Imhotep (7 page)

“Welcome,
eternal netjrew,” Djefi said.  “I am Djefi, priest of Sobek, son of Set,
father of the Nile, honored by all in The Two Lands.”

Diane
looked up and frowned, startled to be addressed and unable to understand a word
of his speech.

Djefi
wondered if he had been wrong to speak first and welcome the gods. 
But
it would have been more wrong to stand silently and not make them welcome,
he thought.

Djefi’s
movement had brought him out of the shade.  He was backlit by the
afternoon sun. “Brian, I can see right through his robe, or whatever.  The
fat man is practically naked.”

“Yep,”
Brian answered.  “But he’s overdressed compared to the naked spear
dudes.  This must be, like, the World Naked Olympics.  You think?”

Brian
turned back to Djefi and raised his right hand, the fingers splayed into a “V”
like Spock in the ‘Star Trek’ movies.  He couldn’t remember the Vulcan
greeting, so he said, “Whatever.”

Djefi
copied the gesture and mimicked the sound in his squeaky voice.

A wide
smile broke over Brian’s face.  “You guys forget to get dressed this
morning?”

D
jefi studied them for a moment and then
reached a decision. 

He
didn’t know where they had come from, or if they really were gods. 
Whatever or whoever they were, they were different and unusual.  It was a
time of change and unrest in Kemet and perhaps they were a gift from the gods,
tools for him to use in the plans he was making with Waja-Hur and
Kanakht.  He needed to understand how to use this gift.  He needed
time.

He
waved one of the guards to his side and whispered to him.  The guard bowed
and then turned away and began to jog back down the wadi toward Ineb-Hedj.

“Eternal
netjrew, I will have you escorted to To-She, home of Sobek.”

Brian
and Diane looked at him blankly.

Without
turning away from the gods, Djefi called Paneb to him.

“I
have sent for camels for our …  guests.”

“Yes,
First Prophet of Sobek,” Paneb answered, bowing to Djefi.

“Perhaps
it would be easier for them to understand us if we were to draw pictures, as we
do on the tomb walls,” Djefi said.

“You
wish for ink and papyrus, First Prophet?”

Although
he kept his expression composed, muscles in Djefi’s jaw clenched and
unclenched.  “No, Paneb.  You are the artist.  Draw a camel in
the sand for the guests,” he said quietly.

Paneb
nodded.  He looked around for something to use to draw in the sand. 
He saw the stools and thought of breaking them apart, then he saw the guard,
standing apart from them, watching.

He
walked quickly to the guard and borrowed his short spear.

“Brian,
what’s going on?”

“Don’t
know, babe.  I think the one naked guy ran off to get something and Boss
Hogg here is trying to tell us something, but it sounds like he’s got a mouth
full of consonants.  He needs to buy a vowel, know what I mean?”

Paneb
approached the gods walking slowly, the point of the spear at the ground. 
He didn’t want them to think he was attacking them.  He didn’t want to
find out what a god would do if he felt threatened.

Kneeling
in the sand, Paneb used the shaft of the spear to smooth an expanse of
sand.  Then, standing, he used the point of the spear to gracefully draw
the profile of a camel.  He looked at the god and then drew a figure
wearing a cap and sitting atop the camel.

“Looks
like we’re going for a ride, babe.”

“No,
we’re going back to the hotel.”

“Aw,
we flew across the entire Atlantic Ocean to get here.  Let’s loosen up and
have a little fun.  We miss the flight to Luxor, big deal.  It’s not
like the temples down there are going anywhere.  They’ll be there
tomorrow.  Let’s see what old Boss Hogg has in mind.  I don’t know
where we are, but I’ll bet there aren’t many other tourists here.”

“And
that’s a good thing?”

Instead
of answering, Brian walked up to Paneb and held out his hand for the
spear.  Paneb was afraid of offending him, but didn’t want to upset Djefi
either.  He stole a glance at the priest, but got no sign from him.

