Imhotep Page 12

  Throughout the two days Brian saw nothing electronic: no televisions, radios, telephones or even light bulbs. Near the end of the second day it struck him that either everyone had perfect vision or no one had good health insurance or, and, this worried him so much that he tried not to think about it, glasses didn’t exist.

  While he was unsuccessful in finding Diane, the time he spent with Pahket was useful as he began to learn more of the language.

  Pahket was an enthusiastic teacher. At first she couldn’t understand how Brian could not know the language that everyone in her universe spoke, but once she understood that he didn’t know even the simple words for walking or tree or crocodile, she was eager to teach him.

  And Brian, who had had trouble remembering the signals his third base coach flashed during baseball games, found that because there was no other way to communicate, his attention was more focused and he began to learn the language quickly.

  But when he used his new-found skill to ask Pahket about Diane, she only smiled and said that Diane was with Yunet.

  “Where is Yunet?” he asked.

  Pahket only smiled and answered with a shrug.

  Although he was worried about Diane, there was nothing at To-She that gave any sign that they were in danger; he had been pampered since their arrival.

  Each morning Pahket greeted him in his room, bathed him and took him to breakfast. In the middle of the afternoon, when the heat of the desert began to penetrate the shade of the oasis, she led him back to his temple room where she and two servants bathed him again and then massaged him until he fell asleep. During the first massage, Pahket had gently brushed her hand against his penis, which responded by rising to her touch. Embarrassed, Brian had firmly moved her hand away from his groin. She had moved on to his legs, but each day she made the unspoken offer again.

  He had continued to turn her away, but as he grew more comfortable with her he wondered how much longer he would refuse. Her nudity no longer surprised him, and he saw that everyone here had a different attitude about sex and was more comfortable with their bodies.

  Once while walking by the orchards, they had come across a couple who were energetically and loudly enjoying sex outside in the shade of a date palm grove.

  The man grunted with each insistent thrust and the woman echoed him with a high-pitched squeal. The woman saw Pahket and Brian watching them and responded with a wide smile and a louder squeal, spurring her partner on to a faster rhythm.

  Pahket had put one hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh and with the other hand pulled Brian down the path. Away from the noise of the couple’s lovemaking, Pahket had taught Brian the words to describe what they had just seen. She had laughed while imitating the man’s movements and the woman’s high-pitched moan.

  Brian was amazed at the comfort Pahket showed about sex, delighted at the humor in her risqué impersonation and he felt an undeniable desire for her, which he had to hide by turning away.

  On the morning of the third day, Brian’s routine changed.

  When Pahket woke him, she brought a change of clothing. The kilt she wrapped around him after his morning bath was so thin it was almost transparent; its linen belt was wider and embroidered with pale blue threads. He had gone barefoot for two days, but now she brought him white sandals.

  Instead of the wide swaths of protective dark kohl under his eyes, Pahket carefully painted his eyelids themselves with a lighter, green kohl. He balked when she began to spread lipstick on him, wiping the red ochre away with the back of his hand. She tried again and he shook his head and put his hand over his mouth.

  The two servant girls looked alarmed, but Pahket remained calm.

  “You must wear this, Netjer Brian. Djefi has returned and has asked to see you. Please, let me do this.”

  Reluctantly he removed his hand.

  She leaned forward, her expression serious and intent. Brian pursed his lips, trying to provide as large a target as possible. When the servant girls tittered, Pahket turned to scold them, but she caught something in their eyes and turned back in time to see Brian winking at them, his mouth a wide grin.

  “I do this for you, Pahket,” Brian said in Egyptian when he saw the disappointment in Pahket’s eyes. He added in English, “But I shouldn’t wear lipstick for ole Boss Hogg, don’t want to get him too excited.”

  Djefi was seated under an awning of palm branches in the large courtyard. Beside him stood a muscled, hard-looking guard Brian had not seen before at To-She. The guard held the shaft of a long spear; its tip rising higher than his head. He was naked except for a dirty linen belt into which he had tucked a long knife with a chipped blade.

