The Forest of Myrrh (Imhotep Book 3)

by Jerry Dubs

  - 0 -

  Drawing nearer the shore, Imhotep could see grass huts tucked beneath the trees. Raised on four stilts, the huts were shaped like fat barrels with an arched roof of grass gathered together to form a small peak. Each hut, which stood shoulder-height off the ground, had a ladder that led to an arched opening that served as an entrance.

  Short-horned cattle lay in the shadows near the huts, and there was a scattering of bushy, menacing trees, their branches armed with spiny thorns.

  “Those are myrrh trees,” Akila said, emerging from the canopied shelter as Imhotep studied the small village.

  “How do they get the myrrh?” he asked.

  “It is sort of like maple syrup. They cut the tree and resin collects at the cut. But instead of draining, like sap, it coagulates into clumps that the harvesters chip off.”

  He nodded and looked over the village and beach and sparse forest. “It looks ... I don’t know … poor? Meager? I don’t know, I thought there would be more.”

  “Like Ponce de Leon’s fountain of youth or the Aztec cities of gold?” Akila said.

  “Yeah, I guess reality seldom measures up to our imaginations,” he said.

  Akila leaned against Imhotep and put an arm around his waist.

  “You’ve been in a strange mood, Tim,” she said. “I thought the excitement of helping Senenmut plan Pharaoh Hatshepsut’s mortuary temple had ... ”

  “Brought me back to life?” he said, raising his eyebrows in question.

  “Given you renewed enthusiasm,” she finished.

  Imhotep smiled and looked from the coast to Akila. “I’m sorry, Akila. I know I’ve been in a mood. It’s just,” he stopped talking and looked at the wood of the ship, then off to the water and beyond to the brown shore, the dark green leaves of the trees and beyond to the pale blue sky. “I’m here, in this world, with you. And then I see something, an expression in someone’s face or the way the sun highlights the grain of a plank of wood or the ripples left behind when a fish jumps and it triggers a memory and I’m off reliving the past.”

  They stood quietly by the gunwale and then Akila hugged him. He smiled at her and said, “I remember reading a science fiction story about somebody having the power to let you know when you’ve lived the highlight of your life. I don’t remember it exactly, but for one of the characters, the highlight was making a great catch in a baseball game when he was a kid.”

  He looked at her. “How horrible would that be, Akila, to know that you aren’t ever going to do anything better the rest of your life?”

  She studied him quietly, waiting to follow his worry.

  “I don’t want to know my future,” he said finally. “I don’t want to know if this expedition is the one recorded in Hatshepsut’s tomb. When I was working on the Step Pyramid I kept telling myself it would be built because it had been built, but I did that to keep myself optimistic and focused. I didn’t really believe it.

  “If I did, then I’d have to believe that I was just living out a life according to ‘God’s plan’ or following my destiny. I don’t want to just be going through the paces. And I do believe that some of the things I did made a difference, that I wasn’t following a script.”

  She squeezed him closer.

  “I don’t want to sit around thinking these thoughts and being uncertain and unable to do anything. And I don’t want to just mindlessly react to whatever comes in front of me,” he said.

  “Tim,” she said when he paused. “You saw your wife brutally killed. You discovered that your best friend had suddenly aged thirty years and then you watched him step out of your life. You missed your daughter growing up and you missed the birth of your grandson.

  “That is a lot to digest, to accept. And who knows what time travel does to your brain.” She rubbed his arm. “As far as destiny, we don’t know if we are the only people to have gone back in time. Maybe it happens all the time. Maybe that is the engine for advances in civilization. There are all these strange artifacts: a battery in Baghdad, strange stone etchings in Peru, metal spheres in South Africa. And look at Jules Verne or da Vinci with ideas and drawings of things that wouldn’t happen for hundreds of years.

  “I’m not saying that they were time travelers, but maybe they talked to one, or found drawings they had left behind. I don’t know. I don’t know.”

  “So, doctor,” Imhotep said, turning to pull Akila into an embrace. “You don’t think I’m crazy or depressed.”

