by Stephan Loy
Anubis herded the crazy human. The man was prone to wandering off, or standing about yelling at trees, and his inane chatter so ground the nerves that Anubis wanted to snap his neck. But this one was for Nephthys, and there wasn’t time to stop with Hathor’s people close behind. So Anubis urged his prize along, coaxing with nudges and sometimes nips. He pushed Hordedev over the putrid terrain in the general direction of Nephthys’s little command post, and sucked down his revulsion at a soul gone insane.
“Going to her,” Hordedev mumbled as he thrashed along through water and mud. “Going to her, to my goddess. She sends for me, sends her dog to fetch me.”
Dog indeed! Anubis bristled. Mother had better have great need of this one; he was a strain on patience.
“Lead me, little dog. Take me to her. But, isn’t she to the east? Isn’t that where she said she’d be? Why do we go west?”
For the hundredth time, the human changed his track. Anubis bounded to head him off, growling at him through glistening teeth.
Hordedev considered this odd response from a dog. “No,” he said, drawing out the word as if to chasten. “Must remember. Must recall. She has moved the sun. Ra no longer owns the east; the east belongs to Isis.” He cast about, confused. He fell against a tree and hugged its slimy trunk. “Isis, my goddess. Greater than Ra. Isis is life. Isis rises in the east. Ra is dead, and rises in the west? No? The west? Who owns the west?”
Anubis lunged to direct his lunatic. Would Nephthys mind if it came with a few parts missing?
Hordedev flinched away from the tree. He tripped and splashed to the mud. He sat there stupidly. Then, after some nudging from the jackal’s sharp snout, he stumbled to his feet and once more took up his drunken trek west.
“Okay,” he said, and waved the jackal away. “Okay, I’m going.” He raised his voice to the trees. “I’m coming, goddess! I’m coming to you! Prepare yourself in fragrant oils. Wait for me in your bed of down, or here, in these woods. A bed of moss is just as good. A bath in mud would not insult your beauty.” He giggled, a wild, anxious sound, and began to hurry.
Anubis trotted after. The human’s ravings failed to move him except, perhaps, toward violence. He thought little of the insults to Isis, but Hordedev’s inane prattling was almost too much to take...
“I love you, Isis!” the human croaked.
Oh, Anubis thought, maybe just one bite...
It bothered Anubis that they so easily out-maneuvered him. But, the human’s racket made him easy prey.
They had just reached the crest of a very slight rise. The human had ascended on hands and knees, too distracted to keep his footing. Such clumsiness flustered Anubis; he wondered if a bite on the backside might grant the boy dexterity. He didn’t realize that all Hordedev had eaten in days was a bug that had skittered over his palm.
Then they reached the top of the rise, and stopped. At least twenty men stood across their front, just on the next rise of land. At a signal from one, those at the ends moved in, blocking Anubis’s flanks. More men appeared from the trees behind, all armed with cudgels. At least fifty men, the jackal decided, surrounded him and his prize.
A woman stood before the men. She pointed a finger at Anubis. “You have stolen the property of Hathor. She demands you return it at once.”
Anubis sat beside Hordedev. He thought the matter over. Such a strange occurrence, receiving threats from humans. He scratched one ear with a hind paw.
“Stolen?” Hordedev said. “But, this dog belongs to Isis.”
The priestess ignored him. She continued to point at Anubis. “Your deception fools no one. You’ve stolen Hathor’s property, and you will hand it over. If not, we take it from you.”
The man just behind her suddenly wrenched in spasms, then dropped to the mud like a bag of rocks.
“A bold claim from animals,” Anubis said, and tossed the man’s heart to the ground. “How will you back it up?”
Hordedev turned toward the voice. He took in the tall, dark figure beside him, who reminded him much of Osiris until he saw its head. This figure, for all its physical perfection and its neat kilt and jeweled collar, wore the head of a jackal.
Hordedev sprang away, tripped over a stone, and fell backwards onto the ground.
“Well?” the canine head demanded. “How will you mortals affect such a threat?”
The woman seemed less sure of herself. “We serve Hathor, a greater god than you. You wouldn’t dare resist us.”
