by Jerry Dubs
The toes!
Turning, I ran down the streets of Men-Nefer toward the army barracks that stood on the eastern edge of the city near the river Iteru.
I Study a Tree
I found Pairy and Turo in the open field beside the barracks where the archers practice.
“He lost his toes!” I called.
I staggered to a stop and held the strange sandal out for Pairy and Turo to inspect. “Look!” I said, pointing to the strap that traversed the front of the sandal. “This will reveal his name!”
“This sandal?” Pairy asked. He looked from the sandal to Turo. Then, looking back at me, he said, “This sandal talks to you?”
“Yes,” I answered, perplexed that my friends did not understand. I raised my left leg and reached down to remove my sandal. “Look!” I said. I traced the indentations my toes had worn into the sandal.
Turo glanced at the sandal while Pairy leaned away from it.
Seeing their disinterest, I dropped my sandal and slipped my foot into it. “Now look at the one,” I said, stretching the leather strap that hid the toe box on the strange sandal. “There are no indentations!”
Turo took the sandal and held it up to let the sunlight angle under the strap.
“He’s right, there aren’t any little dents,” he told Pairy.
“Maybe it is a new sandal,” Pairy suggested.
“No, look at the heel,” I said, “it is worn. The edges are frayed.”
Turo looked at the back of the sandal and nodded. Then he held the sandal for Pairy.
“I believe him,” Pairy said. “I don’t need to touch a dead man’s sandal.”
Turo waved the sandal closer and Pairy backed away, a frown jumping onto his face.
“Maybe he walked funny,” Turo said. “I knew a man from Tahta who used to work in the quarry down near Abu. A boulder fell on his hip and he walked with a limp. He was lucky not to be crushed! I bet his sandals would have been strange.”
“Yes!” I agreed. “A limp! Whoever wore this sandal no doubt walked with an uneven gait. But I am sure that he was missing some of his toes. We are looking for a soldier who walked with a limp and was missing some of his toes. Could you ask the other soldiers? Someone must know him.”
***
With Pairy and Turo dispatched to question the soldiers about the mysterious limping assassin, I walked back toward the temple.
Meeting Huy and learning the meaning of the strange sandal made me feel lighter, as if Geb had loosened his implacable hold on my body.
I wondered: Is that how birds are able to fly? Does Geb release his claim on their form?
Spreading my arms wide as bird wings, I imagined myself lifting from the ground and rising over the wall and the towering palm trees. Smiling at my strange thoughts, I stopped walking.
If I could have such strange thoughts, what thoughts could a god have?
Huy had said that Lord Imhotep was searching for a tomb because he wanted to go home. Can a tomb be a home? Pairy had wondered if my rocks were weapons. Does our view of things change what they are?
My eyes settled on a palm tree, its lower branches drooping and brown, bark peeling from its aging trunk.
I walked to the tree.
I wondered: What else can this tree become?
It could become the shaft of a spear or the lintel of a house or the beam of an ark that carries the statue of a god. It could become the axle of a war chariot or the pole of a tent.
I wondered: Are its possibilities constrained only by my imagination?
I stood before the tree and concentrated, determined to learn its secrets and its future.
Sniffing, I sought to separate the scent of the tree from the heat of the dust that swirled around me. I cocked my head to listen for the sound of the tree growing, of the life that flowed within it, but I heard only the babel of the crowd that coursed through the street, the high-pitched chirps of birds, and the airy snort of passing donkeys.
Touching the tree, I moved my hand against the raspy bark and closed my eyes. My fingers explored the texture as I sought to experience it as a blind man would.
As my hand moved, my eyes translated the touch into a vision that only I could see, and I realized that, at this moment, my understanding of this tree was different from that of anyone else in the Two Lands.
Pairy saw rocks in a different way than I did. Lord Imhotep saw tombs in a different way.
I wanted to see the world as others see it.
I would start with this tree.
***
“Is he dead?”
“Touch him.”
“No, you touch him.”
“You’re afraid.”
“I touched my dead uncle.”
“Your parents were there. Touch him. Unless you’re afraid.”
A small finger poked my side.
I blinked without opening my eyes, and tried to ignore the voices.
I felt a second poke.
“Are you dead?” a small voice asked.
Untangling my arms, I opened my eyes.
Two naked boys were standing beside me. Their faces were smudged with dirt, their heads shaved except, for a small sidelock that was pulled into a short tail hanging over the right ear.
They stared up at me, their small mouths hanging open, as if they were hungry for my answer.
I like children, even when they interrupt my investigations.
I knelt beside them.
“That is a good question,” I said, looking from one boy to the other. They appeared to be six floods old. Their faces were so similar that they could be brothers. One of them had a dark spot that covered part of his neck and shoulder. I wondered if the boy suffered from carrying the mark of Seth, or — I stifled a smile at the thought — perhaps it was placed there by the goddess, Seshat, another sign of approval for Puimre’s desire to acquire cheetahs.
Seeing the puzzlement on their faces, I asked the boys, “Am I dead? How do we know if we are not dead?”
“Because we get hungry?” one boy answered, his hand going to his small belly.
