by Jerry Dubs
From his viewpoint, Senbi could see into the gloomy reception room and if he stared long enough he could see the empty throne. Behind it stood a linen scrim painted with the goddess Isis, kneeling in profile, her arms outstretched with feathers of white, green and red hanging from them to form protective wings. A breeze ruffled the linen and from a distance it looked to Senbi as if Isis was waving her feathered arms, shooing him away.
The scrim hid a narrow doorway that led to the queen’s inner rooms, a large dressing room with an area for bathing, makeup tables, and cushioned benches, and a smaller room that was the queen’s bedroom and a series of even smaller rooms for her servants.
Along the back wall of the dressing room a stairway led to the roof where the queen and her companions retreated in the evening to catch the cooling breeze after Re had set.
Three rooms away, Senbi sniffed loudly as he listened by the doorway. His job was to keep intruders from the queen’s chambers. There were other guards, younger, fleeter and stronger posted at the palace entrances. They were the real guardians of the royal family, such as it was: a king who never left his chambers, never led the army, never fathered a child, and a queen who was little more than a child herself.
Senbi shook his head.
Time had changed things rapidly. King Kha-Sekhemwy, now there was a strong king. Different women every night when he was home, and that wasn’t often. He was always out leading the army, protecting the Two Lands. And Queen Menathap, what a beauty! Curves, strong shoulders and powerful hips.
Senbi smiled at the memory.
And now, narrow shouldered King Nebka and a little girl for a queen.
Senbi sniffed and wiped his nose again.
Ah, well, shouldn’t think about it, he told himself.
Thoughts like that unbalanced ma’at and he didn’t want to create any disturbances. He just wanted to find a place to rest his leg, someplace quiet and dark where he wouldn’t be disturbed. Yawning, he reached into his kilt and scratched himself.
Pushing off from the doorway, Senbi thought how unnecessary it was for him to patrol this quiet hallway. This guard post had probably been created by a jealous king who was worried that someone else was tending his fields. That wasn’t a problem now, Senbi thought. The young queen was known to be devoted to the gods, always going to the temples or sitting by the sacred lake with her little friend by her side. And Senbi wasn’t sure if the king cared if someone visited the queen; he seldom sent for her.
Senbi blew his nose again. He’d never had a cold like this, his head as full as the River Iteru. There had never been a time like this, either, he thought.
Ah, well, everyone is different, and I can’t do anything about that. Might as well stand in the river and try to stop the current.
There was an alcove just up the hall with a bench against the wall, a good place for a nap. He pushed away from the doorway and headed for a hiding place.
***
In her dressing room Hetephernebti looked behind her as she tiptoed up the steps to the roof. Ipwet followed, her face aglow with excitement. The young servant thought that this was an adventure, something she would tell her children about in a few years, how she had helped the queen of the Two Lands escape.
Ipwet wasn’t sure what Hetephernebti was escaping, but that didn’t matter to her. The queen would explain later. What mattered now was that Ipwet was having an adventure.
In front of her, Hetephernebti kept the image of Re in her mind as she climbed the steps. She didn’t want to think about her father or Djoser or her mother or her husband or what she had seen and heard at General Babaef’s house.
Now - this night - she needed to advance, not think. Continually advance.
Once on the flat roof, Hetephernebti walked to the edge that overlooked the garden. She almost screamed in surprise when Kheti’s head suddenly appeared at her feet. She hadn’t heard him climbing the ladder.
He put his hands on the roof and clambered to his feet.
“Kheti,” she said.
Reaching out to take the linen bag Hetephernebti was carrying, Kheti nodded his greeting. He didn’t trust himself to speak, the queen looked so small and helpless. He didn’t like helping her leave the palace, going away from the little protection he could offer. But he recognized that here she was subject to the king’s wishes and there were many other guards who would do whatever the king asked.
Hetephernebti hadn’t told him what she had heard at General Babaef’s house the previous night, but he had seen how it had affected her. As he had carried her back to the palace, through the dark of Waset, she had talked, a dream so large it couldn’t be held within. She had called for her dead brother and once she had suddenly grown stiff in his arms and cried out the name of Seth, the god of darkness.
“Come, Ipwet,” Hetephernebti said, her face composed, her voice confident, and Kheti shook his head at her strength.
The queen turned to the ladder and began to descend.
***
Kheti led them a few streets away from the palace and then Hetephernebti put her hand on his arm and stopped him.
“To the river,” she said.
He nodded and turned westward. Hetephernebti followed his broad back and Ipwet trailed behind, her eyes taking in the silky black of the trees and bushes, her ears open to the sounds of the night insects and the rustling of leaves. She knew what they were doing was unheard of, a queen running away from the palace, but she couldn’t keep from smiling.
Such an adventure.
***
They reached the river in a few minutes.
Hetephernebti looked along the bank. She realized now that she didn’t know what Iput’s husband looked like or exactly where they were to meet.
She closed her eyes. Forward, ceaselessly forward.
“There?” Kheti said, touching Hetephernebti’s arm and pointing toward the river.
