The Forest of Myrrh (Imhotep Book 3)

by Jerry Dubs

  “Are there medical supplies here?” she asked Hatshepsut.

  Bata shook his head. “We haven’t time, Hapu. We must go back for Imhotep.”

  “Are you a physician?” Hatshepsut interrupted.

  “Yes,” Hapu answered. “I studied with Lord Imhotep.”

  Hatshepsut shook her head. “I have never heard of this Lord Imhotep.”

  “Imhotep? A physician?” Yuf said from behind them, startling them.

  They turned to find the old man studying them curiously. Beyond him, Queen Ahmose was standing by a window, staring out into the water south of the island, praying that she would see the king’s flotilla.

  Bata nodded, but before he could speak Hatshepsut said to Hapu, “Come with me. You must examine my brothers. Perhaps they have survived.”

  “No,” Bata said, “We must go back ...”

  “They will find us,” Hapu said, interrupting Bata.

  “But ...” Bata began.

  Hapu put a hand on his forearm and led him into the empty hallway. “Bata,” she whispered. “We must be careful. Remember that Akila stayed behind to seal the portal if Threshen’s soldiers came into the corridor. And we don’t know who we can trust here. Are we sure we want soldiers from this place to go through the portal?”

  As Bata thought, Hapu continued, “I will accompany Hatshepsut to see her brothers. You stay here to guard Maya.”

  When Bata began to shake his head in disagreement, Hapu smiled lightly and leaned closer to his ear. “You know Imhotep. He always survives, Bata. He will find us. We have to keep Maya safe until he does.”

  Although his eyes said that he wanted to return through the time portal to search for Imhotep and Meryt, Bata nodded agreement.

  They looked up at the sound of footsteps as Hatshepsut approached them. She raised her eyebrows and looked at Hapu. “My brothers,” she said, her voice gentle, but insistent.

  - 0 -

  “Amenmose was Pharaoh Thutmose’s firstborn,” Neferhotep told Imhotep and Akila. “He was general of the armies and he would have become pharaoh. Wadjmose was his younger brother. As I said, I wasn’t alive then. I am told that it was never discovered who sent the assassins. There were rumors and there were executions, but ... ”

  “I don’t care about all that,” Imhotep said impatiently. “You haven’t told me who you are and where my daughter is. Or Hapu. And if that old man was really Bata, how did that happen?”

  Neferhotep lowered his eyes.

  “I am sorry, grandfather. Each year, when we failed to pass through the time portal, Bata would bring us to this room. We would drink the beer he had brewed for you and he would tell the story. Each year it changed. The beginning never varied, but each year he added what had happened since our last attempt. I thought you would want to hear it as he wanted to tell it.”

  Suddenly Imhotep couldn’t see, the room had dissolved in a wavering blurredness and his cheeks were wet with tears. He was in a strange time with strange people and the pain of losing Meryt squeezed his soul with an iron grip. He didn’t want to understand, he just wanted it all to end.

  “Grandfather,” Neferhotep said, kneeling by Imhotep as Akila knelt on the other side and put her hand on his arm, “your daughter is safe. She is my mother and she is dear to Pharaoh Hatshepsut. She lives in Waset in a wonderful villa and she has her own chambers in the palace. All is well with her.”

  Grandfather isn’t a term of gentle respect, Imhotep slowly realized. I am his actual grandfather. Maya is grown and married and this soldier is her child. Meryt will never know this.

  “Do you have brothers or sisters?” Imhotep asked when he had found his voice.

  “No, grandfather,” Neferhotep said sadly. “Mother has not had more children. But she is happy, grandfather. You will see.”

  “What about Hapu?” Akila asked.

  Neferhotep looked across the table at Akila. “She lives in the palace. She is Pharaoh Hatshepsut’s personal physician. She isn’t called Hapu any more, though. Pharaoh Hatshepsut gave her a new name. I can see Bata telling this part of the story, shaking his head in admiration of Hapu.

  “You see, Pharaoh Hatshepsut never truly believed the story Bata and Hapu told her of their arrival from an older time. She chose instead to believe that the gods had sent them to rescue her and Queen Ahmose. She is, after all, a child of Amun.

