by Jerry Dubs
She was wearing a long, sheer gown that draped over her enlarged breasts, flowed over her round belly, and hung almost to the floor of the throne room, where she stood beside her husband while he met with merchants, army commanders, and village leaders.
Little Setka sat in a small chair by his father, his head shorn of the sidelock of youth now, his face a study in concentration as he mimicked his father’s demeanor. He sat without fidgeting or swinging his legs, both arms resting lightly on the arms of his black-painted chair.
Djefatnebti allowed herself a secret smile, so proud of her son. So proud of her husband.
When he had unexpectedly returned early from the excursion to clear the trade routes of sand dwellers, she had seen the grim determination in the tightness of his lips, the small lines, which had grown more apparent since he became king, around his eyes.
In quick and sure succession he gave orders to General Wetka, scheduled a court of justice, ordered Governor Itisen to gather a council and then dismissed his five friends to see to their families. Once they were alone, he turned to Djefatnebti and opened his arms to welcome her.
Moving into his embrace she smelled the sand of the desert, the protective oils he wore and under that his own musky scent. His arms encircled her, holding her tightly and although his breathing was calm, it was heavier than usual.
As he held her, she whispered, “What happened, Siptah?”
He told her everything: the desertions, the plotting by the governors of the Lower House and his decision to let the soldiers leave unharmed.
She held him, her head pressed against his muscled chest, hearing the steady, unworried beating of his heart, and waited for him to tell her his plan.
Siptah always had a plan.
Like his father, Siptah prepared for every situation. Surprises are fatal, Sekhmire had taught his son and when Merneith had assassinated a too-trusting King Sekhemkhet, Siptah had seen what could happen when events were allowed to unfold without guidance.
“We will take the remaining companies of the army and move upriver,” he told her now. “We will take the civilians with us, the merchants, the farmers, the papyrus makers, the priests, everyone. We will strip the city of food. The rebelling army will grow hungry and exhausted as it follows us.
“We will keep moving, gathering Re’s cattle to us, herding them toward Abu. I will leave archers along the river to slow any boats that come after us. Once we are safely in Abu, you can visit with your sisters and have our child. I will go to Ta-Seti and recruit more men.
“When I return we will travel back down the river, a grand procession, retaking each nome as we move. The rebels will be hungry, their ranks thinned by desertion, exhausted from their trek.
“We will re-establish ma’at, Djefatnebti, moving relentlessly toward the Lower House as the river Iteru does when it floods.”
She pressed closer to him and whispered, “As the great king Narmer did.”
“No, I am not King Narmer,” King Huni said, happy with his wife’s praise and confidence but aware of who he was, “but I will rebuild what King Narmer created and what is now entrusted to me.”
The Road to Khmunu
Akila woke with aching shoulders.
Hunched in the back corner of the temple room where she and Hapu had spent the night, she was breathing heavily and sweating. Blinking her eyes open from a nightmare that had left her with a deep feeling of dread, she examined her surroundings.
She saw Hapu’s huddled figure against the back wall. Isesi wasn’t there. Baufra wasn’t there. She clenched her eyes shut as icy fingers crept up her back. Looking down she saw her right hand was holding a rock. She released it, watched it roll across her fingers and knew that her nightmare hadn’t been a dream.
Isesi had been killed, his skull caved in. They had buried him beneath the crumbling bricks of a hut at the edge of town. She had gone there last night, called by Baufra’s shouting, and she had seen the soldier on the ground, his lifeless body being torn apart by jackals.
She looked quickly at the doorway. Sunlight angled through the narrow opening across the sandy floor and part way up the near wall. There was no air moving, no motes of dust hanging in the sunlight, which was so bright that it seemed a physical presence.
Picking up the rock, she leaned forward, put her free hand on the ground and then rocked forward to get to her feet. Still holding the stone, she walked to the doorway staying close to the wall. She paused and listened. The only sound was the distant cawing of fighting crows. She closed her eyes as she realized that they were probably fighting over the remains of the two men Imhotep had sent to protect her.
