Imhotep (43 page)

“Yes,”
Prince Teti said.

“I
don’t understand,” Imhotep said.

Meryt
said, “He means Bata will travel with us and protect us.”

“I
have a guard?” Imhotep said.

“A
companion, Lord Imhotep,” Bata said.  “I am your companion.”

King
Djoser rejoined them, followed by Sekhmire.

“Imhotep!”
the king said.

Imhotep
looked up, startled at the loudness of the king’s voice.  He saw that King
Djoser was laughing silently. 

“I had
to shout,” he said.  Imhotep had never seen him so happy and so
relaxed.  “They are making so much noise.” He pointed up at the sky where
another huge flock of birds was crossing over the island.

The
king took Imhotep’s arm and led him away from the others.

“You
were right,” he said when they were alone.  “Sennufer has never seen a
passage of birds this large.  Neither has Ptahhotep and he is nearly as
old as Waja-Hur.  They foretell a flood that will fill the land.  The
famine is surely over!”

He
looked at the sky, then out across the water to the east bank.  The
riverbank was lined with villagers and farmers, all of them watching the great
migration.  He knew that they would equate the arrival of the ibises to
the offering he had made to Khnum.  Word would spread along the river,
faster than the birds themselves.

As he
looked across the river he saw a reed boat leave the far bank, the man who sat
on it was paddling strongly, aiming at the temple.  Imhotep saw where King
Djoser was looking and watched with him as the man approached the island.

“Today,
Imhotep, we will enjoy this ceremony.  We will drink until we see the
gods.”

The
reed boat reached the island’s narrow beach.  King Djoser and Imhotep lost
sight of the man when he left the boat and ran toward the temple entrance.

“Do
you know who he is?” Imhotep asked.

King
Djoser shook his head.  “No.  There are many officials here.  He
is probably a messenger seeking one of them.”

King
Djoser turned his attention to Imhotep.

“You
left your notebook - is that the word you use? - when you were in
my chambers yesterday.  There are drawings in it.  Yes, yes, of
course I looked through it, Imhotep.  You guard it as if your very ka were
within.

“One
drawing was a tower of stone blocks.  Your foot was in the drawing. 
Do you remember it?  What was it?”

Imhotep
thought of the drawing.  He remembered sitting against the low stone wall
in Saqqara, sketching the Step Pyramid, seeing Brian and Diane cross the sandy
courtyard toward him.

He
started to answer King Djoser when he saw Sennufer hurrying toward them leading
the stranger from the boat.  King Djoser turned to meet them, expecting
Sennufer to address him.

“Excuse
me, King Djoser, Lord Imhotep.  This man has just arrived from Edfu. 
He said he has a message for the stranger called Tim from a man called Brian.”

T
he first time Brian awoke he saw only
blackness. 

His
mouth felt strange and the air smelled of his own sour sweat.  He tried to
call out and knew what was different about his mouth.  The nights tied to
the stone chair came rushing back at him and his mind revolted, deciding it had
been a nightmare.  Then he pressed the nub of his tongue against his gums,
knew it wasn’t a dream and passed out.

The
next time he awoke it was in response to a cool dampness on his forehead. 
He opened his eyes and saw a blurry form silhouetted against a bright light
that pushed in from the doorway beyond.

“Brian,”
said a soft, female voice.

“Am I
dead?” he asked in English, the words thick and clumsy.

“Brian,”
she repeated.  “We are in Edfu.”

He
nodded and fell back to darkness.

Pahket
was holding a bowl of soup by him when he awoke the third time, blinking awake
and sitting up suddenly, frightening Pahket so that she slopped some of the
warm soup from the wooden bowl.

He
looked around wild-eyed at the interior of the small hut, then at his untied
wrists and legs.  She waited silently, afraid to disturb him as he got his
bearings.

“Pahkeh,”
he said finally.  He gingerly put his hand to his mouth, slowly exploring
inside.  He felt his eyes start to tear up, and then wiped them dry with
the back of his wrist.

She
watched him with sad eyes.

“I
have some soup and some bread,” she said.

He
reached for the bowl and began to eat, grimacing each time he tried to move
food around with his lost tongue.  “Where am I,” he asked in Egyptian, the
words a slur of open sounds.

