by L. E. Waters
“Serapis has spoken, then, and picked for us. I, his dutiful wife, will make sure his will is granted.”
She humbly bows and walks off to notify her apprentices in the harem room.
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I’ve never wanted a woman more. My own wife, chosen by my father to secure our lands to the east of Memphis, thought to be attractive by most standards, is a wife for a man; Bastet is a wife for a god! In moments, I disregard all that is sacred to me, worshipping only Bastet.
That evening I retire to my own quarters provided beside the temple. I walk past the peasants putting their livestock safely away for the night, the farmers digging the grime from under their fingernails before supper, and the serenely empty crop fields. As I make my way down the row of simple sandstone dwellings, I watch the smoke lift from cooking fires on rooftops and blend into the darkening sky. Nun rushes to open the gate to the courtyard, and I wave away the plate of food offered as I head straight into my room.
Earlier that morning, I sent Nun on the half-day’s walk back outside Memphis to fetch my tailless black cat, Sehket. All the wooden lamps were lit within, and I search the sparse room. My soul is finally at ease once Sehket’s large, golden eyes stare up at me. I find Nun outside rubbing honey on blisters he acquired from his errand. I strike the small gong at the entranceway for him to serve me, and he limps inside carrying warm water from the fire. Nun washes, oils, and dries my feet, then retires to his woolen blanket beside the mud-baked firepot outside. Before getting into bed, I throw back the sheet and am relieved to find the bed empty. Sehket takes her usual place on my chest as I fall asleep to her loud purr, secure she’d protect me from the serpents that plague me.
It’s a glorious dawn, and I’m sitting in an orchard in the sun when something catches my eye. A flashing light surges out from an unfamiliar temple. Dark clouds start to gather, so I run to the temple for shelter. I enter and stand before a large statue of Edjo. The statue comes to life and hands me a deep cup. I drink from it, seeking refreshment, yet find it is warm beer, and I spit it out.
I awake, nudge Sehket off of me, and drop to my knees by my bed. After such a nightmare, I recite the prayer: “Hail to thee, Isis my mother, thou good dream which art seen by night or by day. Driven forth are all evil filthy things which Seth, the son of Nut, has made. Even as Ra is vindicated against his enemies, so I am vindicated against my enemies.”
The next afternoon, coming from my midday purification and heading to the dream chamber, I hear a faint noise within and pause outside the entranceway to listen. It is her voice. A voice I imprinted on days ago, chanting:
“Hathor, Goddess of Love
Make him think only of me.
My lovely charms he can’t resist.
My lover coax him to be.
The first part of my prayer fulfilled,
Hathor, you healed my strife,
Removed Edjo from Nebu’s favor,
Secured me in line for wife.
The second, I prayed to pass.
He helped me in my quest.
Now that I am honored,
Hathor, fulfill the rest.”
She whispers the last line a few times sharply, and I try to disappear into the dark corner beside the doorway as I hear her rush out. I hold my breath as she whips past me, too concerned with escape to look around. I hurry into the chamber to see a thin scroll ignited in one of my altar fire pits. Using the fire tender, I quickly sweep it from the fire onto the floor and blow it out. Once the embers dancing on the edges darken, I open up the charred paper to see my name intertwined with hers, bound with crimson blood—a conjured love spell. Bastet is more powerful than I gave her credit for, and I find her all the more seductive for it.
That night, as I arrive for the evening purification, Bastet stands at the edge of the glimmering cleansing pool bare, her skin glistening with oil. I try to take in her beauty, but the stolists disrupt my view, tying her dress around her waist. I stand beside her while she’s painted with kohl. Disrobing in front of her, I notice she doesn’t turn away.
Fully immersed in the pool, I bring only my eyes out of the water, and I see she’s still watching me. I disappear beneath the surface once again, and my heart sinks when I reemerge as she’s walking away. Right before she rounds the corner, she extends her arm out, curling her finger for me to follow. Rising from the pool and ripping the loincloth from the stolist’s extended hands, I hurry to catch her, slipping as I secure the linen around my waist. She’s waiting, leaning back in the shadows, shimmering. I grab her in the corridor outside the dream chamber, pin her to the wall, and kiss her.
She pulls her lips away after too short a moment but stays within my embrace.
“You must tell Nebu you need to come for dream incubation. I will make sure we are alone by having my slave watch the door. We will have no interruption. No one will ever know of our bliss.”
“There are consequences that can come from such bliss, consequences that the Royal Daughter is not allowed.”
I look into her darkened eyes. “There are trusted potions for such things.”
She hesitates as I kiss down her neck. “But will we never get into the afterlife if we continue further?”
“Don’t we priests feast from the gods’ morning offerings after they have taken their spiritual fill? How is this not different?”
She kisses me back in passionate agreement and hurries back to Nebu. I turn to go into the incubation room, and Khons, the house scribe, is standing there leaning on the altar where his son left him. His failing body, so riddled with stiffness, renders him utterly dependent on his son’s assistance.
“Khons, you got here so fast.” I check to see the distance between where he’s standing and where I exchanged with Bastet.
He laughs. “I do not think I get anywhere fast anymore.”
