by Ben Bova
Once our broad-beamed boat pushed away from the dock, though, and its lateen sail filled with wind, we at least had the sights and sounds and smells of a new and fascinating land to occupy our minds. If Lukka was surprised at cities without walls to defend them, we were all constantly awed and delighted at what we saw of Egypt on our long trip up the Nile.
Nefertu was our host, our guardian, and our guide. The boat he had requisitioned had forty oars, and enclosed cabins for Helen and me, and for himself. A single lateen-rigged sail propelled us against the mighty river's current most of the time, driven by an almost constant northerly wind. The rowers were seldom needed. They were not slaves, I noticed, but soldiers who looked for commands not to the ship's captain but to Nefertu himself.
I smiled inwardly. This very civilized man had brought forty armed men along to make certain that we got where we were supposed to go, without fail. It was a subtle show of strength, meant to ensure that nothing went wrong during this journey, without alarming us or making us feel that we were under guard.
But if Nefertu was capable of subtlety, the land we saw from the boat's deck was just the opposite. Egypt was big, grand, imposing, awe-inspiring.
The Nile was its life stream, flowing a thousand miles from its headlands far to the south. On either side of the river we could see bare cliffs of limestone and granite, and desert beyond. But along the thin ribbon of the life-giving water, there were green fields and swaying trees and mighty cities.
It took a whole day to pass a typical Egyptian city, stretched out along the river's bank. We passed busy docks and warehouses, granaries where long lines of wagons unloaded the golden harvests of the land. Imposing temples stood at the water's edge, their stairs leading down to stone piers where many boats brought worshipers and supplicants.
"This is nothing," said Nefertu one afternoon as we glided past still another city. "Wait until we come upon Menefer."
We were eating a light dinner of dates, figs, and thin slices of sweet melon. Being civilized, Nefertu found it pleasant to have Helen dine with us. He spoke the Achaian tongue fairly well, and refrained from using his own language when Helen was present.
She asked, "What are the small buildings on the other side of the river?"
I too had noticed that the cities were invariably on the eastern bank, but there were small structures scattered along the opposite bank wherever a city existed, many of them carved into the rock face of the cliffs that lined the river valley.
"Are they temples?" Helen asked, before Nefertu could answer her first question.
"Of a kind, my lady," he replied. "They are tombs. The dead are embalmed and placed in tombs to await their next life, surrounded by the foods and possessions they will need when they awaken once more."
Helen's beautiful face betrayed her skepticism, despite what I had told her of myself. "You believe that people live more than one life?"
I kept my silence. I have led many lives, gone through death many times only to find myself revived in some strange and distant time. Not all humans lived more than once, I had been told. I found myself envying those who could close their eyes and make an end of it.
Nefertu smiled politely. "Egypt is an ancient land, my lady. Our history goes back thousands of years, to the time when the gods created the Earth and gave this gift of Mother Nile to our ancestors. Some of those tombs you see are a thousand years old; some are even older. You will find that our people are more concerned with death and the afterlife than with life itself."
"I should think so," Helen said, gazing back at the distant colonnaded buildings. "In Argos only the kings have such splendid tombs."
The Egyptian's smile broadened. "You have seen nothing of splendor as yet. Wait until Menefer."
The days passed easily. We drifted up the Nile, the steady north wind bellying our sail almost constantly. At night we tied up at a pier, but we slept aboard the boat. Lukka and his men were allowed to visit the cities where we stopped overnight, and Nefertu's guards introduced them to two of Egypt's most ancient entertainments: beer and prostitution. The men were becoming comrades, soldiers who would drink and whore together until they might be ordered to fall upon one another with naked swords.
Helen adopted the ship's cat, a pure white one that sauntered along the deck with a lordly air and permitted humans it especially favored to offer it food. The Egyptians regarded the cat as a mini-god; Helen was pleased that it allowed her to pet it—occasionally.