Paneb
offered the spear to the god and backed away, still bowing.

Brian
walked carefully around the camel sketch and cleared a small space by the head
of the figure riding the camel.  He stuck his tongue out as he
concentrated on drawing.  When he finished he stepped back so everyone
could see his drawing.

Djefi
stepped closer.  The guard walked over beside the priest to see the god’s
work.  Ahmes, overcoming his fear, sidled up beside his father. 
Djefi looked puzzled at the drawing, Paneb was amused, but kept his expression
serious.  The guard waited to see what the others would do.  Ahmes,
without thinking, laughed and clapped his hands.

Brian
turned to the boy and gave him a broad smile and a thumbs up.  “One
thousand points for the naked, bald kid.  Come on, folks, lighten up,” he
said to the adults.  “It’s a smiley face.”

Brian
carried the spear to the guard.  He tugged gently on his arm and said,
“Come on.”

He led
the guard a few paces down the wadi, away from the others.  The guard
looked excited and worried.

Once
they were a safe distance from the other, Brian drew back, raised his forward
leg and in a blur of motion stepped forward and smoothly threw the weapon at
the bank of the wadi, grunting as he released it.  The spear buried itself
halfway into the sand.

Swinging
his throwing arm in a circle, Brian walked to the spear.  He pulled it out
and gave it to the guard, motioning for him to throw it next.  The guard
stepped toward the bank and threw the spear.  The tip entered the sand and
the spear wobbled and then fell over.

Brian
retrieved it and walked back to the guard. 

Then
he held the spear aloft again and moved his arm through the throwing motion,
snapping his wrist forward as his arm extended. “Here, try again, naked
spear-chucker dude.  Snap the wrist.”  Brian demonstrated the motion
with his empty hand.

The
guard nodded and tried another throw, snapping his wrist as he released the
spear.  It hit the sand and the tip disappeared far enough to support the
weight of the shaft.

Brian
clapped loudly, startling the guard, who was looking proudly at the spear.

“Alright,”
Brian cheered the guard, “yes, yes, yes.  Now,” he said, slapping the
guard on the back, “We get your hips into the throw, maybe a big old Luis Tiant
leg kick and you’ll be the envy of all the naked spear-chucking dudes.”

Djefi
called the guard to him and spoke quietly.

The
guard immediately ran over, pulled the spear out of the sand and walked down
the wadi to watch for the other guard.

“Uh-oh,
looks like Boss Hogg is upset,” Brian said to Diane.

“Brian!”
she scolded, but her lips played into a smile.

Brian
turned to Djefi.  “OK, Boss, where to?”

Djefi
stared at the huge god, his face tight with the effort to control his anger at
being addressed so casually.  He had no idea what the god had said, but he
understood the tone.  Even a god, if he was a god, should show respect to
a priest of Sobek, he thought.

“I am
Djefi, First Prophet of Sobek, Netjer of Iteru, Father of the Waters,” he said,
placing a fist against his chest.

Brian
nodded.  He pointed to the priest and said, “You, Djefi.” Then he patted
his chest and said.  “Me, Tarzan.”

“Tarzan,”
Djefi repeated.

“Naw,
I’m pulling your leg.” he laughed and shook his head.  He patted his chest
again.  “Brian.”

“Brian,”
Djefi said in the same quiet, menacing voice Paneb had heard earlier.

The
artist looked at the powerful, playful god and the short, terrifying priest and
wondered which would survive.

T
he first guard returned riding one camel
and leading two others.  He reined the camel to a stop and leaned forward
and talked to it.  The camel lowered itself to a kneeling position. 
The guard swung a leg over the camel’s small hump and slid down to the
sand.  Then he went to each of the other camels and ordered them to kneel.

Brian
walked over to the camels, the first guard trailing after him.  He turned
back to the tomb and called, “Come on, Diane.  It’s camel time.”

He
circled carefully away from the camel’s faces and approached one of them from
the side.  “You got any double humpers?  I was kind of expecting to
sit down between the humps, you know?”

