The three voices sounded together at the same time like the fingering of a lyre, or the musical note of the wind. Marai couldn’t believe his ears. The voice had stopped being Sheb and sounded once again like his goddess’ voice, multiplied several times. This time the voices chorused as if they were the goddess asking him to come to her bed.
Even as he began to feel led astray by the idea that the goddess might actually want him as a lover, he remembered the faint glow of light in the hills where her chariot must have come down. He bowed his head in self-doubt. Sensing his thoughts, the voices continued:
We are Children who have come to see.
Now we are here in your night-time.
Will you come to see?
“I...I’m afraid.” Marai suffered over the request, doubting his ability to make a sane decision. “My goddess...”
Silence and surprise shimmered like gentle breezes, followed by an air of annoyance so strong he felt it, filling his cave shelter. Tiny star lights circled above the hearth for a moment, then dove into his brow. The pleasure of the lights engulfed him like the distant memory of snuggling at his mother’s breast. It invaded and possessed him in one instant, then transformed itself into the caresses of a skilled and tender lover in the next. The sudden, frank sensuality of the light seized and carried him into an instant state of wanton, drifting sleepiness. In the third instant his entire body throbbed and pulsed with orgiastic bliss, the force of the sensation lifting him to his feet, then into the air until he hovered knee-height above his own hearth. Marai’s mouth cracked open, midway between a laugh, a gasp and a shriek that never found a voice. Just as suddenly, the shepherd found himself lying panting and dizzy on the hardened earth floor. His arms tried in vain to hoist his body for a desperate look at what force could have done this to him.
Why would she do this to me? His face reddened in shame when he found he was looking at empty air and the only thing remaining of the event was sticky discomfort.
Is that it, then? he thought. Have I been praying all of these years for just another dream of sex, instead of rapture? He felt used and ugly...
We are not your goddess, Man of Ai …
the voices lulled inside his head again.
We will explain...
You had wrongly decided
That your genitals
Did not function properly.
We tested them for you
To show you that they do.
You are capable of sexual action
At any time you wish …
“Why that?” Marai sputtered, turning his head to one side in an attempt to steal a forbidden look, in case she was materializing. Whatever the goddess had done felt good enough to cause him to faint in ecstasy, but it was hardly what he expected. From start to finish everything happened so fast that it was like the mere snort of a bull rather than any sort of knowable pleasure. The voices denied “they” were the goddess but if they weren’t she, why were they interested in the state of his potency? Why not spill his seed as part of a fertility rite, not meaninglessly on the cave floor. He didn’t understand. A waste of seed was just that.
You will enjoy this function in the future as shall we enjoy it with you...
They reminded him. It is necessary...
“I...” he protested, but the child-voices grew urgent.
Come to see us, quickly, man of Ai...Make haste...
Come...we long to see you.. They lulled, mocking his voice and song.
We have wondrous things to show you..not far from here…
“But Sin has turned his face from the sky.” Marai found his feet, still shaken, and turned away to clean himself. A new dryness in the air, and the crackling smell of heated sand filled his nostrils.
“It would be madness.” He paced, shaking his head. It was the time of the new child, the dark moon face of Sin. Only beasts could see in such a light.
The voices waited patiently for his fear to ease as he sorted out the request.
She had wakened his vigor, he thought, because she found him worthy enough to keep alive. Maybe she did want him for some entertainment. Maybe there was more than a chance he could charm her.
With that thought in mind, even though he knew refusal of her meant doom and acceptance meant subjecting himself to the heartbreak of her eventual rejection, Marai knew he wanted to go to the ends of the earth in thankful pursuit of such a random dream.
Hurry...look...
A voice now outside of his head called him back out of his cave and onto the stone ledge overlook. As he watched, a spot of light appeared out of nowhere and shone on the rock face below him. Ten paces further, another spot formed, then another and another until a path of ovoid dots stretched out on the sand and rock floor, past the strangely slumbering wadi station and off to the distant hills where the greenish glow was all but gone.
Marai went back into his cave, tightened his goatskin cloak around his shoulders, got his cap and grabbed his staff, knife, and horn. Looking around once or twice, with the silent blessing to the memory of his wife that he would be thinking of her and placing her memory with his goddess, he nodded to an almost visible whirl of light and softness.
Scrambling down the rock face, he made his way past the tents and around the water hole Breaking into a light goddess chant, half out of fear and half to mark his stepping, the shepherd sang:
May I have a spirit like the one before you;
May I have a spirit like the one behind you.
May I have wealth at your right hand,
May I have favor at your left hand.
If I’m not supposed to go, Sheb or someone down there’s bound to wake up and come to save me from my madness. He thought. I’m dreaming. I have to be.
The man of the sand went down to the station area. The sound and tempest of the goddess’ chariot coming down had not caused the slightest stir in the encampment. Everything and every tent he passed was silent. Even the visitors who had come to usher the cousins into a deal with the protectors in the morning were not stirring. All slept as if they were cloaked in spellbound silence.
