, fighting against rigor mortis. No more blood dripped out, but something appeared odd with his tongue. Grimacing, I reached in and extracted the tip. The tissue felt dry and hard, like a raw tuber. I forced myself to examine the organ, although my stomach heaved in protest. Gaping wounds had punctured the flesh in short curvilinear fashion. Similar gouges ran across the underside.
These wounds couldn’t have led to his death. Slipping out of my shaking grip with a sickening sucking sound, the tongue only partially returned into his mouth. The tip poked out, lining the cuts up with his upper and lower teeth. I bit into the webbing of my own hand, between my thumb and index finger. The marks were identical.
Realization parted the fog in my mind. Placing the amulet fragments in proper arrangement inside his mouth, I forced his jaw closed. His teeth fit into the lacerations. But why would he have bitten his tongue to the point of nearly severing it?
I scrutinized his ears, lips, nose, and cheeks. His eyelids were swollen and red, but nothing else. Opening his eyes revealed a cloudy fluid, and the whites were more bloodshot than any drunkard’s. Tortuous vessels protruded around his irises and had bled onto and below the surface. I gasped in shock. My God, what a horrendous curse!
Throwing the blankets to the ground, I forced my mind elsewhere. The cold glint of metal flickered in the light—his bracelet! Twisting and tugging, the bronze slid off his arm. I wrapped my hands around the metal, seeing the object with my fingers; it was simple in style with symmetric f
acets and rounded ends. He never removed it, and I cherished the object because it reminded me of family, security, and home. Narrowing my hand, I guided the bracelet onto my forearm. The object would be that last thing I’d receive from father.
I inspected his body, sobbing in sorrow again. Black and yellow spots dotted his torso and legs near regions of peeling skin. Lifting his left ankle, I spotted black tissue flowing across a swollen calf. Then I saw the marks.
Faint streaks ran up toward his torso. The lines appeared faded, barely discernable, but I recognized them immediately. “The marks of death,” as Mahu referred to them. The doctor must’ve noticed these.
But what could have spread an infection so fast? Father hadn’t even acted ill the other night. And my wound from the hippo had festered for a week before reaching that phase. The plague? But what could’ve planted the disease?
Footsteps slapped onto the mud-brick behind me.
Journal Translation
“WHATCHA DOIN’ OUT HERE, boy?” Suty barked, torchlight outlining his monstrous body.
My stomach cramped. Then my heart squeezed in terror as Akhenaten stepped from behind the giant. Eyeing me suspiciously, Akhenaten shook his head and crossed his arms.
“I had to say goodbye—”
“Get away from the body.” Akhenaten’s deep voice echoed through the empty temple. “The doctor believes he contracted plague. And you can still catch it from a corpse. The disease festers in his humors and feeds on his blood. He will either have to be buried … or burned.”
“No!” I yelled, white knuckles clutching my new bracelet. “Don’t burn him! His ba will have no place to return! He’ll be lost forever. Please!”
“I cannot have a corpse spreading disease around the palace,” Akhenaten said. “You have exposed yourself again, this time without the protection of the magician or doctor.” He motioned and Suty stepped toward me.
I spun and ran. But the soldier’s legs covered the ten feet between us before I crossed five. A powerful hand slapped down on my shoulder, holding my body fast although my legs continued to move.
Eve of the Pharaoh: Historical Adventure and Mystery Page 14
