by Jerry Dubs
The business of the Two Lands never stops, Bek thought.
He lifted three water bags from the sand and laid them on the leather floor of the chariot. Then he nodded to the stablehand who went to fetch the horses that would pull the chariot along the canal, across the desert back to the center of the world.
- 0 -
Ty gripped the edge of the ship, leaned his stomach against the hard wood as he bent over the side and closed his eyes. The boat swayed under his unsure feet and a sea gull swooped close to his head, screaming at him as it passed.
A snake was inside his stomach, coiling and uncoiling and he had to get it out. He opened his mouth, tilted his head back and pressed his gut harder against the ship’s gunwale. Bile rose in his throat, but then back away and Ty moaned in regret.
There was nothing left to vomit.
Behind him a bench of sailors smiled at the sight. One of them pretended to vomit and they all laughed. Ty ignored them; he didn’t have the strength to rebuke them.
They were three days out of Saww, three nauseating, stomach-emptying days, and Ty wanted to die.
Straightening, he wiped the back of his arm across his mouth and grimaced at the sour taste that lingered on his tongue. Forcing his eyes open he focused on the distant shore. It seemed to bob and sway, but Ty’s stomach told him that he was the one who was bobbing and swaying.
He gripped the ship tightly and pictured Menna out there, far out of sight across the wide eastern desert, sitting on a proper chair, one that didn’t slide and twist. He must have received the message by now and Ty imagined Menna, who was too young and too inexperienced to be Scribe of the Fields, would be overwhelmed by the news Ty had sent him.
A simple, yet unbelievable message: Tell Seni that Horus is in Ta Netjer.
He couldn’t write more; the message could be intercepted by Senenmut or some other official. Menna might leave it on a table where other eyes could find it and it would be impossible to explain why Ty was passing a secret to the governor of Ta-Seti.
The thought of an interrogation made Ty’s stomach lurch again and he leaned over the side, stared at the heaving water and opened his mouth.
- 0 -
Menna watched the ashes fade from red to pink to gray.
Ty was mistaken. He had to be.
Menna carried the stone bowl to the window and watched as the ashes gave up their own kas, turning white and settling into the bowl. He raised it and blew into it, scattering the traces of the burnt papyrus into the wind.
Pharaoh Hatshepsut was here in Waset, not on the expedition to Ta Netjer. Menna had seen her just today. At a distance, to be sure, but he had seen her before and recognized her. And who would dare to impersonate Pharaoh Hatshepsut?
He watched the ashes catch a draft and flutter upward.
Should I send the message even if Ty is wrong? Is there a secret hidden in the message? Why does Governor Seni – so far distant beyond the first cataract, at the very edge of the Two Lands – why does he care where Pharaoh Hatshepsut is?
Sighing, Menna turned back to his desk. He lifted a blank papyrus from a stack and laid it in front of him. Then he dipped a brush into his ink pot and tried to remember the proper greeting for the governor of a province.
- 0 -
Sabestet ran into Governor Seni’s bedroom.
“Governor!” he called, as he saw Seni standing by the window, his back shaking as he coughed. Averting his eyes from a small brown smudge on the back of Seni’s kilt, Sabestet went to the governor’s side.
Every day Sabestet expected Governor Seni to depart from the heat of Kerma for the cool, green beauty of the Field of Reeds. And every day Seni seemed closer to departure, but still he clung to life as stubbornly as a hyena kept its grip on a carcass.
Seni’s coughing was interrupted now by a different sound.
Sabestet shook his head. Was Governor Seni laughing? Sabestet had never heard him laugh before. He looked around the room for the cause of the laughter but there was nothing different here except for the papyrus Seni was holding in his hand.
The governor threw his head back and laughed again, a deep, barking sound. Then he wiped his eyes and held the papyrus out for Sabestet to read.
“Pharaoh Hatshepsut is with the expedition to Ta Netjer,” he read aloud.
“Yes, yes,” Seni said happily. “It is perfect, a gift from the gods. Oh, we must sacrifice. Oxen, sheep, those strange striped horses ... whatever we have. Oh, this is wonderful!”
