City of the Dead (27 page)

The fire fed on the dry grass with a ferocious hunger. I acted quickly. Using my feet, I separated the unburned straw from the fire. When the fire had no more fuel, I began to stamp it out. The flames licked at my feet and ankles, singing the hair from my legs. The reeds of my sandals smoldered then fell apart. I ignored the pain and covered the flames with my feet.

Finally, when there were only dying embers, I backed away and looked up.

Above me, Tamit had already lit another lamp. She must have brought a fire stick along with everything else. She smiled. “What now, Hemi? I have plenty up here to burn. And you are down there.”

I stared at her.

Another voice filled the chamber. “You’ll have to kill me first,” Neferet said.

I saw Tamit turn. She leaned over to set the lamp on the ground and was still bent over when Neferet kicked her in the stomach. I heard the air whoosh from her, but Tamit stood, laughing.

“I think our peasant will serve us well and strongly in the afterlife, Hemi.”

I clawed and scraped at the wall of the pit but found no purchase. There was a flash of white above me. I could make out little but heard sounds of a struggle. Then there was a shuffling, sliding sound, and Tamit tipped over the side of the pit and fell at my feet.

Neferet appeared above us, holding the lamp.

“I don’t like her, Hemi,” she said. “Not at all.”

I bent to check on Tamit. She was unconscious, but she still breathed.

Neferet threw a rope down to me. “Hold there a moment, Hemi,” she said, her voice muffled. And then the other end of the rope tumbled down, so that two heavy lines reached me.

“You can climb up now,” Neferet said, leaning over the pit. “I’ve anchored it.”

With a last glance at Tamit, I reached for the rope. I climbed using only my arms, to avoid placing my burned feet against the side of the pit. I reached the top and fell into Neferet’s waiting embrace.

“Now what?” Neferet asked, pulling away.

“Now we find a way to lift the stone.”

A few minutes later I had rigged a pulley in the opposite direction of the drop and prepared to open the chamber. I dragged on the ropes and the blocking stone lifted a fraction from its resting place.

Behind me Neferet called down into the pit, “We are leaving, Tamit.”

“Is she awake?” I asked.

Neferet nodded. “Climb the rope, Tamit. It will hold.”

I marveled at the mercy she could show her tormentor. For all that Tamit had done, and for the others who deserved justice, I could have left her there to pay for her sins.

But even then, I remembered my own need for mercy, the hope Neferet’s God offered for a future atonement.

“Climb the rope, Tamit!” I said, hoping she still had some desire to please me.

Neferet stood and held her hands out. “Stop, Tamit!” She turned and stared at me in horror. “She—she is rebuilding the fire!”

I bore down on the pulley again. And then again, the muscles cording in my neck. “Come, Neferet.” The stone cleared the entrance. “We must go. Now!”

She hesitated, looked back, then crawled through the door and disappeared into the passageway beyond.

I braced a knee under the stone and bit back a scream of pain at the pressure on my burned foot.

By tiny spans and with great effort, I wedged my shoulders under the stone, holding the stone up with the strength of my back. The smoke built behind me, billowing out of the chamber and up the corridor.

And then I was through and the stone slammed down behind me.

“Hemi?”

In the darkness I found Neferet, perhaps ten cubits ahead of me.

“I am well. Right behind you.”

We crawled to the corridor, then half stood and began the two-hundred-cubit climb to the sunlight.

With every painful step, I felt that I was moving toward my true life. And when we emerged at last into the blazing desert sun, I knew that I had been reborn.

Neferet stood beside me as I looked down with new eyes upon the lively harbor, the chaos of the quarry, and the extravagance of the royal estate. But when I looked at Neferet, all else faded to a sandy haze and there were only her eyes and her smile.

I pulled her to me, and in the sight of laborers and overseers alike, I kissed the woman who had led me back to life.

When the seventy days were accomplished for Merit’s purification, we carried her mummified body to her now-completed tomb and laid her inside. That day I buried another man’s wife.

And the next day I took one of my own.

Many years have passed since I climbed out of the half-finished pyramid and began anew. The Horizon of Khufu is complete, gleaming white with a gold pinnacle, and angled in perfection across the western sky. A thing of wonder and beauty in stone.

But not so much like the man who built it. Not anymore. What had begun as dry stone at the edge of a barren desert had been allowed to grow and flourish. I discovered, in the years to come, that ma’at was not quite what I had thought. There is room for what I had believed to be disorder. Creativity, freedom, and beauty—these are gifts from the One. Neferet taught me this. And love is part of that freedom.

Yes, the pyramid is my legacy in stone. But there is another legacy, one I am most proud of. Three sons Neferet has given me. Three strong sons who have grown into men of integrity, men who are ready to take their place among the People of the One.

We still meet behind closed doors. I play my harp often, letting the wild notes carry me away until Neferet laughs and kisses the top of my head.

Beside the pyramid, not far to the east of the completed mortuary temple, a tomb lies waiting for me. Two simple chambers, with sculptures of my precious family carved there, and a life-size statue of myself, sculpted with the right fist of justice and the left hand of mercy. But this tomb is not my final destiny, for there is One Who Comes who will make a way for me.

And so I wait. And watch.

The past is gone. The future is secure.

And I have a life to live.

The list of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World evolved slowly, from their first mention by the Greek historian Herodotus in 450 BC, to the poet Antipater in the second century BC. Though only the oldest of the seven, the Great Pyramid of Giza, still stands, their mystique has endured, each a wonder of engineering and a testimony to the creativity of ancient peoples.

The Great Pyramid of Giza was probably built around 2500 BC. It was commissioned by Khufu and directed by his grand vizier, Hemiunu. The pyramid reached a height of 480 feet, about the size of a fifty-story building, and stands nearly that tall today. Excavations beside the pyramid have uncovered Hemiunu’s mastaba tomb among the many tombs of nobles and officials, and further excavations are continuing nearby, to uncover the quarry and the workmen’s village.

It was my great privilege to visit Egypt while writing
City of the
Dead
. I was able to explore the Giza Plateau, to crawl around the inside of Khufu’s Great Pyramid, and to get a taste of what life was like nearly five thousand years ago!

I invite you to visit my Web site, www.TLHigley.com, to experience the sights and sounds and beauty of this amazing country, and to learn more about what is fact and what is fiction within
the book. While you are there, please take a moment to share your heart with me. I love to hear from readers about the adventure of their own lives!

T. L. Higley inside Hemiunu’s family tomb
in Giza, Egypt