Magic of the Nile (31 page)

“We uh, we have no female celebrants at this temple. Well, other than the mistress of dancers, and she concerns herself with nothing but the training of dancers and creating new steps for them to execute.”

“She doesn’t sing at ceremonies?” Tyema was hopeful.

“No.” Lemertet’s answer was just this side of rude. “In Thebes, other than the temples of Isis, Hathor and Mut, there are male priests only. It’s the way things are done here, since time immemorial.” He cast a desperate glance at Sahure as if seeking support from a fellow Theban. “Sobek is a male god, so therefore the celebrants and officials of the temples are men as well.”

No wonder the high priest was so upset the day we had the meeting with Pharaoh. Not only was I an outsider, coming in to tell him how things were going to be done, but women have no place in this temple, other than as ornaments.
Feeling she already knew the answer, she asked her next question anyway. “But surely if a woman felt the call to serve the Great One Sobek, she’d be welcome to become a priestess here?”

Lemertet cleared his throat. “I don’t think what you suggest would happen, Lady Tyema. Theban women are called to serve the goddesses, principally the Great Ones Mut or Hathor.”

She let the subject drop, aware of how uncomfortable she’d made him. They strolled through the outer chambers of the temple and she made suitably admiring comments about the murals, although privately she preferred the ones in her own temple. Smaller scale perhaps, but hers depicted the god as more approachable, she felt. Lemertet took them into the second courtyard and again she was unmoved by the stately artwork, other than on a superficial level. There was nothing to criticize, but the frescoes were formal, highly stylized.

“The colors are beautiful,” she said truthfully.

One eyebrow raised, Sahure shot her a glance but said nothing.

Lemertet rambled on enthusiastically about how the pigments and crushed stones had been imported at great expense from other parts of Egypt and abroad. Tyema nodded as appropriate during his narrative but she grew more disgusted.
It’s important to honor the god, but surely the funds spent on this were excessive. Think how many poor people could have been fed, or places at scribe school could have been provided to deserving but impoverished youths, with the deben required to import lapis lazuli from Ashvakas to create that exact shade of Nile blue.

Aware Lemertet was winding down as her responses grew fewer and fewer, she broke into his final discussion of a mural featuring Sobek and the goddess Renenutet apparently enjoying a romantic encounter, as some traditions insisted they had done.
My sister Merys wouldn’t appreciate this artwork.
Hiding a smile, she said, “I feel called to offer praises to the Great One today. I’d like to visit the inner sanctum. By myself.”

Now her host frowned, eyebrows drawn together and jaw clenched. “I’m afraid what you request isn’t possible. We’ve already done the morning devotions, clothed the god’s image, offered the morning meal—”

She’d deliberately worn the golden collar of Tears, and now she ran her fingers across the gems, watching his gaze follow the motion of her hand.
The high priest isn’t the only one who covets Sobek’s Tears.
“Surely if the Great One Sobek is calling me to worship, there can be no objection? I won’t disturb anything. I’m a high priestess, I know the protocol.”

Lemertet put his hand out as if to physically bar Sahure from walking another step. “I’m sorry, but you can’t venture any farther into the temple.”

“Nor do I want to, with all due respect. I can wait for Lady Tyema right here.” Sahure wasn’t helping Lemertet raise obstacles to Tyema’s request, which she appreciated. He seated himself on a conveniently located granite bench and waved one hand. “Please, don’t concern yourself on my account. I’m sure she’ll come to no harm in the temple of her Great One.”

“I can find my own way, if you’d prefer, or if you’re busy,” she said, knowing the Theban would never allow her to roam his temple freely.

With little grace, Lemertet took her arm and escorted her through the next two courtyards, the rooms growing ever smaller as they approached the innermost sanctum, where the effigy of Sobek was housed. Finally they arrived at the last door, painted blue, with golden handles in the shape of crocodile heads, the eyes inlaid blue glass and the teeth gleaming ivory.
 

