Wserkaf had objected to his senior’s quick and certainly heartless behavior toward the women. The elder hadn’t even allowed them more than a few hours to grieve privately. Count Prince Hordjedtef disrespected them. He considered them valueless females, thus any assistance he gave them had been an undeserved honor. That he had to deal with them at all had galled the old priest. ‘The unclean man has been allowed into my home and now his unclean ka’t have brought their stench and disease into my place, no matter how cleaned up and painted they appear,’ he had said. Wserkaf knew that Hordjedtef had decided the women ought to be appreciative of his arrangement to return them to their former work. He had invited the finest men in the royal family to view them and to perhaps choose them as minor concubines. The inspector knew that, for a foreign woman, this kind of life was little better than a luxurious prison sentence for having ever aligned themselves with such a criminal. The other concubines did not accept sojourners or commoners. Most of them were daughters of lesser nobility, hoping to move up in status by charming a high-ranking man. There were intrigues, fights, and mysterious deaths from time to time that usually ended badly for the foreigner. But, the high priest had scolded him for his objection, intending to be quickly finished with the women.
Although he kept it to himself, Wserkaf knew the truth of the matter. His elder was unnerved by certain fledgling powers these women had demonstrated. That problem could be solved in the short run by distracting them. The elder woman and the Ta-Seti woman evidently understood no one wanted to see women weep or complain very long over the demise of another man. The young, pretty dancer either didn’t understand this or didn’t care to understand it. She wept nearly to death the first day, making it necessary for serving women to stay with her constantly as he and his beloved went about their daily appointments and devotions. These women had to watch her so that she didn’t try to kill herself. By the second evening she seemed to have cried much of it out, but the third day she went through another gut wrenching bout of ranting, running about, screaming, weeping, and one seriously bad fainting fit in the afternoon that had servants scurrying for physicians.
When Wserkaf returned from his meetings, and his princess returned from a consultation with some of the prophetesses of Ptah, the maids suggested it might be more merciful to offer her some quick-acting poison, than to allow her to suffer so.
For a long time, the inspector sat silently beside the young woman at the pool. In the three days she had been with them, she had taken only a few sips of beer, a crust of bread, and a small piece of melon. She was turning inward and losing touch with the living world. Soon, her fainting episodes would increase. She was making herself ill. At this rate, a fever would eventually take her and she would die in starving and suffering misery.
While sitting quietly, Wserkaf thought of Marai. In the space of the three weeks in which this sojourner had trained with them, Wserkaf had gone from believing that the former shepherd of the Sinai wastes was a mere canny usurper to believing he was some kind of a foreign god similar to Iah or Re. He inwardly knew that couldn’t possibly be true, but he heard the man had transformed himself into Bakha, the wrath-form of Bull god Montu, without even thinking much about it. The Ta Ntr stones which the tall rust haired woman had brought had something to do with the sojourner’s powers; they enabled him.
In the end, the Inspector shrugged as he thought about it, Marai turned out to be just as tragically mortal as any common man. Because of his trust in these stones and their power, Marai had ignorantly allowed Hordjedtef to destroy him without remorse. A purposely flawed partial ritual was performed so that Marai would not even enjoy the dignity of eternal life. He would spend eternity as though he was in the Pit of Chaos. He would wander in the realm of ghosts trapped between the world of the living and the land of death. Wserkaf had sensed something of Marai’s essence still hovering the first evening of his entombment, but after three or four days, there had been nothing. The curse had appeared complete.
“Know that your Marai was a good man…” Wserkaf finally ventured, “and one I will never forget.” Waiting for Naibe to turn her tearstained face up to his, he continued. “I will write of him and speak of him all the days of my life, as will my children and their children, too. It will help him live on, dear lady.”
“Oh, why did he have to go,” she sighed again, pressing her eyes closed as the thought made its way through her heart one more time. “I told him of my dream. I begged him to take us away, and see…” she gulped hard, trying not to collapse again as her dizziness grew. “The night everything in me died, do you remember how it rained?” she suddenly asked.
The inspector nodded.
