“I wager you are a very big boy,” said a ravishing woman with copper braids tipped with real gold beads and a golden chain about her waist to Ra-Awab.
“Lovely,” said a woman with light curly hair and blue eyes,” as she touched my face. “Let me give you pleasure.” Her smile was alluring but I brushed her hand away.
We should have been ushered in through another entrance. Sarawat, Keshtuat, Tadushet and Rennutet looked appalled by the bombardment of hot bodies enveloping us. Strong feminine essences mixed with incense and expensive oils like aphrodisiacs. Hands caressed us and we struggled to move through this thickening crowd. How dare they touch the Per Aat in-waiting. I would complain.
Finally, we emerged into another room and Smenkhkare looked at me with concern.
“Your Highness,” he said. “I hope this did not disturb you.”
“Who are those women?” I asked after Sarawat and Keshtuat joined us.
“They are the Maidens of Amem, the Mistresses of Fertility, known as the Priestesses of Love,” replied Smenkhkare with a smirk.
Through a darkened hallway came an elder woman whose beauty had dimmed like the late august sun. She wore dark blue robes and walked with authority.
“Hail to you, Neophytes of Aten and Heliopolis. I bid you welcome to our Temple of Denderah. I am the Hathor High Priestess and The Mistress of Eternity.”
We greeted her when Ra-Awab, Archollos and the rest pushed through the sea of hands.
“Do they please you?” the priestess asked the boys, whose euphoria expressed all.
“Very much,” said Archollos as he flashed an engaging smile. I wanted to punch his arm for pretending to be enamored with those carnal women.
“You will find that the Maidens of Amem will be most suitable teachers for your initiations into the Rituals of Divine Essence. You will learn to use your potency to achieve states of higher consciousness and to control your basal urges and shift that energy upward,” said the High Priestess. “Of all your initiations in the Nile temples, I can assure you these will be the most pleasurable.”
“How can we partake in these initiations and keep our purity and chastity?” I asked.
“This temple is dedicated to the divine feminine. We are worshipped as deities incarnate and devote our lives and bodies to Hathor. We are the most educated and sophisticated women in Khemit, and we were handpicked for our intelligence and beauty. This Temple is the Place of the Potentiation of Souls. We teach men the Ritual of Love, and women come to receive Fertilization rites in the Rituals of the Seeding of the Cosmic Light. We also perform the midwifery in the Per Akh to bring new souls into this world,” the High Priestess explained.
“Are you going to train us to be Maidens of Amem?” asked Sarawat.
The High Priestess stifled a laugh “Gracious, no. Many of you do not have the qualifications for that position. No, you will be paired up and you will learn these rituals with your classmates.”
“May we choose our partner?” asked Keshtuat.
“Begin with someone you are comfortable with,” replied the High Priestess. “But, before we get ahead of ourselves, where is Merit-Aten?”
“Here,” I replied, feeling embarrassed at being singled out.
“Yes, Your Highness. I have a special job for you,” she said. “You will be trained in the art of midwifery and spend all your time in the Per Akh.”
“Just me?” I said with indignance. Why did I not get chosen to learn the Ritual of Love? I looked over at Archollos just as Sarawat claimed him.
My heart ached. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t have chosen me anyway.
“May I go with Merit-Aten?” asked Rennutet.
The High Priestess assessed the pregnant girl’s condition and nodded.
“Go to that door and through the courtyard. The rest of you follow me.” Rennutet seemed relieved and we walked toward our new assignment. I couldn’t help but glance back as Sarawat and Archollos embraced.
My throat constricted. Archollos tilted back his head and laughed at some secret she whispered. Just for an instant he caught my eye. I had to hide my face and clench my jaw.
“We are blessed not to have to pair up,” said Rennutet. “I do not want to ever be touched in that way again.”
“Why was I sent to the Per Akh?” I asked.
“You are the daughter of the Per Aat and Pharaoh.”
“My father said I had to be chaste and pure in order to receive the highest Atenic light. If I have to, then what about the others?”
“I am sure your father has a reason,” said Rennutet.
We entered the Per Akh. The smell of myrrh, rose and lotus incense instantly brought back memories of my own birth within these hallowed halls. Each room in the corridor was draped for privacy. Young attendants wearing the blue sheaths of their stations scurried back and forth with towels and herbal teas. Laboring mothers either walked the aisles or squatted upon the bricks waiting to deliver.
An elder woman whose face bore the well-traveled lines like a map met us. “Greetings. You must be my newest attendants. I am the Principal Midwife here at Denderah.” She wore a simple blue sheath, her gray hair tucked behind a blue linen scarf that hung down over the sides of her face, giving her an austere appearance. A golden ankh hung upon a chain, the weight straining her neck like a curved necked Grey Heron.
