Imhotep (32 page)

He sat
on the grass and watched the donkey back awkwardly from the water’s edge, its
front hooves covered in mud.  Tama stood upstream from the donkey, her
back to Brian as she watched the river and ate.

It was
early afternoon, too early to make camp.  The next village, a town called
Sohag, was just an hour’s walk away.  They planned to trade some linen or
jewelry for food there and rest a few days.  Tama said it was the halfway
point in their walk to Waset.

When
he was a child Brian had learned to escape from the shouting of his mother by
shutting down his thinking and focusing on whatever he saw: the grain of wood
on the paneling inside the trailer home; the way fibers in their worn carpet
wove in and out of each other, twisting and knotting; the worn fabric on their
sofa and how the colored threads came together to make rectangular patterns.

He
learned to study with his eyes, allowing his mind to narrow to the visual world
and ignore the sounds of anger and poverty.

When
Tama said that words sometimes get in the way of reality, he thought he
understood, but he would have said it differently.  He thought words
warped reality, scraping the joy from it, twisting it so hard that the
happiness bled from it like water from a dirty dishrag.

He
looked at her now, standing naked by the water.  He saw her brown tapering
legs, the tight, round curve of her bottom leading to the smooth, muscled lines
of her back.  Beyond the sky was a pale blue, the far bank a sandy brown
with a scattering of trees, their long ragged leaves arching into the sky.

He saw
the colors and contour, but didn’t give them names.  He could smell the
river, a rich, organic mixture of water, plants, and fish, its aroma a curious
mixture of clarity and loamy fecundity.  The grass, the donkey, the trees,
and the wind blowing in from the desert all colored the air around him, making
it seem alive.  He contributed to it, too, his salty perspiration mixing
with the oil Tama had given him to protect his skin.

Finishing
his bread, he walked over to the donkey, which was grazing along the water’s
edge.  It ignored him as he rubbed the coarse hair along its neck, moving
away from him, searching for taller grass.

Brian
unbelted his kilt and draped it over a small bush.

The
river was low, the bare bank curving down steeply to it.  The brown water
rippled around unseen rocks, catching on reeds near the bank.  Stepping
carefully in the slippery mud, he entered the water, feeling the soft river
bottom squish beneath his toes.

He
walked toward the center until the water reached his waist, then leaning
forward he dove under and swam, pulling himself along with long, strong
strokes.  After a while he turned and floated on his back, drawing himself
against the slow moving current, then rolling over, he swam toward the shore.

Tama
was standing in the water near the shore.  Although she bathed in the
river, she was not a swimmer.  She watched Brian as he swam toward
her.  When the water was shallow enough he stood and walked to her.

“Take
me out there,” she said, pointing toward the middle of the river and walking
toward him.

“Sure,”
he answered in English.

“Sure,”
she echoed, trying out the sound of the word.

Taking
her hand he led her into the water, sweeping his free arm under her legs to
carry her when the water came up to her waist.  She wrapped her arms
around his neck and looked around her at the rising water as he walked toward
the river’s center.  Her eyes were wide with excitement.

The
water rose to his chest now, her face would be under the water if she tried to
stand.

“Hold
on,” he said.  He pushed her around to his back.  He felt her breasts
push against him and her legs wrap around his waist as she settled in, her arms
a little tighter now around his neck.

“Ready?”
he asked.

“Yes.”

He
leaned forward and dove under the water, pushing them deeper and deeper. 
Then he arched his back and curved toward the bank, rising to the
surface. 

When
his head cleared the water he heard her laughing and sputtering.

“More,”
she said, wrapping her legs tighter around him.

Taking
a deep breath he dove under again.

He
carried her through the water and under it, swimming until his shoulders
started to tire, and then he headed for land.  She stayed on his back
until they reached the steep, slippery bank, then she slid off so he could pull
himself up.  Then he reached down to help her up.

Once
they were both on land, Brian lay on his back on the grass, looking up at the
empty sky, enjoying the rush of air as he breathed deeply, the languid feel of
his arms and legs, tired from the exercise.  He saw Tama’s head as she
bent down to sit beside him. 

She
put her hands under his wet hair and, crossing her legs, lay his head on her
lap.

“Thank
you,” she said, her voice a little higher and breathless.  “I felt like a
hawk soaring through the air, effortless and weightless.”

Brian
smiled.  He rolled his head, settling his weight in her lap.

She
brushed her hand along his lips, across his cheek and then followed his jaw to
his chin.  She cupped it briefly and then caressed beneath his chin and
along his throat.

“I
must learn that,” she said, as much to herself as to Brian.  “Can you
teach me?” she asked.  “Is it very hard?”

He
shook his head.  “No, it’s easy.  You just have to be careful when
you start.  The only thing with rivers is the rocks.  And I guess
crocodiles here.  I didn’t think about that,” he said.  “But the
ocean, that’s more dangerous because of the waves and undertow and sharks.”

His
head bobbed as she laughed quietly.

“What?”
he said.

“More
words I do not know.”

“I’m
sorry,” he said.

“No,
no,” Tama said.  “I love the sound and the look on your face when you talk
in your language.  I must learn it better.”

He
closed his eyes and focused on her touch as she caressed his shoulders and
chest.

“I do
believe that words sometimes keep us from what is real,” she said.  “But
now I must learn new words to understand you better.  They have two
faces.”

Brian
stretched his arms above his head.  One hand found one of her feet, which
he held, his thumb massaging her.  The other hand found the smooth muscle
of her lower back.  He let his arm lower until his hand cupped the side of
her hip.  He kneaded the flesh softly, enjoying the feel of the skin and
muscle beneath his hand.