The
guard smiled at him.

“No
saddles, huh?”

Another
smile.

Diane
joined him.

“We
are supposed to ride these?  I hope they have liability insurance.”

Brian
patted the dusty side of the camel.  “Look, the hump isn’t that big, I
mean, it’s not pointy or anything.  I’m sure they wouldn’t let us on these
if it wasn’t safe.  Adventure, babe, adventure.  Think of the stories
we’ll have when we get back home.”

The
first guard came over and stood close to Brian, his back to Djefi.

He
placed his open palm against his chest and quietly said, “Bakr.”

Brian
repeated the guard’s name.  Then he took the guard’s right wrist and
pulled his arm toward him.  Reaching with his right hand, Brian clasped
the guard’s hand in a handshake, their palms pressed together, thumbs
interlocked and fingers pointed up.

The
guard looked up at the large god, his eyes glowing with excitement. 
“Brian,” he said softly.

“Yep,”
Brian said, squeezing the guard’s hand and then releasing him.  “Now,
let’s ride us some camels.”

He
turned and lifted Diane by the waist, easily swinging her atop the kneeling
camel.  Then he walked to a second camel and mounted it.  “Yo, Bakr,
you coming?”

The guard
looked to Djefi who nodded his head curtly.  Bakr mounted the third camel
and shouted “Hup.” The three camels rose ungainly.

“Whoa!”
Brian laughed, almost pitching forward from the camel.

Diane
held the reins tightly, her body tense.

Bakr
turned his camel and climbed out of the wadi.  Brian’s and Diane’s camels
followed, swaying from side to side, heading away from Ineb-Hedj, across the
desert to the oasis of To-She.

A
s soon as the three were out of sight,
Djefi took Paneb and Ahmes aside.  He told Paneb not to tell anyone about
the gods.  “Sobek wishes to speak with them.  Sobek alone.”

Although
he didn’t understand why Djefi was being secretive, Paneb nodded his
head. 

Djefi
reached out and patted Ahmes’ head.  The movement seemed unnatural and,
although Paneb flinched, he felt a flicker of pride that Ahmes did not offend
the priest by moving away from him, possibly because the boy’s attention was
still rooted on the strangely dressed gods.

“Understand,
Chief Artist, Sobek does not want you to speak of these netjrew,” the boyish
voice took on a hard edge.  “There should not be even rumors of
them.  No one is to know of them.  Understand?”

Paneb
nodded again, unable to meet Djefi’s eyes.

“You
do not want to anger Sobek.” Djefi’s voice grew even higher pitched. 
“Sometimes, in his rage, Sobek takes children.”

Djefi’s
sweaty hand rested for a moment on Ahmes’ head.  His face was bland as he
watched Paneb to be sure the artist understood.  “Sometimes, he takes
children.”

Paneb
could not speak.  He looked at Djefi.  The priest’s dark eyes stared
back unblinking.  Then the priest frowned down at Ahmes, turned away and
waved the remaining guard to his side.  The guard helped Djefi walk away,
back toward the sedan chair to return to Ineb-Hedj.

P
aneb stood staring after them, his stomach
a knot of fear.

“Are
they truly netjrew, father?  Did they come from Khert-Neter?” Ahmes
whispered.

Paneb
looked sadly at his son.  “We cannot speak of this,” he said.

“Not
to Mother?”

“No,
Ahmes, not to anyone.”

“Because
Sobek will take me?  I am the ‘children’ the First Prophet meant?”

Paneb’s
eyes filled with tears.  He wiped them away with the back of his arm.

“Yes,
Ahmes.  But, we won’t let that happen.  There is a proverb from
before my father’s time.  It says, ‘People bring about their own undoing
through their tongues.’

 “Our
tongues will not bring about our undoing, Ahmes.  We will honor Djefi’s
demand.  I do not understand why he wants it so, but he does.  So, my
son, we will talk no more of the netjrew.”