Imhotep (45 page)

She
had feared Siamun during their marriage, but she had known that her
half-brother Djefi would always protect her.  Then one night during a
drunken argument Siamun had told her the truth about the night Djefi had saved
her.  He had told her everything.

As she
listened to the horrible story that night, the trust and love she had had for
Djefi had turned into a dread, deeper and more consuming than any fear of
Siamun had been.

T
wo years before Yunet was born, her
mother, Sitra, lost her first husband when he was killed hunting hippos in the
delta.  She had one child by him, a boy named Djefi who was eight years
old by the time the widow Sitra caught the eye of Sesostris, who was visiting
Iunu for the Festival of Re in His Barge.

Sesostris
took Sitra and her boy to his home in To-She where he was a priest in the
service of Sobek.  A year later, after Yunet was born, Sesostris was
elevated to First Prophet.  With that came a change.

Sesostris
spent more and more time at the temple, which suited Sitra because she wanted
nothing more than to play with her little girl, to teach her to spin and sew
and cook.  Yunet was a quick learner and she showed signs of becoming a
strong and beautiful woman.

The
boy Djefi had become withdrawn when his father died.  Now as his mother
showered her attention on his sister, he desperately reached out to his
stepfather for attention. 

Sesostris
moved Djefi to the temple where he roomed with another young acolyte named
Siamun.  The boys became friends, sweeping the temple hallways together,
daring each other to race past sleeping crocodiles in the temple garden,
peeking around doorways at the priests when they had secret meetings.

One
evening, when Siamun left with his father for a hunting trip into the desert
mountains, Djefi found himself alone in the temple. 

After
his chores, he went to the temple garden as it was growing dark.  It was a
dangerous place to be.  The crocodiles roamed the garden freely.  And
in the darkness it was impossible to see them at a distance and they moved so
fast that if they chose to attack, Djefi would never be able to avoid them.

Djefi
entered quietly and slowly, giving his eyes a chance to adjust to the
darkness.  After a few minutes it seemed to him as if the stars had become
more bright.  He could see the leaves of the palm trees as a blacker
black, their knife-sharp edges poised in the cooling air.  The
roughed-skinned tree trunks formed beautiful abstract patterns of sharp angles
of black-hewed brown.  The ridges on the back of a crocodile that was
lying immobile just a few steps away seemed to glisten.

He was
sure that if he waited Sobek would rise from the pond, his fierce crocodile
head atop a man’s body.  He would walk godlike across the grounds and
speak to Djefi, tell him about the mysteries of Khert-Neter, about the power of
being a god, about the love that flowed from the family of gods, and about the
paradise Djefi's dead father now enjoyed.

Djefi
was standing on the cusp of a hidden world.  The air itself about the pond
seemed lighter.  It was expanding, coming toward him and when it reached
him he would be transported to a higher realm.  He would understand and
know.  He would see his father again.

He was
glad Siamun was not here.  He would never have understood and his
brutishness would have broken the spell.

The
light was closer now and Djefi could feel the hairs on his arms and his neck
rise to attention.  A chill came over him.  He closed his eyes, his
face turned upward, eager for illumination.

But
instead of the booming voice of the god, he heard a low moan, a guttural cry
that turned into a series of grunts.  He knew that sound.  He and
Siamun had followed it before, watching in the shadows as one of the women who
came at night to the temple lay on her back beneath a priest.

He
opened his eyes to see, as he feared, that the spell had been broken by the
grunting sound.  Instead of a magical garden ready to divulge secrets, he
saw only shadows and darkness.  Instead of incense, he smelled decay and
waste.

He
turned back to the temple and started down the hallway toward his room. 
Suddenly a woman ran from one of the rooms, blood dripping from between her
legs.  One hand was over her mouth; the other was lodged between her
legs.  She ran past him, crying loudly.

Djefi
looked back to the room she had left.  His stepfather Sesostris was
standing in the doorway.  He was holding a whip in his right hand, the
handle of it dripping with blood.

He was
quivering in anger.  “Get back here, whore!” he shouted.  “I am First
Prophet of Sobek and you will do whatever I say!”

Suddenly
his eyes found Djefi who was cowering against the wall.

“What
are you doing here?” he shouted.

Djefi
shook his head, his eyes on the whip.  Sesostris saw what Djefi was
looking at.  He saw the fear on the boy’s face.  He nodded as if
making a decision.  He let the rolled whip thong fall to the stone
floor.  To Djefi it looked like a silent snake uncoiling from his
stepfather’s hand.

He
wanted to run, but fear overcame his legs and he suddenly sat on the cold stone
floor.  Sesostris advanced slowly, his wrist flicking the whip handle,
making the thong slither across the stones.

E
very night Siamun was away, Sesostris
found Djefi and dragged him through the temple to his room.  The first
night Djefi had screamed in pain, but he saw that it only gave Sesostris more
pleasure and the boy knew that no one would come to his aid.

He had
feared the pain of the whip, but instead Djefi discovered that his stepfather
had other plans for him.  The priest had grown inured to the pleasures of
a woman and had decided when he saw young Djefi that the boy offered a new
world of pleasure and pain to explore.

Djefi
endured silently, not admitting to Siamun when he returned, how his stepfather
was abusing him.  But he listened with intense attention when Siamun
described the hunt and how he had driven a spear into the shaking side of a
desert gazelle.

For
almost a year, Djefi suffered. 

Siamun
saw the change in his friend, but to his eyes it was a change for the
better.  Djefi was more sullen, angrier, and ready to lash out and hurt
smaller people.  He was becoming a man.

But as
he grew meaner, he also grew fat.  He ate huge helpings at meals and drank
his belly full of beer whenever he could.  He became derelict in his
duties at the temple.

