Opener of the Sky

by Mary R Woldering

  After a few moments of bitter silence, she tentatively reached for his arm; a signal for him to turn his averted glance to her.

  “I have much crowding my thoughts, beloved one. I need time to sort them.” Deka sought his eyes.

  “I see you, woman,” his voice seduced her again, but when he refused to look in her eyes, she lowered her gaze once more. He knew his blank expression upset her, but he needed for her to remain uncertain of her standing for the time being so that she would behave more submissively.

  “You don’t know your place with me now that I have the Ntr stones. You ask yourself if I will still desire you. I know that, because he who was dead has returned and now your heart confuses you.” He paused midway his lecture and saw that one of her servants entered with the trenchers of food. “Do you trust your own thoughts or do they betray you, you ask yourself?” he seized her jaw in his hand and squeezed it until Deka winced in pain. The moment he released his grip, she threw her arms around him.

  “I’m devoted to you,” she lay her head on his arm but did not meet his gaze.

  And she lies to me, too. So now that begins. Knew it would sooner or later, the prince mused as he shrugged her embrace, then eased from his bed to sit at table she had set. We shall see how she fares in the morning.

  They ate in silence until finally, as if she seemed unable to stand the lack of conversation, she spoke: “I wish you didn’t doubt me just because Marai has come.”

  Maatkare didn’t answer.

  “Raem… what must I do to prove it?” she spoke in a flat, but quiet voice.

  “Do?” he raised a brow, slowly raising his eyes. “There’s nothing, really, but I won’t condemn you yet. You have told me you are on a different path than this sojourning man and the others. Time and your acts will tell me if that’s true,” he regarded her sadness, then decided to give her a ray of hope.

  “Soothe me, then.” His left hand took hers and placed it on his own left shoulder. Your little heifer of a sister wrenched my arm today at the discipline. I need the tightness worked from it before we move inland to the grass, so it won’t catch on me when I draw my bow. You’ll heal me won’t you?” his voice slithered in a sweet but demanding way.

  “I will. I promise to do all that I can,” she replied, but the word “all” felt almost like a threat.

  What you do, woman, whatever you think… I’m inside your heart, watching you, he thought.

  Maatkare woke deep in the night with the feeling that something was dreadfully wrong. He had been so tired from the miserable day of combined defeats, and a big evening meal that he fell asleep as the woman worked his shoulder and arm.

  This isn’t my bed in the camp or the one in my home.

  He sensed he was in a different bed; a high and stately-looking one with netting draped around it. I know this place, he remembered. Damn! A dream that’s so real it’s like I have risen and flown through time into the past. He began to sweat as he thought: Not this memory. I’ll wake myself. I cannot think of that cursed ka-reen, but he was locked in the memory of the woman who had come to him that night long ago. She had been heavily veiled and disguised as a bed gift for a visiting and youthful prince. She had roused and aroused him, and with minimal seduction the two had enjoyed an incredible and insatiable evening that stretched into the dawning hours before they collapsed on each other, exhausted.

  I don’t want this, Maatkare tried to stir but nothing he did freed him from the memory. Merytetes, elder daughter of Menkaure, had been the woman in the veiling. His grandfather had suggested she seek him as a bit of a naughty joke, since she had been looking for a good consort. At the time he hadn’t understood the manipulation, but in retrospect too much had become clear.

  Grandfather did this to me, damn him and his ambitions, Maatkare recalled. Princess Meryt’s half-brother Kuenre had died. I had never met my own betrothed. I recall her name was Beni, but she had gone to Amenti, ill of a fever, just hours before I arrived to be joined to her. Grandfather whispered to me to not be sad, or to view it as an omen about my future with women. He had bigger plans for me. He brought me to King Menkaure and presented me so they could discuss my future. They set me up to be her plaything and perhaps, later on, a general.

  The prince stopped trying to wake himself.

