The Forest of Myrrh (Imhotep Book 3)

by Jerry Dubs

  After he washed, he pulled his kilt into the river and tried to rinse the sand and dirt from it. Then he tossed the kilt onto the wharf and pulled himself up behind it. Picking up his kilt and walking stick he walked back to the small collection of huts that housed the mortuary workers. They were all empty; he had checked them earlier before losing his temper.

  He didn’t trust sleeping in them or in the open and there were no convenient trees nearby. The only shelter was the mortuary temple.

  I spent forty nights in there, I can spend one more, he told himself, hoping he believed it.

  He paused at the temple entrance. A short stone pillar stood there, shaped like the great obelisk in the temple of Re. Carefully he laid his kilt over it to dry.

  The moon was directly overhead now and strong enough that it cast shadows. A few bats fluttered past the temple entrance. Imhotep followed their flight as they swooped and dodged across the sky.

  The stone wall of the temple gave off heat and a soft air came from the open doorway as if the building were exhaling. A priest might say the building was alive or that Thoth was within, but Imhotep knew it was simply the warm air finding escape as the outside air cooled.

  This building, he told himself, was simply stone. Despite the number of bodies that had lain within and regardless of Imhotep’s own fearful history here, it was just stone. There were no spirits within, only memories.

  It was nothing more than stone dug from the earth, dragged across the sand and arranged to form walls and halls and chambers.

  Off to the right he heard the scurry of padded feet and farther away the whoosh of night wings and farther still the lone call of a fox.

  Leaning into the darkness, he entered the temple and felt the stone wrap around him.

  - 0 -

  The entrance to the mortuary temple was a short, narrow hallway that led to a larger chamber, a vestibule with a low roof supported by two rows of square pillars.

  With one hand on the wall, Imhotep entered the enveloping darkness, shuffling his feet as he inched forward. He swept the floor with his staff, tapping gently ahead of each step. The wall ended at the opening of the vestibule.

  Wishing he had a flashlight, Imhotep tried to visualize the room. His memory was of a column-lined passageway as wide as the hallway leading through the room to the next room, which was a wider chamber with walls filled with niches containing decorated canopic jars on one side, a storage place for papyrus scrolls on the other.

  In another temple, the room he was in would be a wide courtyard, but here it was designed to be the entrance to Thoth’s hidden home, a narrow, darker place. Even the columns, square and sharp-edged, were harsher than the round columns in the temples of worship.

  Reaching out with his free hand, Imhotep pictured himself walking in a straight line in the utter darkness. He swept the floor with his staff which clicked loudly as it struck the base of the first pillar off to his right.

  Nodding in satisfaction because the pillar was where he had visualized it, Imhotep exhaled loudly, surprised to find that he had been holding his breath.

  His hand found the edge of the pillar and he leaned against it, trying to decide how deep into the temple he wanted to go. Away from the vulnerable entrance, he hoped that he was far enough inside that the smell of the natron would keep scavenging night animals away.

  He sniffed the air, testing how strong the strange natron smell was. Puzzled, he sniffed again. There was something else in the air, a hint of vanilla riding on burnt pepper cloves tainted with oil. He sniffed again and recognized the smell.

  A torch.

  Someone had recently extinguished a torch and the smell of the burnt wood was still hanging in the air.

  Frightened, Imhotep flattened himself against the pillar. He glanced back at the way he had come. There was no light entering from the hallway. If he ran toward the doorway, he might hit the wall, or stumble and fall.

  No, he told himself, I’ll slowly, carefully and quietly walk to the entrance.

  Before he could move, something scraped against the floor at the far end of the vestibule. Someone or something was coming. If he ran now he would be exposed and caught.

  He gripped his walking staff with both hands and leaned against the pillar. He felt himself starting to sweat again and suddenly he felt terribly naked and vulnerable. Then he thought of Akila and Hapu alone at night and he gripped the heavy wooden staff tighter.

  He would protect himself and he would find them.

