by Wilbur Smith
After sunset the high priest entertained the Regent at a banquet. In his honor he served the famous wine from the vineyards that surrounded the temple. It had been at Busiris that the great god Osiris had first introduced the grape to Egypt. When the luscious vintage had mellowed the Regent and the rest of the company, the priests presented a series of theatrical acts representing the life-history of the great god. In each of these Osiris was depicted with different skin colorations, white as the wrappings of a mummy, black for the realm of the dead, red for the god of retribution. Always he held the crook and the flail, the insignia of the ruler, and his feet were held together like those of a corpse. In the final act his face was painted green to symbolize his vegetable aspect. As with the dhurra millet, which signified life and sustenance, Osiris was buried in the earth, which signified death. In the darkness of the netherworld he germinated like the millet seed, then emerged into the glorious cycle of life eternal.
While the tableaux were enacted, the high priest recited the god’s names of power: “Eye of the Night,” “The Eternally Good Being,” “Son of Geb” and “Wennefer, Perfect in Majesty.”
Then, surrounded by the smoke of the incense pots, to the beat of gong and drum, the priests chanted the epic poem of the struggle between good and evil. The legend related how Seth, envious of his virtuous brother, locked Osiris in a chest and threw him into the Nile to drown. When his dead body washed up on the riverbank, Seth hacked it to pieces and hid the various parts. Here at Busiris he hid the djed-pillar, the backbone. Isis, their sister, searched for and found all the parts of the corpse and reassembled them. Then she copulated with Osiris. While they were locked in union her wings fanned the breath of life back into him.
Long before midnight the Regent of Egypt had consumed a flagon of the rich and heady wine, and was in a nervous, susceptible condition, his religious superstitions titillated by the priests. As the silver beam of the full moon entered through the precisely aligned aperture in the roof of the temple and moved softly across the flags of the nave toward the closed door of the sanctuary, the high priest gave a signal and all the other priests rose and moved out in procession, leaving Lord Naja and Taita alone.
When the chanting of the departing priests had dwindled with distance into a heavy silence, Taita took the Regent by the hand and led him down the moonlit nave to the doors of the sanctuary. As they approached, the great bronze-covered doors swung open of their own accord. Lord Naja started and his hand trembled in Taita’s. He might have drawn back, but the Magus led him forward.
The sanctuary was lit by four braziers, one in each corner of the small chamber. There was a low stool in the center of the tiled floor. Taita led Naja to it and gestured for him to be seated. As he did so, the doors swung closed behind them, and Naja looked round at them fearfully. He would have started up again, but Taita placed a hand on his shoulder to restrain him. “No matter what you see and what you hear, do not move. Do not speak. As you value your life, do nothing. Say nothing.”
Taita left him sitting and, with stately tread, approached the statue of the god. He raised his hands, and suddenly he was holding a golden chalice by its stem. He lifted it on high and called on Osiris to bless the contents, then brought it back to Naja and urged him to drink. The honey-viscous liquid tasted of crushed almonds, rose petals and mushrooms. Taita clapped his hands and the chalice was gone.
He held out his empty hands and made a mystical pass back and forth before Naja’s face, and in the blink of an eye the Mazes of Ammon Ra filled his cupped hands. These ivory counters Naja recognized from the fanciful accounts he had heard of the ritual. Taita invited him to cover them with his own hands, while he recited an invocation to Ammon Ra and the host of the pantheon. “Greatness in light and fire, furious in divine majesty, approach and hearken to our pleas.”
Naja squirmed on his stool as the Mazes grew hot to the touch, and it was with relief that he passed them back to Taita. He was sweating heavily as he watched the old man carry them across the sanctuary and place them at the feet of the gigantic statue of Osiris. The Magus knelt there, bowed over them. For a while there was no sound within the chamber except the hiss of the flames, no movement except the shadows, cast by the lambent light of the braziers, dancing on the stone walls.
Then, abruptly, a terrible disembodied shriek rang through the sanctuary. It sounded as though once again the god’s vitals were being ripped from his body by his evil brother. Naja moaned softly and covered his head with his shawl.