For just a moment,the shepherd wanted to go into Sheb’s hut, grab him and slap him silly just so he would wake and stop any more of the dream from going forth, but the thought wouldn’t stick. The only feeling that stayed with the big man was happiness at the prospect of this new adventure edited any other desires to waken.
As he strode across the sand into the spot-lit darkness, Marai’s confidence and pride grew greater. He felt tall and proud. Filled with the courage of a dreamer, he skip-trotted joyously from one ovoid spot of light to the next, wanting to think about only two things. After all those years of devotion, the goddess was pleased. He was going to see her face to face.
I have borne your yoke;
Bring me peace
I have sought your brightness;
Make my face bright.
I have turned to your way;
May it be life and well-being for me.
Lengthen my days, bestow life!
Let me live, let me be well,
Let me proclaim your divinity.
Let me achieve what I desire
Shine for one who begs to serve you.
Come bless me this starry night.”
You have missed us... Djedi sighed as he lay on his sleep couch resting in a light trance, later that night. What has changed? He asked the spirit essences still hovering attentively. Did I misunderstand? Is it, at last, the failings of an old man?
Tonight when he spoke with the child-voices, it had been no more difficult than the sighing of his will. He knew the falling star he and his protégé had seen from their vantage point in the upper kitchen had been some sort of sparkling glass-stone boat in which the “Children” traveled. The elder thought these beings inside it were coming to Ineb Hedj. He brought his spirit to rest in a place as calm and gray as the clouds of incense that were filling his tiny room. Despite the risk another trance posed to his health, he needed to find the answers.
Soon the voices spoke again.
You will soon rest. It will not be long at a all now They consoled him.
Yes, I am tired. The elder reflected, at peace but still somewhat disappointed. My home among the stars and walking with the gods waits empty for me. Is that why you came? To harvest me? The old man sent his weary thoughts aloft.
Not that… another thing… A singular voice stated, gently. It, too, seemed tinged with regret.
There is an error in your world,
Of our elder making
We observe all that has happened,
When we asked you to help us long ago, all was good.
You have done well, but must do one more thing. A soothing voice answered.
The children’s familiar orbs of light danced before him in a curious sort of sympathy.
After a long, painful silence, during which no thoughts at all were exchanged between the elder priest and the spirits consoling him, one child-voice spoke and other voices followed, like a congregation joining in prayer.
We are as children
Not able to be apart from love
Of what has been made
It burns us, covers us and makes us forget.
All but one then healed and returned…
One remains
We tried a different way
for the one.
The voices lulled, then shifted.
Without knowing,
you became the herald of our arrival
When we spoke into your heart you touched our souls
We spoke with you
In our own way, and in your own way,
We taught each other much.
Djedi frowned in his sleep, disquieted.
The gods? he asked himself. It was a foregone conclusion that all of the gods were originally from Ta-Ntr, the far-off place from beyond the sun...probably of the bright star Sopdet. Weren’t these “Children” part of the same band that fell to earth from that star?
Legends were dim on this. The gods were once high spirits who came here, but in doing so spent far too long here and lost their way home. Marooned and fascinated by the people of earth, they lifted them up in love and pointed them to the sky. They walked as gods and created a race of gods from their couplings with those of earth. This was the known and ancestral bloodline of kingship passed on through the generations. Why did they wish to hide this secret from men who could only dream? He pondered the thoughts they sent.
Something unexpected has happened...
The matter-of-fact voice which seemed to be a replica of his own younger voice, spoke to Djedi.
We returned, looking for those, the star-seed,
Who should have come with us, but could not...
To purify and claim them into the bosom of eternity.
As we came closer to look at you and yours,
Three voices showed us three points of light like stars
That we have shown your forbears
One is of your house, as you spoke to us,
Another, a child in a village of warriors
Yet another, a singer of holy songs …
The voices paused, giving the old man time to contemplate
We are different now
Hardened element…
To come into your world we must change or destroy self.
The scientist did so long ago
Self was destroyed, though not ended.
We are but children
of the Creator’s soul
Djedi pondered the enormity of the Children’s words as he remembered the voice of a man singing into the night when their vessel had moved through the sky.
When I saw you fly over me...I heard a handsome voice singing in the tongue of the Akkad. Is this singer one of the points of light? The elder lector inquired of the gray placidness enveloping him in the form of sleep.
He is. The voices answered, and then quickly added.
He will find us
He is pure of spirit
A kind yet simple soul
Though a keen and wise mind.
The childlike voices insisted, but paused again, quizzically.
Oh, look, it is time…
For a moment, one of the voices tried to form before him. It looked almost human but its skin shimmered like a constantly shifting rainbow-filled web of light.
We have something to show you now…
come, release, be with us in love.
A slim hand moved forward to touch, first his brow and then it moved lower to the crystal Wdjat at his ancient chest. It embraced him like a dearest lover and a mother, assisting and guiding his spirit as it rose…
Prince Hordjedtef shifted on his softly padded couch, took a deep breath, then woke himself fully.
