by Jerry Dubs
He was whispering now, talking to the god that grew within her. She felt the soft murmur of his voice more than she heard it. There was a rhythm to it and she realized that he was chanting the names of the god, praying to her unborn child.
Now she felt warm dampness on her belly. His tears. Tears of devotion.
She began to cry. Tears of relief.
He believes.
Men-Nefer: Patience
He believes.
Queen Satiah woke from a nightmare before dawn. Opening her eyes, she raised a hand to wipe sweat from her forehead. Her breath was shallow as if the stones of the temple were pushing on her, smothering her dreams.
He believes.
The nightmare thought returned. Pushing herself upright she shook her head, trying to chase away her fears.
How can Pharaoh Thutmose believe that Ptah emerged from his stone likeness and walked the halls of the temple like a man? How can he believe that Ptah took the outlander whore in his arms?
I have to dispel his illusion. He has to understand that his own children, our own children, the children I carried, they are the rightful heirs to the throne of the Two Lands. Not the ill-conceived bastard of a whore from Canaan.
Standing, she walked the hard stones to the low window overlooking the temple garden.
Khonsu draped the tall walls with watery moonlight. Wispy wraiths of his pale light slid from the tips of palm leaves, and, on the sacred lake, gossamer ghosts glistened as they formed on rising mists and then vanished into the darkness.
Leaning from her window, Queen Satiah stretched an arm into the magical night, her fingers grasping at diaphanous spirits that floated in the fragile light.
It is not real, she thought. Khonsu and Nut conspire to turn this garden into a dream. And the dream has seduced Pharaoh Thutmose. I must wake him.
She sighed and then, breathing deeply of the night air, she inhaled the aroma of fresh-baked bread.
Quickly she pulled on a gown, tied its waist and left the room.
Instead of sentries in the torchlit hallways, she saw acolytes, children dressed in the kilts of priests, as they scrubbed the floors, refilled lamps and dusted the walls in the hour before dawn. The acolytes glanced at her feet as she passed, but they didn’t raise their heads; they had been trained to keep their attention on serving the god, not answering their curiosity.
Queen Satiah didn’t know how many decans had passed in the night, but she knew that the baking of bread signaled morning. And the morning began with the bathing and feeding of Ptah. She knew she would find Pharaoh Thutmose there. She would join him in waking Ptah and then, hand in hand, they would walk the garden together.
She would remind him of his own divinity and of his own children, ones that had grown from his seed planted in her belly. She would lead him to the sacred lake and she would bathe him as they had bathed Ptah together.
Confident in her ability to turn her husband’s thought from the gods to his own pleasure, she smiled as she imaged their coupling in the garden pond. She pictured his chest swelling as he gulped air, arching his back and driving into her. She could feel the tightness that would constrict her throat and the excitement that would overtake her own body. Her vision was so true that she could hear the rasping, panting of his breath, the light trill of her own happiness.
Her feet stopped as she realized that the sounds were not coming from her imagination, but from the hallway that led to the inner sanctum of the great god Ptah.
Teeth gritted, she forced her feet to rise and fall on the stone floor. Her hands clenched in fists, she followed the torch-lined hallway. Her husband’s panting grew heavier and faster. The small cries of pleasure, in a tongue that she didn’t recognize, grew louder.
She started to run.
It is someone else, she tried to convince herself.
But she knew her husband’s voice and she knew that no one else would dare couple in the sanctuary of Ptah. No one except her husband, Pharaoh Thutmose, third of the name, Horus reborn.
And the whore of Canaan, who knew no better.
Two priests stood outside the sanctuary, their heads down, their eyes averted from the doorway of the inner chamber. Light spilled from the god’s bedroom, carrying with it a play of shadows and a mingling of moans and panting that confirmed Queen Satiah’s fears.
As she rushed past the two priests, Pharaoh Thutmose roared and Queen Menwi screamed a long, cascading song of release.