  “Bata would always deny that the gods had sent him, but he did it in such a way that it was easy for us to believe that he was just being modest. When I got older, he would laugh and say that now he knew how Imhotep felt when people thought he was a god.”

  Neferhotep picked up a pot of beer and took a long drink.

  “Bata taught me this. He said that whenever I felt morose or angry, I should take a long drink and calm myself.” He looked into the beer and said softly. “I know that he is gone and I now know that the incredible tales he told were true. I will miss him greatly.”

  “We will, too,” Akila said and they all grew silent.

  Neferhotep thought about the loss of Bata and the miraculous appearance of Imhotep and Akila, names that he had heard for all of his eighteen years. In the stories Bata told, they had been as real as the gods Neferhotep had been taught about, and as distant and unknowable as them, too.

  Akila was stunned to find herself in the time of Pharaoh Hatshepsut, the most famous woman ruler of the ancient world. The horrific death of Meryt and the beheading of Threshen were so grotesque that they seemed surreal and she refused to allow them to settle into her consciousness.

  Imhotep, buffeted by misery and grief, felt himself being thrust into a new life, one where he was a grandfather, where his daughter was a confidante of the ruler, as he had been with King Djoser. His joy at Maya’s survival was blackened with the sorrow of having lost Meryt, moments ago ... centuries ago. While heartbreak enveloped him, part of his mind whispered that in time his wounds would heal.

  “You see, when Pharaoh Hatshepsut saw Hapu defeat a seasoned soldier, she decided that Hapu must be an embodiment of the protective goddess Sekhmet. Then when she learned that Hapu also was a healer, Pharaoh Hatshepsut thought that she must be a daughter of Re. She decided to call her Sitre,” Neferhotep said, resuming his explanation.

  In the silence that followed, Imhotep said, “You said something about failing to get through the false door in other years.”

  Reconciliation

  Reluctant to leave Maya with Queen Ahmose and Yuf, Bata carried her as he followed Hapu and Hatshepsut back through the dimly lit corridor. As they passed the false doorway, Bata paused and placed a hand on the warm stone.

  Keeping his eyes on Hapu and Hatshepsut as they hurried down the corridor, Bata leaned his weight against the false door. There was no movement. Stepping back he looked to his left and right, making certain that it was the same doorway through which they had passed only minutes ago.

  “Bata!” Hapu called.

  He looked up and saw her waiting with Hatshepsut.

  He pushed hard against the stone again, and again it refused to yield to his strength. Frowning, he turned and followed Hapu and Hatshepsut.

  - 0 -

  Crows were fighting over the bodies in the temple courtyard and above them vultures silently circled lower, weighing the challenge of fighting the aggressive crows against the easy banquet of flesh waiting for them on the ground.

  Running into the courtyard, Hatshepsut shouted and waved her arms to scatter the birds. Some of them took flight, cawing angrily, some strutted away and others kept pecking at the bloody wounds.

  Bata counted a dozen men on the ground. Some lay with gaping wounds on their stomachs and chests, some were sprawled with crushed skulls. One man sat against a pillar as a pair of crows fought for position at the base of his nearly severed head.

  Hatshepsut quickly picked her way among the dead, stopping beside two bodies at the center of the havoc. Following her, Hapu knelt beside the men and, although it was obvious to her that they were de
ad, she placed a hand on their necks to check for a pulse.

  “Their kas have fled,” Hatshepsut said in resignation as she knelt beside Hapu.

  “Yes, I am sorry,” Hapu said. “What happened?” she asked softly.

  “My father was in Nubia. He is returning here so we had gathered to greet him,” Hatshepsut said quietly. “This morning I was here with my brothers. Wadjmose was recounting the last time my father led an expedition into Nubia. He returned with the chief’s body hanging from the prow of his boat.

  “Suddenly one of Amenmose’s personal guards, I suppose they had been at the river keeping watch for Father, ran into the courtyard.” She closed her eyes as she pictured the scene. “Amenmose frowned at the sound of the hurried footsteps. He was a general in my father’s armies. He expected his men to be controlled. They should run fearlessly into battle, but there was no need for haste away from the fight.”

