Imhotep (42 page)

“We
will serve the Two Lands together, Sekhmire.  The people will thrive and
the gods will smile on us.”

Sekhmire
nodded, unable to speak.

King
Djoser clapped Sekhmire’s shoulders one more time.  “Now, off to the
temple.  We must not keep Khnum waiting.  Or your father,” he said
with a wink.

“H
ere is some water,” Imhotep said.

Meryt
shook her head wearily.

“You
must have something,” he pleaded.

“No,”
she said weakly.  “I will just throw it up if I drink it.”

“Some
bread?” he asked.

“No,”
she said, laying her head on her arm.  She was lying on the floor at the
back of the room they shared on the temple grounds.  Her head was just
inches away from a half-open stone water drain.

Imhotep
knelt beside her, worried that she was having a relapse, that somehow, through
his carelessness, she had caught dysentery again.  He caressed her head,
feeling the dampness on her skin.  She smiled up at him.  “It will
pass,” she said.  “It did yesterday and the day before.”

He
looked down at her small form, so slight and fragile.

“It
will pass,” she repeated.  “Go prepare yourself for the ceremony.”

As he
stood, he heard a sound behind him.  Turning he saw Sekhmire’s wife, Sati,
standing in the doorway.  A look of concern filled her face as she saw
Meryt lying on the floor.

“She
is ill,” Imhotep said.

“Sati,”
Meryt said, pushing herself up to a sitting position.  “Thank you for
coming.  I forgot.” She turned to Imhotep.  “Sati came by to help me
prepare for the ceremony.  I don’t think I can go,” she said, looking back
at the short, plump woman.

“What
is wrong, little Meryt,” Sati said, coming to her side.

Imhotep
bent down to help Meryt to her feet.  She leaned back against the cool
stone wall and waved him away.  “I’ll stay here,” she said with a small
smile.  “Please, go prepare yourself for the ceremony.”

“She
has been vomiting,” Imhotep said, not moving.  “Every morning for three
days now.  She cannot even drink water.”

Ignoring
her own clean linen robe, Sati sat on the floor beside Meryt and took her hand.

“Does
your stomach feel uneasy, as if a snake were coiled in there?” she asked.

Meryt
gulped hard and nodded.

Sati
chuckled.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “That was stupid for me to say.”
She rubbed the back of Meryt’s hand calmly.  “But it passes and you feel
better as the day wears on?”

Meryt
nodded, happy to hear that Sati was aware of such an illness.

“When
you feel better, in the afternoons, then eat as much as you can.  And
drink. A little unfermented wine will stay down.  You will need the extra
food,” she said, smiling happily.

She
reached over and rubbed Meryt’s belly softly.  “There is life in there,
Meryt.  The feeling you have is that life taking hold.  It is
good.  In a few weeks the illness will pass as the life inside grows stronger.”

She
stood up and brushed the dust from her robe.

“King
Djoser told Sekhmire this would happen,” she said.  “He’ll be very
happy.  He said you two are very much in love.  Well, he said you
were seen demonstrating that love in every flat and quiet place on the island.”

She
laughed.  “I remember those days with Sekhmire.”

‘Should
we tell King Djoser?” Imhotep blurted out, shocked by the news and unable to
think clearly.

Meryt
and Sati looked at Imhotep in confusion.

“Remember,
Sati,” Meryt said softly, happy to hear Sati confirm her hopes, “Imhotep is not
from the Two Lands.”

Sati
smiled a tight grin and nodded her head.  “I had forgotten.” She turned to
him.  “Why would we not tell everyone that there is a life growing
within?  It is the most wonderful news one can ever tell.”

Imhotep
shrugged, trying to come to grips with the news that he was going to be a
father.  “In my land we usually wait for a few months.”

“Until
the belly starts to swell?” Sati asked.  “So then everyone knows that you
have kept a great secret from them?  Why would you do that?”

He
looked down at the floor.  “In case something happened.”

