by Jerry Dubs
Before Imhotep could answer, Pentu returned holding a stone jar as far away from his nose as his arms would allow.
“Wonderful,” Imhotep said, clapping his hands. He reached for the jar. “I’ll add to it and then heat it.”
“Lay some linen across it to absorb the vapor,” Akila said.
“I’ll help you,” Pentu said, keeping his grip on the jar. “I don’t want you dropping this in my house.”
The Last Hour of Night
Maya stood by the doorway in a simple robe; she would change at the temple after she had been purified. Her eyes were dry now. Her ka had embraced the ka of her mother and she would accept the decree of the gods.
But, as her mother had always added with a smile, her life was her own responsibility.
The gods might have created fire, but she could withhold her hand from it.
The gods created the great river, but she could choose to not drown in it.
However, if Pharaoh Thutmose decided to release her ka, there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Her power lay in living in ma’at and dying as she lived.
She heard footsteps, the familiar staccato of Neferhotep’s pace. She would save him anxiety and greet him as Pharaoh Hatshepsut, ruler of the Two Lands. Now she heard an echo of footfalls and realized that Neferhotep was not alone.
She breathed deeply, steeling herself to her fate.
Then he appeared, carrying a torch, his khopesh sword by his side, his face a stern, official mask, but his eyes alight with eagerness.
Beside him walked another guard, someone she had never seen before.
They drew near and knelt.
“Pharaoh Hatshepsut, long life!” they said in unison.
She nodded welcome.
Raising his eyes to her, Neferhotep said, “As we discussed, I have brought Pawura, commander of the maryannu. He will command your escort this morning, Pharaoh Hatshepsut.”
“Long life!” Pawura said, his hungry eyes slowly coming to her face.
A blood sacrifice
Eight priests walked silently through the outer courtyard to the tall wooden doors of the first pylon of the Temple of Amun. Beside each priest walked a pair of acolytes, one carrying a torch to add light to Re’s first light, the other carrying a smoking bowl of myrrh resin.
At the gate, the priests removed the huge wooden bar that held the doors shut.
Chanting prayers of welcome, they pushed open the doors and let the ka of the Two Lands enter Amun’s refuge.
***
Maya, her wig and the false beard of royalty left behind in her bedchamber, walked barefoot through the palace garden between Neferhotep and Pawura. At the far end, four men stood beside a covered litter.
Maya stepped into the litter and, before the servants began to raise the litter, she pushed a bare hand outside the cloister interior and beckoned her son near.
“I love you, Neferhotep,” she whispered as he leaned his head and shoulders into the litter.
“And I love you, mother,” he whispered, unsure why she was showing this emotion.
“Please go to your father. Ask him to meet me at the temple.”
“Yes, mother. Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Pharaoh Thutmose came to me last night. He knows,” she said, struggling to control her voice.
Life drained from Neferhotep.
He wondered if Pawura knew about Pharaoh Thutmose’s arrival. Is that why the charioteer asked to escort Pharaoh Hatshepsut today?
He thought of backing away from the litter and telling Pawura that he had changed his mind and that Pawura could return to the barracks, but before he could move, Maya gripped his arm.
“Please, get Pentu. I want to see him one last time.”
Neferhotep withdrew from the litter and nodded to Pawura and the litter bearers.
As the men lifted the litter, Neferhotep turned to Pawura. “Keep Pharaoh Hatshepsut safe,” he said, searching the man’s face for signs of deception.
“I would give my life to protect the ruler of the Two Lands,” Pawura said, thinking of his glorious leader, Pharaoh Thutmose.
Satisfied, Neferhotep turned and hurried to his chariot.
***
Pentu sat on the bed, his arm supporting Kebu’s shoulders. The unconscious warrior, his neck and arms limp, breathed evenly as he slept.
Imhotep stood by the bed clutching his walking staff with both hands. Tired from the chariot ride across the desert, now he found himself exhausted after the long, sleepless night. His shoulder sagged and his chin hung close to his chest while his eyes fought to stay open.