She breathed deeply. The noise of the crows fighting was the only sound she could hear. There were no traffic noises, no sirens, no calls to prayer. The realization that she was in a foreign time draped over her like a shroud.
She and Hapu were alone.
Whatever social fabric held this society together, it had been torn. She didn’t know how to find Imhotep and she didn’t know what help he would be able to provide if she did find him.
I’ve never been this alone before, she thought.
She had always had her parents, and then Fahim. After he died, she had been devastated and lonely, but she had been surrounded by co-workers and by the students at Helwan University.
She looked back into the room at Hapu, curled on her side, her head resting on the small sack that held everything they had.
Tears began to well in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away; emotion could come later, once she felt safe. Now she had to figure out how to survive.
She looked again at Hapu. Her knowledge of this world is my best resource, Akila thought as she walked to the young woman and knelt beside her to wake her and tell her what had happened during the night.
- 0 -
Imhotep took his turn at the oars, happy to find an outlet for the anxiety that filled him. With each stroke he told himself that he was helping them to get closer to Akila and Hapu. He was desperate to find the women and protect them from the chaos that was enveloping the Two Lands.
And he needed Akila’s medical kit.
The cuts on Bata’s back were swollen and red. The wounds were oozing blood and pus, and an unhealthy stink rose from the thin bandages. The wounds, Imhotep knew, were not fatal, but an infection could be.
After finding Qesy empty they were pushing hard to reach Tehna, the next large village along the river.
“We will catch them, Imhotep,” Kewab said. He was sitting beside Imhotep rowing from the other side of the boat while Weneg and Teta rested and ate. “Baufra and Isesi are strong, but they have to take breaks. We will catch them, don’t worry.”
- 0 -
Leaving Tehna, Akila and Hapu skirted away from the river, keeping the morning sun to their left.
Hapu had cried over Baufra’s death, but she hadn’t been shocked by the idea that a man could be attacked and killed by wild animals, something that seemed impossible to Akila. After she had wept for a few minutes, Hapu had straightened her back and took a deep breath.
“We will need to follow the road south toward Waset, Akila,” she had said, drying her eyes. “I think we can reach Khmunu in three days, maybe four. There are two temples there. It is a true city and someone will be there,” Hapu had said.
They left the shelter of Tehna and began to follow the river. The path was sheltered by a narrow forest of palms and sycamores near the river bank and smaller acacia and tamarisk trees farther away from the water where the soil turned sandy.
“The men who killed Isesi and stole our boat,” Akila said as they walked, “do things like that happen often?”
“No,” Hapu said. “There are fights, but not killings. Not on purpose.” She squinted as she thought. “I think the men must have been frightened. They were running from something, and they saw our boat, and they were desperate, so they tried to take it. Isesi was a strong man, a soldier, and he had spear and a knife. When he fought, th
ey panicked.”
Akila nodded. “So, you don’t think we are in danger?”
Hapu shook her head. “Not from other people.”
“From what then, what are the dangers? Snakes, crocodiles, lions? What?”
“Snakes are afraid of us and crocodiles are very lazy,” Hapu said. “If we watch the road for snakes all we need to do is make noise to frighten them away. If we stay away from the river, the crocodiles won’t come after us.
“Nighttime is more difficult. There are hyenas and foxes and lions, but usually they are not near the villages, although I have heard of them taking children. But not adults,” she added quickly. “The jackals last night must have been enraged by Isesi’s blood and hungry. Very hungry. No, I don’t think they are a danger to us, but we should take shelter at night. It will also protect us from the flying snakes.”
Akila shook her head. “There aren’t flying snakes, Hapu,” she said.
“Yes, Akila, there are! They have two sets of wings because their bodies are so long. But if we hide we should be safe and we are lucky because the ibises will eat them if they get too near the water.”
“Then we will stay near the water,” Akila said, hiding a smile.
