The Forest of Myrrh (Imhotep Book 3)

by Jerry Dubs

  “We should return to Ineb-Hedj,” Akila told Baufra as the boat pushed upriver. “Imhotep is expecting us.”

  Baufra shook his head. “No, Kewab will have told him that we are going on to Waset. King Huni sent a message, Akila. Ma’at is broken.”

  As he talked he moved to the side of the boat and took up an oar. Nodding to Isesi, he leaned forward to plant the oar in the water and, on the other side of the boat, Isesi did the same.

  “What does that mean ‘Ma’at is broken?’ ” Akila asked.

  Baufra leaned back on the oar. Bending forward he began the next stroke. “It means we are not safe,” he said as the boat fought against the current. The river bank, the trees, the reeds and the distant village seemed to reach out to hold them in place and then as the men pulled, the boat surged forward.

  - 0 -

  “No one is here,” Imhotep said to himself as he walked through the empty streets of Qesy that evening.

  They had reached the village near sunset, and Kewab had insisted that they spend the night instead of chancing travel on the river in darkness. “There is nothing good to be found on the water at night,” he said.

  They hadn’t passed Hapu and Akila on the river, so Imhotep assumed they were continuing upriver toward Waset as Kewab had ordered. He didn’t like that they were separated, but at least Hapu and Akila were protected by two soldiers and in a few days they would be safely in Waset with the king’s army.

  Now Meryt, Maya, and Bata waited along the river bank, guarded by Teta, the same guard who had killed the hyena in Threshen’s palace. Kewab and Weneg, the other soldier, a short man with heavy legs and a thick chest, were with Imhotep searching through the village.

  Imhotep walked past a three-walled hut that leaned to one side. A few loose palm branches lying across the tops of the unsteady walls provided shade. Glancing inside he saw the hut was empty. No cooking pots, no rags of clothing, no jars of oil or cones of salt. There was a circle of stones outside the hut for a cook fire. Some blackened sticks lay in it, and Imhotep wondered briefly if the charred wood could somehow tell him how long the fire had been out.

  Then he shook his head. He wasn’t a scout or a tracker, he didn’t know how to read a fire or examine broken reeds or test the dryness of a footprint. He had no control over what happened to them now. He felt like a stick tossed on the water, pushed by events toward a future he didn’t know.

  Kewab had explained that King Huni’s army was disintegrating as militias from the Lower House deserted. Instead of fighting them and weakening his own army at a time when he didn’t know what other threats he was facing, King Huni had allowed the soldiers to leave.

  Imhotep wasn’t a soldier. He would have to depend on Kewab to keep his family safe until they reached Waset. Then they would be safe with the king’s army to protect them. All will be well, he told himself, although a small voice within reminded him that the time of the Third Dynasty was drawing to an end.

  Tehna

  The winds held and three days later Akila, Hapu, Baufra, and Isesi reached Tehna.

  They had passed no other boats and, as far as they could tell, the roads were empty.

  “They’ve all gone to larger villages,” Baufra said as they turned the boat to land in Tehna. “Rumors spread quickly. They must believe that Seth himself is leading the rebelling armies.” He shook his head and spit into the water after mentioning the malicious god’s name.

  “I would seek refuge in a temple,” Isesi said. “You are always safe in a temple.”

  Akila turned her head from his innocence. But, she thought, maybe things are different here. Maybe refuge can be found, maybe there are places of safety.

  She thought about the refugees from her own time, innocent families caught up in the power struggles of the rulers. More than two million people had fled their homes in Darfur alone, trying to find lives amid seeming endless civil war. And then there was her own home country where Egyptians had become refugees within their own cities.

  Isesi jumped into the water as they approached the shore and held the boat steady by the bank. Baufra joined him and together the men pulled the prow of the boat onto land. As they had the previous days, they had traveled until sunset, although tonight they had pressed on deeper into the dusk to reach Tehna where Baufra hoped to find other people and trade for supplies.

