ABACUS (16 page)

“I'm not sure,” said AP, who didn't know they were called stelae.

“Check this one out,” said Kate. The carving, in black stone, showed a baby boy standing on a crocodile's back, holding snakes in his hand.

“That's weird.”

As they puzzled over its meaning a man, and a woman carrying a sick little boy, came toward them. Kate and AP moved aside as the couple stopped in front of the stone. The man

began reciting a prayer. When he finished, he rubbed his hand over the image of the baby. The boy's mother repeated the ritual. After standing in silence for several minutes, they left.

“That was sad,” whispered Kate. “Their little boy's so sick and they think the stone can cure him.”

The far end of the temple was roofed over, like the sides. “I think this is private,” whispered AP, noticing they were the only ones there. Kate was unconcerned.

“I wonder where that leads?” She nodded toward a large opening in the far wall. “Let's find out.”

As they approached the entrance, an important-looking man in white robes swept past. Hurrying behind him was a bare-chested man, his arms laden with scrolls. Both disappeared through the opening.

“It's an enormous hall,” said Kate a few moments later—AP had stood back while she peered through the darkened doorway.

As she pondered whether to go through, several more people hurried past them and disappeared inside.

“Did they just smile at you and glare at me?” asked AP.

“Forget it,” said Kate. “Who cares what they think? Come on, let's go and explore.”

“We can't go in there!” he blurted, but Kate had already disappeared. Reluctantly, AP followed.

Cool, dim, and cavernous, the room was filled with the aroma of burning incense. The only light came from oil lamps on the walls, their flickering flames adding to the mystique.

“Look at those wall paintings,” marveled Kate, “they're amazing. And check out that door. Do you think it's made of real gold?”

“Maybe,” said AP staring at the door's elaborate engravings. One showed a man with a falcon's face, the other a falcon with a sash over its shoulder. “They're both Horus, the falcon god. So this is probably his temple.”

“Each god has his own temple?”

“The major ones do—the others share temples. They even go visiting each other.”

“You've got to be joking.”

“No, honestly. The gods are represented by stone statues, and the priests take them out on wooden stretchers.”

“That's wild!” she exclaimed.

“Keep your voice down,” he whispered. “I'm sure we shouldn't be here. Let's duck behind that column and see what happens.”

Kate thought he was overreacting, but didn't argue.

Safely hidden, they watched as a young woman, dressed like Kate, knocked on the golden door. It swung open. As she stepped inside, they caught a tantalizing glimpse of a golden boat. Then the door closed.

“Come on,” said Kate, “let's check it out.”

“We can't go in there!” he protested.

“Why not? They let her in, why not us?”

“Well,” said AP, looking down at himself, “I'm a bit underdressed.”

“You always are!”

Without a second thought, she strode up to the door and gave two raps. AP stood

behind her—anxiously.

A powerfully built guard in a long pleated kilt opened the door. His head was shaved and he bowed deeply as Kate stepped inside. AP, feeling encouraged, followed her lead, but didn't get beyond the entrance.

“Wabs have no right in here!” he snapped, and pushed AP back so hard he almost fell over. “You should know that priests must be four times pure to enter the sanctuary of the god. Be gone!” With that, he shut the door in AP's face.

Chapter 27: Wab World

A stunned AP stood outside the door, wondering what to do. They'd soon discover Kate was an imposter, so he decided to wait. Minutes dragged by like hours. Eventually he had to accept that Kate wasn't coming out. Worried and confused, he made his way back to the open courtyard. How would he reconnect with Kate?

AP noticed several other boys, shaved and dressed like himself, doing jobs around the temple. One had just reported to a bald man wearing a long white robe. AP guessed the man was a priest, and was close enough to hear what he was saying.

“Take those offerings to the proper place.” The priest pointed to a pile of loaves stacked against a column. Then, seeing AP, he called out, “You, boy, lend a hand.”

AP did as he was told.

“You're new,” said the other boy, looking AP up and down. “I haven't seen you here before. Just start today?”

“Er…yes,” replied AP.

“My name's Nekhti. What's yours?” The boy, who was about a year older than AP, was a head and shoulders taller, and much broader.

“I'm called AP.”

“Aypee,” Nekhti repeated. “I've not heard that name before. You're not from here.”

“No, not exactly.” Then, changing the subject, “Where's all this stuff got to go?”

“We take it as far as the hypostyle hall.” Seeing the blank look on AP's face he added, “Wabs are not sufficiently pure to enter the offering vestibule.”

AP still looked lost.

“You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?” Nekhti sounded puzzled, though there was nothing threatening in his voice. “You must be from the desert,” he concluded, as if that explained everything. “I've heard desert people do everything differently.”

AP nodded.

“So you know nothing of how our temples work?”

“Not really. Temples in the desert are so different from yours.”

“And you don't know the ways of our priesthood?”

