Going Forth By Day

by Mary R Woldering

  The woman wore a dark, hooded cloak that was pulled up over her head, even though the morning promised to be too warm for such clothing. From time to time, he saw her quietly whisper orders to those around her. She pointed to various baskets and chests they placed on litters. A very young female servant, possibly a handmaiden, bowed to her and then rose, embracing her. The girl appeared to be crying while the princess comforted her.

  Wserkaf, wearing the same deep blue travel cloak he had worn when Marai first met him, entered the plaza area. He tried to embrace the woman and to soothe her, but she shrugged him away. In that slightly brighter morning light, Marai noticed something about her proud and aloof face, but could not yet place what he saw.

  Wserkaf, Marai sent a thought.

  It resonated. The inspector looked toward the window and then scampered over to it.

  “What’s happened?” Marai asked.

  “You’re better?” the priest asked, narrow-faced and astonished.

  Marai nodded slowly, trying to determine what was happening on his own before the man had a chance to answer. The inspector’s expression was too conflicted for him to read.

  “Great Menkaure Kha-ket, Our God and Father, has died. It was just last night… just after you rose,” he sighed. “We received the word just before day. We have to go to him before he is taken to the House of Life. His son and all of our children are already with him,” his face dropped. “By all the gods, I hope this is not my wage for cooperating with my senior over what was done to you. This is… This is too much. Not now,” his whispered words became increasingly distraught.

  Marai suddenly recognized the inspector’s wife’s face. He understood why it had seemed so familiar; it mirrored the king’s own face. “Your wife was his daughter then?” Marai asked, his voice catching in a thirst that almost distracted him. He saw the loading of the litters increased in speed. Bearers and porters worked feverishly, loading the royal litter which seemed so much more ornate even though it was draped in dark shrouded material. As he watched at the sill of the small window, he felt helpless and weak. The inspector hadn’t heard his question and went back to the men to assist them.

  In a few moments, the princess, her handmaiden and the rest of their entourage moved toward the gates and into the alleyway beside their private white walls. The sojourner watched Wserkaf tie his cloak more securely as the last two chests containing his official garments were loaded. In a moment, as soon as the duties for the servants who had stayed behind had been assigned, he would catch up on foot and walk beside his wife’s sedan rather than ride. Porters would follow with their things.

  So, King Menkaure is dead, Marai thought. That’s hard. He was loved by all of Kemet. They’ll willingly be mourning for the rest of the year for him. He had been taught that even though Menkaure’s son, Shepseskaf, was considered king the instant the elder king breathed his last, he would now undergo months of intense preparations for his coming ascension with the rising sun on the first day of the new year. Must have been sudden. He seemed healthy, the sojourner vaguely recalled seeing the king on his spirit journey. He wasn’t ill. See how the news of it has driven them into an uproar.

  Distracted, Marai realized that he felt vaguely ill. Almost instantly, he became aware of a burning hunger. It would be of utmost importance for him to recite an utterance about food and eating as part of his waking ritual. Although he had not been taught this, he had deduced much from texts he had chosen to read while practicing. Certain phrases and spells were needed for his spiritual as well as physical recovery. He was sure Wserkaf would have walked him through the recovery process this morning, but now any part of his ritual, complete or otherwise, was a poor second issue. Thinking of how he hadn’t eaten anything since he completed the ritual, he felt panic again. If I don’t eat, I’ll get even weaker. Maybe I won’t be strong enough to eat. Oh, this pain is almost as bad as the poison… Food. I must get out and go to a market, but I have nothing to trade and I’m sick to death with this. The sojourner knew he wasn’t strong enough to even consider going home across the river. My wives, I have to get word to them that I live. They could come to me. They could cross, saying they were coming to mourn in the temples, he thought.

  Marai sent the thought that he was well through the morning air to Naibe, but the essence of that thought rushed off into the air. He tried the same thing with Ariennu. Finally, he sent a thought to Deka. All attempts met with the same failure. He couldn’t make spiritual contact with any of them.