Blood pounded in Queen Satiah’s temples as she stopped unseen and leaned against the doorway. She watched Pharaoh Thutmose casually wrap his shendyt around his waist and then bend down to offer his hand to help Queen Menwi to her feet.
Behind them, Ptah, freshly washed, clean linens draped over his shoulders, sat on his golden throne. His hands clutched a scepter capped with the symbol of life and his green face carried a satisfied smile.
Queen Satiah backed away silently, seen only by the god and glimpsed by the sidelong glances of the two priests.
Hurrying to her chamber her mind raced past the painted columns and the acolytes who were lighting bowls of incense to welcome Re.
After this morning he will convince himself that his seed has joined Ptah’s and the child is doubly divine. It must never see light.
Outside her room Queen Satiah grabbed the shoulder of a servant girl.
“Find Thanuny.”
***
Thanuny sat on a bench in the outer courtyard. With his right leg raised to rest on the bench he leaned forward and massaged the knotted calf muscle.
Although Re hadn’t risen yet, Thanuny’s leg had forced him from his bed. The pain was an angry snake today, coiling and biting, sending needles of pain and waves of convulsions from his missing toes to his leg.
I walked too much yesterday, he thought as his fingers pushed against knotted muscles.
He had trailed Imhotep and Ahmose through Men-Nefer, into the western suburbs and then, when the men had walked into the empty desert, he had waited in town, reluctant to let them see him.
As he waited, lines of soldiers began to pass, following the pathway Imhotep and Ahmose had taken.
Curious, Thanuny had joined the soldiers who were carrying, not only their weapons, but wooden poles and rolls of linen.
They are making camp, he had realized.
Thanuny had wandered among the soldiers as they erected tents, dug latrines, and raked sand to prepare campfires. The encampment began at the edge of Men-Nefer and followed a wadi that ran toward the western desert.
Watching for Imhotep, Thanuny had walked deeper into the wadi. Wandering among the soldiers and listening to their jokes, he felt anew the resentment that had filled him when he had been retired from the maryannu.
He saw soldiers sitting on makeshift stools sharpening the blades of the khopesh swords. Each grate of bronze on stone cut into his ka and his anger grew, the heat inflaming the pain of his injury.
Struggling to not limp in front of the soldiers, he had stalked stiff-legged deeper into the desert. Rounding a bend he saw Imhotep and Ahmose struggling up the side of the wadi toward the plateau where the Step Pyramid stood.
His anger had overtaken his thoughts and he wished he had carried a spear. He was sure he could overpower the guide who was with Imhotep. Then he could face Imhotep alone.
His eyes fell on Imhotep’s magical staff.
If I ever encounter him, he had told himself, I will break that staff. Then he will be mine.
He had watched Imhotep reach the top of the wadi and then stalk away toward the Step Pyramid.
Now, sitting on the bench and massaging his twitching leg, he wondered if he should have followed Imhotep. He shook his head. He had carried no weapon and Imhotep’s heka is powerful.
Another time, he told himself as footsteps approached from the temple. The gods will show me the proper time.
Twisting, Thanuny saw a servant girl slow to a walk.
“Queen Satiah asked for you,” the girl said, her
head bowed.
Thanuny swung his leg to the ground and stood, testing his weight on his injured foot.
The girl turned to lead him to the queen’s chambers.
“I know the way,” Thanuny called after her when he saw that she was almost running and he would never be able to keep up with her.
The servant girl glanced at his foot and then, embarrassed, she nodded her head and waited for Thanuny. “I will accompany you,” she said meekly.
“Go,” he told her angrily. “Tell Queen Satiah I will be there.”
The girl mumbled an apology and, turning away, quickly melted into the temple shadows.
Thanuny grunted and entered the hallway that led from the outer courtyard to the chamber of columns. Halfway through the chamber he saw two figures enter from the far hallway.
His sour mood turned darker as he recognized the uneven gait of Imhotep. Pausing, he listened closely and heard the heavy clatter of the ever-present walking staff on the stone floor. Sidestepping, he moved behind one of the tall columns.