Then one morning I awoke just as the sun was rising above the cliffs to the east. Far in the distance I saw a glow on the western horizon. For an instant my heart stopped: I waited for the glow to expand and engulf me, to bring me face to face with the Golden One once more.
Yet it did not. It simply hovered on the horizon like a distant beacon. What its meaning was, I could not tell. I had not been summoned to the domain of the Creators since we had left the smoldering ruins of Jericho. I had not sought their realm. I knew I would meet them again in Egypt and either I would destroy the Golden One or he would destroy me. I was content to wait until that moment arrived.
But what was that strange beacon on the western horizon?
"You see it."
I turned, and Nefertu was standing at my side.
"What is it?" I asked.
He shook his head slowly. "Words cannot explain it. You will see for yourself."
Through the hours of early morning our boat sailed toward the light. We came upon the city of Menefer, a vast stretch of mighty stone buildings that towered along the Nile's eastern bank: temples and obelisks that reared into the cloudless sky, piers that dwarfed anything we had seen before, long colonnaded avenues lined with palms and eucalyptus trees, palaces with gardens and even groves of trees planted on their roofs.
All this we hardly noticed. One by one, every person on the boat turned eyes to the west and to the incredible sight that stood there.
"The great pyramid of Khufu," said Nefertu, in a whisper. Even he was awed by it. "It has stood for more than a thousand years. It will stand until the end of time."
It was an enormous pyramid of dazzling white, so huge and massive that it beggared all comparison. There were other pyramids nearby, and a great stone carving of a sphinx rested to one side, as if guarding the approach. Colonnaded temples flanked the road that led to the great pyramid; they looked like tiny doll houses next to its ponderous immensity.
The pyramid was faced entirely with gleaming white stone, polished so perfectly that I could almost make out the reflection of the sphinx in it. The cap, big enough to hold Priam's palace, but merely the tip of this awesome structure, blazed in the sunlight. It was made of electrum, an alloy of gold and silver, Nefertu told me. That is what had caught the morning sun when it had first arisen.
This was the place where I was to meet the Golden One. This is where I had to be to revive Athene. Yet our boat glided past.
As I watched, the dazzling white surface of the pyramid facing us slowly began to change. A great eye appeared, black against the white stones, and stared directly at us. A moan went up from everyone aboard, including me. Several of the Hittites fell to their knees. I felt the hairs on my arms standing on end.
Nefertu touched my shoulder, the first time he had put a hand on me.
"Do not be afraid," he said. "It is an effect caused by the sun and certain small stones that have been set out along the pyramid's face to cast a shadow when the sun is at the proper angle. It is like a sundial, except that it shows the Eye of Amon."
I tore my gaze away from the optical illusion and looked down at Nefertu. His face was grave, almost solemn. He was not laughing at the awe and fear he saw in the faces of his barbarian visitors.
"As I told you earlier," he said, almost apologetically, "there are no words that can explain the great pyramid, or prepare you for your first sight of it."
I nodded dumbly. It was difficult to find my voice.
The great Eye of Amon disappeared as quickly as it had opene
d, along about noon. Shortly afterward, the figure of a hawk manifested itself on the southward face of the pyramid. We spent the entire day watching the pyramid; not one of us could tear our eyes away from it for very long.
"It is the tomb of Khufu, one of our greatest kings, who lived more than a thousand years ago," Nefertu explained. "Within its mighty stones is the king's burial chamber, and other chambers for his treasures and retainers. In those bygone days, the king's household servants were sealed into the pyramid along with his embalmed body, so that they might serve him properly when he arose."
"The servants were sealed in alive?" I asked.
Nefertu said, "Alive. They went willingly, we are told, out of their great love for their master, and in the knowledge that they would be with him in the afterlife."
The expression on his lean face was difficult to read. Did he believe these stories, or was he merely transmitting the official line to me?
"I would like to see the great pyramid," I said.
"You have just seen it."
"I mean close up. Perhaps it is possible to enter . . ."