Akila, her nose wrinkled as she tried to avoid the stench of the ammonia-soaked cloth she carried, knelt by the bed, a clay pot filled with water by her knees. Leaning forward she placed the linen cloth under Kebu’s face.
As the cloth came closer, Pentu waved his free hand in front of his face and laughed softly. “That should rouse the dead,” he said, pressing his wrist against his nose to block the fumes.
When the Medjay warrior inhaled again, he suddenly swung his arm, knocking against Akila’s arm and pushing the offensive cloth away. Startled awake, he blinked twice, looked around the room and then sagged back into unconsciousness.
Akila watched Kebu’s chest rise and fall twice and then pushed the ammonia cloth closer again.
Kebu snorted and turned his head away.
“Water,” Akila said to herself as she put the cloth on the floor and dipped her hands into the water jar. She gently slapped the water against the warrior’s face.
Kebu opened his eyes again.
A strange woman was kneeling over him. He squinted at her as a memory slowly surfaced. “Bintanath?” he asked.
“Just nod ‘yes,’ ” Imhotep whispered in English.
Kebu’s eyes rolled upward, searching for new a voice. A pair of lamps sat on stands behind the figure, silhouetting the man, but hiding his face. He was old, Kebu could see that from the slump of his shoulders and the walking staff.
“Governor Seni?” he asked.
“Yes,” Imhotep said gruffly, trying for a southern accent. “You have a message for me?”
Kebu tried to swing his legs from the bed so he could kneel before the governor. As he did, he felt tightness in his right thigh. He looked down at his bandaged leg and remembered spiders pouring from within.
“Stay on the bed,” Imhotep said quickly. “My physician has worked hard to heal your leg. You shouldn’t move it. Now, who are you and what is your message?”
Kebu was suddenly aware of the man supporting his shoulders. Twisting, he caught a glimpse of a kind face. He smiled at the man and felt a wave of relief when the man returned the smile.
I am saved, Kebu thought, closing his eyes and allowing himself to drift back to sleep.
Suddenly he heard a thumping sound. Opening his eyes, Kebu saw that Governor Seni had stepped closer and was pounding his walking staff on the stone floor.
“Your name,” the governor said.
“Kebu. I am Kebu. I fight with Yuya.”
Akila gasped at the mention of the giant who had stalked her through the Forest of Myrrh.
Imhotep thumped his walking staff again, trying to keep Kebu’s focus on him.
“And your message?”
“We failed, Governor Seni. There were too many soldiers and the women escaped. I was knocked into darkness during the fight. When I woke I was in the jungle and none of the warriors were with me.
“They were all killed. Except me.” He looked down at his leg again. “There were spiders there. Will they return? Will I lose my leg?”
“No,” Pentu answered from behind Kebu. “I removed the spiders. Your leg will heal.”
“Thank you,” Kebu said, his voice shaking. “I saw terrible things, Governor Seni. I don’t want to be a warrior anymore. Will you have me killed?”
“I can’t stand this,” Akila said softly and turned away.
“No, Kebu,” Imhotep said. “You will stay here and hea
l.”
“Yes, Governor,” Kebu said, his voice breaking.
Imhotep turned to Akila. “Now,” he said in English, “we need to find out why Governor Seni sent Medjay warriors to kill Pharaoh Hatshepsut.”
“He is here,” Pentu said, hearing Imhotep use Seni’s name.
Imhotep held up his hand to stop Pentu from saying more and exposing the charade.
“When the charioteers finish eating, have them come here and watch over Kebu,” he said to Pentu. Then he turned to Kebu. “Stay here and rest, Kebu.”
Pentu rose and helped Kebu lie back on the bed, then he followed Imhotep and Akila from the room.
Imhotep led them to the front garden where the sky had begun to brighten and birds were stirring in the acacia trees.
“He is here?” he asked Pentu.
“Governor Seni. He arrived a few days ago and has been insistent about meeting with Pharaoh Hatshepsut,” Pentu said. He stared at Imhotep. “Now I understand why. He sent assassins to kill her in Ta Netjer. They failed, and now he is here trying to kill her himself.”
