by Jerry Dubs
Imhotep knelt beside her, worried that she was having a relapse, that somehow, through his carelessness, she had caught dysentery again. He caressed her head, feeling the dampness on her skin. She smiled up at him. “It will pass,” she said. “It did yesterday and the day before.”
He looked down at her small form, so slight and fragile.
“It will pass,” she repeated. “Go prepare yourself for the ceremony.”
As he stood, he heard a sound behind him. Turning he saw Sekhmire’s wife, Sati, standing in the doorway. A look of concern filled her face as she saw Meryt lying on the floor.
“She is ill,” Imhotep said.
“Sati,” Meryt said, pushing herself up to a sitting position. “Thank you for coming. I forgot.” She turned to Imhotep. “Sati came by to help me prepare for the ceremony. I don’t think I can go,” she said, looking back at the short, plump woman.
“What is wrong, little Meryt,” Sati said, coming to her side.
Imhotep bent down to help Meryt to her feet. She leaned back against the cool stone wall and waved him away. “I’ll stay here,” she said with a small smile. “Please, go prepare yourself for the ceremony.”
“She has been vomiting,” Imhotep said, not moving. “Every morning for three days now. She can not even drink water.”
Ignoring her own clean linen robe, Sati sat on the floor beside Meryt and took her hand.
“Does your stomach feel uneasy, as if a snake were coiled in there?” she asked.
Meryt gulped hard and nodded.
Sati chuckled. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was stupid for me to say.” She rubbed the back of Meryt’s hand calmly. “But it passes and you feel better as the day wears on?”
Meryt nodded, happy to hear that Sati was aware of such an illness.
“When you feel better, in the afternoons, then eat as much as you can. And drink. A little unfermented wine will stay down. You will need the extra food,” she said, smiling happily.
She reached over and rubbed Meryt’s belly softly. “There is life in there, Meryt. The feeling you have is that life taking hold. It is good. In a few weeks the illness will pass as the life inside grows stronger.”
She stood up and brushed the dust from her robe.
“King Djoser told Sekhmire this would happen,” she said. “He’ll be very happy. He said you two are very much in love. Well, he said you were seen demonstrating that love in every flat and quiet place on the island.”
She laughed. “I remember those days with Sekhmire.”
‘Should we tell King Djoser?” Imhotep blurted out, shocked by the news and unable to think clearly.
Meryt and Sati looked at Imhotep in confusion.
“Remember, Sati,” Meryt said softly, happy to hear Sati confirm her hopes, “Imhotep is not from the Two Lands.”
Sati smiled a tight grin and nodded her head. “I had forgotten.” She turned to him. “Why would we not tell everyone that there is a life growing within? It is the most wonderful news one can ever tell.”
Imhotep shrugged, trying to come to grips with the news that he was going to be a father. “In my land we usually wait for a few months.”
“Until the belly starts to swell?” Sati asked. “So then everyone knows that you have kept a great secret from them? Why would you do that?”
He looked down at the floor. “In case something happened.”
“You mean if she loses the baby?” Sati asked.
Imhotep flushed. He felt they should not talk so openly in front of Meryt. In fact, he thought angrily, his emotions swirling, Sati should not even talk this way to him.
Meryt, who knew his moods, saw the misunderstanding on his face.
“It is our way, Imhotep,” she said. “Sati is right.” She patted her belly, looking down at it happily. “This is joy. I want to share it. If I lose it, then we will start a new one. The baby’s ka will live on.” She reached up for Sati’s hand. “I feel better now.”
Imhotep turned to fetch some bread.
“Not yet, Imhotep. No food yet. After the ceremony I will try to eat.”
Sati hugged her. “In a few weeks you will glow. The life within will double your joy. I am so happy for you. But now,” she smiled, “You look terrible. Sit down on this stool and I will help with your make-up.”
Imhotep stood aside, his trembling hands clasped behind his back.
It was early afternoon. Imhotep was amazed at the number of people who had arrived at Abu. The courtyard was filled with families forming an outer circle around a stone altar.