  “The jury is still out on that,” she said playfully. “But I think it is okay to think carefully about what you are doing. I think it is good to envision how you would react to things, and then, when something happens, it is okay to let yourself follow your instincts, which hopefully you’ve trained by imagining yourself in different scenarios.”

  He released her and pulled back to look at her face. Then he leaned forward and kissed her, long and lovingly.

  Everything Is Possible

  There were no piers on the shore so the five ships, anchors dropped, bobbed in the gentle bay as Admiral Ahmose decided what to do.

  Eventually he dispatched a crew of soldiers and sailors to build rafts to carry Pharaoh Hatshepsut and the court officials ashore.

  “The water isn’t that deep or treacherous,” Akila told Imhotep while they waited. “We could wade ashore.”

  “I don’t think the ruler of the Two Lands will wade ashore,” Imhotep said, standing beside Akila at the bow of the ship and watching the sailors on shore as they lashed together the first raft. Four other sailors worked beside the raft builders constructing a tall basket, large enough to lower a person from the side of the ship to the water.

  As the men worked, naked children from the huts watched them; then, growing bored, they chased each other in the gentle surf. Their mothers sat on log benches by the huts and watched the children and the strangers who had arrived from the endless sea.

  The men had given up fishing for the day and were helping the strangers, cutting trees, lashing branches together, and twirling vines to make ropes. Although few of them spoke the language of the strangers, they worked together smoothly and quickly.

  While the sailors made rafts, the soldiers worked on the ships, lashing them together, pulling out some of the plank benches to make bridges from ship to ship and tying guide ropes beside the makeshift bridges.

  Admiral Ahmose was the first to test one of the bridges, crossing from his ship to the boat that carried Imhotep and Akila.

  Holding onto a guide rope, he stepped from the bridge to a bench and then to the hull of the ship. Clapping his hands in satisfaction, he smiled at Imhotep and Akila.

  “So we’re here!” he said happily. “All five ships!” He looked at the small fleet and then back at Imhotep. “There’s never been such a voyage. Never!” He turned to look across the bay toward the open sea. “Coming down the Great Green, I kept pushing us away from land. The water’s edge,” he pointed now toward the sea, “it seems to stop, doesn’t it? But when I chased it, it never grew closer.”

  “It does seem to go on forever,” Imhotep agreed.

  “The desert changes, at least I’m told so. I haven’t traveled deep into the western desert, but you know, the sea changes, too. The water in the Great Green seemed heavier, oh I don’t expect you to have felt it, but believe me, it was different from the water of Iteru. Not just the color and the way it moved, but it even tasted differently. And then, as we sailed south, on and on, the water grew thinner. Yes! Thinner! Did you notice that the ships rode lower?” Admiral Ahmose asked.

  Akila and Imhotep shook their heads.

  The admiral pointed toward the eastern horizon where water and sky seemed to merge.

  “Perhaps it keeps growing lighter and thinner, and the sky, perhaps it grows thicker and heavier until they meet at the edge of the world.” He smiled. “Where Geb and Nut merge. Yes, it would make sense, that the sky and sea would become one, as lovers do.”

  He shifted his eyes to Akila to see if
he had offended her.

  “I like the image, Admiral Ahmose,” she said. “It is pleasing to think of the sky and sea merging.”

  Ahmose nodded vigorously. “Exactly. Exactly.” He looked at Imhotep now and said, “Pharaoh Hatshepsut wants you to go ashore first. Not to test the basket and rafts, don't worry, I’m sure they will be fine. Nehsy will follow you and then the rest of us once you and Nehsy have made arrangements for a proper reception for Pharaoh Hatshepsut.

  “Ty will organize a procession of the gifts Pharaoh Hatshepsut has brought and, well, things will proceed.”

  He looked ashore once more.

  “We have enough soldiers ... ” he said as if thinking aloud.

  “Admiral Ahmose,” Imhotep said quickly, “This is still a trading mission, isn’t it?”