“I need to go alone,” Tyema said. She splashed water on her hands and face from the silver basin waiting on a pedestal beside the portal. Putting her hand on the door before Lemertet could open it for her, she assured him, “I won’t be long.”

Not waiting for his answer because she knew he was unhappy at her insistence on having entry to the most sacred portion of his temple, Tyema opened the door just wide enough to slip inside and closed it firmly behind her. The inner sanctum was larger than the one at her temple, lit by numerous oil lamps on pedestals around the room. In the center, standing on a plinth carved with hieroglyphics extolling his many virtues, was the image of Sobek, half man, half crocodile. Carved with great skill from gray- and- pink granite, the statue was dressed in a golden kilt tied over the stone kilt, with a magnificent solar headdress and white ostrich plumes on his head touching the ceiling. His feet bore leather sandal uppers, inlaid with gold and gems, slid skillfully over the stone feet to give the effect of real shoes. Sobek’s staff was also gold, with a stylized crocodile perched at the top, encrusted with gems. The statue wore a stunning pectoral on his bare chest, gold beads interspersed with faience, turquoise and coral, scarabs and lapis lazuli lotus flowers dangling along the edge.

Heaping platters of fruit and bread sat on tables next to the statue, along with pitchers of fine beer.

They’ve carried out all the morning rituals in proper manner.
Tyema went to her knees directly in front of the effigy, arms crossed, head bowed and waited. Nothing changed, there was no slightest indication the god was present or intending to manifest himself to her. “Great One, I’ve come today to give final approval to the transfer of your crocodile,” she said after a moment or two, staring at the statue towering above her. “All is in order, the beast is well cared for and content. I’d like to speak with you concerning my other mission in Thebes and…well, something else weighing on my heart.”

No response. The great stone image of the god remained immobile in all its imposing, cold perfection.
 

Never had she felt more alone, more distant from the Great One she served. There wasn’t the slightest hint of power in the room, no scent of the lotus, no humming of energy in her head. “Somehow I’m not surprised,” she said out loud, standing up.

Should I search for the hidden effigy? The one made of silver covered in gold? The one the priests would bring out for the most sacred events?
She stared at the walls surrounding her, searching for the telltale outline of the receptacle small enough to hold the most revered image of Sobek.
No. If the Great One was here, he’d make himself known to me as he does at home, with no need for any statue.

 
One final test.
She sang a few practice notes and then launched into the morning paean she knew Sobek enjoyed most. Singing brought her a warm happy feeling, as her music always did, but no sign of interest or appreciation from either the effigy or the elusive Great One himself.

As a high priestess, Tyema was well aware most temples had secret passages, ways for the priests to see into the inner sanctum and other rooms and to influence answers any oracle might provide, absent the direct intervention of the deity in question. Her temple had been designed without such enhancements at her direct order because Sobek was a reliably constant presence there. She suspected this temple was rife with mechanisms and clever devices, probably more than she could even think of.
I can’t show my true feelings to these people. Let them think Sobek did communicate with me, or at least let them wonder.

Bowing to the statue, she backed away until she reached the door. She took a moment to compose her feelings and then left the room. Lemertet was pacing the floor of the outer sanctum. He wheeled at the sound of the door and scrutinized her closely.

“Thank you for the courtesy of allowing me to worship here alone,” she said. “If we can rejoin my military escort, I should be getting back to the palace.”

“Will we be seeing you again, Lady Tyema?” asked Lemertet as they proceeded through the series of ever larger rooms to reach the spot where they’d left Sahure.

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I’m completely satisfied.”

His mood seemed to improve at the news, although he made an attempt to look regretful that he’d never see her in his temple again. "Do you sail to Ibis Nome soon?”

Tyema was amused, hearing more than polite curiosity in his question.
I suppose he thinks I was inspecting the temple on Sobek’s behalf. Maybe even probing to see if a proper amount was going into the god’s treasury.
“I certainly hope to do so. There are matters there I need to attend to. But setting the date of departure is between Pharaoh and myself.”