“This is Rennutet, and I am Merit-Aten.”
“I understand you both completed your initiations at the Temple of Heliopolis. Just like that temple, neither of you will receive any special recognition or treatment,” she said, waving a bony finger at us. “We have work to do here. Day and night, women come to give birth and do not give an owl’s hoot whether you are the daughter of the Per Aat or of a farmer. We deliver eighty babies a day. One thing they all have in common, whether they are rich or poor, is the fear they will not walk out of here alive.”
“They fear westing?” I asked.
“Indeed. Although we are quite skilled, many women will not live. Either the mother or the child will perish before we finish our job. In the worse cases, both west and all we can do is watch. Our pledge is to save the mother’s life first. After all, she may have mouths to feed at home and she can always have more children.”
“I cannot watch someone die,” I protested. “Maybe this is not the right job for me. I should join my classmates.” I squirmed and looked for an escape.
Two male attendants exited the far room carrying a stretcher with a bloated body upon it. My stomach roiled as a trail of red droplets stained the floor from the last expectant mother who didn’t survive. The attendant’s sandals left a scarlet smudge as he walked through it.
Rennutet turned away and protected her belly. Her colors seemed lifeless and gray. Flies buzzed overhead, marking the territory of the newly deceased. My fear welled up. Life was so tenuous. Yet big-bellied women flooded the entrance to make use of the services.
“That one had the swelling disease. You both better forge the mettle within your soul for the strength you will need in losing a patient or two. The sound of a newborn’s cry can melt the hardening of any heart,” said the midwife as she pointed at a new mother who lifted her breast to her healthy newborn.
“How do we start?” asked Rennutet.
“At the bottom,” she replied. “Grab those buckets and clean that room where the woman wested.”
Before I could argue that I’d done enough cleaning for this lifetime, Rennutet pinched my hip, warning me not to make trouble. We picked up the buckets of water. As we scrubbed, my mind wandered back to the Temple of Hathor when I observed a Maiden of Amem with long auburn hair astride a plump nobleman who screamed out the name of Amun.
In a candlelit room a Maiden with ebony skin received a hefty bag of gold from an adoring man and promises of his eternal devotion. So, these were the Rituals of Love. There appeared to be many ways to perform these sacred acts.
I journeyed to a manicured garden full of imported flowers in rainbows of col
ors; I noticed couples locked in sweet embrace. With curiosity, I moved closer and was startled to find Tadushet and Smenkhkare attempting a clumsy kiss. In the far corner cuddled Ra-Awab and Keshtuat, their hands exploring unchartered lands. Archollos and Sarawat exchanged a passionate meeting of the lips.
I snapped back into my body and my hand must have hit the bucket with a thud. Rennutet stared. “What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” I said, and hung my head. My face flushed, warmth pervaded my body, envy besieged me, as I yearned for Archollos’s touch.
“Something must be vexing you. I can see it by your expression. Tell me what it is.” Rennutet folded her arms.
“You would never believe me.”
“What happened?” she demanded.
“Sometimes when I let my mind wander I can see things.”
“What things?”
“Archollos kissing Sarawat.”
“She has always favored him.”
“But he should know better.” I said, “Besides, she honks like a goose.” Rennutet nudged me. “You have an attraction to him. I should have known.”
“No, I do not. He makes me angry and I cannot understand why he bothers me so.”
“I do. Your heart knows too,” she said, then giggled. “You should try to kiss him on the Feast of Hathor. Everyone will be intoxicated. It will be easy.”
“I will never be like the others and have love, not if I hope to become the High Priestess of Osiris. That is the price of the chastity,” I said. “I am sure Father assigned me to midwifery because I am not allowed to learn those skills.”
“The path of Osiris is only for males,” chided Rennutet. “They would never let you succeed. Choose an easier path so you can still be a Neophyte and have love too.”
I scrubbed harder and fumed. “You make it sound so simple. But it is not.”
Over the next five months, Rennutet and I advanced so fast in the art of birthing that we were appointed as apprentice midwives.
The work was as difficult as the head midwife described, but also as rewarding.
Rennutet expected to deliver her child any day; her movements slowed, her mood fouled, her back ached, her legs swelled, making it difficult for her to help the squatting women deliver. In order to ease her last days, I doubled my duties by taking over her night shifts. My knowledge and skills improved. When my superior predicted a difficult birth, she summoned me to give aide because of my healing ability.