  The admiral nodded. “For now, for now.” Then he smiled and said, “Everything is new, Lord Imhotep. Like the open sea, there are no limits, no boundaries. Everything is possible.”

  - 0 -

  “Did that sound a little ominous to you?” Akila asked Imhotep after Admiral Ahmose had returned to his ship.

  “I imagine Europe’s leaders had the same thoughts when America was discovered or when they started to explore Africa, and the United States’ leaders probably thought the same thing when they looked at the western half of the continent. Once space travel becomes less difficult they will be looking at other planets with the same thought,” he said.

  He walked to the side of the ship and watched the sailors on shore with renewed interest, focusing on the men who were lashing together the basket that would lower him over the side.

  “At least they aren’t trying to save the natives with their religion,” Akila said.

  “No,” Imhotep agreed. “There are enough gods that they are willing to let new ones have a seat at the table.” Still staring at the land, he said, “They aren’t interested in their souls. All they want is their gold and trees and incense.”

  - 0 -

  Yuya stretched and yawned.

  He and his squad of twenty soldiers had set up camp on the western edge of a lake, clearing the space with knives instead of fire to avoid sending smoke above the green canopy. They had been camped by the lake for three days now. Each morning Yuya sent men out to watch the village across the water and each evening they came back only to report that there was no news.

  No strangers had arrived in Tadjoura, the capital of Pwenet, Ta Netjer, Land of the Gods.

  Standing, he walked to the edge of camp to relieve himself. Then he walked to the large cage his men had built to house the rock python that had devoured Kasta.

  It had taken the better part of a day for the giant snake to pull itself over and around Kasta’s body. Yuya’s soldiers had come and gone, exploring, hunting, eating, but Yuya had sat by the snake, fascinated by the slow movement of the head down Kasta’s body. The snake had gripped Kasta with its teeth and then pulled its head and endless neck forward. The progress had been impossible to measure, but minute by minute Kasta had been dragged inside the snake.

  They had kept the snake, building a cage for it and carrying it with them to the shore of the lake. Yuya checked it several times a day. At first the form of Kasta had been easy to see in the curves and swellings of the snake’s body. But recently the shoulders and hips had seemed to disappear, although there was still a huge bulge slowly working its way through the snake.

  Yuya wondered when the snake would become restless and hungry again. He studied the snake’s face, the eyes half closed now, the mouth closed, the tongue hidden. Only the slow dilation of small, black nostrils reassured him that the snake lived.

  He reached into the cage and stroked the skin, so shiny and wet looking, but so dry and raspy to the touch. He wanted to lift the massive snake and drape it around his own shoulders, feel its unwavering strength and deadly weight. He imagined himself competing with the monster, his strength against its, or would it recognize Yuya as an equal and undrape itself from him?

  He cupped his massive hands beneath the snake and judged its heft.

  “Yuya!” a man said behind him and Yuya straightened and turned to see Kebu, one of the soldiers, bouncing on his feet, excitement in his eyes.

  “They have arrived.”

  Yuya looked at the peaceful monster in the cage. Another day, he promised.

  Conquering Warrior

  The sailors lashed upright poles to the corners of the largest raft, then they secured trimmed branches to the tops of the poles, linking them together. From the cross struts they draped white linen, creating a billowing room atop the raft.

  While the sailors completed the raft, Admiral Ahmose shouted orders from his ship, rearranging the fleet into a circle to create a shielded space of water. As the finished raft was guided into the space, Pharaoh Hatshepsut stood by the side of the the ship. Beside her, Admiral Ahmose tapped a foot impatiently.

  “Dear Ahmose,” Pharaoh Hatshepsut said, “would you rather have me swim ashore?”

  “No, no, great lady,” he said quickly. “I just do not want to try your patience. I thought that ... ”

  She put a hand on his arm to stop him.

  “It doesn’t matter, Ahmose. I know that this appears to be an unimportant village, without the glories we expected of Ta Netjer. But they will see the ruler of the Two Lands arrive on their shore amid a floating cloud. The soldiers will be oiled and armed and handsome and strong. The natives will understand that Horus has arrived.”

