Shiri

by D. S.

  “I won’t be a burden, I promise I won’t! I just want...” She stared at him. “I want...” She couldn’t say it. He held her gaze, refusing to allow her to look away, but look away she did.

  He sighed. “So you’re sure then? You really want to go with me?”

  She took a deep breath, the words she wanted to say circled round and round her head. ‘I don’t want to go. I just want to be with you.’ Her lips quivered and she looked into the fire. “Yes, I ... I want to go.”

  IV

  Birds, hundreds of birds. For the first time in weeks the lifeless void of the desert sky was filled with them, “Ibis,” Josef told her as she gawped upwards.

  “Thoth sends his messengers! The flood is upon us!” Solon shouted over his shoulder. Akil whooped and pointed at the swirling flock. Even the donkeys seemed to sense it and their pace quickened. They crested the ridge and all at once they were upon it; The Memphite plain.

  Shiri’s jaw dropped. Almost instantly the desert gasped and died before her eyes. Everywhere was the glimmer of water, everywhere was blue or green, everywhere was life. Ba’al whickered at the sight of it and even Josef seemed in awe. Hundreds of canals bursting with frothing waters beat back the desert sands as Seth’s wastelands fled before the might of the sacred river. Endless ranks of carts bearing fruits of all shapes, sizes and colours lined the road ahead. Tall date palms were suddenly surrounding them, their long leaves shading them from the baking heat. And at the centre of it all she saw it; the Gypto’s famous river. The Tears of Isis, that’s what Solon called it. He’d told her that each year, remembering the death of her loved one, the goddess cried and brought the flood. Shiri had scoffed at the tale. How could tears fill a river?

  Even now wisps of fog still hung above it, wreathing it in a grey shroud that refused to be burnt away. Dozens of barges full of grain plied the waters and beneath them hundreds of giant water cows splashed and fought. Josef said the water cows were sacred to Hapi, guardian of the river, and no man could hunt them without leave of the water priests. Giant rafts filled with sheep, cattle, horses and goats floated on vast lakes that just days before had been dry land. Ahead of them, Solon plucked some strange looking fruit from a low hanging branch and when their cart passed under, Shiri did likewise. She nipped it cautiously and her eyes widened; it was sweet and bitter in one. She broke into a broad smile and grabbed a second when they passed under the next tree.

  The wheels of their cart splashed through muddy water as they forded a canal and Shiri screeched in delight when a great bird of incredible size beat its wings and took flight over her head. From a pool swathed in lilies and papyrus she could hear the furious croaking of what must have been a million frogs, and from somewhere in the distance, she could hear song and laughter on the wind. It was like a vision of some mythic paradise. “It’s heaven!” She beamed at Josef. He offered her no smile in return.

  “Josef?” Gently, she touched his arm. His jaw was clamped tight and something in his eyes scared her. He turned his head slowly and spoke as if to a fool. “It’s a heaven built atop a hell, Shiri.” Confused, she looked around and slowly the veil was lifted. She saw them.

  At first she’d thought they were peasants hard at work on their own land, as they would be in the meads and vales of Palestine, but as they drew closer she realised the truth of it. Before them, to either side of the road, ahead and behind them; slaves, dozens of them. With hoe and mattock they tilled the fields under the sharp eyes and cruel whips of their masters. She saw a man cry out as his lord administered what he deemed to be justice. The laughter drew nearer and suddenly she saw the cause of it; a boy no older than Ethan surrounded by three men. Two of them were holding him down and the other was ... was ... she turned away from the sight.

  Akil and Solon were in high spirits. They laughed and joked and seemed not to notice the slaves. “You want to know what Egypt is, Shiri?” Solon shouted back at them. “Egypt is the river! Egypt is the Tears of Isis! As long as love lives in the goddess’s heart the flood will come and the land will bloom. Why Pharaoh wastes his time sending armies north, south, east, west is beyond me, for where else could a man find fertile black earth like this? Twice in one season will it bear fruit and...” Shiri closed her ears to the old man’s ramblings as the city loomed up before them.