Akila shook her head. “This man was bringing Governor Seni news that the attack in Ta Netjer failed. But he never delivered the message. Apparently,” she looked at Imhotep, “the messenger doesn’t even know what Governor Seni looks like. That means that Governor Seni came here without knowing that the attack in Ta Netjer failed.”
“Maybe he came on a regular, state trip,” Imhotep suggested. “Maybe he wasn’t convinced that Pharaoh Hatshepsut had actually gone to Ta Netjer.” He stopped and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We know that he is here and that he wants to harm Pharaoh Hatshepsut.”
He glanced back toward the house.
“We’ll ask Neferhotep to supply men to guard Pharaoh Hatshepsut while she heals. And we should probably move Kebu somewhere, although it sounded like he didn’t know that it was Pharaoh Hatshepsut who was the target in Ta Netjer.”
“Pentu,” Akila said suddenly, “you said that you found this man near here.”
Pentu nodded. “Just outside on the street. There were litter bearers, but they ran away.”
“Why was he here, in this neighborhood?”
They looked at each other for a moment. Akila solved the puzzle first. “Governor Seni must be staying near here.”
***
Governor Seni, head freshly shaved and oiled, wore a long robe, belted with a wide, dark blue belt. Leopard paws crossed his chest, fastened together with a silver band. The pelt of the leopard hung over his back. He looked like a priest of Amun, except for the wooden handle of a knife which protruded from his belt.
Sitting on the curved seat of a stool that Minmose had brought him, Seni waited amid the forest of sixteen-sided pillars in the second, narrow courtyard of the Temple of Amun.
It was hard to tell if Re had risen; there were no windows in the enclosed courtyard and the doorway behind him led to a passageway, not to the open gardens by the sacred lake.
But four priests had passed a few moments ago carrying baskets of breads and cakes, platters of roasted ox and goat, and trays of melons, plums, grapes, and cucumbers. Although the aromas of coriander and fennel and cumin were already beginning to disappear beneath the cloying, ever-present scent of myrrh, Seni knew what the food trays were.
Breakfast for the god.
His revenge was near.
Breathing in the fading aromas, Seni’s stomach gurgled. On another morning, he would be upset that hunger had found him. But this morning, he put aside the anger; a deeper hunger was going to be satisfied.
Soon he would be alone with Pharaoh Hatshepsut.
He would tell her that he had ordered her brothers killed, and that they had died.
He would tell her that he had cursed her father every day of his life, his dark magic keeping the arrogant ruler from finding his way from Duat to the Field of Reeds. Yes, Thutmose’s priests would have painted the sacred symbols in his tomb, but Seni had called on older gods from the lands south of the Two Lands. The secret incantations from those gods would overpower prayers that accompanied Pharaoh Thutmose, the first of that name.
And soon, those alien gods would curse her.
But first he would bury his knife in her stomach and the stench of her ka would fill the sanctuary of Amun.
***
Maya stepped from the litter just inside the tall gates of the Temple of Amun.
She stood unmoving, as Pharaoh Hatshepsut would wait, until the litter was moved and the royal guard formed about her.
She didn’t look for Pentu. It was impossible for Neferhotep to have reached him and brought him to the temple before she had arrived. She would see him afterward. If there was an afterward.
As her eyes fell on the tall, smooth walls of the pylons ahead of her, she looked beyond them, straining to see a hint of Duat or of her mother, ready to welcome her to the next life.
Pawura circled the guard and then paused in front of her.
She was sure that it was no accident that the commander of Pharaoh Thutmose’s own chariot troop was leading her escort this morning. She hoped that Neferhotep would not blame himself.
Bowing, Pawura turned to lead the escorts and Pharaoh Hatshepsut into the temple.
They entered the first courtyard where wooden scaffolding rose at the edge of the colonnade. Maya glanced at the construction. The roof was going to be removed there to make room for obelisks raised by Pharaoh Hatshepsut.
I won’t see them, she thought.