- 0 -
“Akila! Hapu!” Imhotep shouted as he splashed ashore in Tehna.
Kewab looked up from the boat that was rocking from Imhotep’s hasty jump into the water. “Stay here,” he ordered Weneg and Teta as he slid off the boat to run after Imhotep.
Leaning heavily on his staff, Imhotep climbed the sloping embankment. “Akila! Hapu!” he shouted again. His hand slipped on the staff and he winced. Examining his hand he saw that he had developed a blister from rowing and it had torn open. Shaking his head at how fragile his body was becoming, he started to walk faster, demanding that his body become hardier.
He heard Kewab’s footsteps and was pleased to hear the young soldier breathing heavily.
“Imhotep,” Kewab said, “you must wait for me. I can’t protect you if you run off by yourself.”
Ignoring him, Imhotep shouted again, “Akila! Hapu!”
Suddenly Kewab grabbed Imhotep’s arm. When Imhotep turned he saw Kewab staring at a mound of rubble. Then the soldier drew his knife. “Stay here,” he ordered Imhotep.
Kewab bent low and then began to run.
Leaning on his staff, Imhotep hurried after him. He squinted in the afternoon light trying to see what had alarmed Kewab, who was now kneeling near the fallen hut.
“What is it?” Imhotep asked, getting closer to Kewab whose body was blocking Imhotep’s view. Getting no answer, Imhotep moved up beside Kewab. Looking down, he saw the half-eaten remains of a man, his skin ripped away from his stomach, his eyes plucked from his skull, and his intestines pulled from his body and chewed away.
Imhotep turned and vomited.
“It is Baufra,” Kewab said sadly.
Imhotep, his stomach spasming, fell to his hands and knees and vomited again.
Beside him he heard Kewab climb up the shambling mound of broken bricks. Turning his head, he saw Kewab picking up broken bricks and throwing them to the side. He worked with a furious urgency and Imhotep suddenly realized what he was doing. Another body was under the rubble.
Imhotep struggled to his feet, carefully avoiding the sight of Baufra’s body. He walked to the edge of the rubble and watched Kewab. “Is he alive?” Imhotep asked.
Instead of answering, Kewab dropped to his knees and pushed a hand into the rubble. Head bowed he withdrew his hand and slid off the rubble. “It is Isesi,” he said, wiping sweat from his forehead with this forearm. “His head is smashed.”
“From the mud bricks?” Imhotep asked.
“No,” Kewab said. “The bricks are not heavy enough.”
Imhotep shook his head. “He was attacked? Someone killed him?” Not waiting for an answer he turned toward the path that led to the center of town. “Akila! Hapu!” he shouted limping forward as fast as he could.
Suddenly Kewab was beside him, grabbing his arm to stop him.
“Stop,” he whispered urgently. “Isesi and Baufra were soldiers. Whoever killed them could still be here.”
Imhotep shook his head and pulled away from Kewab.
“Imhotep,” Kewab said, moving in front of him. “Their boat is gone. Either Akila and Hapu escaped on it or the men who killed Baufra and Isesi escaped on it. Either way the women are safe.” He didn’t tell Imhotep that he feared that the women had been taken somewhere else in the town, raped and then killed.
“We will search here, quietly and with our spears ready,” he said as he took Imhotep’s shoulders and leaned closer.
“We must do this my way or we will endanger Meryt and Maya,” he said.
- 0 -
When she had lived in Helwan, Akila had seldom ventured outside in the afternoon sun. If she did, it was to drive to a restaurant or grocery store, an air-conditioned oasis with welcoming clerks or waiters, hot coffee, comfortable seats and toilets.
Squatting off the pathway to relieve herself, one hand braced on a tree trunk, her legs spread wide and aching from crouching, she closed her eyes and thought of the lovely bathroom in her apartment.
“There is a house ahead,” Hapu said excitedly when Akila emerged from the bushes.
Akila nodded and said, “Let me wash my hands.”
“You can use the sand,” Hapu said.
