Fenuku was wretchedly unhappy with this turn of events. "There is still the matter of the Inglaize major to be settled," he reminded us. From the evil smile he wore, I did not think we were going to like this one.
The high priest picked up a piece of papyrus. "Major Harriman Grindle, you have been charged with laying hands on the pharaoh, penetrating our secrets, and having knowledge of our whereabouts. You also display a disturbing grasp of magic, magic that no one but the wedjadeen should know. Maat will be served only when your life is forfeited."
"No!" I shouted, forgetting myself. "You can't be serious!"
"Silence!"
"He did everything in his power to save Gadji."
"Now, now, Miss Throckmorton. Enough of that." Major Grindle gave me a bracing pat on the back. "We've played our hand and it's run out."
I stared at him. "Are you off your nut? They're talking of killing you!"
"I am an old soldier, Miss Throckmorton. A threat of death is nothing new to me. Indeed, it may be the beginning of a whole new adventure."
I wanted to scream. Did he have to be so noble minded about it? Why didn't he fight, argue, make them see—
That was it. See. "Wait!" I said. Baruti looked at me with interest, while the other two sem priests seemed annoyed. "Wait. All these things he did—touching the pharaoh and knowing your magical secrets and where you live—those are only a crime because he isn't one of you, correct?"
"Yes," the high priest said.
"Well, what if he was one of you?" I asked.
"What do you mean, child?" Baruti asked.
I marched over to Major Grindle. "Forgive me, sir, but I would never ask this of you if your life wasn't at stake."
"Ask what, Miss Throckmorton?"
I cleared my throat, suddenly embarrassed. "Ask you to unbutton your jacket, if you please."
"What?" he blustered.
Under my breath, I whispered, "Trust me, please?"
He stared into my eyes, then slowly nodded. "If you insist." He lifted his callused hands to the brass buttons on his red coat and began to unbutton them.
"Now your shirt," I said softly. "I want them to see your tattoo."
Raising an eyebrow, he did as I asked and unbuttoned his shirt.
"Now open it wide so they can see," I said.
He grasped his shirt in his hands and pulled the collar apart. A brilliant wedjat eye stared back.
Slowly, like a fire catching at tinder, murmurs spread throughout the sanctuary. The high priest leaped to his feet while Fenuku sat blustering, as if he'd sprung a leak. Baruti, who I was beginning to suspect must be Awi Bubu's twin brother, merely stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"Would you care to explain why they're all agog, Miss Throckmorton?" Major Grindle asked out of the side of his mouth.
"Because that tattoo that you consider to be a mark of the Brotherhood? It is the very same mark they bear as members of the wedjadeen."
His eyebrows shot up to the top of his forehead, and Khalfani murmured, "It is so."
The high priest and Fenuku were engaged in a fierce debate, so Baruti rose to his feet to address the crowd. "This entire matter is more complicated than we first knew. Both matters will have to be brought before the Seer of Maat. That is all." With one last curious glance in my direction, he turned and disappeared through the door.
Baruti's announcement took the heat out of the two arguing sem priests, and they, too, rose to leave the chambers. As I watched them exit, my knees grew wobbly with relief and I decided I needed to sit down in the worst possible way. Silently, I lowered myself to the floor and leaned up against one of the columns.
Major Grindle looked up from rebuttoning his jacket. "Are you all right, Miss Throckmorton?"
"Yes. Just having a little rest." But the truth was, my head felt as if it might explode. "What happens now?" I asked Khalfani.
"They will take the matter before the Seer of Maat, and he will most likely summon you so that he may discern the truth in your words."
***
Word of the trial's results—and surprises—traveled quickly and I felt everyone watching me as I made my way back to our tent. I couldn't tell if the looks were filled with judgment over my guilty sentence or awe and fear because I was a Rekhet. I kept my head down and refused to meet anyone's gaze.
When at last I reached the safety of our tent, I hurried inside, anxious to see how Sefu was doing. However, word of this morning's events had reached even here. As I greeted Safiya, she sank gracefully into a deep bow.
