Mystery of the Temple

by Nathaniel Burns

  Neti remained silent for several moments before she spoke. “In some strange way that makes sense.”

  “Yes, if it were a malevolent god,” Shabaka replied.

  “And what are gods if not malevolent? We have to live in fear of them, be humble before their human-god version, or we suffer. When the river does not rise we see it as a sign from the gods that we did not offer enough. If there is bounty, we must be thankful to them, when we worked for it ourselves. A man who breaks his back to build a temple is not acknowledged for it. Instead the human-god who told him to build the temple is acknowledged.”

  “And that is why you believe that the Pharaoh only seeks acknowledgement for himself?” Shabaka asked.

  “The Pharaoh changes things to his pleasing,” the man stressed. “So that in the afterlife he can claim that he has honored the gods and erected temples for them, when he has not lifted a single stone himself.”

  Shabaka made to say something but Neti silenced him by placing her one hand on his arm. “Remember what I said,” she said just above a whisper. He looked at her and then nodded in understanding.

  Neti looked from Sereb to his father, before asking, “Do you know of any treatment that would ease the curse.”

  The man looked at Sereb for a moment before speaking, “My son has told me that the young woman has been cursed.”

  Neti nodded, knowing it would not help their cause if she were to argue with him.

  “What have you done with her?”

  “She is resting in the room. She feels nauseous at the moment.”

  “She must stay out of the sun,” the man said. “And don’t give her any of the medicine they make from the flowers. I have seen it make people mad, even willing to kill others for it.”

  Neti nodded. “We do not have any. At the moment she has tree-bark tea and we apply an oil to her skin before bandaging it.”

  “That is the worst thing to do!” the man suddenly said. “You must take that off, now! If you need to bandage something, bandage her hands.”

  “Her hands?” Neti asked, confused.

  “That way she cannot scratch.”

  Neti nodded. “Anything else.”

  “You need to add white bush-flowers and stalks to the oil, preferably palm oil.”

  “I think there is some in the store room,” Sereb said. “But I do not know about the flowers.”

  “There should be a bush growing somewhere close by. It is very common.”

  Neti looked at Shabaka. “Maybe you should go with them to look for it?”

  Shabaka lifted his brow, his tone reluctant as he asked, “Must I?”

  Neti lowered her voice, “At least then I would know someone will be focused on the task.”

  Shabaka looked at the man. “You have a point there, I’m just wondering how long it will be before the urge to shake him, hard, lessens.”

  Neti smiled. “At least you’re male. He will be less likely to insult you.”

  “What are you going to do while we are away?”

  “I will have to bake some bread. There will not be enough for everyone. I also have to attend Seota. And then there are these…,” she said lifting the scrolls. “They might provide us with some answers.”

  “But this is not the same as the men in Thebes,” Shabaka said.

  “It is still something that caused the deaths of these servants. I would rather have answers for Ramesses if he were to ask us.”

  “You have a point there,” Shabaka conceded.

  Neti unrolled the first of the scrolls on the floor of her and Seota’s chamber. She knew her presence there provided some assurance to Seota, even allowing the girl to drift in and out of sleep.

  Neti looked at the hieroglyphs and frowned. She had never before seen anything like them. They were, however, placed neat, organized in rows, much like Egyptian hieroglyphs. But that was where the similarities ended. There were one or two that looked somewhat familiar, but then she had no idea whether their meaning would be the same. She released a heavy, reluctant sigh.

  She knew that in every language there were repetitions; if not of words then of letters. She looked at the length of fabric, feeling somewhat overwhelmed. She rose and went to the storeroom in search of paper and ink.

  Some time later she heard the scrape of sandals on the floor outside the room, only to be followed moments later by an irritated, “Have you found anything?” She looked up as Shabaka entered the room, his irritation evident in every step he took. For a moment she wondered what Sereb’s father could have said to garner such a response from Shabaka.

  Neti shook her head, glancing towards a sleeping Seota before speaking, softly, “This does not make any sense.”

  Shabaka looked at the cloth, “I may not fully understand all hieroglyphs, but even I have never seen such hieroglyphs as these.”

  “I’ve tried everything I know to put meaning to them, but nothing is working,” Neti said.

  “When you were missing, that note you sent us, my nephew deciphered it using a different type of technique. Have you tried that?”

  Neti nodded. “But even that does not bring meaning to this. I do not even know in which direction the words follow on one another. Sereb said their people were not educated. I have no idea how to read this even if I could assign some meaning to the symbols.” Neti turned to look at him. “Did you have any luck?”

  Shabaka nodded.

  “From your expression I would not have said so,” Neti said.

  “I think we should just stick to your definition of the man, because if I had to give him one it would be far worse than anything you could come up with.”

  “That bad?”

  “Let’s just say he has been on his own for too long.”

  Neti frowned at that. “Has he gone mad?”

  “I would say he was born mad.”

  “What do you mean, then, by he has been on his own for too long?”