Her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness and Hetephernebti was able to see that the blackness over the river was made of several layers. The water itself was alive, a coiling presence flowing like angry ink, pulling hard at the reeds along the bank. Just above the water, far in the distance was the western bank, a solid, absorbing darkness, and above that a lighter array of shadows, bushes, trees, mud huts and higher still the deep blue of the night sky.
Then she saw a movement - a wide ripple of light rolling from the motion and sitting atop the water the curved snout of a boat appeared.
Standing in the boat, Hemka pushed on a thick, long pole, bringing the craft toward the bank. He angled upstream from them, fighting the current of the river which was still receding from its flood level.
When the boat was close enough Kheti waded into the water to pull it to the bank. He gripped the side of the small boat and held it parallel to the bank.
“Hi, Ipwet,” Hemka said. He didn’t know how to address the queen, so he just looked down instead at the dark river.
Ipwet nodded a greeting in return.
“You’re Iput’s husband?” Hetephernebti asked softly.
“Yes, that’s Hemka,” Ipwet answered for her tongue-tied brother-in-law. She didn’t understand why everyone was so serious.
Suddenly they heard voices coming from the road behind them.
Kheti quickly extended a hand toward Hetephernebti. “Are you sure?” he asked as she put her hand in his.
Stepping past him into the bobbing boat, she nodded. With both feet on the boat, she squeezed his hand and said, “Thank you, Kheti. Be safe.”
The voices from the road grew nearer and Kheti waded deeper in the water, ready to push the boat into the flowing stream and then rush ashore to delay whoever was chasing them.
“Wait,” Ipwet said. She splashed into the water and threw herself onto the boat.
The voices were nearer now and they resolved themselves into a drinking song. Hetephernebti saw Kheti’s broad shoulders relax.
“It’s just men out drinking,” Hemka said.
“Or a patrol,” Kheti said. He looked up into Hetephernebti’s face. “I can go with you, my queen. You should have more protection.”
“If the king finds me, one more set of arms, even ones as strong as yours, won’t matter,” she said. “Don’t worry, Kheti, Re will protect me.”
The singing voices behind them started to fade as the late drinkers turned toward town.
Kheti nodded. The water lapped at his ankles, the boat bobbed in the current and Kheti knew he had to release them.
Three children, he thought, they believe they’re off on an adventure. He let go of the boat and turned his head so Hetephernebti wouldn’t see the sorrow and fear in his eyes.
There was a mucking sound as Hemka pushed away from the shore and then pulled the pole from the mud.
“Don’t we have any paddles?” Ipwet asked Hemka.
“Once we get to the middle of the river,” he answered. “And they call them oars, not paddles.”
“I could make us go faster than that pole just using my hands,” Ipwet answered, teasing him.
As the boat slowly slid into the darkness Hetephernebti’s calm voice floated across the water: “Don’t worry, Kheti, the gods will watch over us.”
Blinking back tears, Kheti stepped from the river to the bank. He wanted to believe the gods would protect her, but in his heart he knew that he would never see the child queen again.
Death in the Delta
When the eastern sky began to glow Hetephernebti shifted her position on the reed boat so she could face the horizon where Re would soon appear. Hemka was sitting cross-legged at the stern using his oar as a rudder while the river’s current, increasing as the flood waters dropped back into the narrower channel, swept the three runaways north toward the delta.
They had passed Waset early in the night, gliding past boats and barges that tugged at the ropes tethering them to the wharf and then past a street lined with torches that led from the river to the palace and on into the darkness. They had traveled by star and moonlight, hearing the splashes of frogs jumping into the water and seeing the curving ripples of water that trailed crocodiles as they slid by the boat.
Ipwet had knelt in the prow of the boat, her eyes wide with excitement when they first left Waset and entered the dark wilderness. As the boat slid farther from the only place she had ever known, she had studied the distant river banks with the occasional hut, the black silhouettes of cows and goats tethered to trees, the starry sky and the luminous ripples in the water that danced beside the boat. Everything was new and she bounced between the excitement of the moment, a twinge of fear at leaving her home and vague fantasies of a new, exotic life.
Now, her energy spent, she was lying with her head on the curved prow, her eyes closed as she slept.
Re appeared and Hetephernebti quietly pledged her devotion to the god she was following. Hemka, his eyes struggling to stay open, watched the queen. He thought she seemed like any other girl, maybe more serious, but just another girl. He glanced at the river bank and wondered how far they had journeyed. He had never traveled beyond Waset before but he had talked with men who arrived at the wharf.
Everyone knew that travel was faster toward the delta because the river flowed that way. But Hemka had never thought to ask how many days it took to travel from Waset to Iunu or Zau. Maybe they would put ashore to eat and then he could find someone and ask where they were. Maybe it didn’t matter, he thought. The river only went one way, they couldn’t miss Iunu.
In the meantime, he would sit on the boat, steer around rocks and try to stay awake.
***
Lying on the stone floor, Kheti groaned and held his arm.
General Babaef nodded at one of the soldiers who drew back his leg and kicked hard at Kheti’s exposed lower back.
“Where did she go?” Babaef asked quietly.
The soldier’s foot connected with Kheti who arched his back away from the pain.