“I’m
sorry, Brian.  I don’t understand.  Let me tell you what has
happened.  Shake your head if something doesn’t make sense.”

She
told him about their escape from the temple of Sobek and how she had left him
hidden among bushes on the east side of the river bank and walked to a farmer’s
hut where she had learned that a messenger from the Temple of Ma’at was looking
for Brian. 

The
farmer had led her to the hut where Samut was staying.  Borrowing the
farmer’s donkey, they returned to Brian, pushed him up on the animal and then
struck out across the fields toward the village of Edfu, she and Samut walking
on either side to steady him.

Clear
of the village, they had looked back to see a cluster of torches bobbing across
the river from the temple as Siamun led a search party to find Brian. 
Turning their backs, they walked as quickly as they could through the black
night.

They
were staying now in Edfu, two days' walk downriver from Kom Ombo where they
were waiting for Tama.

“How
long?” he tried to say.

She
shook her head.  He tapped his wrist to indicate a wristwatch and then
realized that the gesture was meaningless to her.  He set the empty soup
bowl on the dirt floor and drew a circle with lines coming out of it to
represent the sun.  Then he rubbed it out and drew it again.  He
looked up at Pahket and shrugged.

“We
left the temple at night.  Three more nights have passed since then. 
You have been sleeping, Brian.  We did not know if you would awake and we
could not send for a physician because we were afraid Siamun would find out.”

Brian
nodded to show he understood.  Strangely, although his tongue ached and he
felt exhausted, his spirits were good.  Pahket had saved him and Tama
would soon arrive to help him.  Although his arms felt ridiculously weak
and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to stand, he was alive!  Now he
needed to regain his strength because he planned to visit the Temple of
Sobek.  This time he would be looking for Siamun.  This time he would
be ready. 

He
picked up the empty bowl and patted his stomach.

“More?”
she asked.

He
nodded.  He held on to the bowl when she tried to take it.  She
looked up at him, puzzled.  “Pahkeh,” he said.  “Hank ou, ou aved my
ife.”

She
didn’t understand what he tried to say, but she understood his smile and
touch.  She leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

“Rest,”
she said.  “I will be right back.”

S
amut was nervous.

He
didn’t know if Siamun was still looking for Brian.  If Siamun did find
them hiding here in Edfu, there was nothing Samut could do.  Brian was a
criminal and it would be within Siamun’s right, acting for Priest Djefi, to
take him back to Kom Ombo, back to the Temple of Sobek.

Samut
had wanted to keep moving, to get as far from Kom Ombo as possible, but Brian
had been too weak.  What good would it have done to bring Brian’s dead
body to Tama?

So
they had stopped in Edfu and he had sent a message to Tama.  He would
either see her in a few more days or get a message from her.  Until then
they would hide and hope. 

He had
left Pahket and Brian in a hut past the edge of town beside a dried up
irrigation ditch that ran through a small grove of willow trees.  A farmer
who lived near there had promised to supply them with food for a few days in
return for the donkey. 

During
the day, Samut stayed at the southern edge of town near the roadway where he
would watch for Siamun.  Each night he went back to the small hut to check
on Brian and Pahket.

Until
Tama arrived, or until Brian got strong enough to travel, there was little
Samut could do except wait, watch, and worry.

T
he hut that had seemed so protective,
almost womb-like, was too small now.  He needed to get outside.  He
wanted to run, do some push-ups, get his muscles working and strong again.

Pahket
had explained to him that they were only a short distance from Kom Ombo and
Siamun.  Samut had told her that Kanakht had declared Brian an outlaw, so
that anyone who saw him was supposed to restrain him and notify Kanakht.

When
Brian had nodded in understanding, she was happy to see anger instead of
resignation in his eyes.

“We
can go out at dusk or early in the morning before travelers are moving on the
road,” she said. 

“Samut
is keeping watch.  If Siamun approaches, Samut will warn us and we will
flee.  So, you see, we are safe.  But we must be careful.”

On the
second day of his new life, Brian walked along the canal with Pahket.  The
stump of his tongue throbbed but the only alternative to enduring the pain was
to drink himself to a stupor. 

He
refused to do that; he was in training.