“There was a little storm? It was in my dream, that storm, but so many more will come now.” Her shoulders shook with misery. She hadn’t heard any of Wserkaf’s words.
“I guess he thought he would live,” the inspector answered. “I don’t know why he thought that. I warned him, too.” Wserkaf’s consoling hand started for her shoulder, but he froze it above her back as if touching her would have been the same as profaning a sacred object. Instead, he offered her some of the food. She shook her head, staying his offering with her pale and trembling hand.
“You have to eat. Would he take joy in the way you are suffering so?” Wserkaf asked, edging closer to the pool beside her. He put his own feet in the water. “See that wheel in the water over there?” he pointed out the little water wheel at the other end of the garden pool. “See how it goes round and round like the seasons of life? See how it sends the water over the top if the wind stirs it?” he wistfully tried to distract her from thoughts of her beloved. “I can get up and make it go too,” he pointed to the wheel. “In a vision, I saw a place that was so very green with water running in rivers from mountains and through forests of great trees. The power of the water rushing in that river turned this great wooden wheel which then turned other interlocked wheels below to grind the grain into flour. When I told my beloved of it, she wished for me to create one. Sadly, our pond doesn’t flow, so I made the turning device to show how it ought to work.”
Naibe-Ellit almost giggled. In a moment, she quietly looked into Wserkaf’s eyes. When she did, he thought he heard a gentle voice whispering inside her thoughts. He saw her gasp a little, comforted for only an instant by the power of the words and the sound of the sojourner’s voice. Her eyes lowered, sadly.
Eat… I would want you to.
You know I would
So sorry. So very, very sorry
I just wanted to know love.
To take your sweet love and
To give it back to you again, my goddess.
She nodded, too worn from weeping and hunger to continue. The corner of her mouth softened.
Speak to his heart. Did you do that? Did he show you his way…?
Thoughts came winging from her golden eyes and into the dark eyes of the inspector. She took a small sip of beer.
Wserkaf shuddered at the way her thoughts came to him. It was the way he and his senior, and later he and Marai had spoken to each other. The voice he heard this time was different. It was like her voice, but it sounded so gentle and evocative, like layers of the same dissonant soft whisper laid over each other and filled with smoky, seductive sorcery. He had to look away. “He just… there wasn’t a way for him to win his fight after he went as far as he did with it. He waited too long to make his escape from the rite,” Wserkaf cast his eyes down, not wanting to look at her face. His shame in complying with his mentor had been too great for him to see the expression in her eyes. “My senior saw to that. He knows men’s hearts well,” the inspector sighed dismally. “It was your Marai’s own pride, too. Had he humbled himself…” the inspector suggested.
“The sons of Ahu are stubborn men,” Naibe spoke in Kina, but her thoughts told him exactly what words she had said. Her shoulders sagged as if she really wanted to weep again but had no energy left.
“So often, men are proud and might prefer
death to disgrace,” the priest added. “What I know now, is my senior was testing both of us. He thought to win me back from a faltering faith by showing our way as the correct one. Now, he knows that he has lost me as surely as we have both lost a great one,” the man’s eyes moistened with guilt and regret at the sacrilege he had committed.
CHAPTER 15: A PRIEST AT YOUR ALTAR
Somewhere in that dream, which unfolded as a blending of the memory from the tomb and what he saw now that he held Naibe’s veil, Marai felt himself ache all over when he sensed her eyes welling up with tears. He saw Wserkaf wipe them tenderly, then gather her into his arms to touch and kiss the fresh tears away. When he sensed that moment, Marai remembered those random thoughts somewhere in time when he lay helpless and entombed. He remembered how he had cried out when he knew it was the end, and how he hoped Wserkaf would care for Naibe above all the others.
