Imhotep (16 page)

Hapu
shrieked in pretend fear and then started to imitate him.

Later,
as the children wandered from campfire to campfire, visiting with their
friends, Paneb told Tim that they would arrive in Iunu tomorrow.

“Jarha
said there is a river crossing just an hour’s walk ahead. Iunu is across the
river there.”

“Jarha?”

Paneb
nodded.  “He shouldn’t have told Ahmes about crocodiles and hippos, but he
does know the river.” Paneb rubbed his back against the rough trunk of a palm
tree.  “I’m told that even if you do see them, they usually are far
away.  But still, we’ll watch for them.” He paused, his eyes focused on
the distance.  “It would be exciting to see a hippo.  I’ve drawn
them, but always from the drawings of other artists.”

Tim
nodded, happy to talk with his new friend.  Even if he didn’t understand
every word, he felt the camaraderie in Paneb’s voice.

“I
draw from others' drawing, too, Paneb.  It is better to see the
thing.  I hope to see a hippo tomorrow.  I hope it is far away.”

Paneb
smiled.  “But not too far.”

T
im woke before dawn.

He had
always been an early riser and now that he went to sleep as night fell, he
found himself waking before sunrise.

Quietly
he left the encampment and headed for the river, following the slight reddish
glow that marked the east.  Even though the sun was announcing its arrival
at the horizon, the sky above remained dark and blazing with stars.

When
he got close to the river, he turned left, looking to the north toward
Iunu.  Even as he looked, he knew there would be no light glow, no
indication that a town lay waiting up there in the darkness. 

In the
thousands of years stretching forward from this night it will only be in the
last hundred years that man will conquer the night.   He looked at
the bright, sparkling jewels of light above him. 
And lose all of this,
he thought.

The
ground grew soft and mushy as he got closer to the river, so he turned to
follow the bank northward looking for firmer footing to approach the water for
his morning bath.

A
slight breeze drifted from the water toward the cooling desert sand.  It
carried the richness of the river mingled with the exhalations of the palm
trees along the riverbank and the scent of the damp earth.  Drawing a deep
breath, he said to himself, “It smells green and alive.”

The
sun was over the horizon now.  Rose-colored light washed across the sky,
filtering down through the leaves of the palm and sycamore trees that lined the
riverbank.  Short willow trees and papyrus stalks rose along the water’s
marshy edge, hiding the water.

Walking
slowly, crocodiles and hippos in mind, Tim approached a willow that stood on a
small mound by the water.  He sat by its trunk and opened his
sketchbook.  He had started to take time each morning to write down what
he had seen or learned the previous day.

As he
stared out across the water, wondering about what he would see at the festival
tomorrow, he noticed movement on a small island a dozen yards off to his left.

A
curved boat made of bundles of reeds was pulled out of the water. 
Standing beside it, in knee-deep water among floating blue water lilies, a
naked teenage boy was smearing himself with mud. 

With
his back to Tim, he stretched out a thin arm and spread the dark river mud
across it, carefully working it between his fingers.  He had swiped an
uneven coat of mud across his shaved head and down his neck.

Tim
knew that the Egyptians gave their children adult responsibilities and freedom
at an early age.  Girls often married at thirteen and had a child a year
later.  Boys joined in their father’s trade before they were ten years
old, and usually married by age sixteen.

Even
though he no longer wore the side lock of youth, the boy across the water
seemed young to be out by himself at this early hour.  Tim wondered if he
was preparing himself for a hunt, using the mud to hide his scent or as
camouflage. 

Looking
at him with an artist’s eye, Tim thought that the boy’s back and shoulders were
not muscled yet.

The
boy bent to pick up another handful of mud and twisted sideways to start
spreading it on his back.  As he turned he saw Tim, and Tim saw that the
boy was clearly a young girl.

Mud
was smeared across her small breasts and down her flat belly.  Her hands,
cupped and filled with mud, were poised by her narrow, boyish hips.  She
stopped as she saw Tim watching her.

For a
moment they looked in each other’s eyes.  Tim was embarrassed to be caught
spying on her; she seemed surprised, but not offended or frightened.  Tim
turned away first, his eyes stopping on the reed boat by her feet.

“Hello,”
she called across the narrow watery divide.  Her voice was light and
cheerful.

Tim
wanted to slink away and hide.

She
looked down at the mud that was oozing out of her hands and began to smear it
across her buttocks and the back of her thighs.