  The boat secure, Baufra headed inland to scout the village while Isesi guarded Hapu and Akila by the boat. Once Baufra was satisfied that they were safe, the four of them would take shelter in the nearest hut for the night.

  “In another day we will reach Khmunu,” Isesi said as they waited.

  “And Waset?” Akila asked.

  “A week. Less if the wind is strong,” Isesi said.

  Two nights ago she had argued that they should wait for Imhotep but Baufra had countered that they needed to keep moving toward the safety of Waset. “We must keep moving, Akila. The rebel armies will be moving to the south as we are. They will push ahead of them the fearful and the opportunistic,” he had said in his deep, comforting voice. “But once we get to Waset we will be safe. We will wait there for Imhotep.”

  Suddenly there was a plopping sound from the water. As Akila turned toward the river, she heard Isesi grunt and then something hard and heavy struck her back. She arched away from it and was struck again, this time on the back of her thigh. Beside her, Hapu screamed and dropped to her knees.

  Turning, Akila saw three men bending over Isesi, whose feet were kicking as he fought. One of the men had a raised club over his head.

  “No,” she shouted, throwing herself on the back of the nearest man. The man staggered under her weight and fell. Akila landed on him and the man twisted, his elbow hitting her face. Furious, she ignored the pain and pounded her fists at the man’s face.

  Suddenly she was knocked sideways as one of the other men kicked her. On her back, she kicked at the man who started to kneel over her. Suddenly the man stood as a voice shouted, “Hurry!”

  The man kicked her, his bare heel striking her hip and then he was gone. She heard him splash into the water and then she heard Baufra’s deep voice roaring in the the growing dusk.

  “Bastard,” Akila shouted in Arabic as she got to her feet, looking for a rock to throw at the fleeing man.

  Baufra appeared from the gathering darkness. He ran down the slope and into the water and then turned back to shore. “They’ve stolen our boat,” he said. He shook his head angrily and then walked over to Isesi who was still on the ground.

  “What happened?” he asked his friend.

  When Isesi didn’t answer, Baufra dropped to his knees and leaned close to Isesi.

  Akila knelt beside him.

  “No,” Baufra said, stretching out an arm to keep her away.

  Still riding on adrenaline, she said, “I’m a doctor, Baufra,” and pushed his arm aside. Leaning close to Isesi she saw that his cheek was torn open and a bloody bruise was spreading around the wound. The skin of his scalp was ripped, a flap of it lying down over his left ear.

  Akila laid her hand on his throat, feeling for a pulse. As she searched with her hand, she examined him in the dim light. His eyes were open, but unfocused. His chest was still and he hadn’t responded to her touch.

  Shaking her head, she said, “There isn’t any pulse.”

  She gently turned his head to the side and then, putting her hands on his sternum, she leaned forward to begin CPR.

  “What are you doing?” Baufra asked.

  “Trying to save his life,” Akila said. Then she turned to look to the river. “Check on Hapu, please,” she said, pumping steadily on Isesi’s chest. Then she pinched his nose and blew into his mouth. Straightening she resumed pumping on his chest.

  “Her leg is bleeding but she is tending to it,” Baufra said as he returned and settled beside Akila.

  She leaned in again and blew into Isesi’s mouth. Then she quickly checked once more for a pulse. Feeling none she resumed the chest compression
.

  “Are you breathing life into him?” Baufra asked.

  Akila nodded, sweat running down her face and mingling with blood from her own bleeding nose. She bent her head down and wiped her face against her upper arm. The dusk had turned to night and she wished she had a flashlight. Or a cell phone.

  She leaned down to breathe into him again. As she put her hand on his nose, she saw a dark puddle behind his head. Leaning across his body she saw the other side of his head. It was crushed, the bone pushed into the brain.

  Remembering the raised club, she sighed and sat back on her haunches.

  She closed her eyes for a moment and then turning to Baufra, she said, “Are you hurt?”

  “No. I was just leaving the village when I saw the men running toward you. I am sorry I didn’t get here quicker.” He nodded to Isesi. “He is dead?”

  Akila nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry.”