Ariennu wouldn’t take kindly to another man unless there was some advantage to it. Deka would still move Heaven and Earth to find her way back to her homeland and to her past with her mythical Ta-Te. That would leave sweet Naibe-Ellit alone. He knew she was as strong as his goddess Ashera had ever been and warlike enough to protect herself from any danger, but she would want to avenge all of the wrongs. He knew that because of her naiveté and her past, she would be the most volatile and self-destructive of the three women. As she grew in her inner strength, a trustworthy man to guide her to her center and then lead her to caring wise women and to her new life in this land would be her best answer. In that last day of the scrutiny, the younger priest had proven more than trustworthy.
Marai knew then why Wserkaf hadn’t been forthcoming with tales of what had befallen the women. The inspector had succumbed to Naibe’s charms in the same way that he himself had once fallen deep in love. Her image, born from his own dreams and fantasies of a goddess, had overwhelmed all of the priestly discipline Wserkaf possessed.
Marai saw him gently lift Naibe-Ellit and carry her to the pretty guest room where he had slept last night. At that time, however long ago, that room had been filled with soft pillows and finely woven cushions. Now, it was bare and stripped of all of the memories. Someone had done a cleansing ritual to rid it of her energy.
Though Marai knew it was right for them to be together if he was thought to be dead, his heart still ached until he wept over having ever been lost. Solemnly, the sojourner continued his experience of this vision of the past.
Wserkaf sensed Naibe’s vibrant spirit-voice sweeping through him. It seemed stronger now, but remained ever gentle as she sweetly explained to him that though they might be together to heal each other’s pain of betrayal through the workings of elder Hordjedtef, the sweetness would only fade in the morning.
Her words didn’t matter to the inspector at that moment, because her softness and sure caress had already lifted him into a quiet, spellbound universe.
Marai is the plow to my earth,
His seed is in my fertile place.
I am his evening star woman.
My flesh is fire
My eyes are smoke
My belly aches for the touch of him
Whose loins long to fill me with their burning.
Marai felt her thoughts whisper through him one last time, like a prayer that said no one could ever take his place.
“Then let me be your priest. To lie beneath; to submit to your altar.” As Wserkaf lay beside her, he felt the magic begin as he stared into the golden star shimmers that rose in her eyes. “I would worship you as woman, sweet one with golden goddess-eyes, true daughter of Hethrt. I cannot replace a god. We can only be truth in all we are.”
What followed was sweet and tender, more than mighty and passionate. Energies flowed from young Naibe, rippling through everything in the world that she touched. It was her kind of magic; her spell.
Though she had not intended it, Naibe’s magic reached across Wserkaf’s estate, ripping through the calm, restful energies of the night. Disturbed by this energy, Princess Khentie awoke. She sensed a change in her silent household, like the odd sensation in the air that came just before a storm. She sat up and saw that young Mya was still asleep in her small frame bed beside her. Still bothered by something, she began to look around her darkened room for a spiritual presence.
We can only be truth, in all we are.
The presence sounded like the gentle voice of her beloved husband, Wserkaf. She laughed a little, sighed, closed her eyes, and stood beside her bed with her arms open and palms up, emptying her thoughts briefly.
“Wse?” she asked the empty air in front of her. “Beloved? Are you ill?” she wondered. Concerned when he didn’t answer, she moved quietly as she tiptoed from her stateroom out into the breezy upper walk. She rushed quickly by the potted plants lining the tiled path that separated their rooms. Her husband’s bedchamber was empty. Stunned, she sensed more than she heard. The whispers sounded in her heart again and she realized she felt the sound of shared passion.
Khentie knew, without any deep contemplation, exactly what she would witness if she went down the stairs and passed by the doorway of the guest room. Wserkaf had agreed to protect and console the youngest of the sojourner’s widows. The princess’ own father had asked him to do that. The request, even though it came from the king, had given her a moment’s pause before she had extended her trust and agreed to the request. This night changed everything.
She should find our care of her a humbling honor, Khentie sulked. This first thought was quickly followed by another: The three of them are lucky they weren’t turned into the alleyways to beg. Khentie always knew there would be a chance of this girl charming her beloved, considering the girl’s beauty and apparent fragility. This isn’t like him… taking advantage of someone gone mad with grief. Wserkaf, who had never held back any truth from her, had said he had no interest in taking Naibe or anyone else on as a concubine just three days earlier. Khentie turned around and went back to her room, shaken. I have to figure out what to do about this, she thought, knowing she needed to meditate and reflect on this unpredicted turn of events.