  Suddenly a yellow light spilled down the hallway and the paintings on the square pillars came to life: Jackal-headed Anubis stood with a straight back, his right hand holding a shoulder high crook, its tip forked into two sharp points; Anubis, his pointed jackal ears upright as he leaned over a mummy; Anubis, head tilted upward as he knelt beneath a scale, a heart on one balance, Ma’at’s feather on the other.

  Imhotep blinked away the mirage and leaned forward to peer around the pillar.

  As he bent forward he felt something hard against his throat. Hard and sharp. A knife.

  Imhotep’s legs buckled.

  Awakening

  “It is Imhotep.”

  The words drifted into Tim’s consciousness like smoke, tickling memories but not making sense. Something cold and damp brushed across his forehead and face.

  “Bring the lamp closer.”

  The smell of smoke snaked into his mind bringing visions of sun-bleached walls, of narrow sandy wadis and dark tombs.

  “His arms and his hands have abrasions.”

  He unclenched his fists, feeling pain as newly formed scabs were tugged by his skin.

  “Look outside, see if anyone was with him.”

  Feet slapped against the stone. The sound faded and then he felt warmth against his cheek and heard whispered words, in English now. “Tim, can you hear me? Tim!”

  Akila? Akila!

  He opened his eyes. Her face was next to his, her lips so close he couldn’t see them. He lifted his head and touched her lips with his. She pressed against him softly. The touch was real, not a dream and he lay back down.

  “Am I really alive?”

  She smiled now. He remembered this smile. He had seen its many forms. The secret smile when he first met her but, because their time lines had tangled in her past and his future, she had already known him. The shy smile when he woke beside her for the first time after making love. The sorrowful smile she had worn as he had explained his plan to return to the ancient world.

  “I don’t see anyone,” Hapu said as she reentered the room.

  “Hapu!” Imhotep said, turning his head to see her.

  She knelt beside him as he raised himself up on his elbows. Looking to Akila, she asked, “Is he injured?”

  “I don’t think so,” Akila said. “A little confused.”

  “More than a little,” he said as his head cleared. With a grunt, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, leaning against the column. He smiled at Akila and then quickly frowned.

  “You cut off your hair. And you aren’t wearing your dress.”

  She looked down at her bare breasts and wiped a hand across the dark stubble that covered her head. “I’ve gone native. It seemed safer to not stand out.”

  He nodded and then turned to Hapu. She also looked different, her eyes older, her mouth tighter. He decided to let it go. Then, with a rush of fear, he remembered what had happened just before he had fainted.

  “I was standing here and then someone attacked me,” he said. “Did you see anyone when you found me? Are they still here?” he asked with a lowered voice.

  The women exchanged glances.

  “What?” he asked.

  “That was me, Imhotep,” Akila said, using his ancient name now that Hapu was with them.

  He looked at her confusedly.

  “We’ve been hiding,” Akila said. She glanced again at Hapu. “We were attacked two days ago. We got away, but now we hide during the day and travel at night. Today we were hid
ing here. Then as we were getting ready to leave we heard sounds out here. Hapu stayed in the embalming chamber to make noise to distract the intruder while I circled around the pillars.

  “I saw a naked man hiding behind a pillar ... ”

  “You put a knife to my throat,” Imhotep said.

  “I didn’t know it was you,” she said.

  He looked at her with different eyes. “You cut your hair. You discarded your dress. And now you’re able to hold a knife against someone’s throat. What happened, Akila?”

  “I killed a man,” Hapu said in a rush.

  Imhotep looked from one to the other, imagining what extreme had caused Hapu to kill someone.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

  Standing, Akila reached down to help Imhotep get to his feet. “Hapu saved my life,” she said and Imhotep took her hand. Bracing himself with his back against the pillar, he slid upright.

  “Isesi and Baufra were killed in Tehna when our boat was stolen. Then Hapu and I started walking the roads. A man attacked us. He would have killed me, but Hapu stopped him,” Akila said, her words clipped and dry, summarizing a fatal diagnosis.