  “And our boat is gone,” Baufra said. He stood and turned to the water while Akila tried to reach behind herself to examine her back. She felt a tender swelling just above the back of her left hip.

  Remembering the sound of the water, she deduced that the men had thrown rocks at them. Some missed and landed in the river. When she and Hapu had turned toward the sound of the rocks hitting the water the men had attacked from behind. Isesi must have been struck on the head with a club, she thought.

  “Hapu?” she said, turning away from Isesi.

  “I am fine. My leg is cut, but the wound is clean.”

  Akila had a sudden thrill of fear ... her med kit. It had been on the boat in the linen sack that also held a few bottles of oils and a cone of salt. Imhotep insisted that they carry salt, claiming it was more valuable than gold.

  She waded into the edge of the river, walking downstream hoping that the bag had been thrown or knocked overboard by the thieves and snagged on a branch along the river.

  “Akila,” Hapu called. “Which jar has the cream for wounds?”

  Akila’s shoulders slumped in relief. Wading back to shore she saw Hapu holding the med kit.

  - 0 -

  They dragged Isesi’s body to a hut at the edge of Tehna, one of the less substantial homes that had been built with the expectation that a flood would wash it away.

  Akila helped Baufra clean the body and then they wrapped him with scraps of linen Hapu salvaged from several huts. Akila stood with bowed head beside Hapu and Baufra as they prayed for Ma’at to find Isesi’s heart light and for Anubis to lead him safely out of Duat to the Field of Reeds.

  Standing in the crumbling hut lit by a faint torch driven into the sandy soil, Akila glanced at Baufra. Sincerity filled his deep voice, as he chanted through the litany of sins his friend had not committed.

  “Isesi did not steal. Isesi did not utter lies. Isesi did not carry away another’s food. Isesi did not utter curses. Isesi did not eavesdrop. Isesi did not steal grain. Isesi did not attack any man,” he paused a moment and then added, “unless he was ordered to.” Satisfied with the amendment, he continued, “Isesi did not take the wife of any man. Isesi did not slander.”

  Frowning, Baufra stopped. In a quiet voice Hapu took up the litany. “Isesi did not cause any to weep. Isesi did not purloin offerings. Isesi did not terrorize ... ”

  As Hapu continued, Akila’s thoughts began to drift to the future. After her husband Fahim had died she had spent too many hours reliving the past, wondering about decisions they had made, paths they had followed.

  Reviewing the life that she and Fahim had shared for too short a time had been heart-rending but she had known, even at the time, that it would not help her to heal. To do that she had to accept what had happened and move forward.

  Her training as a doctor had helped. She had applied those lessons to her own life. She would observe, assess, and then plan. Discovering how a wound had happened, who was at fault in an accident, these were worth knowing, but they did not help the treatment.

  Now she found herself in an ancient world. Had she made a good choice, had she been wise to answer Tim’s summons? It doesn’t matter, she thought. I am here.

  She began a mental inventory. There are no hospitals. No telephones. No police stations. No Internet service. No fast transportation. No security, she thought, except what I can provide or find.

  She was brought out of her reverie by the touch of Hapu’s hand on her shoulder. Hapu was smiling, satisfied that she and Baufra had done all that they could for Isesi’s ka. Carrying the torch, Hapu led Akila out of the hut where Baufra was holding a large rock.

  As Hapu tugged Akila away, Baufra raised the rock overhead and pounded it against the mud brick wall of the hut. He grunted as the stone hit the bricks. Dust swirled in the night air, the red motes catching the light from the torch and then floating past chips of brick. Baufra attacked the wall again and it cracked, leaning inward. Sweat rolled down Baufra’s back as he raised the stone again and swung it downward. The wall collapsed, and bricks and dust and dried palm branches from the roof fell over his dead friend.

  Breathing heavily, Baufra moved to the next wall and began demolishing it.

  “To protect Isesi’s body,” Hapu said and Akila nodded.

  - 0 -

  After Baurfra had knocked down all the walls of the hut, burying his friend beneath the bricks and branches, they walked deeper into Tehna to a small temple to the god Amun.

