Magic of the Nile

by Veronica Scott

  Tyema hoped he was wrong about the crowds, but as the procession marched slowly out of the harbor district, toward the palace, people gathered along the road. Feeling like a fool, Tyema waved, trying to smile, trying to make eye contact with any friendly faces she saw. Her stomach was roiling, sending acid into the back of her throat, and her head swam. The breeze from the fan bearers helped, but not much. Thebes was ten times larger than the nomarch’s capital, which was the only city she’d ever been in, for her sister Merys’s funeral. The crowds in the street were amazing to her, the many goods for sale enticing, the aroma of food cooking and the other, less savory smells assaulted her. It was all too much, overwhelming. The closer the procession came to the palace, the more she noticed the richness of the clothing, makeup and ornamentation, especially on the women.

  By the time Sahure led the group through the huge gates of the palace, flanked by towering pink-and-gray granite statues of impassive pharaohs from an older time, and turned down a wide promenade lined with fierce sphinxes that ran the length of the massive collection of buildings, Tyema was clenching her fist to her chest, fighting to breathe. She prayed not to pass out. There were hardly any people here, mostly servants hurrying on errands, too busy to do more than spare a glance for her, and a few impassive guards. She slumped on the pillows, closed her eyes and counted her breaths in and out, knowing she had to be ready for whatever came next.

  At length the litter bearers entered a garden complex of such beauty Tyema’s jagged emotions calmed. Studying the mixture of familiar and strange trees, plants and flowers was soothing, as each turn in the path revealed new beauties of nature. An artfully created stream meandered in the midst of the garden and there were lotus ponds and places to sit in the shade. The air was a rich perfume of the mingled flowers, welcome after the odors of the city streets.

  She realized they’d come to a halt. The litter was lowered to the ground and Sahure was there to help her rise and step away. He scrutinized her as she made a little business of smoothing her dress and adjusting her crown.

  “Are you all right? Is the heat bothering you?” He made an interrupted motion as if to touch her cheek, then stopped himself, clenched hand dropping to his side. “You’re alarmingly pale.”

  “I’m fine. Can we get this over with and be shown to our rooms?” Tyema wasn’t sure how much longer she could handle the worry, dizziness and nausea. The fainting spell on the boat at the beginning of her journey had shaken her badly and terror of repeating the episode in a much more public place left her trembling now. I need to lie down, preferably in a quiet place.

  “We’re waiting for Pharaoh,” he told her.

  “Pharaoh?” Surely I’m not important enough for the Great One to come to the gardens to greet me, am I? Her heart sank and the vertigo, which had abated somewhat since entering the beautiful, secluded area, flooded over her in a rush. She swayed, putting her hand on Sahure’s arm to steady herself.

  Eyes narrowed, he was studying her. “Pharaoh does you great honor, coming to welcome you. I know he also wants to see the new crocodile.”

  “Sahure—” she turned to him with determination. Part of her trouble today was seeing him, being with him with so much lying unsaid between them, not least of which was the subject of their son. And my own anxiety over whether Sahure is or isn’t married. Perhaps if they cleared the air, she could relax a bit and do her duties.

  “Not now.” His rebuke was instant, stern.

  “But there are things I need to tell you.”

  A muscle twitched in his clenched jaw. “One of which must concern the baby your woman is swaddling. Is the child mine, Tyema?”

  She nodded. “Your son. Our son. I sent word to you as soon as I knew I was with child.”

  Eyes locked on her face, he gave her a sceptical look. “I never received a single line from you.”

  Tyema stared. No wonder he’s upset. “But I wrote three times more as the pregnancy progressed, and once again after the child was born.”

  Trumpets blared in the distance and Sahure glanced in the direction of the sound. “We can’t discuss this here. There’ll be time later.” He moved away. “Have your men uncrate the beast, ready to allow Pharaoh to inspect it.”

  As he walked to check on the condition of the crate, Tyema felt as if she’d been doused with cold water from the heart of the Nile. Black and purple flickers surrounded Sahure, shimmering in the sunlight. The bracelet around her wrist tightened for a moment, reinforcing the warning with subtle pressure. Tyema rubbed the braided band, seeking to ease the constriction as well as her own shock. Black magic? How can he be involved with such things? Not Sahure!