I couldn't bear it. "Oh, stop that, Safiya! Please! Get up."
She lifted her head and peeked up at me. "Effendi miss is not angry that I have treated her without the proper honor?"
"No! Not at all. I didn't even know until fifteen minutes ago, and I still don't really understand what it means." As I spoke, I crossed the small tent and knelt beside Sefu's still form. "Has he changed at all?"
Safiya got to her feet and shook her head. "Not really. But I did get some more honey water down his throat."
"Good." Still afraid of what I would see in her expression, I busied myself with straightening the monkey's bedding.
"What happened to your major?" Safiya asked.
"He lingered behind to speak with Khalfani. I think they might be comparing tattoos," I muttered.
"Tattoos?" she repeated.
Interesting that bit of news hadn't reached her yet. "Major Grindle—all the men in his organization—wear the same wedjat-eye tattoo that the warriors of Horus do."
"How is this possible?"
"Well, that is what everyone is dying to find out."
She frowned. "Does it mean that he, too, is a warrior of Horus?"
"I'm not certain." During the trial I had claimed that it did, but I didn't know that for a fact. It was a bit of a bluff, actually.
Between talking of Major Grindle and tending to Sefu, things had grown easy between Safiya and me once more. "Safiya, what exactly does being a Rekhet mean? No one's told me anything."
She glanced up at me shyly. "It is a great honor the gods have bestowed upon you, miss. They have given you the power to see the heka that lurks in our world, heka both good and evil. This makes you very valuable in our fight against Set."
I sat back on my heels. So that was it. That was why I was able to detect curses and lingering mut so easily. "Are there many Rekhet among you?"
Safiya shook her head.
"Why me?" I wondered, then nearly jumped out of my skin when a voice behind me answered.
"Why not you, child?"
I whipped my head around and saw the Hathor standing just inside our tent. I heard a faint thunk as Safiya dropped her forehead onto the ground in a deep bow. I wondered if I was supposed to bow, too.
"The gods select what tools they may, child," the old woman continued. "It is not for us to question them. May I sit down, please? I have traveled far these past few days."
"Yes, yes. Of course." I jumped to my feet at the same time Safiya did and we bumped into each other in our eagerness to see to the old woman's comfort.
Once we'd gotten her settled, Safiya brought her some water, which she drank gratefully. When she was done, she turned her attention back to me. "When my sisters and I attended you on the seventh day after your birth, we sensed this great power in you, and because of that, a great destiny was foretold. We briefly considered taking you with us so we could train you in the full use of your gifts. In the end, we decided that the gods surely knew best in giving such power to a foreign babe, so we did not meddle."
"Did my mother know of your visit to me?" I tried—without success—to picture my mother letting seven women who looked as if they'd stepped right off a temple frieze into her house, let alone into her newborn's room.
The Hathor shook her head and snorted. "No. It was the housekeeper who let us in while your mother slept. She never knew we were there.
"If you had grown up with us, we would have begun your training at five years of age. We Hath
ors would have had a hand in such training, and the sem priests as well. Even so, you seem to have done quite well on your own. A thirsting mind seeks knowledge like a withered vine seeks water."
The old woman leaned forward then. "And Awi Bubu was right. You do have a role to play in our fight against Set. You are, I think, to lead us to wholeness. So, how does young Awi Bubu fare?"
I blinked rapidly, trying to keep up with the lightning-quick change in her manner from prophetess to village gossip. "He is well enough, but he could be better."
"Tell me how you came to know him?"
Honestly! I should just publish the story in the local paper and be done with it! I repeated the story, the entire story this time, leaving nothing out. When I was done, the Hathor cackled. "You see? Even his fall from grace has a role to play, for without him in your country, how would you have learned of us?" She fell silent as the import of her own words struck her. "Hmm. I must go point that out to the council. Surely they will see the gods' hands in this and revoke the order of exile they placed upon Awi Bubu's head."
At last! "Oh, thank you! That would be wonderful. He's wanted nothing more than to be forgiven by his people and allowed to come home. If," I said sadly, "he ever makes a full recovery and is well enough to travel."