Again there was silence until suddenly the flames of the braziers flared as high as the roof, and turned from yellow to fierce shades of green and violet, crimson and blue. Great clouds of smoke boiled from them and filled the chamber. Naja choked and coughed. He felt as though he were suffocating, and his senses reeled. He could hear his own breath reverberating in his head.
Taita turned slowly to face him, and Naja shuddered in horror, for the Magus was transformed. His face glowed with green light, like the face of the resurrected god. Green foam frothed from his gaping mouth and poured down his chest, and his eyes were blind orbs that flashed silver rays in the light of the braziers. Without moving his feet he glided toward where Naja sat, and from his gaping frothing mouth issued the voices of a wild horde of demons and djinn, a terrible chorus of screams and moans, hisses and grunting, retching and insane laughter.
Lord Naja tried to rise, but the sounds and the smoke seemed to fill his skull, and blackness overwhelmed him. His legs gave way beneath him and he slumped forward off the stool onto the tiles in a dead faint.
When the Regent of Egypt regained consciousness the sun was high, sparkling on the waters of the river. He found himself lying on the silken mattress on the poop deck of the royal barge under the yellow awning.
He looked around him blearily, and saw the sails of the escort galleys white as egret wings against the lush green of the riverbanks. The sunlight was dazzling, and he closed his eyes again. He had a consuming thirst, his throat felt as though he had swallowed a handful of sharp gravel chips, and there was a pounding in his skull as though all the demons of his vision were trapped within it. He moaned, shuddered and vomited copiously into the bucket that a slave held for him.
Taita came to his side, raised his head and gave him a cool draft of some miraculous brew that soon eased the pounding in his head, and loosened the gases trapped in his swollen belly, allowing them to erupt from his nether orifice in spluttering gusts of foul-smelling wind. When he had recovered enough to speak again, he whispered, “Tell it all to me, Taita. I remember nothing. What did the Mazes reveal?”
Before he would reply Taita sent all the crew and slaves out of earshot. Then he knelt beside the mattress. Naja laid a trembling hand on his arm and whispered pitifully, “I remember nothing after…” He hesitated as the terrors of the previous night came back to him, and shuddered.
“We have almost reached Sebennytos, Majesty,” Taita told him. “We will be back at Thebes before nightfall.”
“What happened, Taita?” He shook Taita’s arm. “What did the Mazes reveal?”
“Great wonders, Majesty.” Taita’s voice trembled with emotion.
“Wonders?” Naja’s interest quickened, and he struggled to sit up. “Why do you call me ‘Majesty?’ I am not Pharaoh.”
“It is part of what was revealed.”
“Tell it to me! Tell it all to me!”
“Do you not remember how the roof of the temple opened like the petals of the lotus, and the great causeway descended to us from the night sky?”
Naja shook his head, and then nodded uncertainly. “Yes, I think so. The causeway was a ladder of gold?”
“You do remember,” Taita commended him.
“We ascended the golden ladder.” Naja looked at him for confirmation.
“We were borne upward on the backs of the two winged lions.” Taita nodded.
“Yes, I remember the lions, but after that it is all shadowy and vague.”
“Th
ese mysteries numb the mind and dim eyes unaccustomed to them. Even I, an adept of the seventh and final degree, was amazed by what we endured,” Taita explained kindly. “But do not despair, for the gods have commanded me to explain them to you.”
“Speak, good Magus, and spare no detail.”
“On the backs of the flying lions we crossed high above the dark ocean and over the peaks of the white mountains, with all the kingdoms of earth and heaven spread below us.”
Naja nodded avidly. “Go on!”
“We came at last to the citadel in which the gods dwell. The foundations reached to the depths of the netherworld, and the pillars supported the sky and all the stars. Ammon Ra rode above us in fiery splendor, and all the other gods of the pantheon were seated on thrones of silver and gold, of fire, crystal and sapphire.”
Naja blinked at him, focusing with difficulty. “Yes. Now that you tell me, I remember it. The thrones of sapphire and diamonds.” The desperate need to believe was like a fire within him. “Then the god spoke?” he hazarded. “He spoke to me, did he not?”
