Going Forth By Day

by Mary R Woldering

  “Here, Your Majesty, this is better for you,” she spoke breathily. She was unaware that her compelling Ashera voice had blossomed again.

  Ari noticed the young woman’s power had advanced greatly in just the three weeks they had been apart. The multi-layered, charming voice had grown into an instinct with her. It seduced, the way a cat calls its prey. That voice, combined with its natural dusky-sweet and ecstatically-vibrant sound, compelled every listener. Ariennu poked Naibe, urging her to be careful.

  The king pushed himself up and sat; his fingertips rubbed the pressure mark on his left temple. He seemed only dimly aware that his nemes wasn’t on his head, but drank the broth like an obedient, sick child. When he looked up, first into Ariennu’s face, then Naibe’s eyes, he recognized the younger woman and tried to smile.

  “Ah…You’re better now, my sweet girl? You’ve finally come to stay in my house?” his voice sounded winded and drained. “I need… I need… Pretty one, do you see a little white bottle?” he began to fret, looking for the onyx bottle that contained the powder to mix into the wine he drank. The thought that it was gone agitated him.

  “Shhh… shhh… We’ll find it for you, Your Majesty.” Naibe’s fingers went to his slightly heaving upper chest, followed by her head, so she could listen. She beckoned Ariennu to listen.

  The elder of the two women nodded, her thoughts whispered:

  His heart isn’t strong… just quiet and quick. See how his hands tremble? See the yellow cast in his eyes? I had this illness once, girl, you know I did.

  “Your Majesty, you’re using the wine too much. You need to eat more… some meat and then sip some more broth.” Looking around, Ariennu didn’t see the bottle or anything else for him to eat. He had already finished what she had given him.

  The women both knew he needed to rest more than anything else. He needed to stop his worries about the welfare of his people and he needed to stop drinking wine to calm his spirit. Ari understood that too well. The memory of using wine to stop the pain, or even end her existence, was never lost on her. The king needed friends, and seemed to have only fearful servants or consumers.

  “I saw the cooks putting up some pickled rinds in the lower kitchen. I can get some of those and some fresh pressed nectar. You stay here, baby one,” Ariennu stood and went to the door, very much like the chief wife of the house, leaving the king in Naibe’s care.

  “Help me bring the food for him,” she ordered the first guard in the doorway as she passed through it. “He’ll need a stew, and some juice… and fresh fried bread as quick as it can be made up for him,” she and the guard trotted up the exterior stairs to the great kitchen on the roof. She almost giggled at the ease of getting the guard to follow, but didn’t have time to think about how it had happened.

  Naibe stood up quietly then circled to a spot behind the king, to smooth his shoulders and play her fingers over his aching brow to soothe it.

  Menkaure’s eyes turned up to look into Naibe’s face. At first, his pitiful expression pleaded, but then it occurred to him that he needed a much more composed demeanor. He looked down once, then up, took her hand from his forehead and gently kissed the inside of it, placing it over his heart.

  “I am grateful for your care, young beauty, and glad you have learned to take more joy into your heart. You must tell me your secret of this joy, so that when I am stronger and have defeated this cruel spell placed on me, I may come to you as a god. I have grown so tired of this helpless thing that I have become.”

  On impulse, Naibe bent her head over his and kissed him, half amazed that he returned the kiss and sat up to pull her into his arms.

  At that moment, Ariennu and the guard returned down the stairs with the food but found elder Prince Hordjedtef standing at the beaded entry in the alcove and staring into the royal stateroom.

  Damn! Ari’s thoughts raced as she hid her expression of disgust with a smile. Is he the physic the guards fetched? Is there no escape? she saw he held the small white onyx vial in his hands. With a silent snarl, she pushed past him and entered the room, but stopped when she saw Naibe in the king’s arms and that he seemed to be recovering quickly. They shared a deep and passionate kiss, despite the presence of others in the room.

  Careful, baby, the old man… Her thoughts went to Naibe, but were unheard.

  Ari turned to the high priest to block his view of the king, but he had already seen enough. His brow crinkled in distaste.