Human shoulders shrugged and the jackal’s head cocked in wonder. Its tongue hung out, deceptively friendly. “It isn’t a matter of resistance, it’s more one of annoyance.” Anubis reached toward another man, both arms extended, and closed his fists. The man jerked in agony, grunted once, then dropped dead to the ground. Anubis’s hands, glistening with water and blood, each clutched a steaming lung. He flipped the organs toward his opponents, who retreated like frightened cats. The lungs made a wet slap against the muddy ground. “You see? No need to resist what cannot challenge me. But I can be very annoyed.”
“A monster!” Hordedev screeched. “A demon come to keep me from Isis!”
“Oh, be still,” Anubis barked. He turned back to the woman. “So, as I asked, how do you plan to back up your threat?”
“They won’t have to,” a new, more resonate voice proclaimed. “I’ll do it for them.”
The men parted -- scattered was more like it -- and a huge lioness strolled through their ranks. She prowled along the front of the disintegrating line, her golden eyes always on Anubis. She stopped broadside near the priestess, whose confidence had returned.
“I was wondering when you’d show up,” Anubis said, hiding a twinge of concern. This one was a greater god; he’d have to be careful against her.
The lioness vanished, and Hathor stood in her place. She stood in profile, her face turned toward him, hair up, wearing an opaque linen robe that brushed the mud at her feet. Her eyes pierced Anubis like knives.
“Well, little one,” she said. “You’ve done a good thing, helping your mother so. But, it’s over now; your elders are in charge.”
“Forgive me for saying,” the jackal head responded, “but that’s been the problem all along, hasn’t it, my dear great auntie.”
Hathor turned. She walked gingerly toward him through the slippery mud. “I hadn’t noticed a problem,” she said, “except this matter of your stealing my toys.”
“Is that all they are to you? Toys?”
“Of course. Just as, to you, they’re only questions.”
She stopped a few feet from Anubis. She regarded Hordedev, still on his back. For a moment, no one spoke. The army of men had retreated into the trees, vague shadows flitting in the thickly humid air. Hathor’s lone priestess stood where her mistress had left her. Hordedev glanced wide-eyed from one god to the other. He muttered unintelligible sounds.
“Well?” Hathor spread her arms in a gesture of mild impatience. “Do you give him back, or do the servants witness a family fight?”
“Fight? Auntie, have you learned your manners from Uncle Set?”
“Oh, patience please don't desert me! If you knew me as well as you should, young god, you’d know I do not learn. I teach. I’ve taught Set a good deal he’s sure to remember with fondness. I can even teach you a thing or two. My lessons,” she smiled, “are quite enjoyable. From time to time. If you play along.”
“Sounds intriguing,” Anubis said, “but auntie, you’re too old for me.”
Hathor scratched at the outside tip of a lip. “Very funny. Well, if that’s the way you see it, you’ll learn a different lesson.” She gestured, a minor twist at her wrist. Vines blasted from the earth, showering Anubis in mud. They dove at Hordedev, grabbed him, entwining him at the wrists and midsection, then dragged him away from Anubis and lifted him to Hathor’s side.
The goddess watched Anubis’s blank canine mask. She smiled, running two fingers along Hordedev’s filthy face. “See? You’re nothing against me. You might
as well take on Ra, you’d have as much success.”
Anubis was unmoved. “Yes, auntie, you have him. But, he isn’t really what you want. You want to know where Isis is, and you don’t know that yet.”
Hathor turned to Hordedev. She took his face in both hands. “A technicality, I think. You’ll tell me what I want, won’t you, young human? You’ll tell me gladly, without hesitation.”
Hordedev breathed raggedly past her hands. She petted his face.
Hathor stepped a few feet away, her back to the bulk of her troops. “You see, Anubis, I have this way with men. This one will tell me what I wish to know, and then you are welcome to herd him for as long as it makes you happy.”
Anubis crossed his arms. “This isn’t wise, auntie. He’s already--”
With a throaty laugh, Hathor opened her robe. She was naked beneath it. Anubis quickly averted his eyes, growling at what she intended.
Hordedev stared panting at that terrible, awesome body.
