Imhotep (31 page)

“I
know you wouldn’t hurt them, Brian.  I was just stating a fact.  I
know you would defend me.  I thank you.  Your bravery gives me
strength.  And we will need your bravery yet tonight.”

He
looked up at her, questioning.  He felt her hand still on his shoulder and
hoped that she was leaving it there because she enjoyed the feel of his skin as
much as he enjoyed her touch.

“When
I saw the man’s crude club and the boy’s little knife I knew we weren’t in
danger.  You could easily have subdued them.  Then I saw the fear in
the boy’s face and the desperation in the man’s.  So I decided to offer
them our goods.  They must be facing hard times to attempt to rob
us.  True, I am only a woman, but you are a most imposing man.

“But
then he got arrogant and greedy.  Instead of accepting a gift, he decided
to take everything, including our water skins, even after I asked if we could
keep one.  So now we must find them and get everything back.”

“How?”
he asked.

“Turn
around,” she answered.

T
here was a three-quarter moon and Tama
wanted them to be less visible, so instead of wearing the linen robe she had
hidden in Brian’s waistband, she carried it.  He had removed his white
kilt and was carrying it coiled in a tight roll.

They
had walked along the road, listening for sounds of the family.

Brian
was worried that the bandits would get away but Tama reassured him that they
would be eager to eat the bread they had taken.  She thought they would
move away from the road and set up a camp for the night.

Soon
they saw a small campfire off in the trees, away from the river.  Tama and
Brian found a grassy spot to wait.  “I want to let them eat first,” she
said.

After
they settled, Brian thought about the bandits. “Does this happen often?” he
asked.

She
shrugged and then realized that the movement was barely visible in the
dark.  “I don’t know,” she said.

“At
Khmunu there is very little crime.  Sometimes men will get angry with each
other and there is a fight.  A man and wife may argue or fight.  But
why would you take something from someone?  I understand if it is food and
you are hungry.  But if you take clothing or jewelry and wear it, everyone
would see it.  And a donkey?  No, never.”

“It
must be different out here,” he said.

She
thought for a moment and then laughed.  “I was going to say that it could
not be different, but then, we have no donkeys, do we?”

They
were quiet for a little while. 

Brian
thought about the encounter on the roadway and how Tama, wearing only a narrow
belt and reed sandals had walked unafraid toward an armed man.  He thought
about how the blood had pounded through his veins as he watched her and worried
for her.  For a little while, when the man with the club had walked toward
her, Brian had been torn between running forward to protect her and following her
request to stay where he was.  If the man had started to raise his club,
Brian would have been there in five hurried strides.  When he would have
reached the man, Brian knew he would have been out of control.

Tama
thought about the unexpected pleasure she had taken in touching Brian’s
shoulder and how his statement that he wouldn’t hurt children or women had
affected her.  And, always honest with herself, she admitted that knowing
he was behind her had given her more courage to face the men than she would
have had if she had been alone.  He seemed solid and reliable, and,
strangely, more interested in helping her than in trying to prove himself
innocent of the killing at Khmunu.

“It is
different in my country,” Brian said, breaking the stillness.  “In my
country people are in love with things - with clothing and jewelry and  .
. . ” he thought of huge, gas-guzzling SUVs, two-hundred-dollar sneakers, big
screen televisions and everything else that made modern Americans so serious
about material wealth. “And other things.  They would take things they do
not need, just to have them,” he continued. 

“I
think people in my country are more violent.  They kill each other all the
time.  Husbands kill their wives, strangers kill each other, and children
even kill their parents.”

Tama
waited to be sure he was finished speaking.

“Are
they angry with each other?  So angry that they want to kill?  I
don’t understand.”

Brian
scooted closer to her.  “It is very easy to kill someone in my
country.  We have,” he didn’t know the word for weapons, “we have sticks
that can kill from far away, just by pointing them.  We have things that
fly and can drop fire on towns and kill everyone there.  We have many,
many more people and they live very close to each other.  Some of them work
very hard and have very little.  It makes them angry.”

“Do
they have food?  Do they have wheat and salt and oil?”

“Tama,
there is so much more to have in my country.  And everyone wants
everything.  When they see that other people have things that they want
themselves, sometimes they become crazy.  They think the world isn’t fair
and that they have to take what they want to make it fair.”

“Isn’t
there enough for everyone?”

“I
don’t know,” he sighed.  “Some countries are very, very poor.  They
may not have enough, I don’t know.  My country is very wealthy, but people
don’t want to share.  No, that’s not right.  We just believe that if
someone wants something they should work to get it.”

“That
seems fair,” she said.

“Yes,
but, somehow things have gotten messed up.  I read that  . . . ” he began.

“You
can read?” she interrupted him.  “You are a priest?”

“No,
most people can read in my country.  Where was I?”