  If this dream-vision has such a fierce hold on me, perhaps it’s a prophecy of some future event. He knew his waking memory had been muddled from the start. It had been necessary. Meryt… his thoughts spoke into his dream if your ghost is doing this to me, know you did enjoy my bed as they all do. You, though, craved it to sickness, and taught me even greater skills. You cursed ghost-woman! I took away much for having been schooled in pleasure by you. For that, at least, I thank you.

  He saw in his dream-memory montages of couplings any time of day or night, most of them rough.

  She liked it as rough as I could make it. My acted disrespect made her ravenous for me. Women say they hate it, but they don’t. They fear the pain but love the pleasure of being slammed in two… deep underneath where their red soul buries itself. She insisted we marry, after a while… and that I be appointed Crown Prince, adopted as son by the King so that I would be her ‘brother’. I should have known she merely wanted to own her prize.

  He lay still now; drifting into a meditative trance of recollection.

  She wanted me to quench her fire any time, day or night, but never concerned herself with my needs. He remembered he found Sadeh in the alleys of White Wall. Sadeh. That girl would do anything; literally anything, so I brought her into my new estate as Meryt’s “maid”. His laughter almost roused him. Sadeh viewed Meryt not as her superior, but as competition. The battleground was his bed and his body. Between the two, he wanted for nothing.

  No. I will remember only when it was good, only when it was fun. The prince struggled again, but an external, ghostly force held him in that memory as it darkened and verged into the forbidden parts. She miscarried… again. During her recovery and time of purification, I turned to Sadeh and other servants to ease the infection of hunger she had given me. She turned to strong drink to ease hers.

  As the dream continued, he saw the king come to caution him about the rough treatment of the divine daughter, urging him to take advantage of the concubines for such activities. Then there was another tragedy, a child born still. This time he recalled prophetesses coming to the king about a vision of great darkness that lay about my palace. In the next moment, he saw Meryt degenerate into an often sloppy but demanding drunk.

  I drank with her, but I was coming to loathe the sex that bound us. Still, I could not drive her from me. The more I disrespected her the hotter she would burn for me. I would pretend to rape her. She liked that. He knew what was coming next. It was the day he had put from his memory nearly seven years ago.

  Meryt, I curse you to Ammit, you wicked ka-reen. I don’t want to see it. Release me, damn you!

  They had argued briefly on the day she died. It was about his use of concubines and any other woman he could bend over. This turned to slapping and screaming and then to throwing and breaking things. It was the worst fight ever, but this time, he realized, it was not a game to excite his response. She drew a knife.

  Servants scattered in terror to alert the king that the fighting and shouting were getting out of control.

  I remember that, you crazed and moaning heifer. You told me you were putting me out and not naming me as your brother of heart if I didn’t learn better manners in your house… if I did not submit and honor you properly. But, you had lowered yourself way below honor any honor I could give you.

  “Oh, manners like this?” He had swept her off her feet to his room for some violent and reconciliatory sex with Sadeh thrown in as an added attraction. When they finished, he thought it was over. They downed more drinks and joked into the afternoon.

  Then you started up again… still said all you had to do was say one thing to your father and I’d be finished… Bitch! I laughed, but yo
u didn’t and then I knew you meant it. Damn… I see it all now. I kissed you. You poked at my arm with your dagger and cut me a little. If I hadn’t been quick…

  I was so drunk I lost my balance avoiding your blade. More drinks. Called you a cow, but as an animal, not in your sacred role of Hethara, the divine one.

  In his dream, he saw Sadeh and himself tying Meryt’s neck to a lead on the rail and mocking her like a cow in a breeding pen. She liked that, he reflected, when I yanked the lead at the right moment. She always did.

  He saw her struggle away this time and crawl up on the rail, turning to mock him.

  “Monster! Demon! I will jump into my Amenti now, rather than squeeze out your disrespectful sons…”

  Maatkare struggled in his dream but felt the ghostly influence gaining on him, demanding that he witness the rest.

  I didn’t believe she would say that.