The old Hathor took her leave and Safiya had other duties she had to attend to. I was actually grateful for the solitude and laid my spinning head down onto the pillow next to Sefu. I carefully placed my hand so that it touched his furry little body, wanting him to know he wasn't alone. Or perhaps I was the one who didn't want to be alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Monkey Business
THE NEXT MORNING WHEN I WOKE UP, I checked on Sefu first thing. There wasn't any change and I wondered at the nature of his illness. Was he sick? Was he weakened by lack of food and water? Had he been struck with some powerful heka or horrible curse?
However, the good news was that sometime during the night, my mind had formed a plan all on its own. Even better, the plan held up when examined in the harsh light of day.
If I was a Rekhet, then it seemed time to use those skills to my own advantage. All my life, whatever abilities I possessed had given me mostly grief. And while it was true that they had allowed me to keep my friends and family (relatively) safe, those abilities had also made my life wretchedly difficult. They had forced me to lie to my family, created discord between me and my brother, and caused my grandmother to disapprove of me, not to mention all the untold terrifying moments and haunting nightmares.
But what if that was because of my inability to understand the true nature of my gift? So far, I had seen only the dangerous aspect of magic in the world. What if my abilities could also tap into the good heka? If I was stuck being peculiar, I'd prefer to be peculiar on my own terms, thank you very much.
I looked down at the unconscious little monkey. Who was more deserving than the pharaoh's loyal pet?
I got up out of my blankets and saw that Major Grindle had left the tent already. I wasn't particularly worried, as he and Khalfani had been talking almost nonstop ever since learning of their matching marks. Probably exchanging war stories or battle tips, I thought.
Using the last of the water in the pitcher, I washed, ate a cold piece of flatbread, then went to collect Sefu. I wrapped the monkey in a blanket, tucked him close to my chest, then went to the tent flap and peeked out.
There were a number of people about, all of them busy with their morning chores. Hopefully they wouldn't notice me. Or if they did, they'd be too in awe of a Rekhet to stop me.
As I headed for the temple, I kept my eyes down and ignored the occasional curious glance that came my way. I entered the vestibule and wound a path among the columns of Hypostyle Hall until I came to a small door on the right that led to the sanitarium—the ancient room of healing. I paused at the door. "Hello?" I called out, but there was no reply. There didn't seem to be any doctors about, nor sem priests, nor attendants of any kind. Still, the door had been opened and unlocked. Cautiously, I stepped over the threshold.
It felt as if I had passed through a shower of minuscule sparks, their burn cool and clean rather than fierce like the heat of fire.
The room held a small healing bath filled with water, which sat in the middle of the room. On either side of that was a row of three beds, all empty. On the far wall was a long table, above which stood shelves and cupboards. The wall closest to me had an alcove with three statues. The first was Sekhmet, the goddess of fire and destruction. It had always seemed odd to me that she was the goddess who had brought the plague and general destruction but was also in charge of healing. The next two statues were of Thoth and Horus. Thoth had taught the healing arts to mankind and Horus was the god Thoth had so spectacularly healed that it had inspired one of the most powerful amulets ever—the wedjat eye. Along the foot of the statues ran rows of hieroglyphs.
I gently laid Sefu down on the bed closest to the shelves, then went back to the statues to read the inscriptions at their bases. I was in luck! These were just like the statues back at our museum, the ones that had come from the sanitarium at Dendera. Those statues had been inscribed with healing rituals and spells. I chose the spell on the Horus statue, thinking his sort of miraculous healing would best correspond with Sefu's problem.
Prepare an ink made of honey, the juice from a flaming red poppy, and sour wine. Mix thoroughly.
I stopped there and got up to examine the shelves. I had seen two mortars and pestles sitting on the table. Since this was a working temple, perhaps the sanitarium cupboards contained some of the ingredients I would need.