“I don’t ... ”
Seni turned quickly and walked with more life than Sabestet had seen for several years. He followed him though the room to his office.
“Sit, sit, Sabestet. We must write a message and then send a runner to Yuya.”
“To Yuya?”
Seni started to laugh again. “Yes, to Yuya. I don’t care about the trade mission, that doesn’t matter anymore,” Seni said. “Pharaoh Hatshepsut will be there. She is within reach. Yuya can kill as many clean robes as he wants, as long as one of them contains her.”
- 0 -
Despite his skinny legs, Kasta was the fastest runner in Kerma. He loved to run, moving as fast as Shu, no, outpacing the wind, leaving the breath of the Two Lands behind as he jumped over rocks, wound around trees, skipping over their roots, leaping across streams, finding balance on even the smallest stepping stones.
He loved to feel the air press against his skin, lifting away the heat and the sweat as he cut through it. He loved running until it felt as though his chest would explode and then the magical moment arrived when his chest opened, his body felt as light as his ka and he knew he could run forever and ever.
He splashed through a small stream and heard a rustling in the undergrowth by a thick tree, its roots twisting above the ground like snakes. Perhaps it was a waking lion or a wolf or a huge snake or a wild boar ... he didn’t care. He would outrun them all. He could climb, change direction, or simply run and run until whatever wanted to catch him gave up.
He was heading east, following the trail left by Yuya and his Medjay ... broken branches, charred camp fires, displaced stones, skin from game they had killed and eaten, and even their own scat. It was an easy trail for Kasta to follow and he knew he would soon find them and deliver the message Governor Seni had entrusted to him: Kill the women.
Kill The Women
Kasta felt safe when he was moving. Standing now in front of Yuya, his legs quivered with fear.
Yuya was huge, the muscles in his arms and chest strained against the skin as if they wanted to be released. When he moved, the muscles coiled and uncoiled like snakes. And his eyes were dull gates that blocked the outside world.
Those opaque eyes were on him now as Kasta repeated the message. “Governor Seni said that you should first kill the women.” Kasta watched Yuya’s eyes to see if the giant had understood. Governor Seni had been very emphatic: “Use few words. And repeat them. He must understand. This is important.”
Yuya shook his head. His mouth held the same amused smile it always carried, but his eyes had grown flat and angry. “If the men have weapons they will die.”
Kasta felt his left leg jangle. Governor Seni had insisted that Yuya repeat the words to make sure that he understood it. “And the women?” Kasta prompted, worried that he was beginning to annoy the giant.
A shadow passed behind Yuya’s eyes and the giant’s smile twitched. Kasta closed his eyes and sighed. If Yuya would only repeat the order, then Kasta could start his run back to Kerma.
He could be in motion.
Yuya’s eyes drifted upward to the dense canopy overhead. Kasta started to look up but Yuya raised a hand and said, “Don’t move.” Yuya’s voice was heavy, the words rumbling like distant thunder.
Slowly Yuya reached into the sack that was strapped to his waist. Kasta saw him retrieve a rock and hold it in his giant hand.
Three of the Medjay warriors drifted up behind Yuya, their eyes wide with excitement, their heads tilting up and down as
they looked from Kasta to the tree above him. Again Kasta started to raise his head and again Yuya growled at him to stay still.
There was danger up there, Kasta knew. And danger in front of him.
His legs started to shake. It was time to run. He took a deep breath and hunched his shoulders forward, preparing to flee.
Yuya shook his head and raised the rock in his fist.
Kasta suddenly realized that the rock in Yuya’s hand was intended for him if he disobeyed the giant. He could outrun many things, but not a rock thrown by Yuya.
And now the air above him parted, like water as a fish strikes through it to snare a fly. A heavy weight landed on Kasta’s shoulders and dry scales brushed against his skin. Black and dark brown mottled muscle moved across his face and Kasta screamed.
“Don’t move! If you move you will die,” Yuya said.