Unconsciously, he reached to his waist for his knife.
Ptah is offering him to me.
The clacking of the walking staff drew closer and Thanuny pulled his knife from his waist band. He glanced to the stone floor, searching for shadows, both his own that would betray his ambush, and those of Imhotep and his companion.
He heard their voices now, low and secret. Imhotep’s voice was quiet but insistent. The guide’s words short, no explanations, but quick answers.
Thanuny wondered if he should eavesdrop, try to learn what Imhotep was doing in the desert. He shook his head.
It doesn’t matter what Imhotep is trying to do if he is dead.
Their footsteps slowed and Thanuny slipped deeper into the shadows. When they passed he would slide around the column behind them. One quick step, one quick plunge of his blade.
He held his breath.
Another step.
“Thanuny!” a small voice called.
Imhotep and Ahmose stopped walking and turned toward the servant girl who had returned looking for Thanuny.
Thanuny pressed himself against the column.
The girl’s soft footsteps approached Imhotep and Ahmose. “Have you seen Thanuny?” she asked.
Imhotep shook his head. “I don’t think I know Thanuny,” he said.
“He is the one with the crippled foot,” the servant said.
The foot you crippled, Thanuny thought.
Imhotep shook his head. “I’m sorry. We haven’t seen anyone. But we were talking and when I talk an entire herd of hippopotamuses could thunder by and I wouldn’t notice,” he said with a laugh. He held out a hand to the girl. “Here, come with us and we will look for this Thanuny together.”
Thanuny held his breath as the three passed by his column. Then he slid from the shadows, wincing at the pain in his leg as he hobbled silently to the next shadow.
Sweat filled his eyes as he moved to the next column.
I could have killed him, he thought. But not here in a temple. My ka would have wandered Duat forever. Another time. The gods are showing me that it is their will, but not now. That is why they sent the girl to stop me. Yes, I must be patient.
Men-Nefer: Plans
Re had fallen into Duat, the oil lamps had been extinguished and beside him, Akila’s chest rose and fell in slow peaceful sleep.
Although he lay still, Imhotep’s mind was restless. Like a sparrow flitting from tree to tree, Imhotep’s thoughts darted from one worry to another. As soon as he identified a problem and began to analyze it, his thoughts took flight, landing on another issue.
Finding the tomb ...
Ahmose’s search for Ipy’s tomb had been stalled by the army encampment that occupied the wadi. Useramen had suggested that Imhotep simply continue the search in the open, after all, he was seeking a magical weapon that would help Pharaoh Thutmose.
Imhotep couldn’t tell Useramen that there was no magical weapon, only a mysterious false doorway that he planned to open so that he could flee the Two Lands. Instead he had pointed to the sanctuary of Ptah which was sealed each night to give the god protection and privacy.
“Opening a tomb cannot be done openly,” Imhotep had said, lowering his voice to let Useramen understand that he was sharing a great secret. “If we protect the chamber of a god while he sleeps at night, how much more protection must we offer to the tomb, the eternal home, of a god? Useramen, I tell you these things because I trust you and because you have served Ptah so long and so well. But each person who knows of our effort makes the effort less likely to succeed.
“How could the gods wish their secrets to be widely known?” he had asked.
Useramen had lowered his head in acquiescence, but, Imhotep thought now, there had been questioning in his eyes.
Neferhotep’s early departure ...
Even if he and Ahmose managed to find and open the tomb, Neferhotep would be gone. Amenhotep had taken half of the city’s waterfront to prepare for the first stage of the army’s movement. In addition to the caravan of oxen, the brilliant quartermaster planned to send supplies by sea to Gaza. Admiral Ahmose, who had led the expedition to Ta Netjer, had taken to his bed with severe nausea. Soon his waste had turned bloody and noxious and he had been sent from the city so that his illness would not spread to the army.
Because of his experience on the expedition to Ta Netjer, General Djehuty had drafted to command the supply fleet. With Djehuty traveling by ship, there was no one to command the overland caravan.