“You
mean if she loses the baby?” Sati asked.

Imhotep
flushed.  He felt they should not talk so openly in front of Meryt. 
In fact, he thought angrily, his emotions swirling, Sati should not even talk
this way to him.

Meryt,
who knew his moods, saw the misunderstanding on his face.

“It is
our way, Imhotep,” she said.  “Sati is right.” She patted her belly,
looking down at it happily.  “This is joy.  I want to share it. 
If I lose it, then we will start a new one.  The baby’s ka will live on.”
She reached up for Sati’s hand.  “I feel better now.”

Imhotep
turned to fetch some bread.

“Not
yet, Imhotep.  No food yet.  After the ceremony I will try to eat.”

Sati
hugged her.  “In a few weeks you will glow.  The life within will
double your joy.  I am so happy for you.  But now,” she smiled, “You
look terrible.  Sit down on this stool and I will help with your makeup.”

Imhotep
stood aside, his trembling hands clasped behind his back.

I
t was early afternoon.  Imhotep was
amazed at the number of people who had arrived at Abu.  The courtyard was
filled with families forming an outer circle around a stone altar.

Birds
sang in the trees and a light breeze from the river carried the scent of
blossoms from the garden, the fragrance mingling with the acrid aroma of
incense burning from stands placed throughout the courtyard.

He
stood near the center, behind King Djoser and Sennufer, wearing the brilliantly
white robe Sennufer had provided.  The menat hung heavily around his neck,
the pendant itself hanging between his shoulder blades.  Meryt stood by
his side.  She wore a long dark wig and a robe that covered her from
shoulders to her ankles.  Around her neck she wore a leather necklace,
which held a golden orb representing Re.

King
Djoser had made the formal presentation of the land to Khnum, Sennufer had
accepted it in the god’s name and promised his blessing on the Two Lands and on
the god’s immortal brother, King Djoser.

They
had sung hymns to Khnum, the ram-headed god represented by a golden statue that
stood on the altar.  Now Sennufer raised his hands and the crowd directly
in front of him parted as he began chanting a prayer.

“Hail
to thee, O Iteru!  Who manifests thyself over this land, and comes to give
life to Egypt!

“Come
and prosper!

“Come
and prosper!

“O
Iteru, come and prosper!”

Imhotep
saw a figure make its way through the opening in the crowd.  He wasn’t
sure if it was a man or a woman.  The person was covered with blue paint
and wore a short, pointed beard, but pendulous breasts hung from his
chest.  He wore a crown of lotus blossoms and in his right hand he carried
a vase painted with pictures of stalks of papyrus.

“O you
who make men to live through his flocks and his flocks through his orchards!

“Come
and prosper!

“O
Iteru, come and prosper!” Sennufer chanted.

“It is
Hapi, god of the river,” Meryt whispered.

The
blue-painted god stopped before Sennufer and King Djoser.  King Djoser
held out his open hands and Hapi poured water from the decorated vase onto the
king’s hands.  Then he knelt and poured more water onto King Djoser’s
feet.

“I
bring you water, Netjerikhet Djoser,” Hapi sang as he poured the water. “I
bring you prosperity, Divine of Body.

“I
will cause the river to rise above its banks and spread across the
fields.  I will carry the black earth to Kemet.  The Two Lands will
be inundated.  The river will be filled with fishes and the land will
sing.

“I
bring you water, Divine of Body.

“I bring
you prosperity, Netjerikhet Djoser.”

The
god rose, his vase emptied of water, and stood before the king.  As King
Djoser raised his hands in blessing, Meryt squeezed Imhotep’s hand.  It
was a gentle squeeze, a simple reminder that she was there, with him, that they
were sharing this time and place, that their skin was not really a separation
but rather one more way for them to make contact with each other.  It was
a physical extension of their emotions, an echo of the powerful encounter
between their souls.

