The power you seek is in the mastery of wisdom.
All else of Earthly and human crown fails
He shook his close-cropped head and stood, breathing and stretching to take in the calmness of the night air. The elder was awake.
Prince Hordjedtef was about to speak when the old man put his ancient, bent finger to his lips, took his own refreshing and cleansing breath and smiled so that his blackest eyes twinkled.
“Oh yes, my Highness, they are– You heard it clearly, too!”
“Here?” the prince paused, incredulous. “I…I don’t know what to say–” He helped the elder lift himself from the chaise, but quickly realized the old man had gained so much energy during his meditation that he didn’t need any help tonight.
For his reported unimaginable age of one hundred ten or even more years (which the prince had figured at actually somewhere between eighty or ninety) he was moving very well. Djedi hastened to edge of the rail that bordered the empty roof kitchen where the men always observed the stars.
The old sage chuckled, pointing up at the darkness. Tonight, his ancient eyes were fixed on the motion of a certain falling star. It could have been one of the great stones that traveled in the heavens, set ablaze by the fiery rim of the firmament. Perhaps, he stated, it really was the “children” in their boat made of crystalline-stone riding aloft, and glowing in the same way as a heaven stone.
The prince stared up too, but now. he sensed nothing more than watchful silence and curiosity coming from that light, as it grew large in the heavens.
Then, as their eyes fixed on the glittering object moving across the night sky, both men heard a strange, dirge like poem-song entering their thoughts. It was in another language–an informal and rough version of the tongue spoken by the kings of Kina-Ahna and up to the port of Tyre.
The prince gasped a little. He didn’t know many of the words of that tongue, but he was fairly certain one of the words meant “justice”.
Perhaps it is true, he thought. These beings are speaking in the eastern dialect of justice in a message for me, a prince of Kemet?
“Why, would they sing in that language?” he asked
“Ours is not the only land the Ntr have visited, Young Dede…” Djedi whispered breathlessly forgetting the necessary formality of address, using the all too familiar “Dede”, a nickname for Djedefhor.
In his rage over the injustices which he had suffered, the prince had rejected that popular form of his name in favor of the obverse: Hordjedtef. Djedefhor was too close to the name Djedephre, his brother, his rival and now his king.
“I am thinking they have visited Kina-Ahna and Shinar…perhaps the Shur wastes of the Copper Road too—and who knows what other land.” the elder grinned, not in the slightest concerned about his protégé’s feelings on the matter.
Before you a spirit protects,
Behind you another,
At your right is Justice,
At your left Goodness,
Fixed on your head are Witness, Blessing, and Peace,
Your sides are encompassed with Life and Well-being;
How good it is to pray to you,
How blessed to be heard by you!
Shine for one who begs to serve you.
Come bless me this starry night.”
The voice sounded pure and hearty as if it was being carried aloft inside the curious star as it sailed above them. It glittered, grew nearer but it did not come down to the men standing on the roof.
The prince stared at his teacher aghast as the star faded from their sight, heading even further east.
“Great One…“Prince Hordjedtef stared at his teacher, who suddenly relaxed a little, then turned toward the brick stair that led down to his sleeping room. “What just happened?” The young prince felt the agony welling in his heart that something had gone terribly wrong. The “star” failed to turn. It didn’t descend or even pause in their direction after all. It hurtled along in its path to a different destiny. “Did we both not have the message moments ago that they were coming here?”
Elderly Djedi grasped the copper handles imbedded in the wall along the stair to ease himself down to the ground level. He didn’t answer his protege at first.
The prince followed close behind him, as if he was helping his elder move down the steps.
“Perhaps…” Djedi began his answer. “We have created a demon out of our desire to see our Ntr friends.” He turned at the bottom of the steps. His face never lost its calm, and in fact seemed more at peace than it had been in months. “I expected as much, good Highness.” he continued. “Perhaps it was nothing more than a glowing heaven-stone falling to earth, after all and merely our dreams of voices from beyond the sky world.”
“A trick? A lesson?” The prince felt cheapened and foolish.
Old Djedi turned at the door to his bedchamber. He briefly touched the crystal wdjat at his throat.
For a moment, the Prince thought he saw lights glimmering in the old man’s crystalline disc. He had never noticed anything but reflected light in it before.
“Calm your heart” the elder sighed “Contemplate the truth as it was taught to you, dear one. Remember nothing in the waking or sleeping lands happens without reason…Sleep will allow our spirits the freedom to find the answers, if they are even meant for us to know.”
Your sides are encompassed with Life and Well-being;
How good it is to pray to you,
How blessed to be heard by you!
Shine for one who begs to serve you.
Come bless me this starry night.”
The gentle but deep voice repeated in the young man’s memory.
Your glance is Watchful,
Your voice is the Light.
Have pity on me, O Asher-Ellit, Asher-Anu!
Order my prosperity!
Gaze on me in joy!
Accept my litany!
Shine for one who begs to serve you.
Come bless me this starry night.”
The child staggered, weak with fever, through the place in the wall and out into the open grasses beyond his mud-brick home.