The servant who had been tasked with fanning him until he slept, and in seeing to any middle of the night needs, appeared, bowed, and helped him sit. Two acolytes brought the same restorative nectar the old man had taught him to use after his nightly meditations. He nodded courteously to their genuflection, then dismissed them.
So, Old Djedi said the “Children” were somewhat helpless? he mused They needed to bring someone else into their arrival here? This begs me to disbelieve him! He sighed at the thought of his elder’s gullibility. If the Ta-Ntr Children can journey across the heavens in their thought-created bodies of light, why should they come to require the help of any other living thing? They lie! The young man sulked as he sipped the golden cup of calming nectar.
Yet they say they bring one from the south and one from the east to form this triangle of knowing hearts.
Calm your heart. The prince heard the old man’s voice echoing a memory of something he had said earlier that evening. Contemplate the truth as it was taught you, dear one. Remember, nothing in the waking or sleeping lands happens without reason. Sleep will allow our spirits the freedom to find the answers, if they are even meant for us to know.
He knew the old master had wanted them both to journey separately some more to discover the heart of the matter but in truth, tomorrow was going to be a busy one for him. He would wake early, shave and trim neatly, put on a sober face and meet with his brother the king, as if there had never been any ill will between them. The prince was due to take another voyage south to Nekhen. At this meeting, the royal brothers Djedephre and Hordjedtef would discuss what would be expected of him on this journey.
Djedi would want to go with him, but the old man was getting exceedingly frail, despite his rotund form and healthy appetite for massive quantities of beef, bread, onion and beer. Although the elder’s thoughts were still clear, he demanded more and more of his host’s time. Rest without trouble or spiritual travel was called for tonight.
Unfortunately, the young prince lay awake and sweating. He sat on the edge of his couch tonight, sipping the last of his tea..
Perhaps a serving girl… he thought, but quickly dismissed the idea. There were likely candidates of royal enough blood available to marry a fully titled prince, but he had not considered bringing a wife into his home in several months. He’d decided to fast, because every woman who had slipped into his arms since Queen Hetty had rejected him, had her wide-cheeked, yet strong face. That face always seemed to be either mocking or dispassionate toward him.
He knew a woman would come into his life soon enough. Both Djedi and the oracles had forecast it. She would be a joy and the mother of his heirs. Whatever momentary desires he felt tonight could wait for her arrival.
The young prince’s thoughts swarmed with a persistent vision of the numerous tribes and semi-kingdoms pushing themselves out of the wilderness all along the Copper Road and the Way of Turquoise Sand. The eastern copper mines were there.
The hairy and lighter skinned people from that region wandered into the swampy delta area just east of the River Asar, from time to time. They spilled into all parts of Kemet and even into the holy cities. Most of them were here seeking a new life after home grown endeavors failed or famines threate
ned them.
Some of the women attracted the nobility and made good concubines. With noble Kemet seed in their bellies, these foreign women produced bright-skinned daughters and thick-muscled sons just as much as the Tjemehu people produced.
Hordjedtef chortled as an answer to a long asked question slipped into place. He knew why his sister Hetty had chosen Djedephre. It was calculated science and logic and hardly a thing of lust. Hetepheres was very wise in the womens sciences. She was well aware that Djedephre’s mother had been from that stretch of wasteland known as the Tjemehu Strip before she charmed her way into then Prince Khufu’s arms. She had been prized because in the hot sun, her hair turned sand gold on top. She gaily wove golden thread and beading into her close braided rows. Later in her life, she even wore a gold wig, as Hetty did in honor of the woman.
Kawab was Hetepheres and his own full brother. Her three sons and one daughter by him were strong enough, but although they were a good and godly match, the wise women who cast futures continued to state that a child sired by an “adopted” son, or “son of the king’s heart” rather than a direct son and daughter of the king’s body might prove to have better fertility.
Close blood over many generations, though royal and godly was often blessed with fewer children. Djedephre, the young prince once thought, would never have been considered of pure enough blood, but in the end, his being half Tjemehu worked in his favor.
Kemet was a land growing in power. The royal families needed to be plentiful, it was true, but many children in line for the throne also created contention. It was a hard choice.
To the refined ears of the Kemet nobility, “those people”, were nothing but loud, aggravating nomads. They wandered in and out of Kemet, with the seasons, motivated only by the easy availability of paid work. They brought nothing with them but filthy habits, worship of demonic gods, and sexual impurity. The Kina-Ahna, Amorites and Akkad who stayed in Kemet year round were even worse than the Tjemehu. Left ungoverned, they almost always turned thief, sex pervert and public nuisance.
Khufu, his father, had been forced to place them in debt camps, or to send them back to the Shur to toil in the mines. How could these godlike voices of the “Children” the Ta-Ntr, who spoke so eloquently of worlds beyond this one, choose such a bedraggled example of humanity to “guide” them here? Was it because he sang pretty songs? And what was the connection to the south?
Voices in Crystal Page 4