Birds sang in the trees and a light breeze from the river carried the scent of blossoms from the garden, the fragrance mingling with the acrid aroma of incense burning from stands placed throughout the courtyard.
He stood near the center, behind King Djoser and Sennufer, wearing the brilliantly white robe Sennufer had provided. The menat hung heavily around his neck, the pendant itself hanging between his shoulder blades. Meryt stood by his side. She wore a long dark wig and a robe that covered her from shoulders to her ankles. Around her neck she wore a leather necklace, which held a golden orb representing Re.
King Djoser had made the formal presentation of the land to Khnum, Sennufer had accepted it in the god’s name and promised his blessing on the Two Lands and on the god’s immortal brother, King Djoser.
They had sung hymns to Khnum, the ram-headed god represented by a golden statue that stood on the altar. Now Sennufer raised his hands and the crowd directly in front of him parted as he began chanting a prayer.
“Hail to thee, O Iteru! Who manifests thyself over this land, and comes to give life to Egypt!
“Come and prosper!
“Come and prosper!
“O Iteru, come and prosper!”
Imhotep saw a figure make its way through the opening in the crowd. He wasn’t sure if it was a man or woman. The person was covered with blue paint and wore a short, pointed beard, but pendulous breasts hung from his chest. He wore a crown of lotus blossoms and in his right hand he carried a vase painted with pictures of stalks of papyrus.
“O you who make men to live through his flocks and his flocks through his orchards!
“Come and prosper, come,
“O Iteru, come and prosper!” Sennufer chanted.
“It is Hapi, god of the river,” Meryt whispered.
The blue-painted god stopped before Sennufer and King Djoser. King Djoser held out his open hands and Hapi poured water from the decorated vase onto the king’s hands. Then he knelt and poured more water onto King Djoser’s feet.
“I bring you water, Netjerikhet Djoser,” Hapi sang as he poured the water. “I bring you prosperity, Divine of Body.
“I will cause the river to rise above its banks and spread across the fields. I will carry the black earth to Kemet. The Two Lands will be inundated. The river will be filled with fishes and the land will sing.
“I bring you water, Divine of Body.
“I bring you prosperity, Netjerikhet Djoser.”
The god rose, his vase emptied of water, and stood before the king. As King Djoser raised his hands in blessing, Meryt squeezed Imhotep’s hand. It was a gentle squeeze, a simple reminder that she was there, with him, that they were sharing this time and place, that their skin was not really a separation but rather one more way for them to make contact with each other. It was a physical extension of their emotions, an echo of the powerful encounter between their souls.
The gentle touch triggered a rush of emotion as Imhotep thought of the new life that was growing within Meryt. He inhaled the aroma of incense intertwining with the tang of the orchard blossoms as the flutter of birds in the fruit trees provided a whispering counterpoint to King Djoser’s rhythmic chanting. The heavy Egyptian sun bore down on him, lapping at his eyelids and pressing against his shoulders.
As the priests joined in the prayer King Djoser was leading, the susurrant murmuring swirled around Imhotep. He thought of his past and future, of his parents
and Addy. He thought of the evening he had stood alone peering into the dark chamber of the Step Pyramid and the vision he had that night of the royal burial amid flickering torch light.
He wondered if this was another dream now, a grand, powerful dream. Would he awake alone by the tunnel that sloped under the pyramid? He closed his eyes, pressing them shut hard, blocking out his thoughts and his hopes, his fears and his dreams.
He felt the sun on his face, heard the murmur of the prayers, felt Meryt’s warm hand in his. Now he heard another sound, a distant empty sound and beneath that a weak vibrating sound, almost like the baaing of sheep, except that it came from the sky.
There was a loud, excited rustle in the crowd. The sound from the sky grew louder and it was as Imhotep, not as Tim, that he opened his eyes beneath the ancient Egyptian sky and saw that it was filled with thousands of white birds, approaching from the south, following the river into The Two Lands, their tremulous cawing sound filling the air.