They passed through another pylon and entered the denser forest of columns. This courtyard was smaller, the ceiling lower. Each room that led to the inner sanctuary was capped with a lower ceiling, making each room feel more hidden and secret.
They turned here, passing through the right arm of the sanctuary. As they neared the doorway, Maya saw a strange, elderly priest sitting on a stool, his head bowed in prayer. She sighed, envying his serenity.
Outside, they turned left and in a few moments reached the sacred lake.
A gentle slope led from the garden to the shallow lake. Maya waited there until the guards backed away from her and four priests took their place. They gently removed her robe and Maya stepped into the calm waters of the lake.
The priests followed her. Two of them carried large silver cups, the others carried smoking bowls of incense. Maya stopped when she was waist deep in the water. The priests gathered around her. Two of them filled the cups and, as they murmured prayers, they poured sacred water over Maya, purifying her.
Surely I will pass quickly through Duat, she thought.
While Maya was being purified, High Priest Hapuseneb broke the clay seal that protected Amun’s privacy during the dark hours. Then he opened the door to the inner sanctuary and nodded to the priests who carried breakfast to the god.
Turning from the doorway, Hapuseneb saw Pawura standing in the hallway.
“You shouldn’t be here,” the priest said. “The guards stay in the courtyard by the lake.”
Pawura came closer.
“I am commander of the young heroes. Pharaoh Thutmose rides with us. I am here on his business.”
Hapuseneb puffed out his chest. “Pharaoh Thutmose lived among us. He has no need to send a common soldier in his stead.”
Pawura smiled. “Pharaoh Thutmose and I have just returned from destroying an entire Hittite army. Together, we walked through the desert. We ate from the same fire. We drank from the same skin. We worshipped together each morning and night.” He put his hand on the khopesh sword that hung from his belt. “I took hands for him.”
Hapuseneb studied the soldier for a moment.
He had been high priest when Pharaoh Thutmose, the first of that name, ruled. He had watched Pharaoh Thutmose, the second of that name, wander toward the Field of Reeds in his broken body and weakened mind. He had created the great dream that elevated Pharaoh Hatshepsut to the throne.
The ruling House of Thutmose shifted like the desert beneath Shu’s breath.
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Yet the Two Lands endured.
Amun endured.
Hapuseneb would endure.
“What can I do for Pharaoh Thutmose?” Hapuseneb asked.
***
Imhotep nodded agreement.
“She is right,” he said. “Governor Seni must be staying near here.” He turned to Pentu. “Have you seen any unusual activity?”
Before Pentu could answer, running footfalls sounded from the front garden path.
As they turned toward the sound, Neferhotep ran into the room.
“Father!” he said as he slowed to a walk. Then he saw Imhotep and Akila. “You’ve returned!” he said in astonishment. He looked past them. “Has Pharaoh Hatshepsut returned as well? Why in secret? Is something wrong?”
Pentu put his hands on his son’s chest and smiled.
“Yes, they have returned. Pharaoh Hatshepsut has been ill, but is mending. And, there are some problems here. But, Neferhotep, what brings you running here in the first hour of daylight?” Pentu said.
Neferhotep looked quickly at each of them, his eyes full of questions and worry.
“Mother sent me,” he said. “She asked that you come to the temple of Amun.”
Pentu shrugged his shoulders. “Why?”
“So that she can see you one last time,” he said.
“One last time? What ... ” Pentu began.
Imhotep stepped toward his grandson and asked, “Neferhotep, why are you not escorting her to the temple? Who is guarding her?”
“Pawura,” Neferhotep answered. He turned back to his father. “As she entered the litter to go to the temple, she told me that Pharaoh Thutmose has returned and that he visited her last night.”
“Neferhotep,” Imhotep interrupted again. “Who is Pawura?”
“He is commander of the maryannu. He and I traded places so that he can learn to serve Pharaoh Thutmose.”
“What are the maryannu?” Imhotep asked.
“They are the young heroes, grandfather. Pharaoh Thutmose rode with them in Sinai.”
“What did Pharaoh Thutmose say to her?” Pentu asked, his always calm voice rising in pitch.