  They left the donkeys in the care of a stable boy outside the walls. With stern face Shiri advised him how best to be about his business, she’d be back on the morrow, or the day after and her master would hear of it if Ba’al wasn’t well tended. Twin lines of bizarre looking stone demons, their faces chipped and worn with age, loomed over her as they approached the gates. They were half lions, half men; the twisted imaginings of some warped mind. Solon caught her glance. “The priests of Heliopolis worship the old gods.”

  “The old gods?” They did look old. Their time worn faces were barely recognisable as human.

  “The ‘Three That Are One,’” Josef said. “Atum, the all-father, Horus, the son, and Ra, the very sun spirit itself, all mashed up together.”

  “Three gods in one? That’s stupid. How do they know which one they’re praying to?”

  Josef grinned as they passed through the fabled Sun Gate. The giant stones had once stood tall and proud, but now they were blackened and scorched. Many had tumbled to the earth and others were cracked and shattered. “Most of the Gyptos are with you on that,” he whispered. “The way I hear it, only the greybeards of Heliopolis still offer the Three That Are One their prayers.” He looked on the ruined gate curiously. He’d heard of a fire a few years before, but he’d have thought the damage would long since have been repaired.

  Heliopolis was not the mighty city it claimed to be. The main square and the temple district were easy enough to find and they made straight for them. Shiri had been expecting a gleaming metropolis of granite and marble, broad streets and towering walls. What she found was a fetid maze of crookback alleys and mudbrick hovels.

  About all that Heliopolis had to keep it on the map was the great temple at its heart. The Sun Temple Josef told her. “They sure like the sun,” Shiri replied, sheltering her face from the almost overpowering heat of its rays. The temple of Heliopolis was once the mightiest in the Two Lands, but now even that was decaying and falling into ruin. It too bore the scars of fire and smoke. A large portion of the roof was missing and the east wall was a mess of tumbled down boulders and debris. Apart from the ‘Sun’ Temple and the ‘Sun’ Gate the rest of the city looked like it had been untouched by the flames.

  The temple stood before a great square of beaten earth where merchants plied their trade in crude stalls shaded by papyrus awnings. Akil paused beside one to have words with a scantily clad woman that seemed determined to flirt. She was caked in gaudy makeup and was graced with the most gigantic breasts Shiri had ever seen. She was not shy about displaying them. Akil went for his money pouch, but the woman seemed to lose interest when she saw the size of it.

  Another woman in similar attire to the first, but younger and decidedly prettier blocked Josef’s path. Her hand darted towards his kilt. “Is m’lord stiff after his travels?” The woman’s tongue circled red lips as she gave Josef a practiced look that would melt even the most principled of lordlings. Shiri felt a flush of annoyance when she saw her find his hand and attempt to guide it under her skirts. Josef deftly disentangled himself from the woman and as Shiri followed him past, the Egyptian scowled at her. She smelled of cheap wine and strong perfume.

  Josef led the way, taking the steps towards the temple doors two at a time. Shiri made sure to keep pace, afraid of what might happen if she was separated from him. A line of beggars and cripples squatted in the shadow of the temple petitioning worshipers for alms. She stared at them as they passed. They were free folk not slaves, but little the better for it. The doors, massive affairs carved of some ancient wood not native to the land, were sealed and did not look like opening. A lone guard with an oversized spear stood before them. Josef approached hi
m with a grin. “Are all Egypt’s temples sealed and guarded or just the ones in Heliopolis?”

  The man graced him with a somewhat bored expression. “What business?”

  “I would speak with Pentephres.”

  “Many would speak with Pentephres. He has little time for such things. Away with you, return on the morrow at the proper hour, and be prepared to wait in line with the rest of the supplicants.”

  “I’d rather speak with him today. Is there nothing you could do to convince him to see an old friend?” A silver deben appeared between Josef’s fingers and he flicked it towards the man. The guard caught it without changing expression. “Well ... mayhap his scribe priest, Hapu, can make time for ... an old friend of his master.”

  “Hapu?”

  “Aye,” The guard beat his spear on the doors before returning to his vigil, his eyes briefly studying Shiri. She felt as if the man was assessing if she was pretty enough to fetch a decent price in slave markets. “How long has Hapu served here?” Josef asked in passing.

