by L. E. Waters
The audience is a mass of bald heads all shaking in disgust.
“Nebu, reigning wife of Serapis of The House of Life temple, has testified you took an oath of celibacy as her initiated Royal Daughter.”
“Yes, oh High One.”
“Is this child the spawn of man?”
“Yes, High One.”
“Who is the man who has disrespected Serapis and has caused the gods to seek earthly judgment upon him?"
What will I do if she says my name!
I clench my fists.
“I cannot say. Have mercy on me, High One.” She begins to cry and covers her face with her delicate hands.
Now the audience breaks out in murmurs as some get up in anger to leave. I feel a wave of relief that I might be able to escape this disgrace and still help her.
“If you will not answer, we will have no choice but to sentence you to death by spear. You will be granted mercy for your unborn child’s soul, and your punishment will be carried out upon its birth.”
Bastet merely shakes her head and bows. The vizier nods for the guards to take her back to her prison.
I stand up and state with head bowed, “I humbly offer my testimony up to the Pharaoh.”
Bastet looks worried, obviously fearful that I’ll confess. She opens her mouth to speak, but I bring a bent finger up to my lips subtly in message. She quiets and smiles with her eyes as the guards take her away.
“Certainly, priest, you may speak.”
“I have information that I cannot withhold that may shed light on this daughter’s corruption.”
“Continue.”
“About forty days past, my slave, Nun, from house of Sokaris, requested a dream be interpreted by me. As that is my priestly profession, I obliged, as any benevolent master would. He dreamt of grabbing the wooden staff out of Serapis’s hand and taking it for himself. I interpreted this to mean my slave coveted something of Serapis’s. He continued on, saying he took the staff and sailed downstream with it, a strong portent of violence, as even laymen know. I told my slave a different interpretation for fear of feeding his desires, but I worried that an event such as this would take place as his dream foretold. I have it documented in the scry book if the court so wishes proof.”
The vizier nods respectfully and commands a guard to hasten to the temple to fetch the journal.
“On more than five occasions, I have had my priestly linen loincloths taken from my dwellings when only Nun had access to them. Of course, I flogged him for it, but he confessed nothing. I have since dreamt that Serapis himself has come to me, seeking vengeance for my slave’s violent and forceful actions upon his Royal Daughter. After hearing today how she has been disgraced, I know who is undoubtedly to blame.”
“Where is this slave, Nun, from the house of Sokaris?”
“He is right outside this court.”
“Seize him! Sokaris, take the guards to collect him and bring him to me!”
As I walk out with the guards behind me, I comfort myself.
He’s a slave, of little use to the world. I’m a learned and destined priest in the esteemed House of Life. The gods would surely rather have my homage and service than this lowly slave. Bastet committed no wrong. We simply made a mistake and Nun would help us rectify it: a sacrifice for our repentance.
In the commotion, the crowds step aside as the armed court guards march behind me. I see Nun sitting cross-legged by the side of the building. He stirs and rises to bow as if we’ll pass him. When we stop before him, he looks up, shocked.
“There is the accused.” I stare down into his green eyes.
They seize his thin, frail frame and drag him into the court screaming.
“Silence the prisoner!” the vizier demands.
One of the guards grabs a wool rag and stuffs it into the slave’s mouth.
“Are you Nun, slave of the house of Sokaris?”
Nun tries to spit the cloth out to answer.
The vizier shouts, “Nod or shake!”
Nun quickly nods with his eyes wide in fear.
“Have you entered the Temple of Serapis, even though it is forbidden by the Pharaoh?”
He again tries to spit the cloth out.
The vizier screams, “Nod or shake, slave!”
The vizier’s slaves fan him furiously to cool his reddened face.
Nun pauses here, hangs his shoulders, and looks around at me, eyes narrowed.
“Do you understand the question?” the vizier shouts.
Nun turns back and nods.