“Yes. In a voice loud as the fall of a mountain the great god Osiris spoke thus: ‘Beloved Naja, you have always been faithful in your devotion to me. In this you shall be rewarded.’ ”
“What was his meaning? Did he make it clear, Taita?”
Taita nodded solemnly. “Yes, Majesty.”
“You use that title again. Tell me why.”
“As you command, Majesty. I shall tell you every word. Great Osiris rose up in all his terrible glory, and lifted you off the back of the winged lion and placed you beside him on the throne of fire and gold. He touched your mouth and your heart, and he greeted you with the title Brother Divine.”
“He called me Brother Divine? What did he mean by that?”
Taita suppressed a twinge of irritation. Naja had always been a clever man, sharp and perceptive. He did not usually need to have every detail spelled out so laboriously. The effects of the essence of the magical mushroom, which Taita had administered to him the night before, and the drugged smoke of the braziers had not yet worn off. It might be days before he was thinking clearly again. I shall have to ply a heavy paintbrush, he decided, and went on, “I, too, was puzzled by his words. The meaning was not clear to me, but then the great god spoke again: ‘I welcome you to the pantheon of heaven, Brother Divine.”
Naja’s face cleared, and his expression became proud and triumphant. “Was he not deifying me, Taita? Surely there can be no meaning other than that.”
“If there had been any doubt it was immediately dispelled, for Osiris took up the double crown of Upper and Lower Egypt, placed it upon your head and spoke again. ‘Hail, Brother Divine! Hail, Pharaoh who shall be.’ ” Naja was silent now, but he stared at Taita with glittering eyes. After a long silence Taita went on, “With the crown upon your brow, your holiness was manifest. I knelt before you and worshipped you with the other gods.”
Naja made no effort to hide his emotions. He was in transport. He was as vulnerable as if he had been in orgasm. Taita seized the moment. “Then Osiris spoke again, ‘In these wondrous things, your guide shall be the Magus Taita, for he is an adept of all the mysteries, and the master of the Mazes. Follow his instruction faithfully, and all the rewards I have promised will be yours.’”
He watched Naja’s reaction. Had he made it too pointed? he wondered, but the Regent seemed to accept the stricture without resistance.
“What else, Taita? What more did the great god have to say to me?”
“Nothing more to you, my lord, but now he spoke directly to me. His words struck through to the depths of my soul, for he laid a heavy charge upon me. These are his exact words, each one branded in fire upon my heart. ‘Taita, master of the Mazes, from henceforth you have no other love, loyalty or duty. You are the servant of my royal and divine brother, Naja. Your only concern is to help him fulfill his destiny. You will not cease until you see the double crown of Upper and Lower Egypt placed upon his head.’”
“ ‘No other loyalty or love,’” Naja repeated softly. He seemed now to have thrown off most of the ill-effects of his ordeal. His strength was flooding back, and the familiar light of cunning grew stronger in his yellow eyes. “And did you then accept the charge that great Osiris placed upon you, Magus? Say fair and true, are you my man now, or would you deny the word of the great father?”
“How could I deny the great god?” Taita asked simply. He lowered his head and pressed his forehead to the planking of the deck. With both hands he took Naja’s bare right foot and placed it on his own head. “I accept the charge that the gods have placed upon me. I am your man, divine Majesty. Heart and head and soul, I belong to you.”
“What of your other duties? What of the oath of allegiance you swore to Pharaoh Nefer Seti at his birth, and even more recently at his coronation?”
“Majesty, the great god Osiris has absolved me from anything that came before. No oath counts for me other than the one I now make to you.”
Naja raised him up and stared into his eyes, searching for any trace of deceit or guile. Taita looked back at him serenely. He could sense the Regent’s doubts, hopes and suspicions swarming together like a basket of live rats waiting to be fed to the falcons in the royal mews. The wish is father to the deed, Taita thought. He will allow himself to believe, because he longs for it to be so.
He watched the doubts clear in those yellow eyes and Naja embraced him. “I believe you. When I wear the double crown you will have rewards beyond your expectation or imagination.”