“Working
to get things.”

“No,
that wasn’t it.  Oh, somehow just a few people own almost everything and
they don’t want to share.  And if one of the people who doesn’t have
anything gets lucky and becomes one of the people who have everything then they
won’t share.”

Suddenly
Brian felt very sad.  Tama saw his eyes and read his heart.  At times
he reminded her of Waja-Hur before his illness.  The priest was beloved by
the people because he felt their fears.  He sincerely tried to help them
reach Khert-Neter.  Brian seemed to be filled with the same desire to help
others and the ability to feel their pain.

Brian
sounded unhappy with his own country, and lost here in hers.  Yet he
continued to try to help others.  She had heard the stories about his
heroics at To-She and she had seen his concern for others with her own
eyes.  She didn’t believe that he was a god, but she thought that he had a
god-like depth to him, that his heart was as light as Ma’at’s feather, despite
the pain he felt for others.

“Why
are you here?” she asked, reaching up and stroking his cheek.

Brian
moved his face against her hand.  He knew that if he looked at her and saw
desire in her eyes that he would be overwhelmed with his desire for her. 
But he was afraid he would see pity in her eyes instead.

“I
don’t know, Tama.  I didn’t try to come here. 

“I
don’t really know where here is.  I mean, when Diane and I came out of the
tomb I didn’t know anything was different.  Then after we got to To-She I
knew something really weird had happened, but I didn’t know what to do.  I
was scared, really scared, but I tried not to show it.”

He
looked at her and shrugged.  “It doesn’t do any good to worry, you just do
your best and figure things out.”

“Then
Tim found us and explained what had happened and how we could get away. 
But then Diane wouldn’t talk to me.”

“And
then I helped Neswy and that little girl and I started to feel like I was
brought here for a purpose.  But I really don’t believe in that
stuff.  Sorry, I know you’re a priestess, but I never really got into
religion.  So this whole “here for a purpose” doesn’t feel right. 
I’m just trying to figure things out and do the right thing.”

Tama
looked at his face.  His eyes stared into the distance as he fought
against the loneliness she heard in his voice.  She saw him as a powerful
natural force, a vortex of compassion and strength, absorbing others’ pain and
offering comfort without expectations.  She was drawn to his strength and
now, as she saw his unease, she wanted to comfort him, to offer, if not her
strength, then at least relief from his anxiety.

 “What
is the right thing, Brian?” she asked, caressing his shaved head and the back
of his neck.

He
reached up and grabbed her wrist, gently, but firmly.

“Tama,”
he said in a rough whisper, “I know that it is different here and if I was
normal, I’d be jumping at every chance.  I think you are incredibly
beautiful.  But . . . ” he stopped speaking as she placed a finger on
his lips.

“Words,”
she said, shaking her head.  “They are powerful, Brian.  They bring
our thoughts to life, but sometimes they keep us from what is real.”

She
leaned close and replaced her finger with her lips, inhaling his breath as she
kissed him.

Her
hand slid down his chest.

He
reached for her, but she already was moving, straddling him as he sat on the
grass.  For a delicious moment he felt her hover over him and then she
moved closer.

Pulling
back from their kiss, she looked at him, her eyes seeking his.  She saw
his uncertainty give way to hunger and desire.  In her eyes, he saw
eagerness and playfulness.

Sitting
on the grass, Brian reached back with one arm to steady himself as they moved
to her rhythm.  He pressed his other hand against her back feeling the
muscles tighten as they made love.

He
found himself laughing with her, finding a joy in their lovemaking that removed
him from time.  There was her touch, her smell, the taste of her mouth and
there was nothing else.

A
rustling noise woke Brian from a deep,
exhausted sleep. 

The
night air seemed to absorb the faint moonlight that filtered through the palm
fronds.  He heard the soft sound again, coming from his left.  He sat
up and, turning to his left, he saw a glowing shape approaching through the
bushes.

He
rubbed his eyes and the shape took form as the goddess Ma’at dressed in a pure
white linen robe that reached to her ankles.  Black hair fell to her
shoulders in braided plaits and an ostrich feather, symbol of truth, rose over
her head.

“The
children have fallen asleep.  It is time,” Ma’at said in the calm voice he
recognized as Tama's.

He had
no idea what she was talking about.

She
held out her hand, “Ma’at will visit them and reclaim the donkeys.  Come
with me, but stay in the shadows beyond their fire.  Don’t worry,” she
said, seeing his worried look, “if I need help, I will signal you.  Come,
before the adults fall asleep.”

He
stood and realized his kilt had come off sometime during their lovemaking.

“Over
there,” she said smiling.

He
found it on the grass behind him and wrapped it around his waist.

He
realized that he hadn’t spoken to her since they had been together.  Then,
remembering her words from earlier in the night, he decided that their actions
had spoken more than any words would.