“Because we poop,” the boy with the birthmark said with a giggle.
“Very good,” I said. “I have seen paintings of the gods eating, but not pooping. But they would have to, wouldn’t they?”
The boys nodded.
I tilted my head toward the base of the palm and the welcoming circle of shade that surrounded it. Rising, I went to the shadow and sat. When the boys hesitated, I waved them closer. They looked at each other for a moment and then hurried to sit beside me.
“My name is Suti,” I said. “Who are you?”
“I’m Ahmose,” one of the boys said.
“I’m Min,” the boy with the birthmark said, his eyes ducking as he spoke.
“His real name is Minmose, but most of us just call him Min. Some of the boys call him Seth,” Ahmose said, tilting his head toward his friend.
“Ah,” I said. “Well, Ahmose and Min, you asked me a good question. To answer it: I am alive. I can prove it because I pooped this morning,” I said, adding a smile.
“But right now,” I said, “I was staring at this tree because I was trying to decide whether it is a tree or a spear that hasn’t been fashioned yet. Or perhaps a chariot.”
The boys nodded and then looked at the tree with wide eyes.
“I worry that I am looking at things incorrectly and that is why I cannot find the people I am seeking,” I said.
The boys leaned forward with furrowed brows.
“So I decided to examine this tree. The tree is a test for my eyes, and my thoughts. You see, I must be confident that I can trust my eyes, otherwise I will not find the people I am seeking.”
“Are they hiding from you?” Min asked.
I nodded. “Yes, they are. They have hidden very well and for many days. I have followed their tracks from far, far away. I have touched the cold ashes of their campfire, and I have traced the lines their chariot wheels left behind on
the dusty road. But I have not found them.”
“But you aren’t sure if the tracks were real because you don’t trust your eyes? That is why you were studying the tree?” Min said.
“How can a tree not be real?” Ahmose asked, nudging his friend with his elbow.
“Do you ever have dreams?” I asked.
They nodded.
“I had a dream about a crocodile chasing me one time,” Min said.
“Did it seem real?” I asked.
The boy nodded. “I woke up crying. My mother heard me and came to me. Even when I was awake it seemed real. She told me that it was Sobek. She said that he wasn’t chasing me, but that he was following me to protect me.”
“She just said that so you’d stop crying,” Ahmose said.
“It is right for a mother to comfort her son,” I said, reaching out and patting the frightened boy’s arm.
“Do you want us to help you find the people who are hiding from you?” Min asked.
“We can look everywhere,” Ahmose said. ‘Even in tiny spaces…”
“We even go in the temple,” Min added.
“And in the barracks with the soldiers.”
“But not the stables.”
“No, they chased us out of there.”
“Because of the horses.”
“We even go to the river…”
“Not the part with the crocodiles ...”
“No, down where the ships load.”
“I got on one of them once. It had bales of cotton.”
“I got on it, too.”
“We carried water to the soldiers when the army was here.”
“And one of them gave us a gem.”
“It was green.”
“He said we should offer it to Sekhmet.”
“But she doesn’t have a temple here.”
“So we gave it to a priest for Ptah.”
The boys continued their conversation, trading parts of each sentence, their short lives and memories intertwined like ivy stems rising and curling with each other.
As their words washed over me, I thought about Lord Imhotep and Queen Menwi and Kebu. They each saw the world in their own way. But those views were intertwined, like the sentences of the boys. Perhaps my view was somehow intertwined with theirs.
I thought: Perhaps the world is a knotted ball of different views, knitted together like a bird’s nest.
“Did you hear us?” Min asked, interrupting my thoughts.
“Maybe we aren’t real,” Ahmose said to his friend, his eyes wide with worry.
I shook my head. “I didn’t hear everything that you said. I was off in my own world,” I said, smiling as I recognized the truth of my words. “But you are real,” I said. I reached out with both hands and cupped the boys’ heads. “You are real and each of you is the very center of his world.”
As the boys looked at me, I said, “Yes, you can help me.”
I would add their view of the world to mine, creating a net that would help me find Lord Imhotep and the queen.
“I am looking for an ancient man who carries a heavy staff that looks like two snakes,” I said.
“That’s Lord Imhotep,” Min said. “He was here with the army. Everyone saw him. But he’s a god, so you’ll never find him if he is hiding.”
“No, you can’t find gods,” Ahmose agreed, shrugging his small shoulders.
“But if I were a god,” Min said, “I would hide in the temple.”
I nodded agreement. “I will search the temple. You can search the docks and the guest houses and the taverns and the markets. Ask about Lord Imhotep, but also ask if anyone has seen anyone different, anyone who doesn’t usually walk the streets of Men-Nefer,” I said, thinking of the queen and Kebu, but reluctant to tell the street boys that I was searching for a missing queen and a Medjay warrior.
“Come to the temple tomorrow at dusk,” I said. “Tell the guards that you want to see Suti.”
I Meet Ipu, who commands me
The shadows falling from the temple pylon stretched far into the plaza by the time I returned to Hut-ka-Ptah.
The shadows drew a sharp line against the hard-packed dirt of the plaza and provided cover for a small brown canopy that marked a beer stand off to the left of the first of the four statues of Ptah that guarded the entrance.