"No!" It was the sharpest word Nefertu had ever spoken to me. "The pyramid is a sacred tomb. It is guarded night and day against those who would defile it. No one may enter the tomb without the special permission of the king himself."
I bowed my head in silent acquiescence, while thinking to myself, I won't wait for the king's permission. I will enter the tomb and find the Golden One waiting for me inside it. And I will do it tonight.
Our boat finally docked at a massive stone pier on the southern end of the city. As usual, Lukka and his men went out into the city with Nefertu's guards. But I noticed that there were other guards from the city itself standing at the end of the pier. They would not allow anyone to pass unless Nefertu or some other official permitted it.
Helen, Nefertu, and I had dinner together aboard the boat: fish and lamb and good wine, all brought in from the city.
Nefertu told us many tales about the great pyramid and the huge city of Menefer. Once it had been the capital of Egypt—which he always referred to as the Kingdom of the Two Lands. Originally called the City of the White Wall, when Menefer became the capital of the kingdom its name was changed to Ankhtawy, which means "Holding the Two Lands Together." Since the capital had been moved south, to Wast, the city's name was changed to Menefer, meaning "Harmonious Beauty."
To Helen, speaking Achaian, the city's name was Memphis.
Impatiently I listened to their conversation as they dawdled over dinner. Finally it was finished and Nefertu bid us good night. Helen and I spent another hour or so simply staring at the city or, across the river, at the great pyramid and the other pyramids flanking it.
Khufu's massive tomb seemed to glow with hidden light even long after the sun had gone down. It was as if some eerie form of energy was being generated within those titanic stones and radiating out into the night.
"It must have been built by the gods," said Helen, whispering in the warm night as she pressed her body close to mine. "Mortal men could never have built anything so huge."
I put my arm around her. "Nefertu says that men built it, and the others. Thousands of men, working like ants."
"Only gods or titans could build such a thing," Helen insisted.
I recalled the Trojans and Achaians who believed that the walls of Troy had been built by Apollo and Poseidon. The memory, and Helen's stubborn insistence, put a slightly bitter tang in my mouth. Why do people want to believe that they themselves are not capable of great feats? Why do they ascribe greatness to their gods, who are in truth no wiser or kinder than any wandering shepherd?
I walked Helen across the width of the boat's deck, so that we were facing the city.
"And this mighty pier? Did the gods build this? It's far longer than the walls of Troy. And the obelisk at its end? The temples and villas we saw today? Did the gods build them?"
She laughed softly. "Orion, you're being silly. Of course not; gods don't stoop to building such mundane things."
"Then if the mortal men of this land could build such giant structures, why couldn't they build the pyramids? There's nothing terribly mysterious about them; they're just bigger than the buildings of the city—it took more manpower and time to build them."
She dismissed my blasphemy with bantering. "For a man who claims he serves a goddess, Orion, you certainly show scant respect to the immortals."
I had to agree. I felt scant respect to those who had created this world and its people. They felt scant respect for us, torturing and killing us for whatever strange purposes moved them.
Helen sensed my moodiness and tried to soothe me with lovemaking. For a few moments I forgot everything and allowed my body to blot out all my memories and desires. Yet when we clutched each other in the frenzy of passion I closed my eyes and saw the face of my beloved Athene, beautiful beyond human mortality.
Her bantering mood had changed, also. Whispering in my ear, Helen pleaded, "Don't challenge the gods, Orion. Please don't set yourself against them. Nothing good can come of it."
I did not reply. There was nothing I could say to her that would not either be a lie or cause her more worry.
For a while we slept wrapped in each other's arms. I awoke to the slight rocking of the boat and the subdued sound of men's muffled laughter. Lukka and the others were coming back. It must be nearly dawn.
Closing my eyes, I concentrated my mind on Khufu's great pyramid. Every particle of my being I attuned to that massive pile of stones and the burial chamber hidden within it. I saw it clearly, shining against the night, standing out before the dark starry sky, glowing intensely with a light that no mortal eye could see.