  He saw himself poke at her to scare her off the rail and into his arms, but saw she slipped. I grabbed the leash to pull harder, but I was so drunk I maybe… I maybe… didn’t… exactly. The straps that fastened her shift and the lead around her neck caught on some of the decorative sculpture on the other side of the rail. He remembered he paused and looked, now. He hadn’t remembered it before. She dangled. Her hands grabbed the straps from her silent throat as it crushed and she choked. He heard his youthful self shriek his wolfish victory howl as she struggled.

  “O that din’t take much… just a little push…” echoed through his memory and he saw himself sink dizzily to the floor for a moment.

  I came to my senses an instant later… or was it longer? Sadeh was not there. She wasn’t about to get herself executed over some drunken accusation. Stinking ka’t.

  The sound of mad scampering and crying out rose from the lower floor. He saw himself lean over to pull the rope, but by his time her mottled face and bulged eyes showed that she had accepted her fate.

  Servants scurried up to cut her limp form down while others assembled below to catch her as she fell.

  Drunk… I was worse than drunk he thought.

  Someone helped him dress and eased him down the stairs. He saw her lying on the floor, neck choked and gasping weakly. He saw how the image had stunned him sober as he lifted her into his arms and tried to rouse her. The king rushed in. As if he had blacked out again and now saw it in detached memory, Maatkare remembered being thrown against the wall by his majesty. He struggled up and rushed to Meryt in horrid realization of what had taken place. The two men cried while they held her and watched her life go.

  He lost his wits, the king did. He had a special carved bull-shaped wood and golden coffin created for her, then lay in it himself while she was prepared. He ordained that she would be worshipped forever in the arms of Atum.

  He wanted me dead, Maatkare felt the sad memory almost strangle him in his own rest. He should have killed me the moment she passed from us, but something stopped him. It wasn’t my begging or his blaming my drunk state, either. It was something far more powerful. Grandfather had worked his magic to convince the king that his dearest daughter had been despondent over the stillbirth of her child. It was despair of an unhappy life…

  No, the bitch jumped. I called her dare. Maybe I did push her a little. Maybe I could have grabbed her and just didn’t on account of being passed out. Doesn’t matter. Don’t know why her ghost wanted to tell me this after over six years.

  Maatkare woke with a start. Nefira Deka kissed his tense shoulders and lay her head on his chest. He swatted her aside, instantly feeling…

  “You! You brought this cursed dream to me,” he sat up holding his head and shuddering in something between rage and horror.

  “Dream?” she picked herself up. Her eyes glimmered just a touch of flame over their darkness. “Did you have a dream, beloved? Tell me it, so I may soothe you.”

  He knew she understood his dream. She sensed thoughts and if he had waked her wrestling with his demons she would have paid attention. At first he resisted, turning from her.

  “Maatkare Raemkai,” she whispered and placed his hand on her belly. “His name will be Ameny...”

  Maatkare paused, gave a sick half-laugh that echoed. Oh you have some skills to bring this to me now, you she-beast. He took her in his arms, or moved to, but this time she lifted Wserkaf’s wdjat up to the lamplight to see the image that formed. It was the text of a poem. When he recited it, he sensed that he was speaking of the near future but the scroll had been written much later in a distant kingdom as if it had recorded a long recited history.

  Then a king will come from the South,

  Ameny, the justified, by name,

  Son of a woman of Ta-Seti,

  And a child of Upper Lands,

  He will take the white crown, the red crown

  He will join the Two Mighty Ones

  Akkad will fall to his sword,

  Tjemehu will fall to his flame,

  Rebels to his wrath,

  Traitors to his might,

  As the serpent on his brow subdues the rebels for him,

  One will build the Walls-of-the-Ruler,

  To bar them from entering Kemet

  “See” she whispered, very lovingly by her eyes continued their mysterious glimmer as she put away the medallion. “Don’t regard the past that can’t be changed and how your life was steeped in these miseries.”

  “You did this,” he sulked, turning again. “And because of that damned stone…” but she was already shaking her head ‘No’.

  “Only so you could bury it, then assume your greatness,” she gently kissed one of his eyes.