  As if she’d said his name out loud, he beckoned to her. Tyema forced herself to walk to the crate and oversee the dismantling. “Wait to undo the final slats until Pharaoh arrives,” she said to her staff members. “I’ll walk the animal into the pond.”

  “Very good, my lady.” Hotepre wiped his brow. “Hot here in Thebes.”

  “The crocodile will like it.” She meant the remark as a small jest, but there was truth in the observation. After all, a group of crocodiles was named a ‘bask’ for good reason and Thebes was nothing, if not sunny.

  The fan bearers had moved with her, taken up their station behind her shoulders and now endeavored to keep a languid breeze moving. It would be all too easy to get spoiled with such attentive service. With maternal relief she observed her niece had taken the baby into the shade, sitting on a soft bank of greenery. Renebti was tickling Seknehure’s nose with a feather she’d found, much to the giggling baby’s amusement. Turning her attention back to the partially opened crate, Tyema realized Sahure was watching her.

  “Later,” he said again.

  There was another blare of trumpets, coming closer. Sahure took her elbow, positioning her to face in the direction of the palace. All around her, people were going to their knees, then fully prone as Pharaoh and his party approached. Tyema knelt in unison with Sahure but before they could kiss the earth Pharaoh held out his hand. “You may rise, we don’t stand on full ceremony here in my private gardens.”

  As she got to her feet, Tyema tried to contain her awe at being in the presence of Pharaoh. Nat-re-Akhte was still handsome and virile, his features strong, although well into his fifth decade. His unusual green eyes, bequeathed to him by ancestors from the first civilization before Egypt, were kind as the monarch met her gaze. To her relief, she saw no flickers of black magic around him. Pharaoh was wearing a simple, perfectly pleated white linen robe, belted with a complicated woven red-gold-and-turquoise sash at the waist. A golden falcon was affixed to the center of the sash. The blue cloak pinned to the shoulders of Nat-re-Akhte’s tunic with coral-and-malachite scarabs set in gold swept the ground. On his head sat the simple golden uraeus, a rearing Egyptian cobra symbolizing his royal rank, rather than a formal crown. His signet ring was the only jewelry, although an ornate dagger with a jeweled hilt rode at his belt. “I’m pleased to see you, Lady Tyema. I trust your journey was peaceful?”

  Feeling overwhelmed by Net-re-Akhte’s magnificence, Tyema’s one conscious thought was to get this ordeal over with before she disgraced herself in front of Pharaoh. Or the baby, who she could hear beginning to fuss and whimper, set up a howl and made a scene. “Yes, yes, it was, Great One, thank you. Would you like to view the crocodile now?”

  Beside her, she felt rather than heard Sahure tense. Apparently one didn’t try to move Pharaoh along, but the ruler didn’t seem upset by her suggestion, merely nodding. “The animal you’ve selected captures my interest. Sobek told me the keepers gave your beast the name ‘Pharaoh’.” He chuckled and there was a ripple of answering laughter from the courtiers in attendance. The guards maintained their stern mien and vigilant stance.

  “We meant no disrespect, sir,” Tyema said, feeling butterflies in her stomach. What seemed amusing in Ta’sobeksef might be deadly insult here. So many ways to put a foot wrong in Thebes.

  Nat-re-Ak
hte paced toward the crate and she followed, conscious of the entire group trailing behind her. “No, I’m sure there was no disrespect intended, although there can be only one ruler at a time in Egypt,” he said over his shoulder. “So long as your crocodile restricts his ambitions to the pond at the temple, the world can remain in harmony.” There was a definite twinkle in his eyes.

  Suddenly she felt at ease, even though her companion was Pharaoh himself. “I think we can safely assume the limited scope of my crocodile’s ambitions, sir.”

  Her men scrambled to their feet from the prone position as Pharaoh nodded his permission. Tyema introduced them, thinking as she did so she’d never forget the awe on their faces. Nat-re-Akhte asked a few genial questions about the difficulties of keeping the crocodile healthy during the voyage, which Hotepre answered in loquacious detail while his assistants shuffled and blushed.

  Curiosity apparently satisfied by the pond keeper’s discourse, Pharaoh surveyed the assembled group of workers. “Where’s my zookeeper?”

