by T. L. Higley
I smiled my gratitude at Neferet, then breathed deeply and faced the crowd. Their faces did not reflect the welcome she spoke of, however. A mistrust, fear, hung over the room.
Neferet touched my elbow and led me down the steps, into their midst. The people cleared a path and I walked with Neferet to the front of the chamber, where she bade me sit beside her on a stone bench. The others followed her lead and found their seats, most on benches scattered throughout the room. There were not benches to accommodate them all, so some sat on the floor while others stood at the walls.
“Perhaps it would be best,” Neferet said, “if you did not stare at them just yet.”
I turned and faced the front of the room.
Behind me, a quiet voice hummed softly. The melody was picked up by others, both men and women, then words were added. I stared at my hands. I had never heard men and women sing together.
But the strangeness was soon forgotten as I felt myself woven into the heart of their song, sung smooth and low, with words of their god and his love for them. Of his justice and his mercy. Of his provision and grace. The room swelled with the sweetness of the music, and my throat tightened unexplainably. And then the music ended, and someone spoke from the back of the room. After him, another. And another.
I listened in fascination.
One true god. Only one.
A creator god. One who still watched over the affairs of men.
They spoke of the world destroyed by flood because man refused to be ruled by this god, of a single family preserved by the love of this god. Of man’s turning again to self-rule and being dispersed across the earth, their common language splintered into fragments.
And they spoke of one yet to come. Of him, I understood little and wished for clarity.
When it seemed the last of them had spoken, the singing began again. Some of it was familiar now, and I found myself wanting to join them. The last lovely note lifted above our heads and ceased, and it hung there in the air like a low fruit I could pluck and enjoy if I chose.
My eyes were still closed when Neferet touched my arm. I faced her and knew that those eyes were reading every thought in my heart.
She smiled. “Come and ask your questions now. Ask them about the Great Wife.”
I stood and approached a cluster of men and women nearby. Neferet introduced them as though I were a new member of their sect. I focused on the names to remember them.
“The grand vizier has questions about the queen,” she said and nodded to me.
I lifted my shoulders. “Neferet tells me that she was known here. I am trying to find the one who killed her, to bring him to justice. Do any of you know why she disguised herself and came to the village? Was it to meet you here?”
A thin man, Hanif, whom I believed was a stonemason in the quarry, glanced at his wife, Layla, then answered with uncertain hesitation. “At first she did not come here to meet with us. Some of us saw her a number of times, entering and coming out of the small temple of Horus close by here, always in the early morning hours. We didn’t understand why she would come out here to worship.” His attention shifted to his wife again, and she picked up the story.
“I finally approached her, with a friend. We asked if we could serve her in some way.” She leaned her ample body against her husband, who embraced her with one arm.
I waited for more in silence.
“She seemed surprised that we recognized her.” The woman smiled, a wide, toothy smile that crinkled the corners of her bright eyes. “She believed her peasant garb had concealed her identity, but she was so lovely.”
Yes, she was. “Did she tell you why she was in the temple?”
“We spoke to her several times after that, and each time we would speak of the gods.” The woman broke off and clasped her hands in front of her.
Neferet intervened. “He can be trusted, Layla. I am certain of it. Please tell him what you know.”
Layla sighed. “She had many questions and soon realized that our answers were not those of the priests of On or of Memphis. She was curious about our ways. After a while, we invited her to join us here.”
Neferet said to me, “It was a dangerous thing to do, but we all agreed. It was too important. We believed that perhaps God had given us this opportunity to make a change in Egypt. If he were calling the Great Wife to himself, there was a chance to have great impact.”
“And she came to these … meetings?”
“Yes,” Layla said. “Over a period of some weeks. She asked many more questions. And then—”
“Yes?”
Layla appeared unwilling to go further. Her husband shrugged, as though unable to determine the wisdom of continuing.
Neferet alone spoke, in the tone of a declaration. “She renounced the false gods of Egypt and claimed the One True God as her own.” Neferet’s words poured out with the rush of one who has committed to a course of action and won’t be turned back. “The Great Wife put her faith in the One to Come to reconcile her to God.”
“She became one of you?” I said, circling the group with my eyes. More had joined us as we talked, and we were now the center of the room’s attention.
Layla reached out and squeezed my arm. “She became one of God’s.”
People of the One.
I thanked them all and reassured them that I had no desire to bring trouble upon them. “But none of you know what brought her to the village at first? Or who may have had reason to kill her?”
My question was met with silence and shaking heads.
I offered my thanks again, and the group moved away.
“It grows late,” I said to Neferet. “I should be departing.”
She smiled. “It is very late. And not safe to travel across the desert. Come,” she said. “Come and stay the night with me.”
* * *
Once more I followed Neferet through the streets, this time certain that I had taken leave of my senses.
I had crossed the desert at night in the past. It was true that there were dangers, but none so far beyond me that a stay in the village was necessary. So why the ridiculous decision to say yes to Neferet’s invitation?