“Answer, then! Have you entered the Temple of Serapis, even though it is forbidden by the Pharaoh?” he shouts louder as though Nun is deaf.
Nun looks again at me, this time defeated, and nods his head. The court is buzzing.
The vizier then asks, after the noise dies down a bit, “Have you wronged Serapis, committing a crime against him, violating his Royal Daughter?”
Nun seems torn by this statement, and I smile inside, knowing that the wording is auspicious. He shrinks further in defeat and nods. The room explodes with noise.
“Silence, or I will have the court closed!” The vizier turns to his guards. “Bring out the girl!”
As soon as Bastet looks around, she takes in Nun standing there in front of the courts. I hope she understands, but she appears confused. I hold my breath and pray she will know what to do.
“Bastet, do you know this man?”
“Yes.” She looks perplexed until the vizier speaks again.
“Is this the man who violated you?”
She meets my eyes, comprehending, and then looks back at the vizier, her eyes full of tears.
She cries out, “Yes! That is the man who forced himself on me in the temple of Serapis!”
I exhale with pride at her drive for life.
“Why did you not tell a priest or your mother, Nebu, that this violation occurred?"
She thinks fast and cries to great effect, “I knew the violation would bring shame upon my family and my position at the temple would be disgraced. He threatened the lives of my family if I did not obey his demands!”
Everyone in the court is quiet in disgust, leering at Nun while he juts his chin out in simmering anger.
“Is this true?” he shouts at Nun.
Nun doesn’t even reply with eye contact, simply stares at the floor.
The vizier picks his teeth, then speaks. “I have no choice but to sentence you, Nun, slave of the house of Sokaris, to death by spear. You will be executed tomorrow in the public courtyard at dawn, before our morning rituals, to amend the betrayal you committed upon the gods.
“Bastet, you are free to return to your family and have your child. Your shame, even though it was not willed by you, makes you unfit for temple duties.”
She bows her head in acceptance.
The vizier finishes, “It would serve you and the soul of your child well to make an offering of forgiveness to Serapis tomorrow, after the execution of your violator.”
She agrees again and bows in thanks. The guards take Nun away and set Bastet free.
Chapter 5
I wish to run to her but know I can’t. I give her a quick wink across the room when no one is looking and leave. I pass Khons’s crippled form assisted by Aapep.
“Justice always prevails,” I say to Khons.
Khons looks up oddly and says, “Has it really, Sokaris?” as he limps past.
I hesitate mid-bow, unsure of what he means, but nothing can get in the way of what has happened. The gods have smiled down on us! As the sun fades, I walk home through the cluttered city, past all the peasant houses, stacked upon each other wherever they find space to build, to my temporary dwelling, all the while trying to figure out a way to see Bastet again. In Nun’s absence, the fires and lamps are not lit that night, but in the darkness what unnerves me most is not having Sehket’s presence. Tomorrow, I’ll send another slave from my residence to bring her.
Hoping to see Bastet before she returns to her father’s hous
e, I need to stay in the city. I calculate how long I’ll have to wait before I can take her as my second wife. I smile, thinking of the large dowry her father will give in light of her great disgrace. How auspicious this all came to be! I pull my sheets back ritualistically and accept that I will have to go to sleep with dirty feet that night.
Khons’s hunched and twisted form walks in front of the courthouse. As he watches me coming, he lifts up a deep goblet of dark red wine and spills it down his throat. Then the heavens rain down upon only me, soaking me through to the skin, while leaving Khons perfectly dry. In anger, I lunge at Khons with a spear but upon inspecting his body, see a dead ox. I refill Khons’s spilt goblet with its blood and drink.
Even though the sun hasn’t risen enough to shed light, I reach for my satchel and dart out of bed in the direction of the Temple Library. I slink into the scribes’ study, and the deaf old man doesn’t even stir at my entrance. I creep up behind him while he affixes his seal to the letter he’s just completed.