“Who is she with?” Babaef asked louder, nodding toward another soldier who raised the shaft of his spear and swung it hard at Kheti’s head. The wood struck as Kheti tried to turn away. The shaft bounced off his shaved head, scraping away a scrap of skin. Fresh blood streamed down the side of his face running toward a growing puddle of blood from other wounds that had been inflicted over the long hour since the queen’s flight had been discovered.
“When did they leave?” Louder still, Babaef was pacing, losing patience.
Another nod from the general and a third and fourth soldier pulled on the ropes that bound Kheti’s feet and arms. Another nod and the first soldier aimed a kick between Kheti’s legs. His eyes swollen shut from earlier blows, Kheti didn’t see the kick coming or try to protect himself. All he saw was the slight figure of the queen sliding into the darkness.
Every blow he suffered, every kick that landed took her another heartbeat away.
“Who helped them?” Babaef shouted as he stood over Kheti and glared at the bruised and bloodied man.
Kheti moaned and shook his head.
And the beating continued.
***
Hemka angled the boat toward the eastern shore to a spot where the flood waters had eaten at the bank creating a gentle slope from the water line to the drier ground above. Earlier they had passed a small group of huts clustered beneath three palm trees. A goat tethered to one of the trees had bleated repeatedly as they floated by, but no one had emerged from the huts to check on the small animal or to see the three runaways pass in the night.
Beaching the boat on the gravelly slope, Hemka slid into the water and held the gently bobbing boat while Hetephernebti and Ipwet stepped off into the water. Once on land, Ipwet stretched her arms high overhead and yawned. Seeing Hemka tug at the boat, Hetephernebti bent to help him and together they pulled the boat almost completely out of the water.
Still shy around the girl who was queen of the Two Lands, Hemka nodded his thanks and then turned to look at the land.
A towering willow tree, its limbs hanging down to form a leafy hiding place, stood by the bank. Ipwet gently tugged at the lissome tree limbs and then slid between them to stand under the green tent formed by the hanging branches.
“We could stay here,” she said, her fingers playing with the delicate, streaming branches.
Still standing by the river, Hetephernebti touched Hemka’s arm and said, “Thank you, Hemka. You are saving me.”
Hemka blushed at the queen’s touch and nodded his head in response.
Suddenly he felt her hand on his face, turning him toward her.
“It’s OK to look at me, Hemka,” she said. “My name is Hetephernebti, but my family calls me Nebti. You can call me Nebti.”
His eyes darted to her face and then to the ground. When he dared to look back at her, he saw that she had backed away a step but was watching him with a smile. It was a different smile than the one Iput gave him, there didn’t seem to be any secrets or unspoken promises behind it.
Instead, Hemka saw sadness behind it. It was the eyes, he realized. Even though Iput was older and had children, Hetephernebti’s eyes seemed much older. And sadder.
He nodded at her and quickly turned back to the boat to retrieve a water skin and one of the loaves of bread that Iput had given him for the trip.
“There are figs, too,” Hetephernebti said over her shoulder as she climbed the bank to join Ipwet under the willow tree.
***
The platoon was divided into two boats, each with four rowers and one leader. They were the same men who had jogged along the edge of the desert at General Babaef’s command, the same men who had crept through the night and slaughtered King Kha-Sekhemwy and his hunters, the same men who had then killed their three Nubian companions and dragged their headless bodies through the desert, claiming they were sand-dweller assassins.
Their oars sliced through the air, dipped into the river Iteru and swept through it, adding their power to the surge of the current.
From Waset they headed north for
the delta, following the river and the confession of Kheti. The burly guard had withstood their beatings until finally General Babaef had sent for Kheti’s wife. She had been dragged before husband, her robe torn from her and her hands tied with leather thongs.
Only then, with a bloodied mouth and broken teeth, had Kheti told them that Hetephernebti was headed toward the shelter of the delta wilderness.
***
The river widened and grew shallow. The land rising from it was darker, covered by a deep layer of the rich black soil from the floods. There were more trees and everything was green. Ipwet thought she had entered a strange land, not the Eternal Field of Reeds which she pictured as an endless green linen mat stretched across the flat desert, but a world beyond her imagination.
She had only known a knife’s edge of green along the river. The rest of her world had been blue skies and brown desert. Now she was surrounded by a lush, deep, wide and high world filled with the songs of birds and whirring of insects and the snorts of hippos, all amplified by air that was heavy with moisture.
Trees with thick, curving roots hanging into the water crowded the banks. She glimpsed hidden coves filled with water lilies, their pink and white blossoms folded into praying hands above a dark green carpet of pads, so thick that Ipwet could picture herself walking across them.
In the afternoon sun swarms of gigantic dragonflies darted along the water’s edge. A fallen tree shifted and turned into a crocodile which slid forward, its powerful knobbed tail weaving lazily, until only its eyes were visible above the water level.
Soon the river separated, wide channels going to the left and to the right.
Pointing toward the bank on the eastern side of the river, Hetephernebti said, “Stop there.”
Hemka turned the boat and using the long, wooden pole, he pushed them to the bank. The pole sank deeper into the river’s bottom here and pulled up harder, the mucky bed grasping at the pole.