By his
thirteenth year, Djefi had become a different person.  His legs were so
fat they rubbed together when he walked.  Fat hung from his sides over his
hips, his breasts were larger than a nursemaid’s.  His throat was hidden
behind three folds of flesh.  His physical transformation was matched by
the changes within. 

He had
never realized the enlightenment that had been at his fingertips that night in
the garden.  But he had come to his own understanding: Sobek had dangled
paradise in front of him for a moment and then allowed it to be taken
away.  Sobek was a cruel god. 

The
lessons of that night and the endless nights with his stepfather were well
learned:  Life was cruelty and one had to take what one wanted before
someone else did.

Djefi
decided he would be First Prophet.  Then he would interpret Sobek’s
teachings and the people would learn to obey his word.

He
told Siamun his dream and Siamun, aware of the changes within his only friend,
knew better than to laugh.  He knew that although Djefi looked like a fat
fool, within he was capable of as much cruelty as Sobek.

As he
became grotesque, his stepfather tired of abusing him.  Left alone at
last, Djefi told Siamun about his stepfather and together they plotted ways for
him to get his revenge.

When
Yunet turned five years old, Djefi saw a chance.  He made sure his
stepfather overheard him talking to Siamun about Yunet, praising her untouched,
smooth skin and innocent beauty.  Finally, Sesostris told Djefi to bring
his little sister to the temple that night. Siamun looked at his friend,
wondering what reaction the order would bring. He didn't expect to see a secret
smile in Djefi's eyes.

As the
boys walked to fetch Yunet, Djefi told Siamun his plan.

He had
picked a spot in the enclosed garden where four trees formed a large
square.  A rope was tied around the trunk of each tree.  They would
bring Yunet back and take her to the garden and tell her that Sesostris wanted
to see her.

Then
they would tell Sesostris that Yunet had run into the garden to get away from
them and that they were afraid to go in there because of the crocodiles. 
That would inflame and enrage the priest.  They would follow Sesostris to
the garden, overpower him and bind his arms and legs to the separate trees.

T
he plan worked as Djefi hoped.

When
the boys followed the angry priest into the garden, Siamun ducked forward and
slashed at the back of Sesostris’ ankle with a chipped stone knife he had
stolen from his father.  The slash cut his tendon and Sesostris grabbed at
his injured leg and fell.

Djefi
carried a fist-sized rock.  He fell on his stepfather now, his weight
knocking the man’s breath out of him, and began to smash the rock against
Sesostris’ head.  He did it calmly, waiting between each blow to see if
the man had lost consciousness.  Djefi wanted him helpless, not dead.

Once
he was unconscious, Djefi and Siamun dragged Sesostris to the trees and ropes.

While
Siamun tied Sesostris, Djefi talked to his little sister.  “He was going
to do mean things to you, little sister.”

“What
things?” she asked, her eyes wide as she watched Siamun wrap ropes around
Sesostris’s arms.

“I’ll
tell you when you are bigger.  I promise.  Just remember, tonight I
saved you.  I will always save you.” He hugged her and felt her warm,
sisterly hug in return. 

“You
must not tell anyone, Yunet.  Or I will get in trouble.  Now, Siamun
and I will punish Sesostris and then we will send him away from To-She forever
so he can never harm you.  When you hear that he is gone, you must act
surprised.  Can you do that?”

She
nodded her head solemnly.  She watched fascinated as Siamun gagged the
priest.  “Will you hurt him?” she asked.

“We
will be as kind to him as he has been to us,” he answered.

“He
was never kind to me.  Was he ever kind to you?” she said.

“Go
now, little sister.  Remember to be surprised.”

A
fter she had gone, Djefi checked the
bindings and the gag.

“Thank
you, Siamun,” he said solemnly, his eyes looking hungrily at his helpless
stepfather, tied face-down on the garden’s moist soil.  He turned and
walked to one of the trees and retrieved a spear he had hidden there.

Siamun
watched him and then lifted a hand to show his nicked stone knife.  He
knelt beside Sesostris and raised his hand to stab him.

“No,”
Djefi said, his voice squeaking.

Siamun
stayed his hand and looked up.  “We mean to kill him, don’t we? 
After what we have done we have no choice.”

Djefi
nodded.  “Yes, but much slower.  And he must be awake.” He kicked Sesostris
in the ribs and listened to him gasp as he awoke.

“Do
you mean to stab him with the spear?  That will be quicker than my knife,”
Siamun argued.

Djefi
shook his head. 

Raising
the spear with both hands, he brought it down sharply on his knee, breaking the
shaft.  He examined the two broken ends.  He kept the one whose end
was most splintered and rough.  Then kneeling beside his stepfather’s face
he said, “Wake up, Sesostris.  Remember the nights you took me and I cried
and begged you to stop.  Remember my tears and screams?” He showed him the
splintered end of the spear.  “Tonight I will make you sing.”

Sesostris
raised his head and tried to shout through the gag.  He strained at the
ropes and tried to twist away.

Djefi
walked around to stand between Sesostris’s spread-eagled legs.  With the
ragged spear tip he flicked up the short kilt the priest wore.  Then he
nestled the broken spear end between his stepfather’s parted legs pushed hard.

They
had to tear off Sesostris’ kilt and add that to the gag as his screams grew in
intensity.  And still he was too loud, or so it seemed to their guilty
ears.  “Siamun, do something,” Djefi said at last, his arms growing weary
from the repeated thrusting.

His
eyes aglow with an otherworldly light, Siamun squatted beside Sesostris’
head.  “Remember the ceremony, Sesostris?” he asked, tearing at the cloth
gag.

Sesostris
gasped for air as the gag came free.  He started to speak, but Siamun
jammed the other end of the broken shaft sideways into his open mouth, forcing
his jaws open.  “Hold this,” he told Djefi.