Bless the Child (41 page)

She had a gift for games, as well, and was lithe and spirited as a young boy in her athletic skills. Meri-Neyt was heard to chuckle with another tutor that if her young charge were to fail the test of priesthood, she could always apply to Pharaoh’s bodyguard as a warrior.

Mim studied all that was required of her willingly, and performed her duties without complaint. But, as she grew, it was not the time spent in training that filled her heart with joy, but rather the one sweet month per year, when she was heart-friend to Pharaoh’s eldest son.

Karaden was pledged to Ra, and most of his training was conducted at On, the Temple of the Sun, at Heliopolis, but because his father was as much a mystic as a king, Karaden was also trained in the Great Mother’s Mysteries, so that he might become a balanced ruler. Thus, for one month per year Karaden lived and studied at Saqqara.

Each year, in the time of inundation, he would come in a Royal Progress consisting of entourage, priests, servants, courtiers, and all the other endless retinue that accompanies royalty. He would attend to the duties demanded of him, and then he would send for Mim. By the lotus pool, they would renew their acquaintance, to see how each had grown and changed . . . to share their varied newfound knowledge . . . to tell the secrets they’d been saving up for this precious moment of unburdening. They shared their aspirations and their dreams; in her alone, he could confide his secret fears, for she alone of all his subjects asked nothing of him but his friendship.

To be Pharaoh was the greatest honor, he told her, but it carried with it awesome responsibilities. The Double Kingdom was the Great Work of civilization that the Gods had given into mankind’s care—but to follow in the royal footsteps of one like Zoser was no easy task. And, too, he had yet to face the Abyss, where not even being Pharaoh’s son would save him if he failed the test.

Mim lived for those blessed conversations. She, who had no other true confidant; whose family, although kind and loving, live in Mennofer, while she dwelled apart in the Temple of Isis; she, who would never in life be free to choose as she wished, but only as she was destined, longed for these moments of intimacy.

She wondered later, when their time had run the glass, if the elders of the temple allowed them such freedom because they knew she was vowed to celibacy, and could never be Karaden’s seductress . . . or because they knew full well the temptation they would undergo, and considered it their karma.

In
the summer of her fifteenth year, Mim hastened to the lotus pool, as usual, on the day of Karaden’s arrival. She was excited as a child at the prospect of seeing him, and had to force herself to a dignified propriety, lest the other priestesses murmur at her lack of dignity. But, instead of the boy who had left the summer before, a man awaited her.

Karaden stood resplendent in the white linen toga of Kingship. He wore the golden girdle of Pharaoh’s heir, and the uraeus crowned his head. Mim gazed transfixed from the doorway of the colonnade, suddenly shy as a fawn. Her heart caught in her throat as his eyes met hers and beckoned her forward, and she walked toward him never knowing where she placed her feet.

In the moment they touched, she knew all had changed between them, irrevocably, and without their consent, for she saw in Karaden’s eyes the same astonished love she felt in her own breast.

For the balance of the afternoon, the two young people sat, entranced by each other’s existence until the golden sun had set behind the great step-pyramid. The servants came and went, wonderingly, for Karaden wouldn’t heed their summons to his various duties, and when Meri-Neyt came to remind Mim of her obligations, the Prince commanded that Mim remain at his side. They talked for hours of what, she could never afterward be certain, yet the music of his voice remained. They drowned in each other’s eyes; their souls touched, as they always had in childhood, but now all was more than it had been.

“You are so changed,” she breathed, wanting to reach out and touch him, but fearing to.

“Nay, I am the same,” he said. “You are the only one who knows who I am.”

“But you are a
man,
my Karaden. For the first time you seem to me more Pharaoh’s son, than the boy I raced with in the lotus pool.”

He took her hand in his and clasped it to his lips.
“Never
say that, Mim. To everyone else I must be Pharaoh! . . . only to you am I Karaden. I’ve thought of you, night and day through this last year of dawning knowledge, Mim. I’ve sat in council and dreamed of asking your advice . . . I’ve sat in judgment, and known the goodness and wisdom of your heart would render fairer justice than mine . . . I’ve lain in my bed at night and longed to hold you in my arms. We are soul mates, Mim-Atet-Ra,” he said. “Surely the Gods do not mean us to be separated . . .”