“Now,” Hathor crooned, and closed her robe, “you will direct me to Isis.”
“I will?” Hordedev asked.
“Yes. Where is she?”
“I don’t know if I should. She might get angry.”
Hathor frowned. “Tell me where she is, little human. It’s I you wish to please now. You live to serve me, and me alone.”
Hordedev licked his lips.
“So. Tell me where to find Isis.”
“Can I go now? My goddess is expecting me.”
Anubis burst into laughter.
Hathor stiffened. She brought up one palm and hurled it at Hordedev’s face. Anubis grabbed her hand before it impacted.
“No, auntie, you’re done. He’s mine now.”
“Animal! I’ll have my vines rip him to pieces. Better yet, I’ll do it myself!”
“No, you won’t. It isn’t his fault. Isis got to him first.”
Hathor glared at Hordedev. She almost became the lion in order to shred his guts. Anubis knew she thought this; he saw her eyes transition to gold. If she tried, he couldn’t stop her. He waited to see what would happen.
“She wouldn’t want anyone else to know,” Hordedev said in a mewling tone. “She wants it to be private.” He launched into a reverent and at once ribald description of his intended reunion with Isis. He continued in scandalous detail, shocking and then stupefying Hathor with the crassness of his words. After a while, Anubis noticed a change in her, a softening and a loss of interest. Her eyes reverted to brown. She lowered her hand, and turned away.
“He’s crazy,” she said, as if that dismissed her failure. She shouted into the trees. “My palanquin! We’re leaving this forsaken hole. Priestess, a towel! My feet and hands are filthy!” The swamp came alive with hurrying figures. Hathor turned back to Anubis. “If you think only a muddy little mammal can find my niece and discover her secrets, then you’re still too young a god.” She turned away for the last time and stepped somewhat squeamishly down the slope to where her palanquin waited. In moments, she was gone, her entourage crashing through the swamp like a herd of hippopotami.
Anubis sat down in the mud. His jackal’s head melted into his human face, and he sighed with relief that Hathor hadn’t exploded. Thoth had warned him never to cross her; she wasn’t entirely stable, and her tantrums were legends of unbridled horror. He recalled how mankind had once offended Ra, and he sent Hathor to punish them. Hathor nearly wiped them out before Ra tugged on her leash. She still tasted the flesh of millions between her teeth, and that excited her. Sex and murder were the same to Hathor.
He sat there in the mud a very long time. He was a god, and gods took their time puzzling over problems. He filtered out the sounds of the swamp and concentrated on Hathor’s threats. He tried to ignore Hordedev’s fussy soliloquy, but the whining grated Anubis’s nerves. Still, he tried to think.
Hathor’s threats were never idle. She had a vindictive streak that all too often found vent. What weapon did she hold ready to unleash? What weapon could peel back this camouflaging swamp to find a hidden Isis?
He wondered with sudden concern where all the Setim were.
“Can we go now?” Hordedev shouted. “My goddess expects me. I must be there to fill her. Where’s my dog?”
“By the holy eye of Ra, enough is enough!” Anubis sprang to his feet and half-stomped, half-skidded down the slope. He stopped at one of the bodies left behind by Hathor and took a knife from the folds of its belt. Then he slogged back up the slope, hefting the weapon with delight. “All right, human,” he announced, “time for a gift of clarity.”
Hordedev saw the knife and the expression on Anubis’s face. He struggled to escape, but the vines held him fast.
Chapter Ten:
Nephthys was not surprised when they rounded a bend in the undulating stream and found Isis standing on an island before them. Only a few miles back, the world had shrilled with the incessant song of wildlife. Then, suddenly, the swamp held its breath. Isis stood in the falling dark, both forbidding and awesome in her heavy cloak with the mist stalking about her in that silent, pensive terrain. The island held her barely above water. It was muddy but blazing with tiny, half drowned blue flowers, and with green saplings gathered like supplicants about their mistress. The gray form of a rotting corpse stretched before Isis on an elevated wooden slab while vines tangled at one side of the platform, awaiting her call to purpose. Power ruled that tiny plot of mud; it challenged death with a keenness close to zeal.