The children in the village of Qustul all knew of that secret place where their scrawny young bodies could emerge. They had found it in the light of the last full moon, but no one dared creep out into the grass at night. It was dangerous. There might be lions or other beasts who would take great delight in a young and tender boy.
He had been so very sick.
Mami? Where is Mami? He asked himself. He felt well enough, in the middle of the dark night, to get up for a moment and wander to find her. The place in the wall had beckoned him as surely as if it had it’s own voice. He had squeezed his pale and frail body through it, but now he could barely stand up.
A lion will eat me… Mami…I’m scared…He began to shake and cry. The little boy realized that in his delirium he had wandered far from the village where he lived. If only I had listened to my elders!
The child and his companions had been playing in the forbidden ruins near the nome village of Qustul when, teased by other boys, he had fallen a short way down into a rocky pit. Unhurt, except for his pride, he had scrambled back up, only to startle a scorpion emerging from its nest. He was stung on his chest at the base of his throat. Crying out once in fright and a little pain, he scrambled out of the pit, but soon he began to stumble and gasp. The other boys had already deserted their game, running home to tell Governor Metaut and his chief wife Ko of the mishap.
By the time the governor arrived, his adopted son had gone to his knees and could barely cry out. The poor child panted and whimpered helplessly as the tall, dark man lifted him and carried him home. Physicians and healers began to quickly draw the poison from his sting, but he remained weak.
Everyone in his village made offerings to Mafdet the scorpion goddess with her snaky and sting-tailed locks. They prayed into the night that the little magical child would be spared. A huge red welt had risen on the poor seven year old boy�
�s chest. The center of the sting had begun to puff, open, and weep clear fluid while the child shivered and sweated. There was little hope that he would recover.
The physicians urged Governor Metaut and his wife to pray for the childs safe journey and then placed all of the right amulets on his pale and shivering little body. When that duty was completed, they told the boy’s parents it would be better for them to wait outside the child’s tiny lamp-lit room. They should let the gods make their decisions about him.
Reluctantly, the governor and his wife had departed to sit and wait outside.
In the middle of the night, instead of the spirits of ancestors coming, something else arrived. The boy had rallied and wandered off, past his sleeping family and, oddly enough, all of the guards. He had squeezed through the wall in what he thought was a dream. From the wall, he had gone far into the tall grass before he completely ran out of strength. His little world spun around and around. Reduced to panting in dizziness and pain, the boy knew he could not crawl back to the village. Everything in his world was fading and growing colder.
“Mami…Mami…” he cried, hoping a spirit would come and magically transport him back to his warm house and into her darkest arms.
Little One
Be strong
One is coming Voices echoed in his thoughts.
One and many for you
The copper-haired child heard the snuffling and gentle growling coming nearer. His little heart nearly froze. Every small child of Qustul knew the distant sound of lions in a pride. It was a constant concern in lean times and always a cause to be vigilant. Now the little boy was lying in the grass, too weak to get up and scramble to safety. Lions had come. They would eat him. Mami Ko would cry and so would Papi Metaut. They would not be angry, just so very sad. He had always been their special child, they told him. The goddess had brought him to Qustul to be raised by human parents. It was how they explained his light colored skin and bright brown-copper hair. He had not come from Mami’s dark belly or Papi’s seed. He had come, they said, from a lion’s belly, maybe even from the womb of goddess Menhit herself.
Why, He even has dark freckles on his face and shoulders like lion cub spots! they had said.
If there was any truth to that story, perhaps the lions wouldn’t eat him, after all, the boy thought. He felt another rush of dizziness. In the next moment, he felt a wet, soft nose nudging at his face. Warm nostril breath rushed at him and the lion nudged again. He whimpered. A rasping, rough tongue washed his face, and then moved to his stung chest and tired little shoulders.
Oddly, he felt his fear leaving as the great beast soothed him. With his fear, the misery left too. He opened his eyes. The eyes of the lioness were a glowing gold and green. Around her were other lionesses, huddling close to the boy to warm him. Something inside him made him want to scramble up to her warm furred belly. He felt the dampness of her swollen teats. She lay on her side for him. One teat poked at him a little, a bead of white forming at the tip. In a moment, her milk flowed into his mouth. He resisted for only an instant.
Little One
Be strong
One and many for you
Small voices of children sang in his thoughts. High in the sky, a star streaked north and east across the night. The little boy heard a man with a clear and low but loving voice singing in a different tongue. He didn’t understand the words he was hearing, but the children who whispered in his thoughts told him what the song said.
I have borne your yoke;
Bring me peace
I have sought your brightness;
Make my face bright.
I have turned to your way;
May it be life and well-being for me.
Shine for one who begs to serve you.
Come bless me this starry night.”