Passing by the beer stand, I heard running footsteps behind me.
Turning, I saw Turo and Pairy.
“We found the chariot,” Pairy called across the plaza.
I raised a hand to indicate that they shouldn’t shout, I didn’t want everyone in Men-Nefer to know that the queen was missing. I glanced toward the beer seller’s stand, but no one was standing there.
“The queen’s!” Turo shouted.
“At the barracks,” Pairy continued, his voice a little softer as he and Turo slowed in front of me.
“It was left there three days ago,” Turo said.
“Has it been cleaned?” I asked, excited at the thought of reading the clues left in the chariot.
Suti and Pairy looked at each other, then Pairy shrugged. “We didn’t ask. We were asking everyone about the man with the limp and the third soldier we talked with told us about the chariot.”
“It wasn’t there when the men retired for the night and then, in the morning, there it was!” Turo said.
“No one saw who left it? Is there no night guard?” I asked.
Pairy and Turo smiled at my ignorance. “Not here,” Pairy said. “We are a month’s march from Megiddo. There is no reason to post guards.”
“Is the chariot secure?” I asked.
The men smiled again. “Who would steal the queen’s chariot? A thief would be discovered and killed before the horses had even begun to tire.”
“No,” I said, “I mean is it secure from the other charioteers. I want to see what clues were left on it from its trip.”
“Oh.” Pairy pursed his lips and looked at his feet.
“The men have been riding in it,” Turo said.
“We have, too,” Pairy admitted.
“Why?” I asked.
The men smiled once more at my inexperience. “It is the queen’s chariot,” Pairy explained. “When would a common charioteer have another chance to ride in the queen’s chariot?”
I bowed my head, surrendering to their view of the world, and accepted that it was likely that any clues left on the chariot had been lost.
As I raised my head, I heard a girl’s voice ask, “Are you Suti, the scribe?”
Turning, I saw a girl, her small body covered with the fine-linen robe of a royal attendant. She had bright eyes, a smoothly shaved head, and small, delicate arms, each of them adorned with thin, silver bands. Her face was still round, the cheeks flushed with the softness of childhood.
(In later years, her face became regal, the cheekbones sharply defined, the chin strong, the skin burnished with an ethereal glow born of loyalty and longing. I knew it well. She came to love the scent of roses, the favorite aroma of her mistress and one that still makes my heart swell with love. And regret.)
“Yes, he is the keeper of the words of Lord Amenhotep,” Pairy answered. “And we are his escorts.”
“Who are you?” I asked, bending to speak to the girl.
“I am Ipu,” she said, raising her chin.
(At the time I thought that she took pride in her name, as we all should. But I learned that her pride was in the Two Lands, in the gods and, most of all, in the mistress she served.)
“Good evening, Ipu. These men are charioteers of the maryannu. This is Pairy and this is Turo,” I said, gesturing to the men.
The girl’s eyes grew wide at the mention of the elite corps of charioteers.
Casting a glance at my friends, I saw them straighten their backs, proud to be introduced as maryannu.
“How can I help you, Ipu? Why do you seek me?” I asked.
The girl slowly moved her eyes from the charioteers, who, I knew, provided a more interesting sight
than a slight scribe.
“I have a message for you,” Ipu said, her feet shuffling to shift her small shoulders to separate me from the charioteers.
“Yes,” I said.
“It is a confidential message,” she whispered, her eyes rolling to the side to indicate Pairy and Turo.
“They are my friends,” I said, giving her an encouraging smile. “They can be trusted.”
“My mistress does not know them. How can she trust them?” Ipu asked, her young face stern.
“You are right,” I said. I knelt beside Ipu and leaned close, offering her my ear.
“You are commanded to come to the sacred garden of Ptah tonight at the hour when the air and the water meet,” she whispered.
I Learn a Terrible Secret
Khonsu drew a cloak of shadows around his round shoulders. The torches that had illuminated the central forest of pillars in the Temple of Ptah died, their flames allowed to exhaust themselves as twilight gave way to night. The priests had retreated to their chambers.
Darkness lay upon Men-Nefer.
Standing at the threshold of my room, I listened for the sound of footsteps.
Hearing none, I entered the hallway, my nose testing the air.
(The nights I had spent on the palace roof watching the stars had trained me to rely on more than just my sight. I trusted my ears, my nose, my taste — and even my unseen thoughts — as much as my eyes.)
I thought: The temple smells of the exhalation of the dead — singed by smoke curling from dying torches, desiccated by the ever-present scent of incense, compressed and restrained by the stone walls, whose rich murals night had drained of their life-giving color.
As I walked the hallways, darkness devoured my shadow. Emerging into the walled garden, I gave my shadow a moment to rejoin me. As I waited, I looked skyward to the million stars of night and then down to the sacred pond where faint twins of those stars lay motionless upon the still water. Beyond the pond, black trees rose from the gray gloaming that clung to the garden walls.
The owls and doves were quiet now.
The bats, whose flickering forms had filled the twilight as they fed, had retired.
I waited a moment, savoring the solitude but wondering if I had misunderstood Ipu’s message.