  She looked down at his body. “He was always so calm, like a rock.”

  Hapu saw Hatshepsut’s jaw tighten as she composed herself. When she spoke again, her voice was steady and strong. “The guard was running and he was bleeding and he was followed by them,” she nodded toward the darker skinned attackers. “Some of Amenmose’s guards were chasing them, but there were too few guards and too many of them.”

  She spat at one of the dead attackers.

  “Amenmose smiled as he drew his sword and turned to face them. Wadjmose touched my arm and told me to run to mother and warn her. Then he drew his sword and stood proudly beside his brother. When I reached the hallway entrance I looked back, I saw that Amenmose and Wadjmose were surrounded. I heard grunts and cries from the men they fought and I saw the flash of blades slicing through the air. I wanted to run to help them, but I knew that I had to warn mother.

  “I saw two of the men turn away from Amenmose and start to run toward me. So I started running to warn mother. Then I found you.”

  Eyes downcast, Hapu got back to her feet and, when Hatshepsut stood, she pulled her into an embrace.

  Unused to being touched by anyone, Hatshepsut stiffened. Hapu leaned back and looked at her questioningly. She waited until Hatshepsut’s eyes found hers and then, as Akila had taught her, she smiled and said, “Everything will be made well.”

  Hatshepsut cocked her head in question. Who is this strange woman? she wondered.

  “Hapu?” Bata said. He was standing outside the circle of carnage, holding Maya’s head protectively against his chest so that she wouldn’t see the bodies.

  Hapu nodded to him and then, turning back to Hatshepsut, she softly and quickly embraced her again, whispering to her, “We are your friends. You have nothing to fear from us.” Then she turned and quickly began to pick her way through the bodies.

  “Yes, Bata,” she said, “Let’s try the false door again.”

  - 0 -

  “The door remained sealed. They pushed and pried, but the false door remained nothing more than lifeless carvings on a stone wall,” Neferhotep told Akila and Imhotep. “They tried throughout the day and through the night, but it remained stone, solid and unmoving.

  “Pharaoh’s advance guard arrived two days later and Pharaoh Thutmose himself followed a week later. By then Hapu and Princess Hatshepsut had become close friends. And Princess Hatshepsut had come to regard Maya as her little sister. They were soon inseparable.

  “With General Amenmose’s bodyguards dead, Bata was the only soldier in the temple until the guards arrived. He refused to leave Maya’s side, and because she was always with Princess Hatshepsut, he spent all of his time by Princess Hatshepsut’s side also, leaving only to try to open the false doorway each day.

  “When Pharaoh Thutmose arrived, Princess Hatshepsut told him how Bata had saved her and the queen. She told her father that she wanted Bata to be her personal guard.” Neferhotep smiled. “Bata always said that he became commander of the guards only because Princess Hatshepsut wanted to be near Maya and because he refused to leave Maya's side.

  “They stayed here for a month and tried to open the false door every day. But eventually they were forced to accept the idea that you were locked forever in the past,” Neferhotep said.

  “But how did you ... ” Akila began to ask.

  “Yes,” Neferhotep said, “that was Bata. He refused to give up.

  “When the royal family returned to Waset, Bata and Hapu agreed that it was best for Maya to stay with Princess Hatshepsut. So they all went downriver to the capital.

  “Pharaoh Thutmose became ill. He was old, but I think the deaths of his two sons overwhelmed him and his ka wanted to join them. He was suspicious of everyone after that, except for his daughter. And so Princess Hatshepsut was by his side constantly - even sitting beside him when he held council or sat in judgment.

  “She had traveled with him into Sinai on military excursions when she was younger and she was skilled with spear and khopesh. She could stand easily in a moving chariot and she was fearless and, after Amenmose and Wadjmose were killed, Pharaoh Thutmose came to regard her as a son.