The rest of the rock python’s body fell from the tree onto Kasta and the added weight made the runner’s knees buckle. Somehow the snake had moved from his shoulders to his chest to his waist and to his legs, yet it remained around his neck and his arms and he was embraced by the huge reptile.
“Help me!” Kasta said as he dropped to his knees.
Yuya nodded and stepped closer. The warriors behind him moved closer, too, and Kasta realized that they were waiting for the right moment to strike. Yuya’s powerful hands would wrap around the snake’s endless throat and choke the life from it. The other warriors would pull at the python’s body and Kasta would be able to breathe again.
The snake wound tighter, the muscled length pressing against him everywhere and Kasta could hear the snake’s breathing, the slight flutter of its tongue, the slow beating of the creature’s heart pressed so close to his.
“Yuya!” he called and as the name left his mouth he felt the python squeeze tighter and now Kasta couldn’t draw air into his lungs. He opened his eyes and stared at Yuya. The giant was leaning forward, watching intently.
Through his fear, Kasta wondered why Yuya was waiting. When would he begin to wrestle the snake from his body?
There was the sound of small branches snapping in half and Kasta, who thought his lungs were completely empty, cried out when he realized that the sound came from his own chest, that the cracking sound was his ribs surrendering to the python’s relentless pressure.
“I heard that they can swallow a man whole,” Yuya said to the warriors behind him. “I always wanted to see that.”
Hope followed breath out of Kasta’s chest. His eyes saw the daylight turn red and then the red turned black.
Yuya sat on the grass and watched the snake slowly uncoil itself and then position its giant head next to Kasta’s face. Opening its mouth, it rested its upper jaw against Kasta’s forehead and then began slowly undulating its neck as it unhinged its jaws.
As the lipless mouth moved farther over Kasta’s head, Yuya watched in fascination. His own mouth began to open, mimicking the snake’s motions, and then he softly said, “I will kill the men. I will kill the women. I will kill everyone I find in Ta Netjer.”
Linked
Ty sat on the shore of the Great Green and stared across the black water. Off in the distance the sky was beginning to lighten and then they would reboard the ships.
He hadn’t been able to sleep. He had eaten, but even as he chewed he wondered why he bothered; the food would come back up as soon as he boarded the rocking, ever-swaying ship.
He had thought that they would stay close to the shore but each day Admiral Ahmose insisted that they take the ships deeper and deeper into the sea, so far that they couldn’t see the shore. They wanted to avoid rocks, that is what Ahmose said, but there had been excitement in his eyes and Ty knew that the admiral was eager to explore.
Ty hated exploration. He hated change.
And why shouldn’t I; Ma’at hates change, he thought.
Sighing, he leaned back and rested his hands on the rocky shore. The sharp edges of the stones pressed against his skin. He pushed harder against the stones, hoping for a sharp pain, even blood. He needed something to focus his thoughts.
His mother was the younger sister of Queen Mut-Nofret, who should have been regent to her son. But Hatshepsut had stepped in, even though she had been little more than a child herself. And slowly Mut-Nofret and her family had been relegated to the shadows.
Mut-Nofret had sworn revenge on the upstart, but as Thutmose II had grown older it was clear to all that he was only a shell of a man, his ka had never taken root in his body. Mut-Nofret said it was because of spells Hatshepsut had cast, and Ty knew that it was true.
She had bewitched all of the Two Lands. Well, not all of it. There were those who knew that she was nothing more than a usurper, no matter what tales the priests told of her mother lying with the god Amun.
Queen Mut-Nofret had passed to the Field of Reeds. So had Ty’s mother, but not before they had helped install him in the palace and put him in contact with Governor Seni. Ty had met the governor and seen the man’s dedication to the Two Lands – the true Two Lands – first hand. Seni was dedicated to removing the false pharaoh from the throne and restoring the land to ma’at.
And so Ty had sent him a message that Queen Hatshepsut was traveling to Ta Netjer. Ty didn’t know what Governor Seni would do, but he sensed that this moment was full of possibilities. The future was a blank papyrus and he was holding the brush that would return the Two Lands to balance.