The
gentle touch triggered a rush of emotion as Imhotep thought of the new life
that was growing within Meryt.  He inhaled the aroma of incense
intertwining with the tang of the orchard blossoms as the flutter of birds in
the fruit trees provided a whispering counterpoint to King Djoser’s rhythmic
chanting.  The heavy Egyptian sun bore down on him, lapping at his eyelids
and pressing against his shoulders.

As the
priests joined in the prayer King Djoser was leading, the susurrant murmuring
swirled around Imhotep.  He thought of his past and future, of his parents
and Addy.  He thought of the evening he had stood alone peering into the
dark chamber of the Step Pyramid and the vision he had that night of the royal
burial amid flickering torch light.

He wondered
if this was another dream now, a grand, powerful dream.  Would he awake
alone by the tunnel that sloped under the pyramid?  He closed his eyes,
pressing them hard, blocking out his thoughts and his hopes, his fears and his
dreams.

He
felt the sun on his face, heard the murmur of the prayers, felt Meryt’s warm
hand in his.  Now he heard another sound, a distant empty sound and
beneath that a weak vibrating sound, almost like the baaing of sheep, except
that it came from the sky.

There
was a loud, excited rustle in the crowd.  The sound from the sky grew
louder and it was as Imhotep, not as Tim, that he opened his eyes beneath the
ancient Egyptian sky and saw that it was filled with thousands of white birds,
approaching from the south, following the river into The Two Lands, their
tremulous cawing sound filling the air.

“Ibises!”
Meryt said excitedly, squeezing his hand and pointing into the air with her
other hand.  “I have never seen so many.”

Everyone
looked to the sky; some held a shielding hand to their eyes.  King Djoser
and Sennufer stood side by side, their faces turned upward.

“I
don’t understand,” Imhotep said to Meryt.

“They
arrive each year before the flood,” she explained.  “But never so many.”
She shook her head in wonder.  “Never so many.”

T
he feast began under a sky darkened by the
flocks of ibises; their cawing so loud that the harp player could not be heard.

Meryt
was careful to eat only bread and to drink only unfermented wine.  As she
sat quietly with Imhotep, King Djoser approached, followed by Prince Teti and
the guard Bata.

He
leaned down and kissed Meryt softly on each cheek.  “I have heard the good
news,” he said, smiling at her as he straightened.  Meryt blushed at the
attention.  “I wish you a healthy child.  With Imhotep by your side,
I am sure all will be well.”

“Thank
you,” she said quietly.

Prince
Teti waited until his father was finished, but couldn’t stop himself from
bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.  It was the first he had
seen Imhotep since the cast had been removed from his arm.

Imhotep
was surprised to see Bata by the prince’s side, smiling and watching the prince
protectively.  He was even more surprised to see the rest of the prince’s
bodyguards standing nearby, including Nesi whom Imhotep suspected of trying to
kill the prince.

“Lord
Imhotep,” Prince Teti said.  “Thank you for the gift.”

Imhotep
looked puzzled.

“The
linen ball of sand,” Prince Teti reminded him.  “I have used it every
day.  Look!”

He
reached out with his healed arm and grabbed Imhotep’s forearm.  He
squeezed, increasing the pressure until Imhotep winced.

Prince
Teti released Imhotep’s arm, ignoring the white marks that he left there. 
“A week ago,” he said, “I could barely squeeze it a hundred times before I
tired.  Now,” he laughed, “I had to have three more made as replacements
because I have crushed them.”

Imhotep
massaged his forearm.  “A good patient is the best medicine,” he
said.  “You healed yourself Prince Teti.  I only helped.  As did
Rudamon and Hesire.  Hello, Bata.” Imhotep nodded to the young guard, who
returned his nod with a bright smile.

“Lord
Imhotep,” Prince Teti said, a formal edge to his voice.  “As a reward for
your aid, I have asked my father to place Bata at your service.”

“Bata?”
Imhotep said, unsure what the prince meant.