My sister, Nephthys thought. She looked around to her escorts, was startled to see not awe in their eyes, but fear. But Isis was their great hope, the miracle of their lives. How could she draw fear from such men?
The boat beached in eerie, funereal silence, hardly a squelch in the mud and not a word from its crew. Amnet climbed from the vessel and hauled it half from the water.
“Sister,” Nephthys said as she stepped from deck to earth. Mud squished over her sandals and a grimace replaced the wonder in her face.
“Then, it really is you,” Isis breathed from behind the platform, and Nephthys sobered at the fatigue in her tone. “I had thought you a deception. They come every night, and lately they’ve used disguises. They came last night as a bird.”
Nephthys picked her way over the thin carpet of flowers, mud sucking her feet with every step. At Isis’s tone she paused, then peered a little closer at her sister. “Isis? Are you well?” She didn’t sound well. She sounded lost and wounded.
Isis released a humorless cackle. “I haven’t been well in years.” She had been leaning against the platform. Now she turned aside and moved along the edge toward her sister. She held onto the rickety wood supporting her husband's emaciated body. She held onto it for support. “You’re here, Nephthys. With you here, maybe I’ve a chance to be better.”
As Isis cleared the platform, Nephthys gasped. She staggered back toward the water, stopping only when the boat rail struck her calves. The others fell to their knees, their eyes bulging in disbelief.
“Gods...” Amnet breathed.
Nephthys cowered against the boat. “Isis, for pity’s sake, what’s happened to you?”
Isis was dirty, her clothes stained and worn, but she was still Isis, a fount of life through her caking filth. What horrified Nephthys and stunned the men was the size of the goddess’s belly. It showed even through her cocoon of robes, a huge, tight dome of flesh. To Nephthys, it was some supernatural tumor, an attack from a greater god. She couldn’t say why it struck her so, just that it flew against all her experience. Gods don’t age or grow infirm or fat. They were never children who increase in height by the year or the month. Within the bounds of their natures, gods never reinvent themselves. Their bodies, their minds and their souls are not just immortal but frozen in character from the time of their creation. This was not just so, but an immutable, eternal fact of the universe.
And now, Isis had changed.
“What abomination is this?” Nephthys yelled, almost hysterical. “What’
s happened to her?”
“She’s pregnant!” Amnet forced from his lips, amazed he could say it. “I don’t know how or why, but gods, she certainly is!” He waited for Nephthys to do something, but she only retreated farther into the water, shaking her head in denial. Silently, Amnet cursed her for the weak thing she was. Then he calmed himself enough to move to Isis’s side. The pilot joined him. After some hesitation, the two helped the goddess to a sitting position, but were careful not to touch her skin.
Amnet spoke to clear his senses. “Goddess, what is this? How can this be? This ... this is a mortal affliction.”
“Then it’s true?” the pilot stammered. “She is with child? But, she looks about to deliver. We left her last only a few weeks ago!”
Isis said something, but in a mutter Amnet couldn't quite hear.
“I don’t understand, but it’s certainly so,” Amnet asserted, incredulous. “Do you know about...”
“Certainly not!” the pilot responded.
“You’ll have to go for a midwife. Ah, ah...” Amnet’s mind seized. They needed a priestess of Isis, anyone but two men. Nephthys should be in charge.
Amnet called to the other goddess, “Nephthys, get over here! Your sister needs you!”
“Are you insane?” Nephthys gripped the boat rail as if she planned to climb in. “Look at her! That isn’t pregnant! Are you crazy? The god is born in her heart and mind, like my Anubis! He’s born in her heart and mind, and comes forth in a burst of light. A burst of light from her head! That’s how it’s done, not like ... like animals!”
Amnet’s face seethed. But he felt no personal insult; he empathized instead with Isis. The barb, however wildly thrown, must have hooked her grievously. “Have you no compassion? Are you no better than that dog-trotting Set? This is your sister!”
“Amnet!” the pilot warned. “The gods...”
“Damn them! Damn all the gods!” The former high priest embraced Isis as he might have a daughter. “None but this one has shown a wit of sense, not since Osiris left this world! Damn all the gods! But especially damn Set and his mealy-mouthed wife!”