“Lord Ty,” a voice called and Ty twisted to see Imhotep slowly making his way across the dark beach.
Ty stood, startled to see Imhotep approaching. He didn’t know who Imhotep truly was, but he knew that he couldn’t be the god people thought he was. It was impossible that he could have lived in the time of the ancestors, only the gods lived so long.
The man spoke with an accent Ty had never heard before and sometimes used words that sounded like gibberish, yet somehow he had ingratiated himself into the royal court. And, watching Imhotep walk slowly across the rock-strewn beach, Ty thought that the stranger carried himself like royalty, with slow measured steps; always certain of the ground before them.
Ty shook his head.
The world is drifting out of control. A woman sits on the throne. Strangers claim to be gods and now I am spending days out on a shifting, dangerous world of water.
“I have a gift for you,” Imhotep said as he reached Ty. He smiled at him, thinking that he looked very much like Ahmes; he was the same age and height and build, with the same oval face. The similarity made Imhotep instinctively like Ty, but, seeing him closer, Imhotep thought that the young man’s face was guarded, while Ahmes had always been open to new ideas, eager to explore.
Like Meryt, Imhotep thought wistfully. He shook his sadness into a corner of his mind and smiled at Ty.
“Well, the gift is from Akila but she can’t get away from Pharaoh Hatshepsut, so I thought I’d bring it.” He held out a narrow strip of linen. It was painted with a symbol that Ty didn’t recognize.
“Oh that,” Imhotep said with an embarrassed laugh. “Akila and I made it up. We didn’t know of any word in your language for the illness that grips you when we are on the water. In my language we call it ‘seasickness.’ ” The last word was said in a language Ty didn't know. It sounded, he thought, like a snake hissing.
“The illness,” Imhotep continued, “makes you empty your stomach.” He offered Ty a grim smile. “As you well know. So we drew the wavy lines for water and then added a tear drop for sadness.”
Ty looked at the linen skeptically.
“What you do, is when your stomach begins to feel as if there were snakes inside of it, you tie this around your wrist.” Imhotep motioned for Ty to extend his arm. When he did, Imhotep wrapped the linen around his wrist, tying it to create a snug, white band. “Then you just slip a pebble under it,” Imhotep knelt, keeping a hand on the staff he always carried. He stood with a small grunt and gave Ty a small, round stone. “You put it under the band here,” he pointed to the
middle of the underside of his wrist.
Ty tucked the pebble in place and then looked questioningly at Imhotep.
Imhotep shrugged. “I haven’t tried it. I don't get seasick. I suppose my ears aren’t as sensitive to the motion. But Akila says that it will work, so I’m sure it will.”
He stood for a moment looking at the young man and then said, “Well, we should get back to the others. The sun will be up soon and Admiral Ahmose is eager to get back on the water.”
- 0 -
Gathered on the shore by the five swaying ships, they watched Re appear, throwing a path of light on the water as if inviting them to resume their journey. Reneny, priest of Amun in Saww, had joined the expedition and now he began chanting a long, welcoming hymn to Re. When he paused to gather his breath, Pharaoh Hatshepsut intervened with a short prayer to her father, Amun.
Then, before Reneny could begin another chorus, Admiral Ahmose ordered the sailors to board the ships. As they separated to head toward their ships, Pharaoh Hatshepsut called to Imhotep.
“Lord Imhotep,” she said, walking toward him with one hand behind her back.
“Long life, Pharaoh Hatshepsut,” he answered, bowing his head to her.
“And to you,” she answered automatically. “Akila and I were looking through the trade items. She is curious about everything, and as knowledgeable as she is curious,” she said with a smile.
Imhotep nodded. “Senenmut and I find many similarities between Akila and yourself,” he said and then suddenly worried that he had made a terrible mistake comparing a commoner to the ruler.
“I see that Pentu’s irreverent tongue has found a home in your mouth,” Pharaoh Hatshepsut said, raising an eyebrow.