“I
must leave,” Tim said, as much to himself as to the girl.

She
looked up, a smile playing on her mouth.  “Where?”

Tim
put his sketchbook back into the sling bag and got to his feet.  Suddenly
his voice felt thick and he didn’t trust himself to talk.

“Re
has appeared,” she said, nodding toward the growing light.  “His strength
will soon dry this mud and I am not ready.”

“Ready?”
Tim managed to say, his eyes still averted.

“Yes,”
she said.  “The water is not deep here.  Come help me.”

Tim
looked at the water and then back at the boat.  Hesitantly he took a step
toward the water.

“Your
kilt will get wet,” she said.

Tim
waded into the water.  Mindful of the scolding he would get from Taki, he
raised the hem of the kilt above the water level and walked toward the
island.  As the river bottom sloped up to the island, he let the kilt’s
hem fall back in place, covering his now wet boxer briefs.

She
turned away from Tim, presenting her naked back.

He
looked down at his feet and then scooped up a handful of the heavy mud.

“Hurry,”
she said.  “Along the middle.” As she spoke she quickly bent down and
gathered more mud to cover her other arm.

Tim
glanced at her tapering back and quickly put the mud on the areas she had left
uncovered.  He tried to keep the mud thick between his hands and her tawny
skin and his eyes from looking at her mud-caked skin.

He was
still wiping mud between her delicate shoulder blades when she glanced up at
the sky and then darted off through the reeds, skirting the small island. 
“Bless you,” she called as she pushed through the leaves.

He
sighed in relief that the strange encounter was over and then turning, he
stepped on the edge of her reed boat, lost his balance and fell face first into
the mud.

U
nlike Ineb-Hedj, Iunu had no walls around
it.  A scattering of mud-brick huts marked the outskirts of the
town.  Jarha led them along a worn dirt trail that wound past the
huts.  Soon there were more homes, built closer together.  The trail
widened and became a street. 

The
pilgrims had arrived in Iunu.

They
followed the street to a large open plaza.  In the center of the plaza,
atop a low stone mastaba stood a short obelisk covered in electrum, a
combination of gold and silver.  Hieroglyphic symbols filled its gleaming
surface.

“The
Radiant One,” Jarha said reverently to Tim and Paneb as they looked at the
obelisk.  It was a four-sided tapering shaft.  Tim realized that the
Washington Monument from his time was a larger version of it, without the
precious metal coating.

Jarha
pointed across the plaza to an opening at the end of a covered causeway.

“Re
comes out there, floating in his barge.  See the canal, there?” Jarha
swept his arm across the plaza, following the path of the canal, which led to
the central mastaba and then continued past it to a temple entrance at the far
end of the plaza.

“Where
should we stand?” Paneb asked, looking around at the crowd that was milling
around the edge of the plaza.

“Close
to the beer and food,” Jarha said with a laugh.  He clapped Paneb on the
back.  “After an hour or so, it won’t matter where we are, we’ll be too
drunk to see anything anyhow.”

It was
late afternoon.  The festival would begin at dawn tomorrow.  In the
meantime, Paneb and the other pilgrims were expected to enjoy the hospitality
of Re.

Awnings
had been raised around the perimeter of the plaza to provide shade for tables
filled with food, beer and wine, all provided for the pilgrims by the temple of
Re.

The
south wall of the courtyard was given over to sellers of souvenirs: gold
amulets of Re, small scrolls of papyrus filled with magical hieroglyphics,
carvings in cedar wood of the sun god, and bouquets of flowers.  Taki and
her daughters took their pouch of rings and gemstones to those tables to begin
haggling with the sellers.

Tim
followed Paneb and Jarha to the food tables.  Ahmes tagged along with
them, his head swiveling about as he looked at the crowd and took in the noise
and commotion.  A juggler walked by, tossing five gold colored balls and
chanting, “Praise to you, oh Re, great of power.” 

A
priestess, dressed in an ankle-length gown of the sheerest linen, seemed to
float by, the crowd opening a path for her and the two little girls who walked
in front of her strewing flower petals on the ground.  She was followed by
an acrobat who turned somersaults and walked on his hands.

“Father,”
Ahmes said, tugging at Paneb’s arm.  “Did you see the priestess?”

Paneb
turned to look where his son was pointing.

“You’ll
see plenty more of them tomorrow,” Jarha said.