“Oh, of course.” He walked faster.

Sahure rose from the bench where he’d been relaxing and came to meet her, searching her face for some sign about what had happened in the inner sanctum, she was sure. Keeping her emotions and thoughts from him was more of a challenge than fencing with Lamertet could ever be. “I’m ready to go back to the palace,” she said to Sahure before he could open his mouth. “I’m expected in the queen’s quarters promptly at the noon hour and mustn’t be late.”

“Of course, my lady. All is in readiness to convey you back to the palace.” His bearing and tone were formal, to match hers.

“Good.” She extended her hand to Lemertet. “It’s been a pleasure to have a tour of the temple.”

“Our honor to have you here, of course.”

“Please tell the high priest how sorry I am we missed the opportunity to speak.”
I don’t even know that man’s name, how ironic.
Despite her mood, Tyema did find a shred of amusement in the thought.

Chapter Eight

Next morning there was a quiet knock at her door shortly after dawn. Startled, glancing at Seknehure’s cradle, wrapping her robe more tightly around her, Tyema went to open the door, knowing the guards wouldn’t permit anyone to bother her without good reason.
 

Sahure waited on the other side, in an everyday uniform. “Ah good, I was hoping you’d be up already. I remember you always rose with the dawn at Ta’sobeksef. May I come in? I brought breakfast.” He indicated a linen sack in his right hand.

She moved aside. “Keep your voice down, the baby’s finally fallen asleep—he had a rough night.”

“Poor little man.” Sahure walked quietly past her, going to the cradle and peering at his now-snoring son. “Is he ill? Teething?”

“Teething, I think,” she said, surprised yet again to learn this warrior knew so much of the ailments of babies. “The royal physician gave me soothing ointment to rub on his gums and eventually he drifted off to dream. The guards summoned the doctor for me, without asking. I think they wearied of hearing the crying.”

Sahure laughed quietly. “Undoubtedly. Will he need to nurse soon?”

Blushing a bit at the intimate question, she shook her head and went to sit. “I just fed him, after the medicine dulled the pain enough. You’ve timed your visit well, but why are you here? You must know the palace steward brings Renebti and me a breakfast daily which is big enough to feed our entire village.”

“Breakfast was just an excuse, although you’re welcome to what I brought.” He spilled some fruit and a roll onto the nearest table. “I want to show you something.”

Tyema picked up the freshly baked roll and nibbled at the edge. “All right, but I’ve seen fruit before.”

He chuckled at the small joke. “No, we’ll have to leave the palace and drive a short distance. Unless you’re too tired. We could do this another day, but I’ve waited so long to share this with you.”

She considered. She was tired but knew she couldn’t go back to sleep. And it might be a good thing to have some private time with Sahure, outside the palace, away from all the eyes and ears. “Are we going in the chariot?”

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Won’t seeing me in a chariot upset the populace?” She was only half teasing, but the temptation of a ride had her persuaded to venture out with him.

“It’s early, no one who matters will see us. Please come.”

Unable to resist the appeal on his face, she nodded. “Let me get dressed and warn Renebti to listen for the baby.”

“Dress simply and bring a cloak,” he said. “It’ll be a bit chilly riding in the chariot at this early hour.”

A few minutes later they stole out of her rooms, passing the saluting guards and hurrying down the hall together toward the closest exit.

“I feel like we’re skulking, or escaping,” Tyema said. “Where are we going?”

Sahure assumed an air of mystery, opening his eyes wide. “You’ll know soon enough.”

They came out onto one of the wide patios surrounding the palace and Tyema saw Sahure’s chariot waiting at the bottom of the stairs, the impatient horses being held by his sergeant. She brushed her hair back and sighed in exasperation. “I never remember to bring them a treat to munch on.”