  Two young boys, one holding a ceramic jar, stood on the other side of Djefi. The boys watched Brian with open curiosity as Pahket led him to the edge of the awning where she stopped and bowed to Djefi.

  “Welcome home, First Prophet,” she said.

  Djefi dismissed her with a fluttering wave of his fat hand.

  During the journey from Ineb-Hedj to To-She, Djefi had thought a great deal about Brian and Diane, but was unable to decide if they were truly gods appearing in Kemet at this time of unrest or simply very strange outlanders.

  It seemed unlikely that it was coincidence that they had appeared at the very moment when Kanakht and Waja-Hur were ensnaring him in their plot to assassinate King Djoser. Had the gods arrived to warn me away from the plot or to help me succeed? Were they a reminder of my divine duties as first prophet to Sobek, an inspiration to spread Sobek’s cult beyond To-She? Or were they called here by Djoser, divine as he claimed and able to summon gods to his aid?

  “I hope you’ll forgive me if I remain seated, Netjer Brian. It has been a long journey from Ineb-Hedj. The river is so low, as I’m sure you’re very aware,” Djefi said.

  Brian understood some of what Djefi said, but he was more alerted by the setting and body language. Djefi was not the quivering, sweating ‘Boss Hogg’ Brian had mocked at the tomb of Kanakht. He was relaxed and clearly in charge.

  The armed man beside him stood attentively on the balls of his feet, ready to move quickly. When the guard turned his head to look at the two young boys on the other side of Djefi, Brian saw that he was missing his right ear. Jagged scars on his bare chest, were evidence of a history of knife fights.

  “Greetings, Djefi,” Brian said in Egyptian, nodding his head in welcome. “I am an honored guest.”

  “Ahh, he speaks our language now,” Djefi said.

  “He is learning, First Prophet,” Pahket said.

  Djefi turned his head toward her, his eyes slowly leaving Brian to rest on Pahket.

  “And what else has he been doing?”

  “He looks for Netjret Diane constantly. He asks questions.”

  “About?”

  “Everything. About the lake, about the orchards, about you. Sometimes he says names and asks if I know them. He asks about places I do not know.”

  Djefi raised his eyebrows.

  “New York, Cairo, Iraq, America,” she said, repeating the sounds she had memorized.

  Djefi fluttered his hand again, dismissing the nonsense. Then he asked, “Has he said how to make the river rise?”

  She shook her head.

  “Has he talked about King Djoser or Vizier Kanakht?”

  Pahket shook her head.

  “Or Waja-Hur?” Djefi added.

  “No, First Prophet.”

  Djefi turned from her and looked at Brian. He didn’t know what to make of this large, pale man - or god - standing patiently before him. His shoulders and arms were larger and stronger looking than anyone Djefi had ever seen. He had seemed insulting and arrogant at Kanakht’s tomb, but now he seemed patient and civilized.

  Djefi turned back to Pahket. “What do you think about him?”

  Pahket was prepared for this question. When Bakr had arrived with Brian and Diane he had told Yunet that Djefi had found two gods at the tomb of Kanakht. Djefi wanted them to be quietly cared for and watc
hed to try to discover why they were here.

  When Yunet had decided to take Diane to her home on the far side of the fig orchard, she had told Pahket to stay with Brian. Pahket was instructed to answer Brian’s questions and to allow him to go anywhere he wanted, except to Yunet’s home. She also was to listen to him and watch him for clues about who he was and why he was here.

  “I think he is lost, first prophet, almost more than lost. He seems sad at times, confused at others. Everything I show him seems new and different to him.”

  Djefi squinted at her and looked back at Brian.

  “How can a god be ‘more than lost’? ” he said to himself. He motioned one of the boys forward and took from him the ceramic jar of beer. He drank and belched. The other boy came forward with a linen cloth and dabbed at Djefi’s lips.

  “So, Pahket, is he a god?”

  Pahket looked at the ground, unable to meet Djefi’s eyes as she answered. “I do not know, first prophet, I have never met a god. But he is unlike other men. He is both gentle and powerful. He seems to have boundless energy, but he conserves himself. I am not wise, first prophet, but he is different than other men, I think.”