  “See how much better he is already!” she quipped. “His man didn’t need to call for you to come all this way, after all,” she indicated the vial of medicine. “We didn’t even have to give him his wine today, just more soup and a little tenderness,” Her voice filled with delighted sarcasm.

  “Which will be fine, dear lady, until his dreams return. What then?” Hordjedtef responded. “Then will you answer for your neglect, my dear? Does a kiss cure shaking and fever? Sometimes, but not for long!” his eyes turned inward in a scoff, dismissing her words. He started to move toward the king and Naibe, but Ariennu stopped him in the doorway, and bent to his ear to whisper. “I know what you’re doing, you bastard! I know you killed our Marai, too!” she hissed. “Just know that if I am anywhere near you on the day you die, I will dance on your corpse until your ka won’t recognize it and will cast itself on the wind in despair. So you just watch out for me!” she moved ahead of the high priest with the bowl of stew and set it down beside the embracing couple.

  “Majesty…” she greeted him and knelt by the bed with the extended bowl, “His Highness the Great One has arrived with your medicine, but do have some of this nice stew first so that it does not sour your stomach.”

  King Menkaure looked up and then saw Hordjedtef standing disappointed in the doorway. He looked back down at Naibe’s winsome smile and smelled the stew Ariennu set down. At once, she offered it to him to sip, drink, and scoop up the pieces with the fresh flat bread. As they teased, giggled and fed him, his mood brightened. Soon he touched and kissed both of their heads.

  “Both of you are such gifts to me. Such joy,” he smiled.

  Hordjedtef milled about in the anteroom at the top of the steps. He stared in at the women. Ariennu knew by the look on his face that he was carefully framing everything he planned to say to his king.

  Menkaure rose from his couch and beckoned for his attendant to put a loose robe on him. The man lifted the plain nemes to place on the king’s head, but Menkaure waved him away. Naibe waited until he sat in his folding ebony and gold chair. She found a brush with short boar bristles on the fine wooden chest by his bed, and then tenderly brushed his hair once he was seated. Ariennu rubbed his shoulders and the back of his neck again.

  “I feel so much better,” were the first words out of his mouth after he drank the last of the soup. “This suits me, excellently! I believe I will not take the wine for now!” he almost laughed, but noticed Prince Hordjedtef had become even more impatient and irritated. He paused and asked: “do you wish to speak to me, Uncle?”

  “Majesty,” the high priest of Djehuti began, his voice filled with false deference. “Do take caution among these. I would have you remember they are storied women. I was merely startled that you had come to embrace them so closely and so quickly, recalling they are widows of a would-be usurper. I would think you would want to be wary of their energy, given the present frail health of your most glorious body. It would be a tragic day indeed, should any true motive they might have emerge,” Hordjedtef glanced once at Ariennu through shielded eyes.

  “And I was not fetched, good Lady ArreNu,” he beckoned to the scribe and a porter who were still standing in the alcove at the top of the stairs. They brought in the afternoon list of business for their king and vizier to place into record as soon as the other elderly gentleman arrived. “I was due to arrive and was being borne through these holy gates when I sensed the commotion and came to assist,” Hordjedtef continued. He turned again to the king, bowed, and added courteously: “Perhaps it is a heal
thy thing after all that you enjoy them, but take care not to draw them into your kind heart as beloveds,” he turned his face away as if the women did not exist.

  Nebemakhet, the vizier, entered with a public official and his servant. The meetings were about to begin. The king put down his cup, worry darkening his face.

  Ariennu and Naibe stared at each other in openmouthed shock. Neither of them could believe the audacity of the priest when he spoke of their supposed hidden need for vengeance while they were still in the room. The guard advanced and moved behind the two women to gently usher them toward the beaded drape.

  Motive? Motive. You goddess-cursed bastard! Speak about us like pets, Ariennu glared, but felt the venom of her thought instantly turn back on her. She winced a little in discomfort before she touched her own temple to create a barrier of protection against the high priest.