At the house we found Sen lounging in the leafy darkness of the courtyard, with one flaming torch throwing dancing shadows. He started, then stood in surprise.
“Look what I have found, lost and wandering the streets, Father.” Sen and I both stared at Neferet, and she threw back her head and laughed. “You both look as though you don’t know whether to scold me or check me for fever.”
Sen bowed. “I am honored to have you in my home again, Grand Vizier.”
I did not miss the slight emphasis on the word again.
Neferet grew serious. “Will you bring a chair for the vizier, Father? He is going to stay the night.”
“Is he?” Sen’s eyebrows arched above his dark eyes.
Neferet gave her father a little push. “Yes.”
Sen disappeared inside, and Neferet smiled. “I will bring wine and meat,” she said, “and prepare a place for you to sleep. Please, rest here until all is ready.”
“Thank you, Neferet.”
Sen returned, placed a chair near his own, and motioned to it. He returned to his own chair, and Neferet came and kissed the top of his head. “We missed you this evening, Father.”
Sen’s sharp eyes flicked toward me and then Neferet.
“You didn’t—”
“The grand vizier was our guest. You must ask him what he thought of the meeting.”
She left the courtyard and I sat on the edge of the chair, then forced myself to lean against the back.
“So Neferet has told you our secret.”
“You are part of them too? The People of the One?”
Sen braced his arm across the back of his chair. “Neferet and I trace our bloodline directly back to Shem, who was saved from the Great Flood.”
“I have heard of the flood since childhood but always believed it was simply an Inundation greater than any ever seen.�
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Sen laughed. “That it was. So great it covered the world. The people in the east will tell you that the waters covered all that they know there.”
“You have spoken to people east of Sinai?”
“That is where our people come from. And Shem lives there still. You could travel there and hear from his own lips how he lived upon the great boat for one year, until the land appeared again.” Sen shifted in his seat. “You must think us all quite blasphemous,” he said. “Perhaps you no longer wish me to serve as overseer of—”
I stopped him with an upraised hand. “I have too many questions of my own about the gods to judge you for the answers you claim to have found. I came here for another reason.”
The sound of Neferet singing drifted from the kitchen, and I glanced toward the entrance to the courtyard.
Sen’s lips narrowed to a thin line. “I suspect you did.” He leaned forward, his bulky forearms on his knees. “You may be the grand vizier, but she is still my daughter. Take care, my lord.”
I swallowed. “You mistake my intention. I came to the village today to ask questions about the Great Wife. My questions led me to the People of the One, and Neferet allowed me to meet them, to learn more. And then it was late. Too late to cross the desert to the royal estate …” My reasons trailed off, as I saw that Sen was smiling, with a knowing sort of dismissal. I sat back in my chair, unwilling to make further excuses, even to myself. “I have great respect for your daughter, Sen.”
The older man seemed to relax. “Good. Now let us enjoy the night.”
It was a night to enjoy. The torchlight flickered across Neferet’s wall murals and seemed to bring the flowers and creatures to life. Beside us, in the center of the courtyard where a small pond had been dug and lotus flowers cultivated, a small frog croaked, as if to join the conversation. The fragrance of night flowers hung in the air, and behind it all, was the sound of Neferet singing.
The tension of the day seemed to drain from me, and I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. A strange feeling of safety enveloped me as the garden embraced my senses. When Neferet returned with bowls of beef and cups of wine, I felt as though this were my own home. Neferet passed food and wine to her father, then patted his shoulder, and a vision flashed before me, of children playing in the courtyard, of Sen as their grandfather.
She disappeared once more to prepare my bed, and the overseer and I ate our meal in companionable silence.
When we had set our cups and bowls aside, I asked, “Are you satisfied with your new position, Sen?”
Sen wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and leaned back in his chair. “The men require constant supervision, but that is unchanged from my earlier role, so I do not mind it. I enjoy seeing the project from a different perspective, seeing the bigger goals.”
“You have done well filling Mentu’s role. There has been little interruption to the time line.”
Sen nodded his thanks. “I only wish that the circumstances were different. He was a good man. The men loved him. He never lorded his position over them. Even used our small temple here to worship.”
I cocked my head. “He worshiped here? In the temple of Horus? Near the home where the People of the One meet?”
“Yes, I saw him often in the early mornings, when no one else was about the temple.
My jaw suddenly tensed and I tried to loosen it with my fingertips.
Sen said, “I suppose he liked to spend time there alone, before the priests would come.”
Neferet returned. “All is ready.”
Sen stood. “The hour is late, and there is much work to do tomorrow, eh, Grand Vizier?”
I stood, my mind elsewhere. “Yes. Thank you.”
Sen eyed his daughter. “I think I will show the grand vizier where he can lay his head, Neferet. You may retire to your chamber.”
Neferet laughed, a sound like warmed wine on a cold night. “As you wish, Father. God be with you, Hemi.”
I lowered my eyes to the floor. When I looked up, she was gone.
“This way, Grand Vizier.”
Minutes later I lay upon a bed that smelled of being freshly scrubbed and laid with clean coverings. But I was not thinking of the clean bed, nor of the woman who had prepared it.