  “Since then we’ve been walking at night and hiding during the day.”

  Imhotep took Hapu’s hands in his. “I’m sorry, Hapu.” He looked at Akila. “I was wrong to let you go to Qesy. But I didn’t know what was happening. Right after you left Governor Threshen tried to kill me. The northern nomes are in revolt.”

  They grew silent for a moment and then Imhotep said, “Tomorrow morning I’m supposed to meet Weneg by the river.” He leaned against the pillar and put a hand to his eyes.

  “I’m a little dizzy,” he said. After a moment he picked up his walking staff and nodded. “It's nothing, I'm OK. But I’ll feel better when we have Weneg with us,” he said. Then, looking up the dark hallway to the embalming chamber, he added, “And when we get away from this place.”

  “Imhotep,” Hapu said, “There is a boat here.”

  “And some provisions ... salt, oils, dried meat and fruit, some bread, but it has mold on it. And weapons,” Akila said, showing Imhotep the heavy knife she had held to his throat. “We were going to take to the river tonight. The moon is bright enough and we could avoid dangers along the path.”

  She grew animated with a new thought. “We could take a bag with us and cross the river tonight. You wouldn’t need to spend the night here in the temple,” she said.

  - 0 -

  Imhotep carried two sacks slung over his shoulders while Akila and Hapu carried the reed boat that was stored in the temple.

  Walking through the deserted village, Akila paused to look at the sky.

  “I never saw a sky like this before I came here, Imhotep. In our time the sky is shrouded by city lights. I think that makes us feel isolated, the only planet in the universe. But here with all the stars it feels like we are part of something,” she said.

  Remembering his recent feelings of alienation, Imhotep nodded but said nothing.

  It is all how we look at things, he thought. Same sky, same world, different views.

  Hearing his silence, Akila turned and exchanged a look with Hapu, who shrugged. She had been changed, too. She had cut the attacker’s throat out of fear and anger. But as she watched the life gush from the man’s neck she had felt not just a sense of relief but also a sense of strength and satisfaction and justice.

  She understood now the lust soldiers had for battle.

  She hadn’t set out to kill the man, but her life had been in danger and she had defended herself. She had been strong and fearless. Rising from the ground after the man had nearly killed her, she had found the med kit and taken the small knife from it. She had known where to cut the man and she had done it.

  She had saved herself and Akila.

  - 0 -

  Pushed north by the current they missed the wharf at the southern edge of Khmunu and ended up pulling their light boat ashore near the center of town.

  They splashed into the water and dragged the reed boat into the underbrush by a group of trees. Rising from the shaded bushes, they listened for movement in the town. Hearing nothing, they walked quickly across the path that ran along the river and ducked into the first house.

  “Is Weneg traveling at night?” Akila asked as they walked through the two rooms of the house to make sure they were unoccupied.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  “So he’s probably resting now,” Akila reasoned.

  Walking past her toward the front of the house, Imhotep nodded. “I want to check the roof,” he said, pausing at the doorway to listen. After a moment he walked out the opening and up the wooden steps that followed the side of the house. He stopped when his head was just above the floor of the flat roof.

  Seeing that the roof was empty, he continued up the steps. He walked to the edge of the roof and scanned the nearby rooftops. Akila and Hapu joined him.

  “What are you looking for?” Akila asked.

  “A roof with two sets of steps. I want an escape route.” He turned to Hapu, “Didn’t one of Paneb’s friends have a roof like that?”

  “His cousin Iynefer had two homes. He was married three times, not at the same time,” she said to Akila. “He built the homes beside each other and joined the roofs.”

  “He can’t be the only one to have done that,” Imhotp said, still staring into the darkness.

  Akila squatted at the edge of the roof and looked down.

  “It isn’t that far to the ground,” she said.

  Imhotep looked over the edge beside her.