  “Old Hapu has served the temple near as long as Pentephres himself, twenty years or more by my reckoning.” The guard inhaled impatiently making it clear he had spent enough time in idle talk. At length the doors slowly creaked open and a suspicious pair of eyes peeked out. They passed from the old man who was grinning like a hyena, to the soldier, scowling and searching a money pouch that looked over light, to the slave girl, staring at her feet, as was appropriate for one of her station. And then the eyes moved to the group’s dignified looking leader. He was clad in expensive robes and had the look of nobility about him. “What brings you to the Sun Temple, lordling?”

  “My business is with Pentephres. I would have audience with him at his earliest convenience.”

  The doors opened a little wider. “Who will I say seeks this audience?”

  “Tell him Yuya has returned.” He said it with such confidence and in such impeccable Egyptian that for a moment even Shiri wondered.

  The priest’s eyes widened, he pushed the door open and drew closer, his eyes squinting in the light as he studied the man. “Y…Yuya??” He raised his hands to Josef’s cheeks and cupped them, turning his head from side to side. “But my, how the years have changed you! These old eyes are not what they used to be, but look at you now! So tall and handsome!” he prodded at the man almost as if to confirm he was not some apparition. “Can it be, that after all these years you have returned to us?”

  Shiri shifted uncomfortably and Solon seemed to draw a little closer as if curious to see what would be said next. Josef merely laughed, “Aye, well, given the recent events in Palestine I deemed it a prudent time for a homecoming.”

  “Yes, yes, terrible business that, I heard what the swine did to your father, terrible awful business,” he blessed himself.

  “I only wish I could have avenged his death.” Josef said sadly. Shiri glanced at him, impressed by how easily he lied.

  “I too my friend, I too,” the priest looked suddenly gloomy. He stared at Josef for a moment and something in his eyes seemed a little uncertain. Shiri felt the tension in the air rising. The old priest chewed his lip as if something about the man that stood before him did not sit right with him. He glanced at Josef’s hand, “You wear the ring of the house of Ratoker.”

  “As is my right”

  “Of course,” he said slowly. “Of course ... the years ... my memory fades and yet...”

  Josef moved closer. He looked at the priest more intently. All at once, he gripped him by the arms and leaned into him as if studying his wrinkled features. “But wait ... no ... don’t tell me! It ... it can’t be? Can it really be … Hapu? Is it you my old friend? By the gods it is you!”

  A moment, the old priest stared at him before his suspicion cracked into a broad smile, “Yes! YES!” he proclaimed, “Gods, your young eyes are better than mine! It is I, Hapu! And ... yes...” he nodded as if convincing himself, “Yes, you are Yuya! Long have I dreamt of seeing you again! And you wish to see Pentephres is it? But aye, of course you would! And his daughter too no doubt! Wait here a space and I will bring you to him.”

  His daughter? Shiri glanced at Josef as the priest disappeared behind the great doors. There was a bead of sweat about his brows, he dabbed it off quickly before offering her a sly wink. Something in that reassured her. He would fool them all. She knew he could do it. He was the Shepherd Prince ... no, he was the Shepherd King ... my king. She felt that feeling in her tummy again and looked away from him just as the doors opened and Hapu returned, beaming, “He will see you at once!”

  They entered the temple together. Suddenly the priest released a cry. “What are you doing, whore! Habiru cannot enter the temple!” He gripped Shiri by the arm, his face contorted in rage. “You’ll suffer for this sacrilege!” Shiri struggled vainly, staring wide-eyed at Josef. “And ... and now it struggles!” The priest raised the back of his hand to strike her.

  Josef grabbed the old man’s wrist. “Stay your hand, Hapu, I’ll deal with the fool wench.”

  Hapu stared at him open-mouthed. He glanced from his wrist to Josef and back again. “You ... you lay hands on me!” he looked incredulous.