Paneb
and Ahmes looked at the graceful figure as she disappeared in the crowd. 
Then they looked at each other and smiled.

E
ven though the pilgrims left their camp
outside Iunu before dawn the following day, when they reached the central plaza
they found a crowd already gathering.  Torches lined the walls of the
plaza and the central canal cast flickering light over the sleepy faces of the
pilgrims.

In the
center of the plaza, the electrum-covered obelisk gathered and reflected light
from the torches, gleaming with an otherworldly brightness.  Some of the
crowd knelt facing the obelisk, reciting prayers to the sun god. Others stood
in small groups talking and laughing, a few were already by the beer jars.

Standing
by Paneb, Tim searched the crowd for Diane and Brian.  He hoped that
Brian’s height and Diane’s red hair would make them easy to spot, even if they
were dressed in native kilts as he was.

Paneb
noticed Tim scanning the crowd.  He pointed toward an open area across the
canal from them, near the obelisk where several white-garbed girls stood with
palm branches in their hands.

“Djefi
will be there,” he said. 

He
shrugged in response to Tim’s unspoken question.  “I asked Jarha.”

Young
girls wearing garlands of flowers and the white robes of Re's priestesses began
to walk along the walls of the plaza extinguishing the torches.  Others
attended to the torches along the canal, leaving lit only the circular stand of
torches around the base of the obelisk.

The
plaza hushed into near darkness.

“There
is Djefi,” Paneb said quietly, nudging Tim and pointing across the canal.

An
extremely fat man sat on a chair that had been carried out to the canal. 
Beside him stood a strikingly beautiful Egyptian woman.  She wore a white
sheath with a single strap over her right shoulder.  Pink flowers formed a
crown around dark braided hair that fell to her shoulders. 

And
beside her, holding her hand, was Diane.

She
was dressed as an Egyptian with a thin linen dress and white sandals.  She
wore the same makeup as the woman beside her, but her bright red hair stood out
even in the dim morning light.

As Tim
wondered how he would make contact with her and where Brian was, a dry rattling
sound began to steal across the plaza as two lines of priestesses, twisting
sistrums in their hands, appeared at the opening of the canal.

Everyone
turned toward the sound, which now was joined by lyrical chanting.  The
priestesses walked along the canal until they lined the length of it. 
Then they knelt and continued to softly sing praises to Re.  Some of the
devout in the crowd joined in the song.

Two
men, wearing masks shaped into the head of a ram, complete with curled horns,
emerged from the covered causeway, walking in the waist-deep water of the
canal.  Gold colored ropes draped over their wide shoulders were attached
to a barge, which they pulled from the darkness.  As the barge came into
view, sunlight broke over the horizon lighting the plaza with a rosy glow.

Some
of the crowd cheered, others began to sing louder.  Tim saw that Taki and
Dedi had their eyes closed, their faces turned toward the rising sun as they
sang the words of Re’s litany.  Hapu had been hoisted to her father’s
shoulders.  She was wide-eyed, taking in the spectacle, as was Ahmes, who
stood between Tim and Paneb.  Even Jarha was quiet, his eyes agleam as he
watched the progression.

The
barge held three young girls, each with a golden tray of flower petals. 
They tossed small handfuls of the petals from the barge, some of them landing
in the water, others reaching the banks of the canal where young boys and girls
darted forward to grab them.

In the
center of the barge stood a polished wooden platform supporting a golden statue
of Re, seated on a throne, his hands in his lap, a golden disk encircling his
ram’s head.

Standing
behind the god, her hands raised in a protective stance, stood a tall
priestess.  Her silhouette glowed beneath a transparent pleated
gown.   As the barge came closer, Tim saw that her skin was covered
with powdered gold.

“Hetephernebti,”
Paneb whispered.

The
barge slowly advanced to the central obelisk; two boys trailed it lighting the
torches on either side of the canal as it passed.  When it reached the
central island, the two ram-headed men tied the golden ropes to posts at the
base of the obelisk, and then walked to the back of the barge to steady it as
Hetephernebti walked from the barge to the obelisk.

Young
boys carried smoldering trays of incense through the crowd and the daylight
grew brighter as the sun climbed over the low courtyard walls.

Suddenly
the background hum of the sistrums stopped and Hetephernebti began to sing in a
beautiful, clear soprano voice that floated over the crowd as light and warm as
sunlight.  Even the beer drinkers stopped and watched as she stood before
the sacred ark and sang.