“Ibises!” Meryt said excitedly, squeezing his hand and pointing into the air with her other hand. “I have never seen so many.”
Everyone looked to the sky; some held a shielding hand to their eyes. King Djoser and Sennufer stood side by side, their faces turned upward.
“I don’t understand,” Imhotep said to Meryt.
“They arrive each year before the flood,” she explained. “But never so many.” She shook her head in wonder. “Never so many.”
The feast began under a sky darkened by the flocks of ibises; their cawing so loud that the harp player could not be heard.
Meryt was careful to eat only bread and to drink only unfermented wine. As she sat quietly with Imhotep, King Djoser approached, followed by Prince Teti and the guard Bata.
He leaned down and kissed Meryt softly on each cheek. “I have heard the good news,” he said, smiling at her as he straightened. Meryt blushed at the attention. “I wish you a healthy child. With Imhotep by your side, I am sure all will be well.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Prince Teti waited until his father was finished, but couldn’t stop himself from bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. It was the first he had seen Imhotep since the cast had been removed from his arm.
Imhotep was surprised to see Bata by the prince’s side, smiling and watching the prince protectively. He was even more surprised to see the rest of the prince’s bodyguards standing nearby, including Nesi whom Imhotep suspected of trying to kill the prince.
“Lord Imhotep,” Prince Teti said. “Thank you for the gift.”
Imhotep looked puzzled.
“The linen ball of sand,” Prince Teti reminded him. “I have used it every day. Look!”
He reached out with his healed arm and grabbed Imhotep’s forearm. He squeezed, increasing the pressure until Imhotep winced.
Prince Teti released Imhotep’s arm, ignoring the white marks that he left there. “A week ago,” he said, “I could barely squeeze it a hundred times before I tired. Now,” he laughed, “I had to have three more made as replacements because I have crushed them.”
Imhotep massaged his forearm. “A good patient is the best medicine,” he said. “You healed yourself Prince Teti. I only helped. As did Rudamon and Hesire. Hello, Bata.” Imhotep nodded to the young guard, who returned his nod with a bright smile.
“Lord Imhotep,” Prince Teti said, a formal edge to his voice. “As a reward for your aid, I have asked my father to place Bata at your service.”
“Bata?” Imhotep said, unsure what the prince meant.
“Yes,” Prince Teti said.
“I don’t understand,” Imhotep said.
Meryt said, “He means Bata will travel with us and protect us.”
“I have a guard?” Imhotep said.
“A companion, Lord Imhotep,” Bata said. “I am your companion.”
King Djoser rejoined them, followed by Sekhmire.
“Imhotep!” the king said.
Imhotep looked up, startled at the loudness of the king’s voice. He saw that King Djoser was laughing silently.
“I had to shout,” he said. Imhotep had never seen him so happy and so relaxed. “They are making so much noise.” He pointed up at the shy where another huge flock of birds was crossing over the island.
The king took Imhotep’s arm and led him away from the others.
“You were right,” he said when they were alone. “Sennufer has never seen a passage of birds this large. Neither has Ptahhotep and he is nearly as old as Waja-Hur. They foretell a flood that will fill the land. The famine is surely over!”
He looked at the sky, then out across the water to the east bank. The riverbank was lined with villagers and farmers, all of them watching the great migration. He knew that they would equate the arrival of the ibises to the offering he had made to Khnum. Word would spread along the river, faster than the birds themselves.
As he looked across the river he saw a reed boat leave the far bank, the man who sat on it was paddling strongly, aiming at the temple. Imhotep saw where King Djoser was looking and watched with him as the man approached the island.
“Today, Imhotep, we will enjoy this ceremony. We will drink until we see the gods.”
The reed boat reached the island’s narrow beach. King Djoser and Imhotep lost sight of the man when he left the boat and ran toward the temple entrance.
“Do you know who he is?” Imhotep asked.
King Djoser shook his head. “No. There are many officials here. He is probably a messenger seeking one of them.”