  Wserkaf walked back from his gates to the guest room window. Before Marai could ask him what was going on, he said: “I’ll be back to check on this house and you by nightfall. Until then, everything I have is yours. It’s just not safe for you to be about with green paint and Asar’s garments still on you. You’re still too sick from your journey as well,” he looked sideways as if he expected some spiritual threat. “I know Count Hordjedtef will be looking for treachery now that Great Menkaure has entered his Horizon.” Wserkaf glanced over each shoulder again as if he thought his trusted servants or livery men might suddenly betray him. “He knows much, but not, I suspect, that you’ve drawn breath again. You should know he will attack you in your weakened state if he senses you walk and then turn on me as his chief suspect. He can still open my heart for grains of truth. Our fealty pact of mentor to protégé is still quite active.”

  “My wives…” Marai frowned. He had heard the inspector’s worries but hadn’t comprehended a thing except that the king was dead and he was in danger from Hordjedtef. “I’ve tried to send a thought to them that I’m well, but I sense nothing of them,” the sojourner leaned heavily against the inside of the high window sill. Weakness assailed him again and he thought he was about to faint.

  “They’re not here. They’re no longer in Ineb Hedj.” The inspector answered without looking at Marai. He checked the progress of the work again. “It just wasn’t safe for them to be here anymore. It’s all I can say right now.”

  Marai looked about almost helplessly, then snapped his head two or three times to clear the dizziness in it. His arms and legs had begun to spasm and tremble again from the fatigue of having demands on them again. The stubborn cramping in his guts from the hunger grew worse. Bending his head to the tiled sill at the window in his room, he braced against the pain. In the back of his memory he found the thought that he had talked to Wserkaf when he was trapped. Has this been a dream? Am I still dreaming? Have I died? For a moment, Marai saw the scenario of his vision as if he had been walking around his neighborhood of Little Kina-Ahna in his everyday work clothing. It was night. He stood near the well in the open courtyard and gazed into the dark water. In the next moment, he whispered a phrase as if his voice had become one of the voices that belonged to the Children of Stone.

  I have to make him believe he’s won.

  I will need you to be open to me, Wse…

  in case I need help.

  Go tell my wives what’s happened.

  Tell them to be ready to leave Ineb Hedj at a moment’s notice,

  before the old bastard can get his claws in them.

  The sojourner’s thoughts cleared a little more. The inspector stood in front of him. It was easier to see now that dawn had begun to break. The signal had been given that the rest of the entourage was ready to go to the king’s residence.

  “I’ve left a manservant behind to make your bath and feed you,” Wserkaf’s voice rose a little as he began to turn. “He isn’t an educated one, but he will do whatever you ask of him and keep silent to any who ask outside the walls. Remember the words you have to say about the food! It’s part of the rebirth… Make sure you say them!” he shook his head. “If you move about too much before you replenish yourself, it will kill you. I’ll see if I can get some word of your wives to you, but I have to go now,” Wserkaf embraced Marai’s head through the small window, patting it reassuringly.

  Drawing up his dark hood, the inspector gestured to the porters to start off. In the
next instant, the entourage, servants, and soldiers exited the brass and gold fitted cedar gates by the light of their torches, heading quickly for the king’s residence. As soon as they were all gone, the manservant who had been instructed to stay behind pulled the latch into place across the closed doors and then turned to walk toward the room where Marai stood.

  Gone? Not in Ineb Hedj? But where are they? The sojourner didn’t care if he fell face down in the great river and became bait for crocodiles when he heard Wserkaf speak of his wives’ absence. He thought about the part of his vision when he had thought he would die and had begged the inspector to help. Perhaps he saved them and couldn’t tell me yet. Marai had the feeling, however, that something else had gone worse than wrong. I should have felt something from them, Marai considered. The Children of Stone and the stone I have in my head are working and connecting to each other, though the bond is as weak between them now as mine is to me. I feel so alone, like it’s in the wilderness. Once again, his stomach began to feel like it was in shreds; he knew he had to eat.