  Shiri had stopped struggling, her mind in panic. How stupid could I be? Josef had told her slaves weren’t supposed to enter the temple but she’d forgotten. “What ill mannered brat is this?” Hapu said. He turned on her, his eyes blazing. “Habiru temptress! Slut! Bedslave! You mean to defile the temple with your whoredom! Your flesh shall burn for this! Donkor fetch Jafar and have him bring tinder and oil!”

  Josef was wide-eyed, he still held the priest’s wrist. “Hold up there, Hapu, I’ll punish the girl for this no need to...”

  “No need!? No need do you say? This whore of Palestine commits high sacrilege! She will burn in the hell fires of retribution and the dogs of Anubis shall feast on her flesh to cleanse the earth of its wickedness!” He looked distraught, “See! See! The sacred tiles beneath her feet are defiled! We must send for Hapi’s waters and perform the rites of purification! Only the Tears of Isis can wash away her filth!”

  Josef ignored the priest, he took her seemingly roughly by the arm and led her outside. “Jos ... Yuya,” she stuttered, “I’m sorry I ... forgot, I...” She felt terrible, a fool ... a burden, just like he’d said I would be, I’ve messed everything up already.

  She half expected him to shout at her or slap her in the face and so show the priest that he meant business. His eyes were angry when he put his lips to her ear but his words were ... soft. She realised his anger was not for her, “Don’t worry, Shiri. I’ll take my sword to that priest’s throat if he persists in this nonsense.” He saw the guard, Donkor, making his way down the steps. “You, Donkor,” he called. “Get back to your post.”

  The man turned. “It is not for you to give me orders, lordling, the whore will pay for her sacrilege, she must burn in the Godfires as is written in the book of...”

  Josef moved towards him, he seemed almost to grow taller, his voice deeper, his eyes darker, and there was steel in his words. Even Shiri drew back from him. “You will return to your post, Donkor, or will you have me give my orders with this?” he allowed his hand to rest on the hilt of his sword.

  The guard seemed suddenly unsure of himself. He looked past the stranger to Hapu, the priest was flustered and unwilling to challenge the noble’s word. Donkor nodded, glancing at the slave as he made his way back up the steps. Shiri’s heart beat a little slower.

  “You’d best be waiting here,” Josef said. “I’ll deal with you later.” He said that last part loud enough to ensure Hapu heard.

  “Don’t worry, Yuya, I’ll see young Shiri keeps herself out of trouble,” Solon was grinning broadly, almost as if he’d found the whole display a great entertainment. He winked at Josef. “Fifty debens for naught but a bonfire? I wouldn’t have that for you, besides, the way I hear it, this one’s yours alone to punish.” He elbowed Akil, “Poor girl’s in for a tough time of it eh, Akil? Like as n
ot, her master will only see fit to give her half his bread tonight.”

  Shiri glared at him. The old man, was too sharp by half. Josef let go of her wrist and entered the temple alone. She peered after him, but he did not look back. The sound of sistrums being shaken and the scent of frankincense accompanied his entrance. The altar, which held an ivory statue of the same lion man she’d seen before the gates of the city, was illuminated by a ring of lamplight. It stood at the core of a vast vaulted chamber supported by a series of granite pillars, some of which were blackened and scorched, and in the shadows, hunching forward on a cold granite throne, an old man stared back at her.

  V

  “Young master Yuya I presume?” White teeth glinted behind thin lips skilled at frowning, while cold grey eyes brooded under weighty lids furrowed and creased by many winters.

  Josef bowed. “At your service, your holiness”

  “Word of your death has tormented my sleep.” The priest’s voice was strangely resonant, “Nobody was happier than I to discover the reports were ill-founded.”

  “I’m quite pleased on that account myself,” Josef said. His eyes studied the high priest. He wore a striking necklace of red gold and a double banded ring that mounted a Nubian bloodstone of preposterous size, The Sun Ring. Josef felt his eyes being drawn to it – scarlet flames frozen for eternity in a green crystal prison. The captured blood of a god. If the priest had hair it would have been silver, and his thin limbs blanketed by yellow splotchy skin, indicated he had suffered from a protracted illness. His breath came in slow, wheezing pants. His nostrils whistled a dying man’s tune.