The gentle but deep voice lulled him, sated from the lion’s milk, to sleep. All night long, the big cats protected him. In the morning, the legend later said, the lioness who nursed him, the queen of the pride, shyly followed him back to his home. The men were gathering weapons against her. Frightened that they would kill her, the little one threw his light bronze arms around her soft golden neck and whispered:
“I love you Mami Lion…”
Marai tried to make himself forget the ghostly song that had buzzed in his ears moments before. He stared at the light moving in the moonless sky. At first he thought it was a falling star, which in itself would have certainly been enough of an omen of Ashera’s approach, but this falling star wasn’t like the tiny, vivid streaks of light that appeared on late summer nights. This light pitched heavily to the right, paused just at the midpoint of his gaze and winked out for a moment.
Marai stared at the place in the distance where he had seen the odd star vanish. Just after the night grew still again, something like thunder rumbled in the distance. A pink flash of light in the shape of a strange bubble formed briefly in the sky where the light had vanished. Something in that pinkish web looked at him. Vast heavens filled with myriads of stars stretched open inside the pink shape behind the unknown and unseen thing that regarded him.
“O Sacred Asher-Anu...” The shepherd leapt to his feet, half in prayer, but mostly in fright. He stared open-mouthed, as the star reappeared in the middle of the pink glow, seized it and grew until it looked as big as his clenched fist. Marai wasn’t able to see any details through the aura of green-white fire that surrounded the orb, but he sensed the light’s surface shimmering into multicolored facets that glittered like a handful of jewels.
The goddess! his heart sang.
After all of his years of beautiful prayer, he knew she had heard him and was coming to him! Would it be to punish him for the mere thought of asking her to leave her father’s beautiful mountain and come to him, The shepherd suddenly worried?
The “star” slipped behind the range of gray-topped dunes that lay only a few hours walk from his cave refuge. Greenish-gold flame leapt from the distant sand, crackled briefly, and dimmed to a gentle glow. The pink orb above the glowing hills had vanished. A shock of a tremor knocked the shepherd backward, followed by a thunderous roar echoed from the glow in the hills.
Marai turned and skidded, half on his knees, to the back wall of his cave home. Mumbling frantic prayers to the goddess to forgive him, he crouched in a ball, clutching the basket of his wife Ilara’s things for protection. For long, silent moments he shivered and waited. When nothing happened, he began to feel foolish, until...
Come and see me…
A young girl’s voice laughed. The voice sounded like the tinkle of a hundred tiny rings and bells on a dancer’s swirling skirts.
In sudden animal panic, Marai’s head snapped around toward the mouth of his cave to see who had spoken with an all too familiar voice.
Just above the old hearth where he had buried her, hovered his wife’s ghostly form. The apparition wasn’t full or solid, but the image looked as sweet and innocent as she did the first night he took her to his bed. The vision faded just as she beckoned for him to come to her.
Are you afraid of me, man of Ai?
The voice suddenly changed into someone ease’s sultry and seductive voice. Now it laughed wickedly at his trembling.
“Oh sweet Ashera-Ellit, my goddess, please don’t drive me mad like this.” Marai lunged once, groping at the air above the hearth as the vision vanished. If it was the goddess, he had hoped to catch some of her honey essence on his fingertips. When that failed, he crouched again, trembling and panting in terror. He clutched his matted hair and held his ears to ward off any further sounds of her liquid, seductive voice.
“Why, after fifteen years, did you come in my woman’s form?” he begged. “Is it because I was thinking of starting a new life far from this mountain?” he gasped “Haven’t I devoted enough of myself to you? Have I not offered my very soul?” He rocked back and forth in worry, muttering half-aloud “I swear! I’ve been with no one, since I made my vow to you. I’ve fasted...fasted like men who make the
mselves into women. I’ve lost the force of my loins except for the few nights you allow my dreams warmth...” he almost sobbed.
We do not punish you.
The sultry voice that sounded exactly the way he imagined his goddess would sound continued speaking in his thoughts.
“We?” Marai frowned, not comprehending. Why would the goddess refer to herself as we, he wondered?
We have seen into your heart
The one who shared your home
Is no longer here.
It sorrows you after
A great passage of your time
As much as it did in the first moments
You felt the loss.
We wished to return some joy
With the image of the one you remember.
You are truly loyal, man of Ai
More than many creatures we have seen.
Marai paused long enough in his growing spell of terror to notice that this second soft voice had grown from a female voice into a third, but male voice: Sheb’s voice. It’s tone was hushed but direct, similar to the way his cousin’s voice sounded when he was telling a secret.
The shepherd knew it couldn’t have been Sheb. His brother-in-law was asleep in his hut at the station below, although he couldn’t believe anything was still asleep after that quaking and thunder, unless it hadn’t been real and he had been caught up in a dream. Sheb would never have been cruel enough or skilled enough to mock him that way. Marai needed the voice to be his goddess Ashera, but he had the gnawing suspicion it might be some kind of demon instead.
“I... am still your servant.” he whispered, sitting back on his heels, growing a little more becalmed. “I would still worship you in Kemet, if I went there with the others in the morning. I would not forsake you for their gods.”
We do not desire you to serve us in this way. Would you... The voice sounded almost shy... Come to us…
Voices in Crystal Page 3