Over the days that followed, Naja kept Taita close to his side, and the old man used this new position of trust to change some of the Regent’s undeclared intentions. At Naja’s urging, Taita made another examination of the auguries. He slaughtered a sheep and examined its entrails, he released a falcon from the royal mews and watched its flight pattern. From these he was able to determine that the god would sanction no marriage of Naja to the princesses until at least the beginning of the next inundation of the Nile waters or the flooding would certainly fail. This would be a disaster that even Naja could not risk. The life of this very Egypt depended upon the inundations of the great river. With this prophecy Taita had delayed the danger to Nefer, and the agony of the two princesses.
Naja protested and argued, but since that terrible night at Busiris he had found it almost impossible to resist Taita’s predictions. In this he was made more amenable by the ominous news from the northern war front. On Naja’s orders, and against Taita’s counsel, the Egyptians had launched a desperate counterattack to try to retake Abnub. They had failed, losing three hundred chariots and almost a regiment of foot in the dreadful fighting around the city. Now Apepi seemed poised to deliver a crushing stroke through the demoralized and weakened Egyptian regiments, and come storming on to Thebes. It was not the time for a wedding, which even Naja conceded, and Nefer’s safety was ensured for a while longer.
Already a constant stream of refugees fled from Thebes by road and river toward the south. The volume of trade caravans from the east fell alarmingly, as the merchants waited to see the outcome of the imminent Hyksosian offensive. All commodities were in short supply and prices shot up.
“The only way in which you can stave off an annihilating defeat at the hands of Apepi is to negotiate a truce,” Taita advised the Regent.
He was about to qualify this by adding that the truce would in no circumstances be a surrender, that they would merely use the respite to strengthen their military position, but Naja did not allow him the chance to elaborate. “This I believe also, Magus,” he agreed eagerly. “Oft-times I tried to convince my beloved companion, Pharaoh Tamose, of the wisdom of this course. He would never listen to me.”
“We need time,” Taita explained, but Naja waved a hand to silence him.
“Of course you are right.” Naja was excited by this unexpected support. He had tried without success to convince the individual members of the council to agree to a peace with the Hyksos,
but none, not even Cinka, had supported him. Even the loyal Asmor had risked his wrath by vowing to fall on his own sword rather than surrender to Apepi. It had been a sobering revelation to find honor flowering in such unlikely ground, and to learn that even as Regent there were limits to what he could force through the council.
Peace with the Hyksos was the cornerstone of Naja’s vision, a vision of the two kingdoms reunited and a single pharaoh ruling both. Only a pharaoh who was part Egyptian and part Hyksosian could hope to achieve that, and he knew, without any doubt, that this was what the gods had promised him through the Mazes.
He went on earnestly, “I should have known that you, Taita, were the one person who would not let yourself be blinded by prejudice. All the others cry, ‘No surrender,’ and ‘Death rather than dishonor.’” He shook his head. “You and I can see that what we could not achieve by force of arms, we can bring about perhaps in a more gentle fashion. After sixty years in the Nile valley, the Hyksos are becoming more Egyptian than Asian. They have been seduced by our gods, our philosophy and our women. Their savage blood has been softened and sweetened by ours. Their wild ways have been tempered by our noble manners.”
The Regent’s response to his tentative suggestion was so overpowering that Taita was taken aback. There was much more here than he had suspected. To gain time to think it out, and garner some inkling of Naja’s true intentions, he murmured, “Those are words of wisdom. How could we hope to bring about this truce, Lord Regent?”
Naja was eager to explain. “I know there are many among the Hyksos who agree with these sentiments. It would take little for them to join us. Then we can bring peace and unity to the two kingdoms.”
The veils began to part. Taita was reminded suddenly of a suspicion he had once heard expressed but had rejected at the time.
“Who are these Hyksos sympathizers?” he asked. “Are they highly placed? Close to Apepi?”
“Noblemen, indeed. One sits on Apepi’s war council.” Naja seemed about to enlarge on this, but he stopped himself with an obvious effort.