  Brian followed some of the conversation, picking out words here and there. He knew they were talking about him and he was frustrated that he couldn’t speak their language enough to ask them questions and find out where he was.

  He had spent three days spinning his wheels. Although Pahket had been kind, she really had not been helpful about answering the only two questions that mattered: ‘Where was Diane?’ and ‘How could they get home?’

  Djefi had had time to contact the authorities, to arrange for someone to come and get them. But instead he sat here interrogating Pahket.

  Djefi had sunk into a reverie, trying to decide what to do next. He needed to leave To-She to attend a ceremony at Iunu, but he didn’t want to leave without resolving the question of who Brian and Diane really were.

  Brian surprised him from his thoughts by stepping forward and asking in Egyptian, “Where is Diane?”

  ”She is my guest,” Djefi answered. “She is safe.”

  “I want to see her,” Brian said.

  Djefi had met with Yunet before he Brian had been brought to him. She had told him that Diane was angry with Brian and that she had obeyed Diane’s wishes to be kept away from him.

  She hadn’t told Djefi about the nights, when Diane cried herself to sleep and Yunet took her in her arms and held her until the tears stopped. She hadn’t told him that she caressed the beautiful goddess’ red hair while she slept or that she thrilled to the touch of Diane’s delicate arms and legs when she massaged her in the hot afternoons. And she hadn’t told him about the flecks of gold she saw in the strange green eyes of the goddess or of the softness of her hands or the curl of her lips when she smiled.

  She had told Djefi that Diane was angry with the god Brian and that the goddess, for Yunet was sure that Diane was a goddess, would bring greatness to the great god Sobek once she had regained her serenity.

  Djefi had heard the unspoken emotion in Yunet’s voice, and so had Siamun.

  “She wants this ‘goddess’ because she can’t hold a man,” Siamun had sneered after Yunet had gone.

  Djefi thought there was some truth in what Siamun said, but he also trusted Yunet. If she could calm this strange goddess, then perhaps Djefi would find a way to use her. Perhaps she had come to The Two Lands to aid him in the conspiracy that Kanakht and Waja-Hur were spinning.

  “I want to see her,” Brian repeated, taking another step toward Djefi. “I want to know where she is.”

  “She is my guest,” Djefi repeated. “As are you. You are both in my safe-keeping.”

  Brian lapsed into English. “I want to go to the American Embassy. I am an American. I have rights. You can’t just keep us here. I demand . . .” He stopped as Pahket put her hand on his arm and he realized that he had begun to shout.

  “Our god gets angry,” Djefi said quietly.

  Turning to the guard, Djefi spoke in hushed whisper. “Siamun, I leave in the morning for Iunu. I will take Yunet and the goddess Diane with me. The god Brian will stay here. I don’t want him to disrupt my journey or to follow me. So take him into the desert, on one of your hunting trips. Keep him there for a few days so he doesn’t see me leaving.”

  Djefi turned back to Brian and Pahket.

  “Pahket, tell him that Siamun will take him hunting in the desert. When they return, he can see the goddess.”

  She nodded and turned to Brian to explain what Djefi had said in words she knew he would understand, but Djefi interrupted her.

  “You can explain later, Pahket, just take him and prepare him for a trip. Tell him I have to, oh, I don’t know, just calm him down.” He stopped speaking and no one moved for a moment. “Well, you can go now,” Djefi squeaked, waving a hand in dismissal.

  Pahket reached out a hand to take Brian’s arm to lead him to his room.

  “I’m not leaving until I see Diane,” Brian said, refusing to move.

  Djefi ignored him and turned to Siamun, speaking softly so that no one else could hear.

  “Take him into the desert. Test him, watch him. I want to know what he truly is. I want . . .” Djefi stopped as he saw Siamun tense and reach for his knife.

  “I said, I want to see Diane,” Brian said louder, pulling his arm away from Pahket’s grip. He took a third step toward Djefi. “I want some answers.”