  Shabaka looked about the room uncomfortably, causing Neti to tilt her head. “You mean he’s looking for a woman?”

  Shabaka nodded, pulling his mouth into a funny expression. “I think I spent more time avoiding his questions about you…,” he paused for a moment, “…er, well, your willingness than anything else.”

  Both of Neti’s brows shot up. “I hope you made it clear that I would not care for his attentions.”

  Shabaka remained silent for several long moments. Just the memory thereof got him angry and made him want to hit the guy. “I tried,” Shabaka said.

  “Will he be staying here for the night?” Neti asked, concerned.

  Shabaka nodded. Noticing Neti’s discomfort he said, “I will be sleeping here with you and Seota.”

  Neti’s relief was instant and obvious. “There is some flatbread in one of the pots. The beer is not yet ready, but I am certain there should be some fruit or something to go with it.”

  “You are not joining us?” Shabaka asked, confused.

  “I think it is best if I do not encourage his attentions in any way. Being a woman in attendance to men might just do that.”

  Shabaka nodded.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Neti poured over the fabric scrolls for two days, attempting to identify and assign meaning to the symbols with no avail. No matter which direction she worked in, or how she tried to assign meaning to the symbols, there was no sense in their arrangement. So much so that she even considered the possibility that it could be a different language.

  She looked up at Seota, who had not improved. She had developed another area over part of her abdomen and refused to eat, claiming that it hurt her throat too much to swallow. The amount of pain she experienced had also increased, which left Neti to question whether she might not have developed another disease as well.

  Neti stood and made her way to the kitchen. She checked the bread pot, only to find it empty again. Releasing a heavy sigh, she turned for the storage area where she gathered up a measure of grain. Pouring it on the grinding stone she star
ted the tiring process of grinding flour. That was where Shabaka found her some time later.

  “You’re grinding flour, again?” he asked, surprised.

  “There is no bread in the pot,” Neti replied flatly.

  “But it was still full this morning,” Shabaka countered.

  “Well it is empty now, and everyone will soon want something to eat.”

  “Where are Sereb and his father?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I’ve been busy with the scrolls and tending Seota,” Neti said before scooping up the ground flour and placing it in a pot.

  “How is she?” Shabaka asked.

  Neti cast more grain onto the stone and resumed her actions. “She is no better.”

  Shabaka watched her aggressive actions, but had no idea how to calm or reassure her. “Don’t fill the bread pot,” he finally said.

  “What?” Neti demanded, turning her head to look at him. “And what will you eat?”

  “I mean, don’t put all the bread in one pot.”

  Neti’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Only place a few in the pot. Put the others somewhere else.”

  “That would be foolish,” Neti said.

  Shabaka shook his head. “I think that Zereth is gorging himself.”

  “And how would that stop him?”

  “There would not be that much visible,” Shabaka reasoned.

  “And do you really think if he is gorging himself that it would stop him from eating what would then be considered our share?”

  “There is that,” Shabaka conceded.

  “I wish he would just leave,” Neti said, resuming her grinding.

  “You know as well as I do that he will go nowhere until you have finished with the scrolls.”

  “There is nothing there.” Neti angrily stated, bringing the grinding stone down hard. “I can find nothing! Nothing of his people, nothing of any sense, and certainly nothing of the sickness that Seota has.”

  Shabaka made to say something but instead released a heavy groan, which caused Neti to look up at him. Her gaze followed his line of sight and she felt her spirits drop too. Zereth was approaching them with a small pot.

  The man stopped a short distance from Neti and extended the pot to her. “Sereb said I should bring this for you,” he said in possibly his most charming voice.

  Shabaka took it instead from the man and checked its contents. “Milk?” he questioned.

  “I want to see if Seota will drink some,” Neti said, and then to Zereth, “Tell Sereb I said thank you.”

  The man hung around for several moments, with the air becoming heavy and loaded.

  “Was there anything else?” Shabaka finally demanded when it became obvious the man had no intention of leaving.

  “I just wanted to ask Neti if she has made any progress with the scrolls.”

  Neti, in turn, bit down on the snide remark that popped into her head. How could I make any progress when I spend more time grinding flour and making bread that perusing the scrolls? Instead she asked, “Do you not know of any other scriptures about the sickness or something like it?”

  The man thought for several moments, “Those are all the scrolls I know about. They were the ones handed to me. All others were taken when the workers abandoned their quarters. There was talk of some placed in the pyramid of Khufu, as guidance for the pharaoh in the afterlife.”

  Neti nodded, lackadaisically adding, “The Book of Death. It is usually inscribed on the walls of the tomb.”

  Zereth shook his head. “His tomb is not the same. He made it different from the others.”

  “And how would you know?” Shabaka demanded.

  “My elders’ elders built the pyramids. It has been known for many generations that the Pyramid of Khufu is different. Its position was specifically chosen, and it was planned and built differently from the others.”

  “How so?”

  “There is a tale of a long passage leading up the pyramid, to the tombs of both the pharaoh and the queen.”