I say right behind his head, “What has you working so early, Khons?”
He jumps and drops the wax he’s holding above the candle and gasps.
“Oh, so sorry to frighten you. You must have been deep in thought.”
I walk around to the side of the desk so I can see his face, but he continues to look down. Trembling, he tucks the letter into his robe’s deep pocket.
“Oh, you are shaking. Have you not had your breakfast yet?” I notice the untouched tray of breads, figs, and wine on the three-legged low table beside his desk. “You have not touched a morsel.” I click my tongue twice. “We must not spoil this offering.”
I turn back to see Khons, quaking as he grips his desk for support, and I motion him to sit on a cushion at the table.
He shakes his head and says, “I am waiting for Aapep to come and assist me into the city.”
“Well, that is perfect. Have a seat, and we can put something in our bellies while you wait.”
He glances toward the door, searching for some way out. I smile, knowing he can’t make his way down the corridor without assistance. Hesitant, he hobbles over, protecting the pocket.
“What business do you have in the city this early?”
He coughs a few times, clearly trying to gain time to think. “I requested permission to record the execution of your slave this morning. I think it will be important to document it.”
How clever he thinks he is.
I stare at his face—so odd with its many tiny spots—a thing of rarity among people of dark skin.
“Oh yes, yes. Good idea. You are so wise, Khons.”
I touch his hand, and he recoils slightly. I draw back, place goblets in front of us, and fill them, the scarlet liquid spinning for a moment as Khons watches the door.
“Ah, thank you, truly a feast. Khons, can you fetch me that knife on your desk to cut the bread?”
As he turns his back to get the sharp knife, I spill the contents of a small flask into his goblet.
He returns and says, “I will do the honor of cutting, thank you.”
I smile. He thinks I might harm him with the knife. He slices the wide flatbread, wraps the knife in linen, and tucks it away in the satchel worn at his side. I can hardly contain my laughter—he thinks he avoided a threat! Khons picks up his goblet with a tremorring, spotted hand and drinks thirstily. He replaces it and is mid-chew on a large piece of bread when he begins to choke.
He spits his bread at me and gasps out, “You murderer! You have Nun’s blood on your hands and now mine!”
He reaches up, holding his neck, gagging as frothy blood dribbles out of the corners of his mouth.
He drops to the floor and gurgles, “May Ra eat your heart!”
One last rattle and his eyes go blank as his breathing ceases. In haste, I wipe his mouth, pick up his bony body, and place it at his desk. Putting the inked reed in his hand, I leave it propped on an empty piece of paper. Aapep will soon be here and surmise he died alone. I drink my wine and spill the poisoned wine into a linen cloth, wiping out any remnants. As I am leaving, I realize I forgot the most important thing! I reach into his robe and remove the vital scroll.
Foolish Khons.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Once home, I take the letter out in the safety of my dwelling and read his perfect writing:
Most Esteemed Vizier,
I write to you with heavy guilt and shame that I did not have the courage or pure heart to speak out in court yesterday. I had a difficult time deciding if the life of a slave was equal to the life of a skilled and trusted priest. It took a night of soul-searching and much lamenting to realize that my heart would not be light on Anubis’s scales if an innocent slave were put to death, wrongly accused. I was present in the dream chamber awaiting my incubation when I overheard two lovers talking of a secret and forbidden meeting.
The male, who I can identify as Sokaris, Dream Magician of the House of Life, reassured the female, the Royal Daughter, that all would be well with his slave watching out for them. I have to confess, at risk of punishment on my own part, that I thought little of this lustful crime. I respect Sokaris, feel he is a valuable member to the House of Life, and thought so little of the offense taken so seriously by the righteous temple priests. I only felt a crime occurred when this slave, Nun, was unjustly accused and scheduled to die this new morning. Please spare the slave’s life and have mercy on these young lovers’ sin.