  “We will spend the night here,” Baufra told them, holding the torch as he led them into the temple. They found a small chamber with wooden beds where Hapu and Akila sat in darkness while Baufra explored the rest of the temple.

  He returned without the torch and sat on the floor by the narrow doorway, silhouetted by star light. Nodding to himself he said, “Tomorrow we will follow the river. There is water, we can catch fish.”

  Then he had stretched his legs and immediately fell asleep.

  Akila felt she had just fallen asleep when she bolted awake at the sound of an animal’s growl. She listened, wondering if she had dreamt it. She looked over at Hapu, who was asleep, and then at the doorway.

  Baufra was gone.

  Standing, she walked to the doorway and listened. The night air, with nothing to hold the heat, was surprisingly cool. She was wearing a linen sheath, but her arms and legs were bare. Hugging herself she looked into the sky.

  She had lived in Helwan, on the outskirts of Cairo, for all of her adult life. The lights from the city had hidden the night sky except for the brightest stars and the moon. Here the stars were bright pinpoints surrounded by a darkness deeper than Akila had ever seen before.

  She looked across the courtyard of the small temple. Even though the moon was only a sliver of light, the stars were so plentiful and so bright that she could see the benches, the carvings on the walls, even the footprints in the dust from the priests who had fled the temple.

  She shook her head at the unreality of her situation: standing in an empty temple more than four thousand years before her birth, yet caught up once again in a rebellion as men fought over the right to wield power over others, to impose their own beliefs, to take the riches they wanted.

  Suddenly she heard Baufra shout, “Get away! Go!”

  She glanced at Hapu, sleeping in the corner of the small room, and then turned to follow the sound of Baufra’s voice.

  His shouting stopped as Akila reached the front of the temple.

  She paused, wondering what she would be able to do to help Baufra who was a trained soldier. I could distract his attacker, she thought. She turned to the right and then the left, straining for a sound that would tell her which way to go. Then she looked to the ground. The sand to her left was smooth and undisturbed.

  She turned the other way and began to run. As she passed the empty huts, she thought of her med kit. There was a scalpel there, its blade sharper than any knife in the ancient world. She slowed for a moment wondering if she should return for it, then shaking her head, she ran on.

  I couldn’t cut someone, she thought.
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  She found herself watching the ground, looking for footsteps. She paused to listen at each intersection of the small village. She was sure that Baufra’s deep voice would easily carry through the night air. If he had stopped shouting, she thought, then maybe whatever danger he had seen had gone.

  Near the edge of the settlement she stopped again, leaning forward as she strained to listen. Instead of Baufra’s voice, she heard a slow scraping sound and now a sharp growl.

  She put a hand on the dry wall of the hut to her right and inched forward. At the corner of the hut she took a deep breath and then leaned forward.

  Off to the left was the house Baufra had knocked down to cover Isesi’s body. Two jackals were pawing at the rubble. They stopped and looked down the small heap of mud bricks and yelped.

  Akila followed their line of vision and then quickly put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from making any noise that would attract the animals.

  At the base of the hut, four jackals were gathered in a circle and tearing at Baufra who was on his back, his legs splayed and unmoving. Anger growing, Akila searched the ground for a rock. No, she thought, no!

  Stepping away from the house, she shouted and waved her arms. The jackals, blood dripping from their snouts, looked up at her and then, dismissing her as a threat, they turned back to feast on Baufra.

  She shouted again and stepped closer.

  The two jackals that had been digging at the collapsed hut paused now and looked toward her.

  If Baufra couldn’t stop them, how can I, she thought, watching as the jackals stared at her, their tongues hanging from open mouths.

  Slowly she stepped back into the shadows and then, listening for the sound of padded feet on the sandy road, she turned and ran toward the temple.

  The Two Lands in Flight

  Djefatnebti was swollen with child and still she carried herself with the same easy grace that had caught King Huni’s eye ten years ago. Never hurried, always confident, she had a quick smile and a soft, easy laugh.