  “Your Highness, Great One,” Naibe turned around at the door but lowered her eyes seductively. She walked back toward the high priest, brazenly positioning herself directly in front of him. Standing close to his body and looking directly into his eyes, she smiled, cryptically. “If you have truly listened to tales of me, you would know that it is the women of the house who fear what I am, not the men,” her voice vibrated slightly in the gentle whispering tones of her Ashera voice. “I would never harm His Majesty, never. I would only wish to heal him, as does she,” Naibe indicated Ariennu, then went back to the king. Going to one knee, she looked up. Her eyes implored, but riveted the king’s eyes.

  King Menkaure pulled the young woman close one more time and lightly kissed her brow. He whispered in her ear: “oh yes, my little love. Don’t let my uncle worry you,” he chuckled. “I will take you when I am strong, and you will find me splendid.”

  Naibe bowed her head, blushed, and giggled a little. The two women gathered the soup bowls and left the bedchamber with the rest of the personal servants, hearing the high priest speak as they left: “We have word, your kind and wise Majesty, that Prince Maatkare Raemkai will be sending forth to Ta-Seti in a few days.”

  “It is known to me Uncle. I have just this morning approved the goods and troops for his excursion there to see tribute is good, that the mines are being handled properly, and that the governors remain content. Do send word to his household that I have decided to personally host his good departure this year as a mark of goodwill in this sixth year since the prophecy at Buto.”

  Ta-Seti? Ariennu thought as she headed back to the women’s rooms with Naibe. Deka will be there. Deka, her eyes silvered a little because now this was all going to get very interesting.

  CHAPTER 22: BAKHA MONTU

  Marai sighed, haunted by the sheer volume of everything he had relived when he touched the inspector’s face. He shuddered, closed his eyes, and hung his head in contemplation. Because of the instant transfer of all of the memories through his child stone, not much time had passed.

  Wserkaf sighed, stretched again, and stood, breathing and posing to fully rouse himself. Satisfied that the effects of the trance had faded, he turned to lift a beaker of beer from the little table in the room and empty it into a cup. He sipped part of the drink then offered some to Marai, who finished it.

  “You saw everything?” the inspector asked, still mystified at the sound of the small voices that had lulled him into an even deeper trance while Marai pulled Ariennu and Naibe’s memories through him.

  Marai nodded, but sent another silent thought to his new friend. I know there’s more, isn’t there… a lot more! Then he spoke aloud. “I just need for you to be truthful about your part in this. If you are guilty, then I’ll just thank you only for helping me go forth. After that, I’ll make my way by myself.”

  “Well…” Wserkaf answered quickly in his own defense. “Once I understood what Great One’s plan was, I told him I could not support his actions. He told me I was wise to admit my misgivings, but then continued with what he had planned while I was away on duty,” he moved toward the doorway as if he was subconsciously blocking Marai’s escape. “That included the spreading of a rumor that both Naibe and Lady ArreNu were using heka on our families. Neither woman ended up staying at the palace of the king.” Wserkaf came forward to pour more flat beer from the beaker. He sipped again, offering more to the former shepherd. “By the time I returned from Khmenu, they were gone.”

  Marai felt his head start to spin as he realized the complexity of the unfolding mystery. “So, it wasn’t enough for Hordjedtef to try to put an end to me. He had to bring shame to my ladies? He ran Etum Addi and his entire family out of town too, so my ladies would have no one to go to for honest employment? He worked them as if they had become his slaves?” Marai focused on something Wserkaf said earlier. Wserkaf said ‘because it wasn’t safe’. “Where are they?” he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

  “On the way to Ta-Seti with Great One’s grandson, Prince and Grand General Maatkare Raemkai, if they aren’t already there,” the air rushed out of the inspector in defeat. “It has been nearly two cycles of the moon since the ‘Sending forth’ celebration you saw Hordjedtef mentioning in our vision. You also need to know that the Ta-Seti woman who was once your wife is now his chosen concubine for the journey. She asked for the others to come with her as her companions, according to my master, and he saw fit to make that happen. Prince Maatkare hunts lions at this time of year and carries on a diplomatic relation with the Ta-Seti peoples. Prince Methautep Akaru-Sef serves as a sepat Governor there so that the lands of Buhen, Ta-Seti, and Kush do not rise up.”