He
nodded his understanding and walked over to her.  She turned to leave and
then suddenly turned back to him and reaching up, cupped his face with both
hands.  She studied his face, trying to read his mood, understand his
silence.  He smiled at her and opened his mouth to thank her, and then
catching himself again, he simply smiled and turning his head slightly, lightly
kissed the palm of her hand.

T
ama’s speculation about the attackers
proved eerily accurate.

The
light from the small campfire showed three small shapes curled together just at
the edge of the circle of flickering light.  An elderly man sat near them,
propped against a tree, his head turned to the side, his mouth open as he
snored.  The larger man, the one who had robbed them, sat cross-legged by
the fire, an empty water skin by his side.  The boy who had been with him
was across the fire sitting beside his mother who was examining a roll of
linen.  Ceramic jars from the packs sat by her side.

Tama
stopped by the edge of the camp and motioned for Brian to wait there. 
Then she walked into the open area.  As she moved, she seemed to
transform.  Always graceful in movement, she seemed now to float rather
than walk.  Her shoulders were drawn back more; her arms stayed
straighter, her wrists were bent slightly, opening her palms in front of her.

The
woman saw her first.  Her fingers, busy examining the threading of the
linen, stopped moving.  Her face froze in astonishment.  Her husband,
seeing his wife’s expression, followed her eyes.  He stood clumsily and
unconsciously wiped his hands on his dirty thighs.

He
started to speak, but Tama raised a hand, stopping him.

“Have
you done ma’at?” she asked, evoking the ritual question that was asked during
the weighing of the heart, when ma’at meant to live an honest life without
lying, cheating, or harming anyone.

The
woman looked at her husband, knowing the answer and wondering if Anubis himself
would burst into the small clearing and use his jackal’s fangs to rip her
husband’s still-beating heart from his chest.

“Have
you done ma’at?” Tama repeated, her tone quiet but insistent.

The
man looked at the ground, fearful, knowing that if he lied to the goddess he
would die the final death and never see Khert-Neter.

“A
woman was walking on the road with her servant when they were accosted by two
men,” Tama said, as if telling a fairy tale.  “Seeing their great need,
the woman offered them food and oils and water, fine linen and gold.  Her
words were sweet and filled with love.  The great god Thoth heard them and
recorded them.”

The
woman started to cry quietly.  Her son reached out a hand to comfort
her.  The father’s face grew hard and Brian, watching from the shadows,
wondered if the man's guilt would lead him to violence.

“Good
man,” Tama said, her voice softer now.  “Kemet needs balance.  Those
with wealth and food must share with those who have none.  The gods
provide enough for all.  I know that hunger and need are hard
taskmasters.  They darken thoughts and sway the heart.  They can lead
a man beyond ma’at.

“Tell
me your story that I might weigh your words.”

The
man looked up now and Brian saw that the anger and fear in his eyes had given
way to sadness.

“We
live in Edfu, Voice of Truth.”

“That
is many days from here,” Tama said.

The
man nodded.  “My fields are far from the river’s bank and the ground was
not flooded last year.  I worked the land but the ground was barren. Only
weak shoots arose, too small to grow, even though I prayed to the gods and made
offerings,” he said, a note of accusation in his voice.

“When
Shemu began, there was nothing for me to harvest.  I heard from boatmen
that downriver there were fields too full to harvest, that if I traveled there
I could find work and be able to feed my family.

“And
so we gathered all we had and took to the road, looking for those fields.”

“The
governor of your nome, did he not provide food and salt for you?” Tama asked.

“Ha! 
He only takes.  He sends his men.  They count each grain of wheat,
each fig and cucumber and take their share.  But no, Voice of Truth, he
does not give back.”

“Are
his granaries empty?”

The
man shrugged.  “I do not know.  I only know that there is no food for
me and my family there.  But there have been no rich fields here
either.  We have walked many days.  At each village I offer to
work.  We find a generous soul here and there who gives us bread, but
there has been no work to be found.”

“Are
there others like you?” she asked.

The
man looked confused.

“Others
who walk the land looking for food,” she explained.

The
woman spoke up now.  “My husband is a good man, Voice of Truth.  He
works hard and provides for us.  He is a good father.  What would you
have a man do?”

Tama
turned to the woman.  “A man must care for his family, yes.  But he
must keep balance.  Stealing everything from another is not made right
just because you have nothing.  Look to your heart.  You know this is
true.

“Again,”
she repeated, turning back to the man, “are there others who walk the land in
hunger?”

“I
have seen a few others, Voice of Truth, but it is hard to wander without
knowing what you will find.  The boatman was mistaken; the harvest has
been small all along the river.  We are going home.

“What
you said is true,” he admitted.  “I took too much from the traveler. 
I was wrong.”