I stood before the great pyramid and it pulsated with inner energies, glowing, beckoning. Suddenly a beam of brilliant blue shot skyward from the very tip of the pyramid, a scintillating shaft of pure energy rising to the zenith of the bowl of night.
I was standing before the pyramid. My physical body was there, I knew. Yet the guards standing evenly spaced along the edge of the great plaza before it did not see me. They did not sense the light radiating from the pyramid, did not see the confiscating shaft of brilliant blue energy that blazed skyward from its tip.
And I could approach no closer. As if an impenetrable wall stood before me, I could not get a single step nearer the pyramid. I stood out in the night air, straining until the sweat streamed down my face and chest, ran in rivulets down my ribs and legs.
I could not enter the pyramid. The Golden One had sealed himself inside, I realized, and would not let me reach him. Was he protecting himself against me, or against the other Creators who sought to eliminate him?
No difference, as far as I was concerned. Unless I could get inside the pyramid I could not possibly force him to revive Athene. I screamed aloud into the night, bellowing my anger and frustration at the stars as I collapsed onto the stone paving of the great plaza before Khufu's tomb.
Chapter 36
Helen's face was white with shock.
"What is it? Orion, what's the matter?"
I was in our bunk aboard the boat, soaked with sweat, tangled in the light sheet that we had thrown over ourselves.
It took two swallows before I found my voice. "A dream," I croaked. "Nothing . . ."
"You saw the gods again," she said.
I heard bare feet running and then a pounding at our door. "My lord Orion!" Lukka's voice.
"It's all right," I yelled through the closed door. "Only a bad dream."
Still ashen-faced, Helen said, "They will destroy you, Orion. If you keep trying this mad assault against them, they will crush you utterly!"
"No," I said. "Not until I've had my vengeance. They can do what they want to me after that, but I'll avenge her first."
Helen turned away from me, anger and bitter regret etched in every line of her.
I felt distinctly foolish that morning. If Nefertu wondered what had made me scream, he was too polite to men
tion it. The crew cast off and we resumed our journey upstream toward the capital.
All that morning I spent staring at the great pyramid as we slowly sailed upriver, watching its great Eye of Amon open and gaze solemnly back at me. The Golden One has turned it into his fortress, his refuge, I told myself. Somehow I will have to get inside it. Or die in the attempt.
For weeks we sailed the Nile, long empty days of sun and the river, long frustrating nights of trying to reach the Golden One or any of the other Creators. It was as if they had left the Earth and gone elsewhere. Or perhaps they were all in hiding. But from what?
Helen watched me intently. She seldom spoke of the gods, except occasionally at night when we were drowsing toward sleep. I wondered how much she really believed of what I had told her. I imagined that she did not know, herself.
Each day was much like every other, except for the changes in scenery along the riverbanks. One day we passed what looked like a ruined city: buildings reduced to rubble, stone monuments sprawled broken on the ground.
"Was there a war here?" I asked Nefertu.
For the first time, I saw him look irritated, almost angry. "This was the city of a king," he said tightly.
"A king? You mean this was once the capital?"
"Briefly."
I had to pull the story out of him, line by line. It was clearly painful to him, yet so fascinating that I could not resist asking him more questions until I had the entire tale. The city was named Akhetaten, and it had been built by the king Akhenaten more than a hundred years earlier. Nefertu regarded Akhenaten as an evil king, a heretic who denied all the gods of Egypt except one: Aten, a sun god.
"He caused great misery in the land, and civil war. When he at last died, his city was abandoned. Horemheb and later kings tore down his monuments and destroyed his temples. His memory brings great shame upon us."
Yes, I thought. I could see how uncomfortable the memory made Nefertu. Yet I wondered if Akhenaten's heresy had not been one of the Golden One's schemes run awry. Perhaps I had been there, in one of the lives that I could not remember. Perhaps I would one day be sent there by the Creators to do whatever mischief they wanted done.