Pharaoh Thutmose had resolved the problem by making himself commander of the maryannu and ordering Neferhotep to take command of the slow-moving, first third of the army.
And so Neferhotep would leave in the morning.
Queen Menwi’s willingness to leave the Two Lands ....
And then there was Queen Menwi herself. She had embraced Ptah, and Pharaoh Thutmose as well, Imhotep had heard. Would she be willing to leave the Two Lands if she expected to supplant Queen Satiah as great wife? She had told Imhotep that she loved Neferhotep, but he worried that she would love the safety and power of being great wife even more.
Swinging his legs off the bed, Imhotep stood up and silently stretched. He walked slowly to a nightstand where he had thrown his kilt. Strapping it on, he looked at Akila’s profile as she slept.
She had been in the Two Lands for eight years now. Arriving as the Third Dynasty began to crumble, she had saved Meryt’s life and become a second mother to Hapu, training her to be a doctor. Sublimating her own desires, she had given Imhotep and Meryt space and time. It had been Akila who had discovered the correct hieroglyphs to allow them to escape the rebel army at Abu.
He shook his head at the strength and will power hidden behind her soft features.
And she had defeated the giant Yuya in the Forest of Myrrh, he reminded himself.
A wave of love and humility swept over him. Standing quietly, he let the feeling fill him as he watched Akila’s moonlit face.
She has been my strength, he thought. I hope I haven’t taken her for granted. No, he told himself, I have loved her. She knows that.
Smiling, he leaned against the nightstand, crossed his arms and watched Akila sleep. Her peacefulness evoked a memory of the night he had watched Meryt sleep.
It was the night, he thought now, when I first began to believe the Two Lands was my home.
But now an opposite feeling began to fill him. Too many deaths colored his memories here. Both of his children had died — Tjau stabbed to death by frenzied followers of Neith, Maya killed by a disease that had been banished in the modern world.
And Meryt killed at the point of a spear.
He bowed his head. None of the deaths should have happened.
Now his grandson’s life was imperiled because he had fallen in love with the wrong woman.
And Akila, he thought, walking quietly to their bed and looking down on her peaceful face, what simple disease or casual violence
lies in wait for you?
He shook his head.
No more!
Turning, he picked up his walking staff and headed for the doorway. He had one more night to talk with his grandson.
I must persuade him to stay behind. We must find an excuse.
***
Two soft footfalls and a wooden tap rose from the stone floor, floated through the night air, and died in the shadows. Oil lamps on pedestals sat empty and unlit, waiting on the acolytes to make their predawn rounds, and torches had been snuffed into darkness.
Night shrouded the temple.
Ptah’s images paced the dark walls unseen. Pharaoh Thutmose, third of the name, received the god’s blessing on shadowed pillars. Khonsu was hidden as well, leaving only the million stars to send their inconstant light from Nut’s dark belly.
Moving slowly through the hallways, Imhotep felt a slight prickling on his neck and he thought of the walk he had taken with Ahmose this morning when the temple girl had interrupted them. He had been preoccupied then, but as he remembered the walk now, he thought that the shadow of one of the pillars had grown an angled addition that looked like a poised elbow, and that the sound of their footsteps had picked up an extra echo.
No, he told himself, I am an old man worrying about shadows.
Persuading himself that all was well, he picked up his pace. He entered the hallway that led to Neferhotep’s room. Tapping his staff loudly on the floor so that his grandson would have warning, Imhotep smiled.
He was moving, he was solving a problem instead of simply worrying.
“Sorry to wake you,” he said, beaming an apologetic smile as he entered Neferhotep’s room. Greeted by silence, he stopped and looked about the room.
There was a long stand and chair against the right wall. A screen stood against the left wall hiding, Imhotep knew, a small stand that contained the many bottles of oils that his grandson used. Sniffing, Imhotep detected the aroma of lilies and cinnamon.
Not the scent of a sleeping soldier.