“When
the words come from within, when you are freeing an idea, then the words are
powerful.  They give life to the thought.  They can ignite a fire in
another person’s mind.  Waja-Hur could do that when he was young. 
His voice was rich and strong; the words that he said were powerful
seeds.  They could bring the very gods to life,” she said.

“Other
times, words hide life, or make it pale and meaningless.

“When
I say river from now on, it will be a rich, powerful word.  I will
remember today and the feeling of floating and swimming.  But when I say
it to another person, they may only hear the flat ribbon of brown that wanders
through the Two Lands.”

She
looked down at Brian, his eyes closed, his face muscles relaxed.

“It
made you very tired,” she said.

He
nodded.

“I
will let you sleep.”

He
shook his head and raised his face to kiss her.

“I
t is like dying,” she said afterward, “or
what I hope dying will be like.”

“What
do you mean?” Brian asked.  He leaned down and kissed the top of her
head.  They were lying beneath a palm tree, their legs intertwined, their
heartbeats still slowing from their lovemaking.

“My
thoughts are slowly erased, I don’t see the trees, I don’t hear the birds or
feel the sun, all of my attention goes to my skin and then within.  The
energy draws into a little ball and then it explodes and I am nothing but
joy.  That is the death.  Then I begin to come alive again, slowly,
but with a feeling of happiness that overwhelms all else.  That is the
rebirth in Khert-Neter.”

“That
sounds good,” Brian said, “But what if all that happens when we die is that
we’re dead?  I mean, how do we know what happens?  Why would we even
think that something happens after we’re dead?”

Tama
lifted her head to look up at his face.

“I
know,” she said.  “That is a hard thing for me. I have been trained to
look for the truth, to use my eyes and ears and touch and heart, but to test
what I see and hear and feel and think.  If it is not true, then it is not
true. 

“But I
cannot ask question of the gods; I cannot see them and talk to them.  I
feel the spirit of Ma’at within me, but I do not know where it comes
from.  Is it from my heart?  Is it from her?  I see the sun
every day.  Hetephernebti would tell me that I see the god Re, but I see
only a great glowing fire.

“My
parents, the stories of my childhood, Hetephernebti - everyone and
everything - they all teach me that there are gods.  In the end,
Brian, I cannot explain everything.

“If
Sobek did not sweat to create the river Iteru, then where did it come
from?  It is possible that the story of Sobek is not true, but something
must be true.  The river is here.  I see it, thanks to you, I was
part of it.  So, we can say it came from a strange land up there,” she
pointed upstream where the river disappeared into the horizon.  “But
eventually, we have to say where it started.”

Brian
nodded.  “I understand.  I mean, the river comes from rain that falls
on mountains deep in Africa.  But where did the rain come from. 
Yeah, I know.  You can take it back far enough, but eventually, even if
you go back to the Big Bang, you have to stop explaining and start believing
something.”

Suddenly,
Tama began to lightly pound her fists against Brian’s chest, softly but
rapidly.  “You know where the river comes from?  And what is Africa
and this other big bag thing?  There is so much in there and I don’t know
it.”

Brian
rolled closer and held her so she couldn’t hit him.  He laughed quietly as
he pulled her close.

“It’s
not fair,” she said.  “You are so much stronger and you know so much more,
too.”

He
kissed her forehead and lifted her chin gently to kiss her mouth.

“My
head has facts in it, but I’m just starting to understand.”

“W
hy does Djefi want to kill me?” Brian
asked two days later as they walked along the road after resting and
replenishing their supplies in Sohag.

“I
don’t know,” Tama answered.

“But
you have an idea,” he said, knowing that Tama would never let a puzzle stay
unsolved.

“He
sent you into the desert with Siamun who left you there with an injured
man.  But you returned, carrying the man on your back.  Then you
stopped a crocodile from taking a little girl.”

Although
she didn’t raise her fingers to count, she recounted the actions as if ticking
them off a list.

“This
raised you in the eyes of the people who live at To-She.  He could not
permit that.”

“Why?”

Tama
thought for a moment, looking for words that they shared that would explain
Djefi.

“Waja-Hur
is loved.  He speaks the truth.  He has been high priest for Thoth
for many, many years.  Now many people regard him as Thoth. 
Sometimes I think he does, too.  He always speaks what he believes Thoth
would say.  Perhaps he is Thoth at those times.  He is always true to
Thoth, to the god’s devotion to balance.

“Hetephernebti
is loved also.  She doesn’t speak as if she were Re.  Instead she
praises him.  She gives him all credit for life and love.  She
reflects the love she feels from Re.  She is always true to Re, always
living and speaking in his spirit.  The people see this, they see the way
she loves and worships Re.

“I
serve Ma’at, both the goddess and the idea.  I do it because I love the
goddess and everything she represents: truth, justice, and the rightness of all
things.  They are the base on which the Two Lands rests.  Every man
and woman must follow them, beer brewers, bakers, and scribes, even King
Djoser.

“Djefi
is First Prophet of the god Sobek.  But there are stories about him. 
I do not know if he truly serves Sobek or if he tries to make Sobek serve
him.  He says the words he wants Sobek to say, not the words Sobek wants
him to say.  It is hard to explain, Brian.  But the people see this,
they hear him, they understand that.  Djefi is not stupid.  He
understands also.  So he makes the people fear him.  He says it is
because Sobek is fearful, but it is because Djefi does not have the love of the
people.”