  Shabaka looked at Neti. “Is that different?”

  Neti nodded. “Although it is not unheard of for both the pharaoh and queen to be entombed in the same pyramid. But each tomb has its own entrance, so that the Ka would not be confused on its return.”

  Zereth looked at Neti in surprise, “How would you know that?”

  “Because I am a mummifier by trade,” Neti said. “I was are taught all the funerary rites and practices, both past and present.”

  “A woman embalmer? That is unheard of!” the man challenged.

  “As is the following of your palace, but here you are nonetheless,” Neti threw back.

  “Do not insult my forefathers,” Zereth warned angrily.

  “Then do not insult me,” Neti said. “Especially since I can at least read and write.”

  “You do not know the place of a woman in the home. No wonder you are not married! No man would want such a headstrong wife,” Zereth said. “You may look alluring, but you are of no worth as a woman.”

  Neti chose not to rise to his taunts, fielding them instead. “I may not be of any use as a woman to you, but to others I am worth considerably more than a mere servant. I pity any woman who accepts you. You would make a demanding and obtuse husband.”

  “Of all the rude things to say!” Zereth said, visibly angered.

  “I caution you against any further insults,” Shabaka said in a low, even tone, obviously seething. Shabaka’s tone caused Zereth to look at him as he continued, “Neti is a prefect, and my partner. Insulting her is as good as insulting the Pharaoh. The Pharaoh does no look kindly upon those who insult his prefects. Thus, to save your son any embarrassment, I would advise you to back down or I will arrest you and bring you before Ramesses.”

  Zereth’s eyes narrowed. “You are no different from the others. You may have fooled my son into trusting you, but no one with an allegiance to a pharaoh can be trusted.”

  “Well, if that is so then you and Sereb will from tonight break bread on your own,” Shabaka said. “You can send him to collect your meal later.”

  “What!” the man exclaimed, in obvious disbelief.

  “You will now be treated in accordance with the position your son holds. And if he does not understand the sudden alteration, you can send him to me for an explanation.”

  The man made to say something but instead clenched his fists, did an about turn, and stalked away.

  “That was not really needed,” Neti said, rising from the stone.

  “Someone had to put him in his place,” Shabaka said, turning his attention to her.

  Neti held out her hands for the pot he held and he automatically he handed it to her. “Even so, I fear he will turn Sereb against us. And neither of us has the time to deal with the goats as well. As it is, we are bound here for as long as it takes Seota to recover.”

  “That does not mean I have to tolerate his loathsome presence during meals.”

  Neti’s brows furrowed. “He cannot be that bad.”

  “Really?” Shabaka questioned in return. “You are not the one who had to listen to his comments about the food.”

  “Were they that bad?”

  “Let’s just say, he expected more when dining at the Pharaoh’s villa.”

  Neti only scoffed at that. “I am not Yani, who can make the simplest of meals into a small feast.”

  Shabaka reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. “There is nothing wrong with your food. All that has been missing is your company.”

  Neti looked at him and smiled, lifting the pot. “Thank you. I’m going to see if Seota will drink some of this.”

  Shabaka nodded. “I will start the fire in the oven.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The sun had just lifted above the horizon as Shabaka packed the last of the lamp oil into a satchel. Lifting the pack, he turned to Neti, for a moment gazing past her to the tip of the pyramid. “You’re certain you want to do this?” he asked as she che
cked the contents of her satchel.

  Neti did not look up as she answered, “It may provide us with some usable answers.”

  “How do you know we will even find the entrance to the pyramid? Weren’t they sealed after the burial?”

  Neti looked towards the pyramid as she spoke. “It, like every other pharaoh’s tomb, would have been looted.” Neti then stood and slung her satchel over her shoulder, before bending down to collect up her water skin.

  “You mean that the traps within and the curses do not work?”

  “It is not that they do not work. It’s that greed often supersedes caution. That is why many die trying.”

  “But you then also speak chants when you work. Aren’t those for protection?”

  “The chants are there to sooth the Ka and to aid it during the conveying phase. They are not curses.”

  “So there are no standard curses used?”

  Neti shook her head as they started walking. “No. Each pharaoh, each person even, has a separate curse cast to protect their tomb. They are sometimes included in the Book of the Dead, or it may simply be a separate scroll placed within the sarcophagus or in the care of a shabati.”

  Shabaka looked at her in disbelief.

  “Most artists are too fearful to paint them. They believe that just by painting them they could inflict such a curse upon themselves. Do you not also have burial traditions and tombs?”

  “We do, but they are not as complex.”

  They exited the villa’s walls and turned in the direction of the pyramids. “How will we know which one is the one we seek? There are several here.”

  Neti looked at the pyramids. “Khufu’s it is the largest one, closest to the Sphinx. It also has three smaller pyramids close to it.”

  They walked in silence, with the sun steadily rising in the sky as the progressed. The wind lifted the sand and then died down, leaving it to fall. The entire complex was silent. They passed several smaller tombs, all lavishly engraved.