  Safe

  a small voice whispered.

  Worry not more.

  Nourish and clean yourself.

  Rest.

  Repair.

  Marai beckoned the manservant. He knew his Child Stone and Wserkaf were right for reasons other than religious belief. He had undergone something no human should have survived, and he was still in danger of collapsing and failing at this point. It was foolish of him to assume the Children could revive him at any cost. They could do much, but there was an untried limit. This early morning was not the time to test it.

  “Some bread and broth, friend. A cleansing soak if he h… has…” Marai stammered as a wave of pain hit him, barely able to whisper.

  Staring at him with a dumbfounded look for a moment, the servant quickly turned and left.

  Noticing the stare, Marai quickly rubbed the crackled surface of his skin until most of the dried green paint fell away. Although his entire frame ached and he felt as though he would collapse in on his own ribs at any moment in this new day, Marai came out of the guest room. Slowly, he padded slowly around the open plaza as he waited for the servant to return. In the stillness and near silence, he recalled his time in the vessel of the Children of Stone.

  So very long ago, inside of its whiteness and cloudiness, the big man who began his journey as a shepherd had known beauty and radiance beyond anything on earth. He had known a pervading tranquility there that, once he was inside, allowed him to release all of the day-to-day worries of weather, his flock of sheep, foes approaching, wolves, some miserable argument with Sheb about the nature of being a man, and living off the land. Stillness and silence had surrounded him. Now, in the midst of that beautiful memory, Marai took in the beauty of the empty plaza at daybreak until the thought of his wives returned. He had to be well and ready to greet them in whatever city housed them now.

  The few servants who had remained on duty had started to make the daily bread on the roof kitchen. Everywhere throughout the estate, their silent work continued, as if lack of sound would somehow diminish the growing sorrow.

  Marai tuned his ears to pick up any distant sounds in the town, but they had hushed. They must have sent the word out early, he thought, truly wishing his wives were with him as he walked around the open area of the plaza.

  My love… a voice, halting and full of tears, filtered through Marai’s thoughts.

  Naibe-Ellit! his thoughts called back. Naibe! Is that your voice? Naibe-Ellit… I feel you are near me, sweet one! Do you see me? Marai paused in the middle of the plaza. He looked around, turning in each direction. Had it been a whispering ghost of her memory or had it only been the calling of a strange-voiced bird? Please, Sher-Ellit, call out to me. Damn it, I need you, he looked up. Something floated by him on the wind. Was it a veil? A guttural cackle sounded, but quickly faded. He recognized it. Ariennu, let this not be a trick.

  “Good man.”

  Marai heard the voice of the manservant calling to him.

  “I have heated and freshened the bath water. There is food if you come after me.” Following the sound of the man’s voice, the sojourner wandered back to the bath and privy area. Like the pool in the elder count’s house, the deep, simple pool was just big enough to soak day-weary bones. The servant tipped another krater of fresh, heated water into the pool.

  Marai peeled his shendyt and shenti from his body and let them fall to the tile floor. He felt suddenly worse as he stared at the swirling water. His vision clouded again and he stumbled until the servant abandoned the water jar and ran to support him. “Someone’s here…” Marai gasped, exhausted and unable to see as the servant made him sit at the edge of the pool. He sensed someone in the shadow and tensed because whoever it was moved back and forth like a wraith.

  “No one, sir. You’re here, and I. No one else. They’ve gone up to the royal house now. The rest of us will go later if we are needed,” the man insisted. “You slip in now and soak while I get the sop,” he steadied Marai by the arm as the big man eased into the pool. “Oh. These?” the man turned and pointed at the discarded linen as he was leaving.

  “Burn it, I guess.” Marai ached so much now he wanted to sink into the water and drown. Only the thought of finding the women kept him focused on recovery. Soon, he was alone.

  In the warm darkness, just enough sun came through the woven roof over the bathing area that it made little star-lights dance on the rippling warm water. A feeling of ultimate relaxation rushed upon Marai and a distant, aching sigh, wandered through his heart again.