Tama
waited for a moment to allow the man to think that she was weighing his
words.  She knew that he was telling the truth; she had anticipated the
story he would tell.  She and Brian had encountered other wandering
families, all of them following rumors of heavy harvests, all of them
disappointed and tired.

“Your
words bring you back to the path of ma’at,” she said solemnly.  “But truth
in words alone is not enough.”

“I would
return the goods, if I could,” the man said quickly.

“In
the morning the woman’s servant will come to you.  Keep one of the donkeys
to help you with your travels.  The servant will divide the goods, taking
what he needs and leaving some with you.  Balance will be restored and
Ma’at will be served.

“I
will go to your governor and soften his heart.  The granaries will be
opened at Edfu when you return.”

“As
you say, Voice of Truth,” the man said.

“Thank
you,” his wife added.

Tama
turned and walked into the darkness.

“C
an you really get the governor to release
grain?” Brian asked.

Tama
was walking beside him.  They had one donkey; its packs lighter now. 
Brian had gone to the campsite early in the morning and, as Tama predicted, the
stranger offered Brian both donkeys and all the goods.

He had
left most of the bread, one of the two water skins, a few rolls of linen, a
salt cone and two small pieces of jewelry with the family.  In the morning
light, the father had looked even smaller and less imposing than he had the
previous evening.

He had
started to apologize, but Brian had shaken his head.

“Balance
has been restored,” Brian had said, repeating the ritual phrase Tama had
instructed him to use.

He had
seen the boy watching him.  Dropping the donkey’s lead rope, Brian had
walked to the boy and laid a large hand on his shoulder.  “You are brave,”
he had said, saying the words Tama had given him.  “You father is a good
man.  Follow him.”

Then
he had gathered the donkey’s rope and left the small clearing.

Tama
nodded in answer to Brian’s question.

“The
governor will release grain.  It is his duty to care for the people. 
I will speak with Hetephernebti and King Djoser if needed.  The people
must be fed.”

They
walked in silence for a few minutes.

Brian
stole glances at Tama.  She had removed her linen robe and was dressed as
a commoner, dark kohl at her eyes and wearing only a linen belt.  But when
he looked at her, he realized that he was looking not at her small, soft
breasts or the curve of her hips, but at her face and eyes.  He knew her
body and he wanted it, but it was her ideas and view of the world that
fascinated him most.

“Last
night … ,” he began.

“Yes?”
she answered, expecting him to be like other men and ask about their lovemaking
- to ask her to explain her motives, to evaluate his performance, to
promise another opportunity.

“ ...
When you went to that family.  It looked like you changed.  Your
voice was different, you walked differently.”

She
smiled in relief, happy that her initial view of Brian had been correct. 
Although his physical size and power were unusual, his true strength and his
heart lay in understanding.

“That
has always happened,” she said.  “When I wear the robes of Ma’at I feel
her spirit come over me.  It may be an illusion,” she added, “it may be
real.  I do not think that the difference matters.  Whether the
presence comes from Ma’at herself or from within me, the feeling is the
same.  Do you understand?”

“I
think so.  I read stories about guys being traded to the New York Yankees. 
They say when you put on their uniform, you feel like a Yankee, that you
actually become a better player.”

Tama
stopped walking.  Brian stopped also and looked at her.  Her face was
scrunched up and serious.

“Brian,”
she said, laying her hand on his arm.  “I didn’t understand anything you
said.  You talked in your tongue and the words were strange.  I am
sorry.  But I think I felt your understanding.”

Brian
started to laugh.  He was in a foreign land, thousands of years in the
past, walking along with a donkey and a beautiful naked woman talking about the
New York Yankees, the one team in baseball he despised.  He was trying
harder than ever before in his life to understand another person’s mind but he
was talking in a language she didn’t understand.

And he
was happier and more content than he had ever been.  Everything around him
was strange and different and he had never felt more at home.

He
stepped forward and, still laughing, he put his hands under Tama’s arms and
picked her up.  He lifted her high off the ground.  Laying her hands
atop his strong arms, she joined in his laughter.

Pulling
her close, he held her, careful to not squeeze too hard.  She wrapped her
arms around his neck and clung to him, both of them shaking and laughing.

“Y
ou hesitated to speak last night,” Tama
said later while they walked along the road.  “After we were together and
before I visited the family.”

Brian
nodded.  “You said that words sometimes get in the way.”

The
trees along the road opened to a grassy clearing.  Brian walked beside
Tama as she led the donkey toward the river.  Close to the riverbank,
Brian lifted the sacks from the donkey so the animal could drink freely.

Tama
pulled the last of the bread from a sack and breaking it in two, offered half
to Brian.  She held the dry bread in her hand and walked toward the
river.  Brian waited by the sacks.  He had gotten used to her moods
during their trip and recognized that there were times when she wanted to be
alone.