  - 0 -

  “Tadjoura?” Nehsy repeated, his ear quicker than Imhotep’s at picking up the words spoken by the native whose name was a string of meaningless sounds and so Nehsy had christened him Netnebu.

  “The king is named Parahu and he is at Tadjoura?” Nehsy said, unconsciously leaning forward as if being closer to Netnebu would make communication clearer.

  Netnebu nodded, smiling broadly.

  Nehsy turned to Imhotep with a broad smile. “As awkward as this is, it is easier than getting agreement at some of Pharaoh Hatshepsut’s councils.”

  He turned back to Netnebu.

  “And who is in charge here?” he asked, using his hands as expressively as he could.

  Netnebu looked confused for a moment and then laid an open palm on Nehsy’s chest. “You,” he said.

  “I think he just made you the village chief,” Imhotep said with amusement.

  “A good choice,” Nehsy said. “Perhaps I can persuade Pharaoh Hatshepsut to make it an official title. Then I would be just thirty-eight titles short of Senenmen.” He laughed at his joke and then he shook his head. “No, Netnebu, I am not the chief, the leader, the mayor, the governor, the king ... Do any of these words mean anything to you?”

  Netnebu nodded. “Parahu is in Tadjoura.” He raised an arm and pointed inland.

  “Nehsy,” Imhotep said. “I think we should just line up everyone who is here, make a reception line, no, two lines. Pharaoh Hatshepsut lands,” he pointed to the beach, “She is escorted by a few strong-looking soldiers, well, at least the cleanest ... yes, let’s send four soldiers off to clean themselves, make them as presentable as possible. It has been a long voyage. They escort Pharaoh Hatshepsut between the lines of villagers.

  “We’ll find the oldest woman here and put her at the end of the line. Pharaoh Hatshepsut can give her a jar of oil or a bracelet. Then we’ll have some food, erect our tents and figure out how to get to Tadjoura.”

  - 0 -

  The lines of villagers were in place, soldiers from the Two Lands standing among them, keeping a needlessly anxious watch on the small, peaceful crowd. Nehsy and Imhotep stood at the front of the double line watching two rafts, each pulled by four sailors who were wading through the shallow water, approach the beach.

  The lead raft contained Admiral Ahmose, Ty and the last of the soldiers from the fleet. Pharaoh Hatshepsut and Akila sat on a covered bench on the second raft. A gentle breeze tugged at the white curtains hung from the side and rear supports. Four
soldiers, their torsos gleaming with oil, their polished khopesh swords dazzling and bright, stood beside Pharaoh Hatshepsut and Akila who rose as the raft slowly ground to a halt against the beach. The four soldiers stepped from the raft and two of them extended hands to help the women disembark.

  As water lapped at her bare feet, Pharaoh Hatshepsut stepped down onto the beach and smiled at Imhotep and Nehsy.

  They bowed in welcome but not before Imhotep recognized that Pharaoh Hatshepsut was wearing the khepresh, a tight-fitting, blue leather crown that was worn into battle. As he leaned forward and his eyes drifted lower, he saw that she was wearing a braided leather belt and slipped into it was the knife of King Djoser.

  Pharaoh Hatshepsut, Ma’at-ka-re, Foremost of Noble Ladies, She of the Two Lands, Divine of Appearance, had arrived in Ta Netjer as a conquering warrior.

  Approaching Tadjoura

  Yuya stood at the edge of the lake and peered across the water at the fishing boats, the elevated huts and the thin columns of smoke that twisted away from the cooking fires of Tadjoura.

  Children were playing at the lake’s edge, but beyond them, among the huts and along the trails that led off into the forest, there was heightened activity. Yuya heard the anxious lowing of cattle being led to slaughter and he saw the stacks of firewood growing and, flicking his tongue like the great snake back at his camp, he could taste the excitement.

  A fleet of small boats had left Tadjoura two days ago, passing north of the boulder island that the natives called the Breast of Hathor, and headed toward the narrow, shallow gateway from the lake to the bay.