“I know it's a bit like ours,” AP improvised.

“Where you come from, is a wab the most junior priest, as it is here?”

AP nodded, hoping the questions wouldn't get harder.

“And wabs work part-time at the temple?”

Again, AP nodded.

“Do you want to learn more about the priesthood, like I do, and reach the next level of purity?”

“Yes,” said AP, not sure what that might involve.

“Good,” said Nekhti, bending down and picking up an armful of loaves. “Let's make a start by getting all this over to the hypostyle.”

Minutes later, they arrived at the hypostyle, the roofed-in area at the far end of the courtyard that AP and Kate had explored. Nekhti led the way to a small room that was half filled with food and jugs of wine and beer.

“Most offerings to the gods are made by the temple itself,” Nekhti explained. “Like other large temples we've got our own farms. During special festivals like today though, the common people bring offerings too.”

AP picked up a small pottery figure of a crocodile.

“There are lots of ornaments like that—they've become quite popular as offerings.”

“So what happens to all this food and drink?”

“The same as happens to all temple offerings.”

AP looked puzzled.

“Surely you have daily offerings to the gods at your temples?”

“Well, yes—”

“Right,” he shot back. “So when the food and drink has been offered and the god has taken his fill, the rest is shared out among the priests and temple workers.”

AP nodded.

“Come on,” said Nekhti, stepping out of the room. “There's a lot more to be moved.”

The boys were on their way back through the courtyard to pick up their last load of offerings when they heard a loud commotion behind them. Turning around, AP saw a procession heading straight for them. At its center was a gold ceremonial boat—the very one he and Kate had glimpsed through the golden door. Twelve priests were carrying it on their shoulders. Each wore a stiff kilt, reaching almost to his ankles. Three more priests walked on either side, each carrying a large fan of ostrich feathers.

“Do you see who's in the boat?” asked Nekhti, pointing to the wooden box in the middle of the vessel. Elaborately carved, the open-fronted box was almost as big as a phone booth.

“It's a statue of Horus,” said AP.

“Statue?” gasped Nekhti. If AP had said the priests were carrying a hippopotamus, he couldn't have been more shocked. “It's not a statue of Horus, it is Horus.”

“Yes, yes of course,” said AP, realizing he'd made a big blunder.

“Surely you desert people know that the god's spirit lives inside the statue, so the statue is the god?”

“Yes we do,” said AP, blushing.

The priest leading the procession carried a rod shaped like an outstretched arm. The cup in its hand held burning incense. The sweet-smelling smoke wafted through the air.

AP was too engrossed in the spectacle to notice at first. Then it hit him like a collapsing column: Kate, walking immediately behind the leading priest, was part of the procession.

“Who's the one behind the leader?” asked AP, trying hard to sound casual.

“She's a shemayet,” said Nekhti. Seeing AP's blank expression he added, “Maybe you say priestess.”

“Priestess?” repeated AP in disbelief.

“Yes, and there's another one right behind her.”

AP recognized the second priestess as the young woman who had entered the golden door just before Kate. Aside from being dressed alike, they each carried a rattle, which they shook and banged against their free hand. “What do you call the thing in their hand?” asked AP, as if he had a different name for it.

“We call it a sistrum. Priestesses always carry them. What do you call it?”

“Oh, the same.”

As the procession went passed, Kate spotted her brother and made eye contact. She tried mouthing a message, which he couldn't understand, so he gave an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders.

Musicians playing flutes, harps and cymbals followed the ceremonial boat. People in the crowd joined in behind them, singing and shouting and thoroughly enjoying themselves.

“So what happens now?” asked AP, wondering how he could contact Kate.

“The procession will make a circuit around the temple, then thread through the town before returning.”

“Where do the priests and priestesses go afterwards?”

“The priests live on the temple grounds, so they'll carry on with their duties. As for the priestesses—they looked wealthy, so they'll probably return to their big houses.”

“Do all priestesses live at home?”

“No. Some live in a special part of the temple.” Nekhti paused. “Why are you so interested in the priestesses?”

“I'm not. I just wondered whether it's the same as back home.”

AP had no time to figure out how to connect with Kate because as soon as he and Nekhti delivered the last of the offerings, the priest sent them on another errand.

After making its way along the main street, the procession came to a halt and the priests set down the ceremonial boat. Kate, stressed out from playing the role of a priestess, wondered what would happen now. She was also wondering how she would ever find her brother.

A dozen wabs appeared, carrying jugs of water. Kate was grateful for the drink, and the break gave her the chance to continue her conversation with Tamit, the other priestess.

“You must come and stay at my home,” insisted Tamit. “My parents wouldn't hear of your staying at the temple.”

“I'll be fine,” said Kate, knowing the temple was her only link with her brother. “I can't just turn up at your home.”

“It happens all the time! My father's the royal scribe, in charge of the treasury. He's always entertaining guests.”