  “Here, my lord.” A burly man who had been waiting nearby took a step forward. “How may I serve you, Great One?”

  “Open the fence so the crocodile can enter the water.” Nat-re-Ahkte gave Tyema a sympathetic wink. “I’m sure he must be getting impatient and thirsty in his crate.”

  Once the gate was open, Tyema took her place next to the box and nodded to Hotepre to strike away the last bolt. As soon as the wooden panel fell to the ground, raising a small cloud of dust that sent one or two of the courtiers scurrying, she bent over, meeting the basilisk stare of the crocodile, his eyes practically glowing.

  One hand resting on the emeralds of her golden pectoral, she pointed the other at the crocodile. “I command you in the name of the Great One Sobek, leave this box and move to your temporary pond.”

  The crocodile rose on its stubby legs and waddled past her, slipping through the makeshift gate in the fence and launching itself into the shallow pool in a smooth motion, drifting with just his eyes above the water, watching them.

  “Had I not seen it myself, I never would have believed it,” said the royal zookeeper.

  “I am the high priestess of Sobek,” Tyema reminded them.

  Her son now burst into howls of outrage over his ignored needs. Tyema was embarrassed, torn between her desire not to offend Pharaoh and a mother’s imperative to console her child. She took an instinctive step in Seknehure’s direction before forcing herself to stop. “I’m sorry, Great One—”

  “Please don’t apologize.” Pharaoh made a dismissive gesture, a broad smile on his face. “I remember when my son was of a similar age. Peace can’t be restored until the child has its mother’s milk. Take your babe from the girl. You and I will sit in privacy in the pavilion yonder and chat a bit, while you satisfy his demands.” He spoke to the people surrounding them. “I’ll not need you for the moment.”

  Tyema took a red-faced, wailing Seknehure from Renebti, bouncing him a bit and crooning a lullaby under her breath in hopes of calming him. Still humming the tune, she rejoined Pharaoh, courteously waiting for her while the others withdrew to a patch of shade beyond the pond, in the other direction. Sahure lingered beside the open crate but Nat-re-Akhte ignored him, indicating for Tyema alone to accompany him to the appointed seats. He led her to a pair of benches placed under a large shady tree and settled on the closer one, gesturing for her to take the other.

  She sank onto the gilded wood, discreetly rearranging her dress and the baby’s light blanket to allow Seknehure to nurse. Pharaoh leaned against the carved back of the opposite bench, watching gardeners in the distance work at caring for the banks of flowers and fruit trees. “There’s a rare peace here in this area of the palace grounds. We used to bring my son to see the zoo, when he was little, as a special treat. He liked to catch the lazy fish in the pond.” The memory appeared to please Nat-re-Akhte, judging by the softening of the lines in his face. “The queen and I seldom have time now for such activities.”

  “I can’t imagine the cares and duties on your shoulders, Great One,” Tyema said. “All of Egypt to deal with. The problems of a single temple complex exhaust me.”

  “Perhaps one day when I have grandchildren, the zoo will again become part of my day. I’d enjoy teaching a grandson to fish.” Pharaoh took one more glance at his gardens before all his attention focused on her. “To business, Lady Tyema. Sobek tells me there’s someone in my Court using black magic, magic bearing the taint of the Usurper Pharaoh.”

  Sobek didn’t tell me about the connection to the Usurper. I wonder if there’s anything else he neglected to mention? “But surely the Usurper is long dead?”

  Nat-re-Ahkte nodded. “Yes, she is. And Sobek himself carried her body away to be devoured by Ammit the Destroyer. But somehow, someone is invoking powers the Usurper called upon. The moment you know who this person is, I expect to be notified.” His tone was steely, his gaze hard. A muscle in his clenched jaw twitched and his hand curled around the dagger’s hilt as if he was ready to strike the enemy.

  Tyema swallowed past the lump in her throat, remembering those telltale flickers of black magic coiling around Sahure earlier. There’s no proof he’s using the magic. He might be a victim of it. I need to know more, to be absolutely sure before I accuse anyone of anything. There was nothing to report yet, she assured herself. “Yes, Great One, I promise, at once.”

  “But in the meantime, my queen and I’ll strive to make your visit to Thebes a pleasant one.” He was relaxed again, a genial host. “We’ve set aside a suite of rooms in one of the quieter wings for you and your party. I’ve assigned Captain Sahure to be your personal liaison, since I believe he’s the only individual you know here at Court?”