The
days that followed were a blur of unexpected emotion. Each morning he called for her to attend him; despite the murmurs of his retinue, and the disapproving looks of the elders, no one dared question Karaden’s authority. Or perhaps, they simply better understood what was unfolding than the two young people who were in the eye of the rising storm.

There was a loneliness in Karaden, that touched Mim deeply.

“Do you love your father?” she asked one day, as they wandered beneath the acacia trees.

“He is wise and kind,” Karaden answered hesitantly. “He has mastery of so much that I aspire to, Mim, that I sometimes tread the borderline of envy. I admire him, and I wish to learn from him, yet . . .” He walked a moment before continuing.

“When I was young I longed to be freed from the constraint of rulership. I saw the cobbler’s son run to his father laughing, with a ball in his hand . . . I heard the fisherman speak with his father of unimportant things . . . and I envied them.

“Once, when I was small, I was hurt badly in a game and I ran to Pharaoh for comfort. He greeted me sternly, and said that kings must never allow their subjects to see them weak or vulnerable . . . that we owe our subjects courage beyond that of other mortals, because we are the seed of Gods.” He smiled a little, but she could see there was moisture in his eyes. “I did not feel like a God, that day, my darling Mim. I felt like a little boy with a wounded leg, who needed comforting.

“Now that I’ve grown to manhood, I see that vulnerability is not an easy state for kings. Too often, it is their last . . . “He laughed shortly. “So I understand the value of the lesson he taught me . . . yet, I do sometimes wish that he could be my friend.”

Mim took his hand tentatively in her own. “The son of Pharaoh has so much power and material treasure and so little joy, my dear one. I wish I could change the balance for you.”

It was then that he reached up and pulled her to him on the grass, and she let herself be drawn to the warm earth, and the young, virile strength of his body. And his lips sought hers hungrily, exploring the depths of her in a way she had never dreamed. She was carried on waves whose current was so strong it took her minutes to realize how far from shore and safety she had traveled on the tide.

Mim pulled herself from his arms, gasping, as the knowledge crashed through her that she
lusted.
Promised to the Lady Isis, the question of loving a man had never once been raised with Mim. She understood full well that she was to be celibate in order to be a pure vessel for the Mother’s Essence. She knew, too, that at some point in the future it might be required she mate and bring forth a child, but, if so, the man would be chosen by the Reverend Mother; he would be to her no more than a donor of the seed with which to quicken the sacrificial egg.

“Karaden beloved,” she breathed, exulting in the words, at the same moment they filled her with terror. “How can this be? I am promised to the Goddess.”

“Others have been freed from their vows,” he said, reaching for her once again. The touch of his flesh flooded her with desire, pulsing, urgent, not to be denied. And it was only the beginning . . .

Karaden
had come that summer in final preparation for the test of death and rebirth, that would take place in one year’s time. Three days would he lie in the stone Sarcophagus, while his Ka traveled first beyond the River Styx, then to the Crystal Temple of the Masters on the Inner Plane, and finally, the length and breadth of Egypt. If he survived the ordeals encountered at every turn, he would be Pharaoh.

Every morning he labored with the priests and priestesses to learn what he must in preparation; but late every afternoon, he would come to the lotus pool and command that Mim do the same. Meri-Neyt warned her pupil of the terrible dangers of temptation, but she was powerless to forbid her to heed the call of the heir to Pharaoh’s throne. And, indeed, Meri-Neyt was far too wise to think she could keep the girl from her own destiny.

Karaden
lay on his back beside the still water and Mim sat beside him, memorizing every detail of his face and body.

“Do you never wonder why we exist on this earth?” he asked suddenly, as if it were the most important of questions.

“To serve the Gods” she answered.

“But why, Mim? Why do they wish us to serve them? And why have they made the game of life so unfair? The good die young, the poor suffer illnesses they cannot cure, the greedy often win, while the pure in heart are left to suffer?”