  Pahket pulled urgently on his arm, her eyes on Siamun who had drawn the knife from his belt.

  Brian saw the guard, the knife held casually in his hand, but his eyes alive and eager.

  “Now just hold on,” Brian said, holding out a placating hand. “I don’t want any trouble. No one has to get excited here.” He realized he was speaking in English. He wanted to switch to Egyptian, but suddenly he couldn’t remember any of the words. He looked at Pahket for help.

  She read the confusion in his eyes.

  “Brian,” she said soothingly, reaching up and turning his head away from the confrontation with Siamun, “Djefi said Diane is safe, and so she is. He has arranged a trip for you. When you return, you will see Diane.”

  Brian looked back at Siamun. The disfigured guard still held the knife ready and was watching Brian and Pahket closely.

  “I could take you,” Brian said softly in English. “But then what? I’m still stuck here without Diane and no way to get back to Cairo.”

  He looked down at Pahket and nodded.

  Then he addressed Djefi. “I leave now,” he said in Egyptian, the words returning as he calmed. “I see Diane tomorrow.”

  Djefi smiled sweetly.

  “As you wish, honored guest.”

  Journey to Iunu

  “Tomorrow we leave for Iunu and The Feast of Re in His Barge. I have no idea what that means. Paneb has never been to the town of Iunu or to the celebration, so he can’t describe it. But he says that Djefi should be there, so I’m hoping that I’ll catch up with Diane and Brian.”

  Tim put down his pencil and ran a hand over his newly shaved head.

  He knew that there would be fewer questions when he traveled with Paneb and his family if he looked like one of them. So this morning he had asked Taki to shave his head. She insisted that he call her by nickname since the night he had treated Hapu for a scorpion sting. His naturally dark complexion was growing duskier every day and he was dressed like Paneb, wearing a short kilt, although he wore his boxer briefs underneath. He looked like he could be Paneb’s cousin, his tall cousin.

  With his sketchbook on his lap, he sat cross-legged on the roof of Paneb’s home. There was a little shade from the ragged fronds of a palm tree that grew beside the house. The morning sun was starting to push the shade off the roof. When it disappeared, the only shelter would be under the overhang that shielded the front porch, but Tim was reluctant to go there because of the flies, drawn there by the lingering aroma of food and, despite frequent baths in the river, th
e pungent smell of bodies sweating to alleviate the desert heat.

  Although much of the heat and smells were vented through the arched openings on the roof that he had wondered about when he first saw Paneb’s house, the inside of the home remained heavy and thick.

  And so Tim sat on the roof sketching. Paneb and Ahmes were working at Kanakht’s tomb. Hapu, the scorpion sting already forgotten, was playing with some friends a few houses away. Taki and her eldest daughter Dedi were at the market picking up food and portable goods to be used to make trades.

  As chief artist, Paneb earned a generous allotment of food, salt and precious oils, enough to take care of his family and the two households of in-laws who lived near him. Taki had taken some of the surplus salt cones and some homemade linens to the market to trade for fruit and dried meat for their trip. She also wanted to get some smaller valuables - gold rings and precious stones - that she could easily trade for food at Iunu.

  Money didn’t exist here in the Egypt of King Djoser. Instead of seeing it as an inconvenience, Tim saw the system of bartering as one of the things he liked about this ancient time.

  Another was the Egyptian sense of time.

  They lived at a slower tempo and if they were aware of time, it was in the sense that its passage formed a hazy backdrop to their life. It was a measure, not a master.

  They lived amid an endlessly repeating cycle of days, each one sunny and dry like the day before it. They watched the regular rising and falling of the ceaselessly flowing river, and were surrounded by a desert unchanged by weather or seasons.

  They didn’t slice time into a series of individual moments and then stitch them back together with anxious anticipation. They didn’t keep appointment books to make themselves accountable for each minute. There was neither tick nor tock.

  For them, time was the seamless background of a comfortably familiar setting. Marked by the daily journey of the sun god Re arcing through the sky on the celestial river Nun, each day was a repetition of his circular journey, which began with his rebirth each morning.