The New Year started tonight, and the priestesses of Denderah mixed the large quantities of beer from the Temple of Heliopolis with red ochre for the annual Festival of Hathor. This sacred day of drunkenness commemorated the days of old when Hathor, the daughter of Ra, was sent by her father as the All-Seeing Eye to watch over mankind. Then, when we fell from enlightenment into the time of darkness and man forgot to give worship to the deities, Ra sent Hathor out as the lion-headed deity Sekhmet, to punish mankind by consuming them.
Later, when Ra ordered Sekhmet to cease her bloodlust, she refused. So Ra ordered that red beer be spread upon the land. Sekhmet gorged herself with the blood-stained fields and lapsed into an intoxicated stupor. Ra verily stopped her reign of terror. The Festival of Hathor honored the day the Khemitians escaped annihilation.
The Elder Midwife, Rennutet, and I walked back from the morning rituals in the main temple, the Maidens of Amem prepared for the night’s festivities. They adorned their private chambers with bouquets of flowers, finely woven linens upon goose-down mattresses, and fresh supplies of aphrodisiacs, tantalizing body perfumes, and gold dust to add an enticing sparkle. They brushed each other’s hair and massaged flesh with expensive oils.
We giggled at the titillations as Rennutet waddled past them with a bulging belly, a far cry from those sirens’ nubile forms. From the courtyard arrived attendants leading an assortment of leashed exotic animals: male lions with golden manes, braying donkeys, and muzzled crocodiles. I nearly retched to see that green leathery tail undulate from side to side.
“What will they do with all those animals and reptiles?” I asked.
“Are they for the zoo?” added Rennutet.
“No, they will be used in the Ritual Initiations of the Opening of the Uterus of Isis,” replied the Elder Midwife.
“Will they be sacrificed?” I asked with sorrow at the thought of such a beautiful lion being killed.
“Of course not,” she said. “The Maidens of Amem use them for copulation. They believe these powerful, strong and cunning animals and reptiles will transmit their qualities through their semen.”
Rennutet and I winced in revulsion. Our cheeks flushed. Those were brave Maidens.
“Will the animals bite them?” I asked.
Rennutet laughed. “Merit-Aten, you ask so many questions.” That made me chuckle too, and I nearly couldn’t contain my water. Suddenly, Rennutet gushed upon the just washed limestone floor. I saw the puddle and laughed harder because, evidently, she couldn’t hold it either. Then Rennutet looked up at me with a strange expression.
“I think my water broke. Praise be to Hathor. My time has come.”
My laughter stopped at once. “Rennutet, let me help you.” I took her by the arm.
The Elder Midwife made a quick check of Rennutet’s condition and heaved a sigh of relief. “So far all is well,” she said, “But you two girls must head back to the Per Akh. First deliveries can take a long time. Merit-Aten, administer the first herbal tinctures, and I shall be along as time allows.
Also, I have received word that we will have another guest of importance sometime today. The Opulent Room has been made ready. The messenger said it was imperative that secrecy be maintained.”
“It is probably another noblewoman or some mistress of a dignitary,” I said, having witnessed all types of arrangements. Noble women and court officials paraded in all the time to bear children.
The Elder Midwife nodded. “Could be.” I guided Rennutet past the Maidens of Amem who touched her stomach for luck and wished us good delivery. The Maiden with the long coppery crimped hair had dropped to her knees to bring a man behind a curtain to pleasure. I watched her bobbing head and saw his hands clutch the red drapes upon his release. We neared the impassioned couple when the Maiden pulled away, and out came a golden-haired man.
“Archollos?” I said, stunned.
“Oh,” he answered, as if feeling quite drained. “Hail to the fair Maidens.”
“Maidens indeed,” I said with indignance. Could he not see that Rennutet labored? “It is a bit early for carnal indulgence.”
“Day or night always seems to agree with me,” replied Archollos. This temple had turned him into a strutting peacock, and the local peahens had inflated both his ego and his penis. Did I smell beer upon his breath? Somehow I thought his moral integrity would be unassailable. Rennutet clutched her abdomen and moaned as the first expansion assaulted her.
“Renny,” said Archollos, suddenly sober and serious. “We shall assist you to the Per Akh.”
His gesture of caring surprised me. He put his long arm around her, his hand reaching to the back of my waist, which helped to support our classmate. A shiver ran up my spine. How odd, because the humid day already made me perspire. We guided Rennutet, into a clean and empty cell and helped her to a stool. I found a bowl of fresh water and cooled her face with a wet cloth. Archollos drew the curtains and only peeked in.
“May Hathor watch over you and bless you both.”
Shadow of the Sun (The Shadow Saga) Page 36