“All the more reason not to bother your mother with me.”

“My mother won't be bothered. We have a huge house full of servants—it makes no difference how many guests come to stay.”

Kate knew Tamit would never take no for an answer. But how would she contact AP if she went to her house? And how long would it be before she was exposed as a fake anyway?

Meanwhile, AP was learning a lot about his new friend. Nekhti was the youngest of four brothers and two sisters. They lived with their parents in a small house, not far from the temple.

“My father expected me to go into the family business like my brothers,” Nekhti explained. “But I didn't want to.”

When AP asked what sort of business that was, Nekhti was vague.

“Let's just say I've tried it and don't like it. I still work there, when I'm not at the temple, but it's the priesthood that really interests me. I spend the mornings with my father and brothers, and the afternoons at the temple.”

The Egyptians, AP discovered, divided their day into twenty-four hours too, and Nekhti spent the last three hours of each afternoon at the temple's school.

They finished their errands before the procession returned, and Nekhti was about to go off to his class. Before leaving, he turned to AP. “You've got nowhere to live have you?”

“I planned on staying at the temple.”

“No need,” said Nekhti, “you can come and stay with us.”

Just then, a loud trumpeting sounded throughout the courtyard. “That's the call for afternoon class,” said Nekhti, and before AP had a chance to reply, his friend dashed off.

An hour dragged by and AP wondered if the procession would return before Nekhti's class ended. Fortunately it did.

Catching Kate's eye, AP pointed to himself and then to the ground. She nodded, knowing he was going to stay put.

AP had to wait ages before she finally appeared.

“I've only got a few minutes,” Kate began, grabbing his arm and leading him behind the nearest column. “I've got to talk fast.”

He had seen his sister agitated before, though never like this. She quickly told him how Tamit was pressuring her to stay at her home. “I can't go and leave you to fend for yourself.”

When AP explained how Nekhti had invite
d him to stay at his house, she was so relieved she hugged him. Unfortunately, her other problem had no solution. “Tamit and those priests think I'm a priestess!” she blurted out, almost in tears. “They'll soon find out I'm a complete fraud—I've no way of stopping them.”

“Hang on,” said AP, “there must be a way out of this.”

After pondering for a while, he started smiling. “Dreams!” he exclaimed. “The Egyptians are great believers in the meaning of dreams—I read about it in one of Dad's books.”

Kate stared blankly.

“All you've got to do is tell Tamit you've been having this strange dream. Exactly the same dream every night.” He paused, thinking up a suitable story. “I've got it! Say one of the gods speaks to you—choose one whose name you'll remember. This god predicts you're going to forget everything you know about being a priestess. That's okay because you've been chosen for greater things.” Then, with a grin he added, “Be sure to say the god hands you a loaf of white bread after telling you this.”

“This is no time for jokes,” Kate snapped. “Can't you see I'm in real trouble?”

“I'm not joking. When someone gives you white bread in a dream, it's a sign things are going to work out well.”

“You're sure?”

“Of course. I'm trying to help, not make things worse.”

“Okay, but if I tell Tamit this story and she believes it, I'll just be buying extra time. If I've been chosen for greater things, I'll have to prove it sometime, won't I?”

“Exactly. And that's where I come in. I'll think of something you can do to show your new powers.”

“Like what?”

“I don't know yet.”

“That's just great! I'm going to convince Tamit I'm about to have special powers, and then—”

“Listen Kate,” AP interrupted, “the idea of having a dream will work for sure. In the meantime, I'll think of something that'll show everyone you're a powerful priestess.”

She looked unconvinced.

“Remember the soap bubbles at Camelot? You have to admit, they blew everyone away.”

“You're going to make more soap?”

“No, of course not. I've got to think of something appropriate for ancient Egyptians.”

“How are we going to keep in touch?”

“We'll meet right here at a certain time each day,” said AP.

“Suppose one of us can't make it?”

“We'll have a backup time. How about we always meet when the temple class starts—you'll hear the trumpeting sound. If we miss that rendezvous, we'll meet again as the sun goes down.”

“And if something still goes wrong and we miss each other?” asked Kate.

“Then we'll leave a note—any ideas where?”

“How about the stone with the baby holding the snakes?”

AP nodded.

“We can tuck it beneath a corner of the stone,” said Kate.

“So we've got it all sorted.”

“Seems like it.” Kate, for the first time, looked calm.

“One last thing. Which god are you going to use for your dream?”

“Hathor,” she replied without hesitation. “She's the goddess who made the sistrum a sacred instrument. Hathor got me into this mess—she can get me out of it!”

They would have talked for longer, but Kate saw Tamit waiting. “Got to go,” she said, giving her brother another hug. “Thanks for sorting me out. Take care.”

“No problem. I'll come up with something that'll make you the queen of priestesses!”