He had lied to her. That was the worst part. That neither of them had taken other lovers from time to time was unusual in royal houses. She was “Daughter of the God”, and could do all things pleasing to her own wishes. If she had ever wanted another man, she could have beckoned any number of well-appointed males to be auxiliary “kings.” She had not done this, even after she failed to conceive another child for her beloved. For his own part, she thought Wserkaf had decided he was really too busy with his work as rising Great One to consider another woman for himself.
Khentie sat on her couch in her stateroom, alone and confused; unable to understand why her beloved would lie to her. Everything in the love they shared was about truth and honesty. In her heart, this was a graver trespass than any random liaison.
Wserkaf was well aware by the next morning that his wife knew everything that had taken place. He attempted to speak to her about it, to explain what had happened, but Khentie shrugged away all of his attempts with a slight and sarcastic ‘well I see that your calming methods have worked on our young sojourn’d guest. giggle. Frustrated, he tried again later in the morning, when they were both in the upper hall between their bedrooms.
“I love you dearly, beloved Khen, I just…” He voice faltered and then he hung his head, unable to explain anything further.
“Just,” she pursed her lips and lowered her eyes. “It is what it is, but do keep it in its place and fully respectful.” She turned and walked away from him, this time with an air of forced indifference surrounding her.
Princess Khentkawes took the new dynamics of her household in stride. Naibe smiled a little more, but remained humble whenever she was around the princess. She gave Khentie the recipe for the date candy she used to make and sell in the market when she, Marai, and her sister-wives worked for Etum Addi. She showed the princess how to make a braided gold and multi-colored rope to fasten as trim on
the edge of a veil. The princess in turn showed her a way to make scents for healing by pressing various flowers in a palm wine that had been boiled until it was thick. In that form it could be incense, an inhalant, or an ointment. When both Wserkaf and his wife were away on their various duties, the young woman taught the handmaiden Mya how to move her arms a little more gracefully when she danced. All seemed well in this unexpected new arrangement at first.
By the end of the week however, “keeping it in its place” had become impossible. Wserkaf had grown so besotted with Naibe that his wife worried he was almost certainly under a cruel and binding spell. Khentie didn’t wish to exercise her right as queen of the house over the young sojourner, but felt she needed to at least warn her husband of what might happen if he continued to be unable to speak about it to her. On the seventh day of Naibe’s stay with them, the princess confronted Wserkaf as he was leaving his private chart room.
“Beloved. This is not…” She spoke slowly and deliberately, but stopped when she heard him sigh, exasperated.
Silently, he turned to her, embraced her, sensed her disquiet as much as she sensed his confusion, threw up his hands and walked away. He had lost all will and power to make a rational decision or to even discuss an irrational one with his wife of eighteen years.
By day, when he was at home, he asked Naibe to sit with him in his chart room while he worked on his calculations and geometric theories. She sang to him and whispered gently of her devotion to him. The princess had never done that. His entire household noticed them and began to whisper about the way Khentie had been away more, attending to her own matters of state. They remarked, often with snickers, that Wserkaf was certainly at home more often by day. From time to time, he forgot his duties and cut short any appointments or visitations, so he could return home to touch and kiss Naibe.
Marai sighed, disheartened but fully aware of all that had happened in this house. He roused himself slightly to contemplate all he had seen. Wserkaf hadn’t checked on him until yesterday. He had journeyed in spirit, in the presence of his elder Hordjedtef, into the chamber to sense if life signs existed on the third day. This was before he came to collect the women and the box of stones. The inspector had quickly described the corpse as being cold and hard like one dead for perhaps a day. He stated that the will of their gods had proven itself and that they had smote his healthy heart with a terror he could not overcome. From time to time Marai sensed the inspector doubted his findings, but knew Wserkaf needed to believe he was dead. He’d lost his soul over young Naibe-Ellit.
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