  Dismay cascaded through her. So I’ll see him daily? How shall I bear the pain and longing, especially if he’s married? Realizing Pharaoh was watching her, she stammered out an appropriate response. “Th-thank you, sir. Most kind.”

  Nat-re-Akhte glanced from her to the baby and then at Sahure, waiting at parade rest beside the crate. “Perhaps assigning him wasn’t the blessing I intended it to be? Old matters to be settled between the two of you?”

  “This is his son, sir,” she answered, stroking the baby’s downy cheek with pride. “But we’ve yet to speak of him or anything personal. I appreciate your concern for my well being. Just on the short trip from the harbor, I began to perceive how different life here must be from the way we dwell in my small village.”

  Pharaoh smothered a laugh, converting his mirth into a cough. “Sobek indicated this journey was a hardship for you and expressed his hope I’d do everything in my power to ease your way, while you’re working to discover the traitor for me.”

  “Traitor?” The word struck a chill in her heart. And so far the only person I’ve seen in Thebes with any sign of black magic attached is the father of my child. The man I love.

  “The source of the black magic traces to Qemtusheb, god of the Hyksos; therefore any who are involved are traitors to Egypt and to me.” His tone made it clear there was no room for doubt. Pharaoh studied her for a moment. “A rare gift, to be able to see black magic in the air. Even I can’t command the ability, more’s the pity.”

  “The Great One Sobek gave me the power, for this trip.” She wanted to change the subject, anxious about Sahure’s involvement. If Pharaoh were to ask her any direct questions, she didn’t think she could deceive him. “May I inquire what the plans are for dedicating the crocodile?”

  “Tomorrow morning we’ll have a planning session with the high priest of the temple here, probably conduct the ceremonies a day or so after. A procession, hymns, prayers, you perform your magic of making the beast go where you will him to be. A day of feasting for the populace of Thebes.” Nat-re-Akhte shrugged. “Grateful as I am personally to Sobek over this matter of black magic, he isn’t a major deity in this city. I myself am sworn to Horus, who lent me his strength in battle many a time. The patron deity of Thebes itself since time imme
morial is Amun-Ra. But we’ll give Sobek his due, never fear,” Pharaoh said, almost as an afterthought. “Then you’ll be at liberty to partake in entertainments the queen is arranging, over the next few weeks, and search for our sorcerer.” He clenched his fists. “My vengeance will be swift and deadly, once you’ve named the culprit.”

  “I’ll find the sorcerer for you, Great One.” The baby had drowsed off, so she wrapped him in the light blanket, awkwardly fixing her dress.

  Pharaoh rose and she hastily followed suit, Seknehure held close in her arms.

  “There’s a feast tonight,” the ruler said as they strolled toward Sahure and the waiting courtiers.

  Tyema couldn’t stop herself from groaning at the idea of being on display to the entire Court so soon. She bit her lip in alarm at showing her reluctance, but Pharaoh laughed. “You don’t have to attend, is what I was going to say. I can see the trip up the Nile has been tiring for a new mother. I’m sure my wife will understand your absence and be more than happy to set anyone straight who questions, although she’s anticipating meeting you. Rest, get yourself ready for what’s to come.”

  “Thank you, Great One.” She understood he’d done her a large favor, granting her permission to skip the long evening of feasting and entertainment.

  “Anything you need, you must request from my Chief Scribe, Edekh.” Eyes narrowed, he gave her a meaningful glance. “There’s no limit to my gratitude, Lady Tyema.”

  They’d reached the waiting courtiers and her companions. Pharaoh said, “Until tomorrow, then.” He strode toward the palace, his guards and retainers hurrying to follow.

  Tyema noticed Sahure staring at the baby as she handed the child to her niece, but she didn’t try to reopen the conversation. Worn out from her private session with Pharaoh, she felt shy of Sahure, wary of the flickers of black magic she’d seen. Taking refuge in her status as a high priestess, she adopted a haughty tone. “I wish to be escorted to my rooms now.”

  “Certainly.” Sahure addressed Hotepre and the two assistants. “You’re to lodge with the household staff. The zookeeper can show you the way.”