  “What?!” Marai went pale. An awful lowing formed throughout his chest and up into his head, then cackled like a demon of the underworld. The violent trembling and the shrieking spirit continued to well up inside him until its darkness threatened to leap out of his skin. He wanted to run, raving and mad, all the way to Hordjedtef’s estate, burst upon him in the flesh of a bull, and strangle him. He would cheerfully rip the man’s ancient chest open bare-handed to see if vipers were living where a heart belonged. If he found them, he would snap the head off of each of them and burn all that was left with a single glance. Marai knew the old priest’s soul would only receive half of the torment he had already caused. He stood at the window that looked out onto the plaza, his hands gripping the high sill. For just a moment he grew even paler when he realized how tentative and remote the voices of the children had been and that the old man had bragged he could control them.

  “The Children… does the old man have them, too?” His hands gripped the sides of his head to somehow stop the flow of thoughts racing behind his Child Stone. Ariennu was supposed to have kept them safe. If she’s been made captive… How could that even happen? She’s a power to reckon with. She’d kill anyone trying, I know she would. She’s taken life before. Even Naibe could keep herself from harm if she was threatened. Why didn’t they defend themselves? Was it true? Could the old man control them as he said? Deka helping? Why? There should be death and destruction blazing through all of Kemet, unless… Unless…

  Marai felt everything turn into black lightning roaring inside him again. It flashed along his arms the same way it had moved when N’ahab-Atall and his men met their deaths at his hands so many years ago. Something was still hidden. Wserkaf, or maybe even Ari herself was blocking the rest of the truth. Ari, precious woman, why? What’s caused you so much shame that now you have to hide it from even me? I can’t. I won’t. He couldn’t control his rage an instant longer. He wanted the old man beyond dead. He couldn’t just kill him the way he had killed the thieves. He had to get inside him; to make him suffer. At that moment, however, he could only rage. The sojourner turned and seized the frame bed on which he had been sitting. With a roar, he hurled it against the opposite wall and it shattered to bits.

  “Enough! All in this place. All of your wicked hearts!” he screamed and rushed from the room to the plaza gate. He gripped his ears and cried out in an animal bellow as if he had suddenly become a beast trapped in a cage, then hurled himself at
the metal-sheathed cedar doors, cracking the bolts into splinters and leaving one of the doors tilted and wrenched from its frame. He would have run roaring into the alleyways between the white walled estates, bursting into each estate to destroy all inside, but he froze at the cracked door frame in an agony that was even too great for the rage and too loud to be heard by human ears. He had become the blind bull that towered over battle and knew no rest until all had been destroyed and all wrongs had been avenged. Once again, he rammed the thick wall with his shoulders and head.

  The screaming entered Wserkaf’s heart, threatening to freeze every terrified beat. It ripped through his frame like a horrid storm wind until he could not breathe. The inspector knew Hordjedtef would sense the man’s cry of anguish. He had to stop the growing rage, even though the pain in his heart from Marai’s cry was so great he could barely breathe or remember the words

  Cease… cease… cease…

  cease and calm

  Rise above it…

  no vengeance upon the righteous…

  Holy Ra…and true Djehuti

  Rein in the Daughter of the sun,

  Sweet Bastet…

  spit flame upon the evil intent within you

  Marai felt the bull emerging. He didn’t try to block the thought. In his thoughts, the faces of Deka, Ariennu, and Naibe appeared, cast with emptiness, and then faded. His face went black and the shimmer of silver-white light shrouded him like a magical skin from which the wide, sharp horns launched themselves. His powerful but almost manlike chest grew and his low of mournful despair transformed into a greater bellow of rage. He never heard the inspector’s dispelling utterance begin.

  Wserkaf sensed the bull thrashing its mighty horned head… roaring… Marai’s powerful arms shoved him back as the inspector leapt at the sojourner, struggling to thwart or at least distract him. Trying again, Wserkaf called them aloud.

  “Cease… cease… cease…

  cease and calm