  “When Pharaoh Thutmose died, Hatshepsut married Akheperenre who was Thutmose's son with Mut-Nofret, one of the harem wives. With the marriage, Akheperenre became Pharaoh Thutmose II. However, he was but ten floods old and so Queen Hatshepsut ruled in his stead.

  “She appointed Bata commander of the royal guard. And although his duties were demanding, he constantly thought of you and Meryt. He insisted on revisiting the temple as often as he could.

  “When I was old enough to think about such things, I asked him why he kept trying the door. He said that Meryt visited him in his dreams, asking him to come save you.”

  Neferhotep stopped to pick at the fruit and bread. Akila looked at Imhotep, who seemed to be in shock. Sitting with his hands resting on his thighs, he was staring into the distance. She had seen him like that before ... in the modern world when he was remembering his past or when he was thinking about the twisted path of time that he had followed.

  “Each year on this day Bata took leave from the court,” Neferhotep said. “He brought with him a group of hand-picked volunteers. There was no shortage, grandfather, for Bata was loved by his men. They all wanted the honor and adventure of following Bata into the old world to rescue you.”

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “None of us believed that we would actually pass through a stone doorway. None of us believed that we would venture in the land and time of our ancestors, into a world where the ancient pyramid of Khufu had not yet been built. Yet,” he looked down at his interlocked hands, “yet, we all would have followed Bata anywhere.”

  He raised his hands to wipe away tears.

  “We all loved Bata,” Imhotep said with a hollow voice that sounded as if it came from a distant, deathly cave. “I loved him, Maya loved him, and Meryt, she loved him as a brother and as a son and as a favorite friend.”

  Standing, he raised his head and clenched his jaws. Eyes closed, he breathed deeply, focusing on breathing and fighting to keep his sorrow at bay. He tried to follow the example of King Djoser and close his sorrows in a compartment locked away in his memory although he knew he would bring them out in the future to punish himself and to mourn.

  His wife had been killed. The timeline of her life had ended before his eyes and he could not change it. His best friend had lived a third of his life dedicated to saving him and Meryt. And then Bata had willingly exiled himself from the ones he loved to keep them safe.

  His mind flitted to the mystery of the time portals and their well intentioned capriciousness.

  Years ago he had stepped through the false door in Kanakht’s tomb, discovered himself in ancient Egypt and became Imhotep, a man whose origins were lost in the shroud of the distant past.

  Years later he had taken Maya to the future to save her life. He had been manipulated by a mysterious martinet who, he later discovered, had been his own future self.

  And now Bata and Maya had stepped through a doorway and
had been lost to him for twenty-seven years of their lives, an instant in his. But the time warp had given them time to organize his rescue.

  We all look back through the strange pathways of our lives and marvel how each step led to the next, how each decision led to a different life. Our histories are littered with ‘might-have-beens’ and serendipitous encounters. And no matter what choices we made, when looking back they all seem, whether fortuitous or malevolent, as if they were specially chosen from a universe of possibilities just for us, he thought.

  Is that fate? he wondered, nothing more than our rationalization of what has happened, our effort to give our life meaning.

  He exhaled a deep breath and opened his eyes.

  Turning to Akila, he extended his hands to bring her from her chair. He felt the warmth and softness of her skin, the firm reality of her being here with him. They looked into each others eyes for a moment, questioning, reassuring, and forgiving each other.

  He leaned to her and kissed her cheek softly, feeling her breath on his face, tasting the oil and sweat that lay on her skin. She was real. She was here.

  And this was the life he had.

  “Neferhotep,” he said over his shoulder. “I would like to meet your mother.”

  Seni

  Sabestet sniffed the air as he entered Seni’s bedchamber. It stank of urine and sweat and age. The night had been exceedingly hot and the river wind, which usually curled off the water to cool the palace rooms, had instead lain heavily on the slow moving water all night.

  Delicately holding a linen cloth caked with myrrh resin to his nose, Sabestet approached the bed of the governor of Ta-Seti. He heard a snort, a cough, and then the long rumble of released gas.

  Seni was awake.

  Sabestet took a last sniff of the myrrh and then quickly tucked the waxy linen cloth into the hem of his shendyt before he went to his master’s bedside.