  He nodded, trying to understand, but still not trusting her as he turned to kiss her lips and stroke her dark belly. Think of what will be, not what has been. I see you. I see your plan for me. I’ll humor you for now, but I will watch you work this game. He noticed her cryptic smile at that moment, but thought he had imagined it.

  CHAPTER 27: RESOLUTION DELAYED

  “What? No. For the love of… Goddess!! You just came right in here this morning and sat down to watch us? For how long? Bastard!!”

  Marai woke with a start to the sound of Ariennu’s scolding voice. Without looking, he sensed Prince Maatkare seated between his head and the opening of the tent; arms folded in self-satisfaction.

  The sojourner raised his head and turned to verify his thought then sighed, disgusted. How long the prince had been seated in contemplation of his “guests”? Marai didn’t even want to know.

  Did you? Marai noticed the man’s hand gripped his fly whisk and that it looked as if he had been about to poke or nudge one of then, just to be irritating.

  Naibe felt him move, noticed who was there, and gasped. Marai hushed her alarmed squawk, covered her with his cloak and then sat up with her.

  Ari threw her own arm over Djerah, to protect him. She knew all of the commotion the prince had just caused reflected in his entertained expression.

  “Oh?” Maatkare raised one brow, then rose and took a step toward Ariennu and Djerah. “Disrespect from you, Red Sister? I see you sleep in my tent, loaned to you, are a guest in my camp, and tend my prisoner. Did it ever occur to you that your manners could influence my decisions? Seems I’ve gone this path with you before, haven’t I? Still that mouth of yours rings in my ears as if it begs me to treat you and yours badly. You act as if you have come to long for the ladder again,” he chuckled then turned to stare down his hawk nose at Marai and Naibe.

  “And you,” the prince stared down, then poked the big man’s arm with his flail.

  Marai felt the sharp dart-like point on the tip dig into his flesh, frowned, and wrapped Naibe in a protective embrace.

  “Aw, that’s touching,” Maatkare nudged Marai’s arm again and was about to move to Naibe’s exposed breast when the sojourner snatched the flail, snapped it in two pieces with one hand, and tossed the halves aside in one fluid movement.

  “Poke at me if you like, but not her,” Marai spoke quietly, then spat “…
Highness.”

  A growlish, dog-like snarl issued from behind the prince’s throat. Maatkare’s personal guard and the two guards assigned to Deka filled the gap in the tent flap, ready to assist the prince, but he waved them off. He re-folded his arms, stared down, and sent an ugly thought.

  I will deal with you, sojourner. Just checking the baggage. He turned again and, as if pacing, returned to Djerah and Ariennu.

  “So. He recovers then, but is still weak enough that there’s no fight rising in him?” The prince flipped his hand at Ariennu “Back up so I can see him, ka’t.”

  Ari hissed, but Marai gave a nod for her to comply.

  When she moved, Maatkare squatted to examine the young man’s wounds. He touched Djerah’s discolored upper cheeks and saw the puffiness shift underneath his skin. A little serum oozed from a place where the sealed skin had been left open for drainage. The prince touched it and then tasted a little of the fluid. Satisfied that there were no signs of early putrefaction, he spoke.

  “Wake yourself. I order you to open your eyes and look at me.”

  Djerah tensed, cracked open his eyes that still wandered unfocused, then struggled to raise the upper part of his body in apparent self-defense. He tried to push Ariennu’s protective reach away but his strength faded and bewildered pain showed in his face.

  “No, Djerah, don’t…” Ariennu looked across him to snarl at the prince again. “Haven’t you done enough, to him? Leave him alone.”

  “Hardly. He is still my prisoner and wants death for his actions. That he lives just means I ought to try harder next time. And I want no orders out of your mouth, either. I give those, understand?”

  “He doesn’t listen to people much, does he?” Marai commented on the exchange quietly, patted Naibe, put on his tunic, and began to get up. “Stay here,” he stood, his head almost grazing the top of the tent.