Akila smiled grimly. If it was impossible to use water, then, perhaps, she would use sand. But now they were only a few steps from the river and there was only a thin line of trees here and no grove of reeds for crocodiles to hide in. It looked safe.
She walked to the water and knelt, her knees catching once more on the bottom part of her increasingly dirty sheath. She had already used and discarded her underwear.
If I can can get over my distaste for nudity, I’d be a lot more comfortable here. The only one who would notice would be Imhotep, she thought as she washed her hands. Standing, she dried her hands on her sheath and then scanned the river. It was empty, just as the road had been and just as all the huts had been.
Hapu’s theory was that if the governors had called all the healthy men, the only men left behind would be the old, infirm, and those who were willing to refuse the governor’s orders.
“Ma’at is torn, Akila, we can see that,” she had said. “The men who are not in the army are outside the law. They are uncaring of ma’at. To protect themselves, the villagers would flee to larger cities, hoping to find protection there.”
Akila understood. Whenever there had been demonstrations or riots in Cairo, there had been lawless people who took advantage of the upheaval to rob stores and steal from the weak.
Joining Hapu on the path now, Akila held out her hand to take the bag from her friend. Although it wasn’t heavy – it contained only her med kit and a loaf of bread they had scavenged from the temple in Tehna – its strap collected sweat and rubbed against the skin. So they took turns carrying their only possession.
The house Hapu had seen ahead of them was on the left side of the path, between them and the river. Made of carelessly stacked mud bricks with palm branches across the top, the house was little more than a place to find shade and protection from blowing sand.
Leaving the pathway, they walked to the hut. Hapu called out a greeting as they approached. Finding the hut empty, Akila slung the sack onto the sand and then knelt beside it to retrieve her med kit. She took out two of the water-purifying straws that she had brought with her from her time.
In Ineb-Hedj Imhotep had kept a supply of boiled water so Akila hadn’t needed the straws. When they had been unable to find a way to boil water in Tehna, Akila had taught Hapu how to use the straw.
They went to the river, scanned for snakes and crocodiles and then waded in a few feet so they could bend easily and drink through the straws.
“We should reach Khmunu in two more days,” Hapu said as they returned to the hut. “There are two temples there,” she said.
“I’m sure we’ll be safe.”
- 0 -
Lying in the shade by a hut on the edge of Tehna, Bata moaned as he slept.
“I will watch him, Father,” Maya said, sitting beside Bata and laying a damp cloth across his forehead.
Imhotep glanced from his daughter to Meryt who was sitting beside Bata and Maya.
She is thinner and her eyes are dark, Imhotep thought as he studied his wife.
She had coughed throughout the day and had grown quiet when they had found the bodies of the two soldiers.
“Come, Imhotep,” Kewab said. Imhotep looked at Teta, the soldier Kewab had ordered to stand guard over Bata, Meryt and Maya, while he, Kewab and Weneg searched Tehna. The soldier smiled grimly and nodded at Imhotep.
Imhotep turned and followed the captain into the afternoon sun.
Staying together, the men worked their way through the small village house by house without finding anyone. Then they entered the small temple.
At each entrance and each corner, Imhotep found himself holding his breath in fear of what they might find. But the temple, little more than a low wall that surrounded a courtyard and small collection of rooms, was as empty as the rest of the village.
There was no sign of a fight, no blood, and no bodies. Akila and Hapu had simply disappeared.
“Their boat is gone, so Baufra and Isesi must have helped them flee and then stayed behind to fight whoever was chasing them,” Kewab told Imhotep as they returned to the hut. “It could be soldiers from one of the militias, but I doubt that. More likely it is a group of outlaws who are afraid to fight with the army, men who are fleeing the militias. Cowards,” he said, spitting on the ground as they walked.
“We will find them and kill them.”
- 0 -
Inkaef recognized the woman who was standing by a group of palm trees. She was the one who had jumped on him in Tehna when he and his friends had stolen the boat. The strange woman with the long hair.