“Homage
to thee, O thou who risest in the horizon as Re, thou restest upon law
unchangeable and unalterable. Thou passest over the sky, and every face
watcheth thee and thy course, for thou hast been hidden from their gaze.

“Thou
dost show thyself at dawn and at eventide day by day.  The Sektet boat,
wherein is the Majesty, goeth forth with light; thy beams are upon all faces;
the number of red and yellow rays cannot be known, nor can thy bright beams be
told.  The lands of the gods, and the lands of Punt must be seen, ere that
which is hidden in thee may be measured. 

“Alone
and by thyself thou dost manifest thyself when thou comest into being above
Nut.  May I advance, even as thou dost advance; may I never cease to go
forward as thou never ceasest to go forward, even though it be for a moment;
for with strides thou dost in one little moment pass over the spaces which
would need millions and millions of years for men to pass over; this thou doest
and then thou dost sink to rest.

“Thou
puttest an end to the hours of the night, and thou dost count them, even thou;
thou endest them in thine own appointed season, and the earth becometh light.
Thou settest thyself therefore before thy handiwork in the likeness of Re when
thou risest on the horizon.”

There
was a moment of solemn quietness and then the young priestesses began to shake
their sistrums again and the crowd joined in their chant: “Praise to you, oh
Re, great of power.”

As the
chanting grew in strength, Hetephernebti walked across the surface of the
water, leaving the island for the courtyard.  As she approached the crowd,
the people fell to their knees.  Gently she reached down and touched them,
raising them back to their feet, all the while softly singing the litany of Re.

To
Tim’s modern eye she seemed like a combination of a rock star, a supermodel and
the pope.  When little children clung to her legs, she smiled and stopped,
stooping down to kiss them.  Young men were torn between desire and
reverence; older men smiled as if at a favorite daughter’s wedding, tears running
from their eyes.  Girls in the crowd wanted to grow up to be the beautiful
Hetephernebti, women adored her purity, her undisguised gentleness and power.

As she
walked the perimeter of the crowd, unhurried and peaceful, but moving steadily,
Tim saw men carry baskets from the courtyard entranceways.  Some of the
baskets were piled with roasted oxen and duck.  Other baskets were filled
with chickpeas, lettuce, onions and other vegetables, others with heaps of
freshly baked bread.

The
aroma of the food began to overtake the scent of the incense and as
Hetephernebti, her circuit complete, returned to the obelisk, the chanting
ended and the crowd grew quiet.

“Welcome
to the House of Re,” Hetephernebti said. 

“Enjoy
his blessings!”

A
s Jarha tugged on Paneb’s arm and nodded
toward the tables where jars of beer stood waiting, Tim leaned down and quietly
asked Ahmes, “Come with me?”

Paneb
nodded his approval.

“Take
care of him,” he said.

Tim
and Ahmes looked at each other unsure who was to take care of whom.  When
they realized that they both had the same question in mind, they began to
laugh.  Paneb saw what they were laughing at.

“I was
talking to both of you,” he said, smiling at the idea of his son taking care of
Tim.  Although Tim had denied being a god, Paneb saw the way Tim could do
anything and the way he understood and looked beyond things.  If he’s not
a god, Paneb thought, he still is more than a man.

“They
make the beer different here.  They add fruit to some of it.  And
they have wine, made from grapes,” Jarha said to Paneb as he led him away.

“I
know all about wine.  I’ve even drawn nobles drinking it.”

“Ahh,
but now you can drink it, Paneb.  You’ll draw it so much better, eh?”

A
t first Tim and Ahmes just walked among
the crowd, taking in the sight of so many people in one place and the sounds of
a crowd.  Looking at Ahmes, Tim remembered his own excitement as a boy
when his parents took him to a small carnival that passed through town.

They
stopped to watch a juggler tossing small gleaming balls that represented
Re.  The crowd formed a circle to give him room, and as he finished, three
acrobats somersaulted into the clearing.

When
they had finished, Tim leaned down to talk to Ahmes.

“I
want to cross the water.  Help me find a path.”

Ahmes
looked at him questioningly.  Priests and nobles had their own gathering
place on the other side of the canal that divided the courtyard, apart from the
commoners.  Each side was supplied with food and drink.  There wasn’t
any reason for either side to cross the canal.

But
Tim had seen Hetephernebti on both sides of the water, so he knew there had to
be a dry way across.  And that was where Diane was.