Another woman occupied my thoughts. One who visited the village temple in the early mornings, disguised. And Mentu, who was also seen in the temple in the mornings. Both of them now dead.
I thought of Khufu and his jealousy. Of Khufu’s reluctance to allow me to investigate the murders.
Like a man who has something to hide.
What began as a foreboding quickly grew to dread, then something else in my chest as I lay in the dark.
Anger. White-hot anger toward the man who had taken Merit from me when we were young. And now he had taken her away again. Simply because he could not have her heart.
THIRTEEN
I awoke, blinked my eyes, and shot upright. The morning was too far gone to still be in bed. And it’s not my bed. I scanned the chamber, took in the unfinished walls, the mud-brick floor.
Sen and Neferet.
I had stayed the night and overslept, my morning rituals lost.
Thoughts of Merit and Mentu meeting secretly, and of Khufu’s temper, invaded. I dropped to my back again.
I had come to the village for information and had received far more than I wanted. But with the morning light came doubt.
I have too much work to do to be chasing theories.
Within the hour I was on the plateau, letting the dusty wind blow away the thoughts of last night. I raised my face to the burning sun, then paused to survey the site. The desert stretched as far as I could see to the west, north, and south. From the base of the pyramid, one could see the temple and harbor and royal estate, the village in the distance, and the wide blue sky. In spite of the many thousands of workers buzzing over the plateau and pyramid, there was an isolation here, and I let it work its way inside me.
No time for anything else.
I climbed the ramps slowly, running my hands along the stones. Laborers hailed me as I passed. At the top, I saw that my new design to store unused tools had already been implemented. Masons bowed low, murmuring my titles of honor.
With my ka settled within me, I descended to the stone table that had been set up as my meeting place with my chief overseers. De’de and Khons were already there, and Sen approached from the south.
“Men.” I greeted them without a smile. “I need reports.”
Khons grunted. “Kind of you to visit, Vizier. We thought perhaps you were occupied with other—”
“Keep your thoughts to yourself, Khons. Report on the progress.”
De’de raised his eyebrows and clucked at Khons disapprovingly. “Careful, Khons. You’re making Father angry.”
Sen leaned his fists on the table. “May I report first, Grand Vizier?”
“What do you have, Sen?”
“In looking at the projections this last day, I fear that we will soon hit a snag on our critical path.” He pointed to the stockpile of stones from the quarry, a flock of loosely scattered blocks in a field of sand. “The rate of transfer for courses fifty-six through two hundred eighteen has slowed in recent weeks, while the rate of placement will begin to increase as we attain the higher levels which require fewer stones.”
I frowned. “What’s causing the slowdown?”
“I don’t know, my lord. I haven’t had enough time to analyze.”
Khons folded his arms. “Shouldn’t Mentu have been keeping track of transport rates? Why is this the first we’re hearing of it?”
Sen shook his head and held up his palms.
“That’s not good enough!” I slapped the basalt table, then grabbed my limestone shard and scratched furious numbers onto the stone. White chips flew across the flat surface. “These men must know that everything depends on the time line. If stone placement on the pyramid catches up with the transport and stockpiling, we will have thousands of
stone haulers at a standstill, waiting for stone!” I finished my calculations and pointed. “Look at what a mere twenty-percent reduction in transport rate will do. Here,” I pointed, “the number of stones short. And here, masons without blocks to dress.”
De’de put his two index fingers to his lips. “I am sure we will be able—”
“You focus on getting beer and bread in their mouths and let us worry about the stones!” I turned my back on the man and ignored his indignant huff.
In truth, De’de’s oversight of the commissary, the stores and materials, the workshops and housing were the foundation of all we did here. But I was tired of speculation. I was tired of everything. What had happened to the controlled order of the project that would be my legacy in stone?
As though the chaos I feared had taken human form, Tamit suddenly appeared beside me, all smiles and fluttering eyes.
I sighed. “Tamit, this is a work area—”
“Yes, Grand Vizier.” She wrapped fingers around my arm and slithered close. “I want you to give me a tour.”
I sighed again and glanced at my supervisors, who looked away with thinly veiled amusement. I knew Tamit would not easily be put off.
“Quickly then,” I said and half-dragged her to the ramp. We climbed together, and I purposely pushed the pace faster than I would have alone. I was rewarded by the sound of her heavy breathing. Along the way I described building techniques, stone dressing, and hauling methods, all with tedious detail.
“Inside,” she panted. “I want to see inside.”
We reached the slotted entrance, and I took a torch from an exiting laborer and led the way downward until we reached the juncture where the corridor split to redirect upward.
“What is down there?” Tamit asked.
“An underground chamber. It was to be used for the king’s burial, but the plans have changed.”
“What will it hold now?”
I shrugged. “Nothing. It will remain empty.”
She smiled and tickled my arm with long fingernails. “Seems a waste. Perhaps you and I could make use of it. It could be our burial place. A chamber all our own, where we could spend eternity together.”