I’m relieved at how jovial he is, assured he hadn’t overheard. In his advanced years, he must be somewhat deaf by now.
“That may be so, but your wisdom is priceless to the House of Life. What new fascinating topic are you writing about today?”
“Oh, you would not believe the magic that surrounds us, Sokaris! Each day I wake up in pain and wonder why I want to trudge through another day, and by every night, I am mystified and charged by all the charms that encircle us.” He swirls his hands above his head to illustrate before continuing. “Today I met with a man from Thebes who swears he is a master of rain charms. He showed me the very documents from the King’s Library of Periods of Drought. He performed his enchantments, and sure enough, it rained! Amazing, what an amazing world.”
His sagging brown eyes glisten with excitement.
I smile. “What answers do you seek tonight?”
“I suddenly need some clarification on a topic I am trying to understand better.” He sighs.
“By all means, let me assist you to your chamber.” I help him to the bed and lay him down on the linen sheets. After lighting his lamp for him, I ask him again if he needs anything, and he shakes his head. I walk out on the rooftop terrace before retiring in the dream chamber. The sky is burning red on the horizon.
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Bastet and I are feasting at a table displaying an assortment of fruits, breads, and meats. I turn and see she has both her hands full of a large melon. She gorges on it; the juices drip down her perfect face.
I awake and shake Nun’s scrawny form to his feet. “I expect you to come inside the temple to assist me tonight.”
“Inside the temple, Master? Slaves are forbidden.”
“Yes, I am aware of that, which is why you will need to purify yourself at the public bath and enter through the workshop entrance. You will wear this.”
I throw him my fine linen loincloth. He holds it gingerly, since slaves are not allowed clothes, let alone linen.
“What if someone catches me? I could be killed for an offense such as this?”
“Do not questio
n me! You must obey my wishes. If you do not obey me, I will cast out those who depend on you!”
I knew that threatening to throw out his useless, ailing mother would put an end to his misbehaving.
He looks down. “I beg forgiveness, Master. Please tell me where to meet you.”
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On my way into the temple, I see a slight movement on the rooftop. There, swallowed by the darkness, stands an astronomer-priest squinting to the starlit sky, solving some perplexing mystery of the cosmos. I walk into the grand library, where I bow to Khons, busy writing at his desk.
“Sokaris.” He replaces his reed into his ink flask and asks, “How can I assist you?”
“I did not mean to interrupt you.” I bow.
“Oh no, I was simply writing a draft on the periodic returns of the two heavenly bodies, the moon and the sun.” He stretches and straightens his gnarled legs. “What are you in search of?”
“I request the use of the library. I am in search of fertility concerns and rituals.”
He looks up, squinting as he searches his personal archives within his mind, then beckons me to follow. I slowly walk behind his hunched form earned from many years of slumping over a desk, writing volume upon volume. We walk into the cavernous adjoining room, where shelves filled with books reach to an extreme height and tables are stacked with giant rolls of pure leather.
He makes his way through the shelves, holding onto them for support. “This library is shrouded in great secrecy, as it holds many sacred rituals, writings, and secrets of the inner sanctum of religion itself. These secrets could harm the Pharaoh, the priests, and all of Egypt.” He pauses and opens his arms around him, drawing attention to the never-ending sea of books. “This is for all of posterity!”
He smiles proudly, narrows one eye, and points to an area reached only by ladder. Once I climb to the designated area, I scan the bindings of books painted with golden symbols.
The Book of Driving Away Lions, Repulsing Crocodiles, and Repelling Reptiles; The Protection of the Hour, Protection of the Body, Spells for Repelling the Evil Eye; The Book of Capture; Knowing all the Secrets of the Laboratory; The Book of Smiting Demons; Book of Medicinal Cures for Fertility and Contraceptive Purpose.
I open it up while still on the ladder and find a contraceptive charm of mixing honey with natron. I replace the book and climb down, bowing to Khons in thanks. He watches me, deep in thought, as I leave.
I’m stirring up the sticky mixture when Nun enters, crouching.
“Did anyone notice you?”
Dripping with sweat, he pants, “I was stopped by two guards at the passageway between the workshop and the temple. I told them I was your apprentice, and they asked why I was coming through the workshop entrance. I told them I was confused. After a moment they let me pass.”
“Oh yes, I forgot they had guards at that door,” I say, barely listening.
Noticing this, Nun says flatly, “What do you need assistance with, Master?”
“I need you to guard the entrance to this room. Play this flute to warn me if anyone should approach.”
He eyes me questioningly, wondering why I would need the door watched, when in walks Bastet, glowing.
Nun takes one look at her, and dread sweeps across his face. “You are provoking the gods! We will all be judged for this!”
I give him a seething look and spit, “On the streets!”
Nun exhales, reaches for the flute, and goes back into the corridor. Bastet stands there smiling, not allowing the ominous comments from Nun to faze her.
“Dance for me. Not Serapis but me,” I say as I lean back on my altar to observe.