King Djoser turned his attention to Imhotep.
“You left your notebook - is that the word you use? - when you were in my chambers yesterday. There are drawings in it. Yes, yes, of course I looked through it, Imhotep. You guard it as if your very ka were within.
“One drawing was a tower of stone blocks. Your foot was in the drawing. Do you remember it? What was it?”
Imhotep thought of the drawing. He remembered sitting against the low stone wall in Saqqara, sketching the Step Pyramid, seeing Brian and Diane cross the sandy courtyard toward him.
He started to answer King Djoser when he saw Sennufer hurrying toward them leading the stranger from the boat. King Djoser turned to meet them, expecting Sennufer to address him.
“Excuse me, King Djoser, Lord Imhotep. This man has just arrived from Edfu. He said he has a message for the stranger called Tim from a man called Brian.”
Brian Reborn
The first time Brian awoke he saw only blackness.
His mouth felt strange and the air smelled of his own sour sweat. He tried to call out and knew what was different about his mouth. The nights tied to the stone chair came rushing back at him and his mind revolted, deciding it had been a nightmare. Then he pressed the nub of his tongue against his gums, knew it wasn’t a dream and passed out.
The next time he awoke it was in response to a cool dampness on his forehead. He opened his eyes and saw a blurry form silhouetted against a bright light that pushed in from the doorway beyond.
“Brian,” said a soft, female voice.
“Am I dead?” he asked in English, the words thick and clumsy.
“Brian,” she repeated. “We are in Edfu.”
He nodded and fell back to darkness.
Pahket was holding a bowl of soup by him when he awoke the third time, blinking awake and sitting up suddenly, frightening Pahket so that she slopped some of the warm soup from the wooden bowl.
He looked around wild-eyed at the interior of the small hut, then at his untied wrists and legs. She waited silently, afraid to disturb him as he got his bearings.
“Pahkeh,” he said finally. He gingerly put his hand to his mouth, slowly exploring inside. He felt his eyes start to tear up, and then wiped them dry with the back of his wrist.
She watched him with sad eyes.
“I have some soup and some bread,” she said.
He reached for the bowl and began to eat, grimacing each time he tried
to move food around with his lost tongue. “Where am I,” he asked in Egyptian, the words a slur of open sounds.
“I’m sorry, Brian. I don’t understand. Let me tell you what has happened. Shake your head if something doesn’t make sense.”
She told him about their escape from the temple of Sobek and how she had left him hidden among bushes on the east side of the river bank and walked to a farmer’s hut where she had learned that a messenger from the Temple of Ma’at was looking for Brian.
The farmer had led her to the hut where Samut was staying. Borrowing the farmer’s donkey, they returned to Brian, pushed him up on the animal and then struck out across the fields toward the village of Edfu, she and Samut walking on either side to steady him.
Clear of the village, they had looked back to see a cluster of torches bobbing across the river from the temple as Siamun led a search party to find Brian. Turning their backs, they walked as quickly as they could through the black night.
They were staying now in Edfu, two days walk down river from Kom Ombo where they were waiting for Tama.
“How long?” he tried to say.
She shook her head. He tapped his wrist to indicate a wristwatch and then realized that the gesture was meaningless to her. He set the empty soup bowl on the dirt floor and drew a circle with lines coming out of it to represent the sun. Then he rubbed it out and drew it again. He looked up at Pahket and shrugged.
“We left the temple at night. Three more nights have passed since then. You have been sleeping, Brian. We did not know if you would awake and we could not send for a physician because we were afraid Siamun would find out.”
Brian nodded his head to show he understood. Strangely, although his tongue ached and he felt exhausted, his spirits were good. Pahket had saved him and Tama would soon arrive to help him. Although his arms felt ridiculously weak and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to stand, he was alive! Now he needed to regain his strength because he planned to visit the Temple of Sobek. This time he would be looking for Siamun. This time he would be ready.
He picked up the empty bowl and patted his stomach.