Khons, son of Thutmose
I burn the letter in the fire and think of how well I averted disaster as the papyrus curls in movements that remind me of Bastet. She should be at the temple now, getting ready to watch Nun’s execution. I have to speak to her.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
The sun is rising, and the land is golden with its renewed energy. People are all gathering at the temple square, as children stand on stonewalls trying to see over tall figures. I search the crowd for Bastet, but even a diamond can’t be found in such dull chaos. The drumming begins, and the people part for the procession of guards. In the middle of the guards walks Nun, his hands tied in front of him. As he passes, I can see the brand of my family—a falcon, seared into his flesh with its wings spread. Sokaris, the falcon god I am named after. They lead him to the execution altar and lay him out on the tablet.
A lector priest starts reading him holy rites, preparing him for his death. I grow bored watching and scan the crowd, searching for my star. In the background, the drums start to roll and abruptly cease with the quick cracking sound of the spear going into Nun’s head. He twitches for a few moments, and the crowd cheers. With all the movement of the crowd, there’s no way to find her. I decide I’ll have better luck if I go back to the temple to meet her, but I’m distracted by a loud and piercing woman’s scream. The sea of people surges toward the sound.
I too go to see what happened, and my heart beats cold as I look over the steep temple stairs to see my diamond lying in a puddle of blood at the bottom. I rush to her and turn her around in my arms, but she slumps lifeless in my embrace. I pull back to see her once-flawless features ruined by a deep gash in the middle of her forehead, from which thick blood paints her whole face. I hold her for a few moments more until she is gone. There is a murmur throughout the crowd that she was pushed.
A commoner shouts above the masses, “It was a man. Came up right behind her and shoved her down the steps. He ran back through the crowd.”
The temple guards rush to break up the hovering crowd, and when they see Bastet, they call for the temple priests. Knowing it will not bode well to be found crying over her, I place her body on the ground and wipe away my tears. I head to pray the rest of the day for her soul in the temple, ending the terrible day in the comfort of my dream chamber.
I get back into bed and fix the scroll with my god’s name on it, when I call for Sehket. She doesn’t come like she usually does, so I call again. Instead, Nun comes walking in, chuckling, and hurls Sehket’
s lifeless body next to my bed. I feel something move by my leg under the sheet. I throw back the sheet to expose a writhing mass of vipers, all crawling and hissing on top of me. I scream as they bite into my flesh and my body bursts into flame.
I recite the prayer to undo misfortunes predicted in inauspicious dreams but still feel unsettled and uneasy. I need to be sure Nun is, in fact, dead. I can’t understand why I would dream of him killing me if he is gone in this life.
I find the lector priest who presided over the execution and ask, “Where did they dispose of the slave’s body?
“One of the priests had the slave sent for funeral rites.”
“Funeral rites?” I scoff.
He shrugs and returns to what he was doing before my interruption.
The City of the Dead looms lonely near Pepy Meryre’s pyramid. A wall of rectangles rises from the ground to a singular apex in the center with a dark gaping mouth beckoning me within. I enter and follow the long corridor that leads to a large pool. In the marbled glow of torches reflecting on water, I see the shine of jewel-embellished scales just under the water. The enormous sacred crocodile guarding the House of the Dead watches me pass the pool, and I bow to him in respect and fear. I enter the first ceremonial room I come across, where I see Nun’s body lying on the table beneath three funeral priests.
One ancient digs in Nun’s mouth with his finger and says, “The force of the spear through the slave’s mouth was so great it thrust his front teeth apart.”
As the other two bend forward to examine him, my attention diverts to Aapep sitting at the scribe’s desk, recording the funeral rite in place of his father.
“Aapep, why are you here?”
He glances up with his flashing black eyes. “You are fully aware that my father is dead.”
“Oh no, I did not know. I am very sorry to hear of his death.”
Aapep looks away, back to Nun’s body.
Does he suspect me?
I wonder how much Khons told him about his early morning errand.