Her body starts moving, and I can hear the imagined beat. She spins, and her eyes follow me. After a few minutes, I can’t resist any longer and remove my loincloth. I coat myself in the contraceptive, then pick her small frame up easily and shove my sacred Omina on the floor. I place my new religion on the altar, where I read every passage and have all my prayers answered.
Chapter 4
Bastet and I meet four more times before my month-long rotation is complete. Whenever the dream chamber is empty and Bastet can get away from Nebu’s watchful eye, we meet under Nun’s surveillance. I hate leaving the temple to walk back home. Leaving the fertile black lands to travel to the edges of the sterile red lands of my fathers. Reaching the threshold of the white-walled fortress that surrounds the city, I force myself to step onto the sparkling limestone pathway that leads up to the lush country villas. The thought of not seeing her again for three months is painful. I touch my wife only in times of extreme desperation, and even then, I think of her: she who consumes me.
Twenty-one days into my prison sentence, I seek solitude in the shadows of the date and fig trees in my estate’s garden. As I watch the ducks dive among the lotus flowers, a message comes from the temple. It bears Nebu’s writing,
Sokaris, come at once.
I call for Nun to pack up my things and order him to hurry. Running most of the way in the midday heat, I arrive at the temple by dusk. Frustrated at the time it takes to be shaved and cleansed, I rush into Nebu’s harem room and become frantic when I see Bastet is not beside her.
“What is wrong? Why have you sent for me?”
Nebu, surprised by my haste and paranoia, says, “Calm yourself, Sokaris. This is not a matter over which you should be so alarmed.”
She snaps for a servant to bring me a cushion. I force myself to relax enough to bend into a sitting position.
I ask, “Where is Bastet? She is usually at your side.”
She picks up a gold hand mirror to check how tightly her servants curled her wig. After testing the bounce of the curls that line her forehead and running her thin fingers down the long braids that hide beneath the curls, she nods in acceptance. “Bastet is why I summoned you. She has failed us greatly.”
“What do you mean?”
She points for the ebony-and-gold cosmetic box to be brought to her. “She has been deceiving us and Serapis.”
My blood thickens, and she has the nerve to fix her kohl as I wait.
“She is with child, Sokaris.”
“With child? That is impossible!” I can’t sit.
Not realizing how I meant that exclamation, she says, “Obviously, she has spit in the face of all that is sacred and has lain with a man. A man within this very temple, since she is not permitted outside these walls.”
“How are you sure?”
“I am obligated to test my Royal Daughter’s urine monthly.”
Thinking of the barley-and-wheat test I ask, “The grains grew?”
“Yes, and I tested her twice to be sure.”
“Where is she now?” I begin to pace.
“I notified the Pharaoh’s magistrate, Overseer of the Six Great Mansions, and the guards have taken her away. Her trial is tomorrow.”
What am I to do?
“Sokaris, we must find the man responsible for this.” She puts the brush away and snaps the lid shut.
I shake my head, feigning thoughtfulness. “I will go to incubate at once to see what I can scry.”
I rush to the dream chamber, rip the sheets back, and fall asleep to try to save her.
Bastet is on a great ship, alone, acting as steersman. She looks worried and is crying, “Sokaris! Sokaris!”
I shout, “I will save you!” as I pull my arm up and prick myself deep with a thorn.
Instantly, Nun is up on the deck steering the massive ship, and I tell Bastet, “Jump to me!”
She steps backward to gain speed and leaps to me on the riverbank. We both watch as Nun and the ship sail away downstream.
I wake and kiss Bes, carved above my head, and say, “Thank you! Thank you!”
I scribble down an entry and backdate it forty-two days. I leave the temple and clap to wake up Nun, sleeping on the stone walkway after waiting for me all night. Under a red sky in the east, I run to the mansion where Bastet is being j
udged.
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I rush past the alabaster sphinx guarding the road that leads to the Pharaoh’s palace. The burnt landscape slowly turns green as I near the mouth of the Nile, where the imposing jaws of the courthouse looms. The mansion stands sternly against the happy backdrop of the banks of the Nile, where peasant women beat their laundry against rocks, servants fill clay vessels carrying them away on their heads, and children splash and play games as their mothers watch for crocodiles. Thick columns of three heights guard the entrance as statues of justice judge all who enter. The most important people in Memphis are there: the Pharaoh's vizier, the high priests, scribes, and many of the lower priests. It’s unusual to have an event such as this occur within temple walls. I sit with others from the House of Life on the benches provided under the covered section of the roofless court. Khons attends with his son, Aapep, and I nod to him in respect.
The vizier presiding speaks from his great chair in the center under a canopy held by slaves. “We are all witness to a most disrespectful and defiling crime. This is an offense not only against all those honoring the gods but a crime against Serapis himself!”
The priests all nod in agreement.
“Bring her in.” He motions to the guards, grey eyes flashing.
Bastet looks so small between the two towering guards. She looks like such a child now—a faint shadow of the woman who glowed before me in my dream chamber. Her powerful force that has compelled my allegiance and charmed my worship has deserted her, and she now stands before the court, shaking. She’s forced to stand before the vizier in direct sun.
“Bastet, daughter of Ketuh, is it true you are carrying a child in your womb?”
“Yes, High One.”