The cupboards turned out to be a veritable treasure trove of ancient Egyptian healing ingredients! There were jars and vessels, small bowls and tiny boxes, filled with all manner of strange things. Small hieroglyphic labels were affixed to each of them. Bat dung, crocodile urine, lettuce milk, honey, fly dung, ostrich dung, scorpion venom, lotus seeds, hippopotamus dung, ibis dung. (Who knew so many different types of dung had healing properties? Although I must confess to being grateful that the spell I was working with did not require any.)
I removed the three ingredients I needed and carefully poured them into one of the mortars, then began stirring it with the pestle. When it was well mixed, I went back to the statue to read the rest of the instructions. (Honestly, they should have placed the statues closer to the workspace, for efficiency's sake.) I knelt at Horus's feet to read what came next.
Using a new reed, dip it into the prepared ink, then write the following spell on the inside of a clay bowl. When the spell has dried, pour water from the healing bath into the bowl. Swirl nine times, then have the patient drink it.
I glanced over at the poor unconscious form of Sefu. I wasn't sure how I was going to get him to drink it, but I'd cross that bridge when I came to it. I got back to my feet and returned to the worktable. There was an entire stack of unused clay bowls on one shelf, so I helped myself to one of those. Next I searched in a drawer for an unused reed. The hardest part was remembering the beastly spell. I'd write three words, then forget it and have to return to the statue to refresh my memory. I finally got so vexed that I carried the whole thing over and worked at the foot of the statue, just to save time.
At last it was finished. But how long did it need to dry, I wondered?
A shuffling step outside in the hall drew my attention. I looked at the door, holding my breath to see if whoever it was would come in here. I was not doing anything wrong, I reminded myself. Besides, I was Rekhet. Surely that stood for something.
An old man came to a stop just inside the doorway. He was dressed in a traditional peasant robe and held a staff in his right hand. That's when I noticed that his eyes were cloudy and he held his head at an alert angle.
"Hullo," I said, not wanting to startle him.
He turned his head in the direction of my voice, confirming my suspicion that he was blind.
"Greetings," he said, coming more fully into the room. "Are
you the new senau priestess, then?"
"Oh no! Not at all. In fact, I'm hoping no one minds that I'm in here."
"Are you ill, then?"
"No, my, er, friend is." I looked over my shoulder at Sefu, then back at the old man. "Actually, he's a pet, not a person, but he belonged to Gadji—I mean, the young pharaoh—so I don't think the gods will mind, do you? I mean, they used to mummify monkeys, once upon a time, so surely they won't think it wrong if I'm trying to heal one?"
"I should not think so," he said, shuffling farther into the room.
"Oh, here, let me help you." I hurried forward, gently took his elbow, and steered him to the bed next to Sefu's. "Is there something I can get for you? Or help you prepare?" I asked.
His face creased in puzzlement. "Prepare?"
"You know." I gestured toward my face, then realized he couldn't see me. "For your eyes," I whispered.
"Ah." His face cleared. "These old eyes can wait. Tell me what you have tried so far on your small friend."
I told him of the ink and the spell I'd written on the inside of the bowl. "Only—only he's unconscious and I can't figure out how to get the potion into him."
"Perhaps I could be of some help with that." He put his staff down on the bed. "If you were to place him in my arms and show me where his mouth is, I could hold it open for you, and then we might get some down his throat?"
"Oh yes, that would be perfect," I said. "Thank you so much!" I hurried over to Sefu's bedside, gathered him up in my arms, then carried him over to the old man. "Here you go," I said. "Hold your arms closer together—he's very small," I explained.
The old man took the monkey gently in his arms, cradling the head in the crook of his elbow. "Show me where his mouth is."
"Here." I placed my hand on his, then carefully guided it to Sefu's cheeks.
"So if I squeeze like this, does his mouth open?"
"Yes! That's perfect. Hold it just like that." I hurried to fetch the bowl. I poured water from the healing bath into the bowl and swirled it carefully nine times. Then I returned to the old man and tentatively began dribbling the potion down Sefu's throat. It was painfully slow going. The monkey's mouth was small and the bowl quite large. It took forever to get all of it down his gullet, but at last we were finished. "That's the last drop," I said, then put the bowl down.
Theodosia and the Last Pharaoh (The Theodosia Series) Page 20