  Naibe, Deka, Ari, he begged the air.

  Oh my love… why did you have to leave me?

  Marai knew he heard Naibe’s whisper. He smelled her scent on the morning breeze as certainly as if she had visited him in spirit. That whisper lulled over the sacred words from the Divine Utterances:

  Take me with you, beloved,

  That I may eat of what you eat

  That I may drink of what you drink…

  That I may be strong that whereby you are strong

  “Naibe… I’m here” he insisted aloud, wondering how she knew the words he had heard only in his study of sacred ritual. She couldn’t hear him, he knew, but she should have drawn the secrets from his heart. She, of any of the women, should have known he was very much alive. How does she not know it? he asked himself. Does she think I am a ghost? That bastard told them I was dead, I know it now. Why did they accept that? Why did they not question it? Why did the Children not correct them? Marai shut his eyes in misery. I have to tell them it’s not true without Hordjedtef sensing my thoughts.

  The memory of Naibe’s sweetest touch, fingers gentle, like flower petals, ran around and through the resting sojourner’s spirit. He felt all three of the women watching him, then saw them fade one-by-one, as if they had abandoned all hope, like those same flowers withering in the summer heat. Deka, appeared last and for the longest time. She looked even more imperious and regal than ever before. Some sort of golden disc was affixed on her forehead. She spoke to his thoughts in a foreign language. The disc suddenly squirmed, then transformed into a peculiar type of iaret, the serpent that appeared on the king’s nemes and was symbolic of “risen one”. He couldn’t fathom why he would see her like this, but he was distracted from further rumination by the return of the servant.

  The servant was a clean-shaven, dark man of middle years. He knelt by the pool and a cup filled with strong-flavored wine to his lips. It went to his head and made him instantly groggy again. The man put a little chime on the tiles along with the food he had brought, in case the sojourner suddenly felt too bad to stand upright at the side of the pool. The servant looked pointedly at Marai for a moment, waiting for something.

  Staring at the posed servant and the food for a moment, Marai puzzled and then realized why the man was perched so protectively. The Words. Wserkaf must have told him I needed to say something, he shook his head dizzily, remembering his words of the d
evotions that he needed to recite:

  If emptiness flourishes

  The elevated one cannot take his food

  If the elevated flourishes

  emptiness cannot take its food

  After Marai whispered these words under his breath, the servant relaxed. Marai knew that Wserkaf would not have shared the exact words with the servant, and he had not said them loud enough, because of his own weakness, to be heard.

  “My lord says I will help you eat this… check on you until you are strong.” He shyly whispered. His attitude was strangely reverent, as if he knew he was in the presence of greatness.

  The food was a porridge made of beef and onions dipped in sop-softened bread. The rich flavor and texture of the warm meal dizzied Marai with overwhelming sensations. Soon, when the sojourner felt strong enough to wave the nameless servant away, the man nodded and set some bowls and a clay trencher by the bathing pool within Marai’s reach and respectfully left the sojourner alone.

  Marai couldn’t bear the thought of getting out of the warm water to get the bowl of stew. His left arm trembled as he reached to dab up a little of the beef with a crust of bread. Slowly, he pulled the bowl closer. He ate a little more, tugged at the ceramic bowl, and then grabbed it with both hands so he could sip it. He relaxed again, feeling a little stronger with each passing moment.

  If emptiness flourishes

  The elevated one cannot take his food

  If the elevated flourishes

  Emptiness cannot take its food

  He whispered the required prayers from the re-birth sequence again. When he completed the phrases, he tried to send another volley of thoughts to his wives. This time, he tried to access the energy of the Child Stone in his brow:

  Little one inside my thoughts… he began, take me to a place where I will find them, if they are not here.

  Leaning back against the edge of the pool, the sojourner felt his spirit soar away from his body with greater ease than ever before. For a moment he balked, thinking the shock of eating again after his entombment had overwhelmed him, but then he relaxed and let the vision surround him.