  “OK,” he said finally. “It is probably good to stay here along the river so we can see anyone coming down the road or on the river.” He paced the roof again, looking out in each direction. “I know that you just woke but I’m tired,” he said after a minute.

  “We’ll take turns keeping watch, Imhotep,” Akila said.

  Escape

  “I saw someone,” Hapu said as she gently shook Imhotep’s shoulders.

  Imhotep blinked his eyes open. Night had passed. He instinctively turned toward the east, gauging how late in the day it was. The sun was above the tops of the trees that edged the house beside them. The sun and the heat, already turning uncomfortable, told Imhotep that it was late morning.

  “It is one man. It could be Weneg. He moves like a soldier,” Hapu said.

  Imhotep rolled over to push himself to his feet. “Where is Akila?” he asked when he saw that she wasn’t on the roof.

  “She had to relieve herself,” Hapu said.

  Imhotep stretched his back, picked up his staff and looked around the roof. “My kilt?” he asked.

  “You laid it over the chimney,” Hapu said, pointing to the peaked, dried mud dome in the back corner of the roof.

  As Imhotep was putting on the dry kilt, he heard Akila climb the steps. Turning to greet her he saw that she was wearing a linen sheath. She smiled when she saw him notice.

  “It didn’t bother me when it was just Hapu and me. But being naked around you, outside in the open, it felt odd.”

  “Sure,” he agreed, spreading his hands to point at his kilt.

  “OK,” he said, turning his attention to the streets below, “let’s hope that this guy is Weneg,”

  “Where did you see him?” he asked Hapu, who was standing at the edge of the roof, looking northward toward the river.

  “He was over there,” she said pointing beyond the fifth row of houses. “I saw him pass by the opening. I think he is heading this way.”

  As she spoke the man emerged from behind the house on the far side of the street. “It is Weneg,” Hapu said, “I’m sure.”

  Imhotep squinted at the figure. The man walked carefully, pausing to listen after every step. He looked the right size, but Imhotep’s eyes weren’t sharp enough to be sure if it was Weneg.

  “He’s wearing an army kilt and carrying a spear,” Hapu said. “It is him. I am sure.”
r />   Imhotep started waving his arms and the women joined him. When the man didn’t look up, Imhotep shouted, “Weneg! Over here!”

  The soldier stopped and looked to the roof. When he saw them he put his hand to his mouth to tell them to be quiet, and then, giving a glance over his shoulder, he started to run to them.

  “Something’s wrong,” Akila said quietly.

  - 0 -

  “There are rebel soldiers in town,” Weneg said as he jogged up the steps.

  He smiled grimly at Akila and Hapu. “Sisters, it is good to see you well.”

  Then he looked over the roof at the road that he had been on. “They are searching the homes, looking for food, I think.”

  He turned to Imhotep and waited.

  Realizing that the soldier was expecting orders, Imhotep said, “Weneg, I don’t know what to do. You’ll have to tell us. Should we hide? Should we try to run?”

  “They will find us if we stay, Lord Imhotep.”

  Imhotep nodded. He tapped his walking staff against the roof and said, “Then let’s hurry.”

  Akila and Hapu shouldered the two sling bags and each picked up a knife that they had taken from the embalming chambers. Weneg’s eyes looked at the weapons and then held out his hand. When the women hesitated, he said, “Give me the bags. Keep the knives. You might need them.”

  Draping the bags over his shoulders, he turned and led them down the steps.

  “I found a boat yesterday. It was hidden under branches near the wharf. We could weave through town, but there are too many places where we wouldn’t see anyone until it was too late. So we’ll follow the river path. It is more exposed, but the men that I saw are downriver, the opposite direction from where we are going.

  “We’ll walk, not run, because we will make less noise and people see rapid movement before they see slow movement. But if anyone sees us, then we run. If they get close, you three continue to run while I delay them.” He saw hesitation in Hapu’s face. “No, Hapu, you and Akila and Imhotep must keep going. If the men overwhelm me, they will overwhelm you, too.”