On the
third day he felt strong enough to jog.  Each step jolted the severed
nerves in his tongue, but each step also brought him closer to regaining his
strength.  He clenched his teeth, fought past the pain and thought about
Siamun.  He saw his face, smelled his breath, and heard his raspy
voice. 

Part
of his mind told him that if he allowed Siamun to become an obsession then he
was losing his freedom and entering into Siamun’s dark world.  But he
believed he could control it; use the anger and hatred to push himself
harder.  Once he felt strong again, then he would distance himself from
his hatred.  But until then he would stare into the past, pound against
the sand along the irrigation canal and do his push-ups and sit-ups with the
vision of his hands around Siamun’s neck clear and strong in his imagination.

A
fter breakfast one morning, Brian picked
up a stick and began to draw in the sand.  He had given up trying to talk;
the language here had too many harsh, clicking sounds that required a tongue.

He
drew a girl with wavy hair, and a larger man beside her.  Then he drew a
smaller man.  Pahket sat on the sand beside him.

He
pointed to the girl and said “Iane.”

Pahket
nodded.  “Diane.”

He
pointed to the large man and then patted his chest.  Then he pointed to
the third man and said “im.” He looked at her, anxious to see if she
understood.

“Tim,”
she repeated.  “Samut told me about him.  All I had heard before are
rumors.  You want to know about him?”

Brian
nodded.

“He is
now called Imhotep and he travels with King Djoser.  Samut said that he
healed Prince Teti.  That is King Djoser’s son.  So the king has made
Imhotep an adviser, one of the few people he truly trusts. They are at
Abu, a temple that sits on an island near the first cataract.  That’s a
place in the river where there are a lot of rocks.  I’ve never been there.

“The
king is waiting there until the floods come.  Don't look worried, Brian,
the floods are good.  The river comes over the bank and covers the
fields.  Then it goes back down and leaves behind dark rich soil. 
The farmers need the flood.”

She
leaned against him playfully.

“I had
forgotten that you are a stranger in the Two Lands.  Everything I know is
new to you.  Remember at To-She when I told you the story about
Sobek?  We were in the orchard.  It was so peaceful and,” she looked
away from him as she remembered, “and nothing bad had happened.”

Suddenly
she started to cry.  “I’m sorry that he hurt you, Brian.  It was so
terrible.  I saw them tie you to the chair every night and I was afraid to
help.  And then I heard your screams and, I’m sorry.”

She
turned to leave, but he reached for her and, putting his arm around her
shoulders, he pulled her close.  She wrapped her arms around him and laid
her head against his chest.  He felt her warm tears on his skin as she
cried quietly.

Lost
in his own pain, he hadn’t thought about her.  She had risked her life to
save him, rebelling against a lifetime of obedience to rescue a stranger. 
He thought about her bravery and about his own loss.  They were both
changed forever, but she had chosen the change.

He
laid his head against hers and held her close, feeling her small body quiver as
she cried. 

T
he day after his morning jog, after he was
able to make her understand that he wanted to write a letter to Imhotep, Pahket
brought him a papyrus roll, a brush and ink.

He
wasn’t used to writing letters and after just a few moments he realized how
painstakingly slow it was going to be to paint English words with a
brush.  He would have to be brief.

“Djefi
kill king. Croc attack man in chair.  Kom Ombo temple.  I look for
you.”

Some
of the letters were smeared and the small letter “o’s” had filled in, but the
note was readable. 

He
shook his head in disappointment.  There was so much more to say but he
hoped he would be better able to speak English than Egyptian.  Tim would
be able to understand him and then he could explain everything.

He
touched the ink lightly.  Looking in dismay at the smudge that was left
behind, he sighed and laid the papyrus aside, waiting for the ink to dry.

“For
im,” he said to Pahket.

She
had watched him labor over the short note, complimenting him on his
talent.  He knew from his conversations with Tama that writing was an
unusual skill here.  He had wondered about putting the note in some kind
of code and then laughed at himself:  There were only three people in this
world who could read English.

“When
Samut returns tonight I will ask him to send it to Imhotep,” she said.

H
e ran again that evening, breaking into a
sprint at times.  It was good to feel his chest heaving, the air rushing
in and out of his lungs.  His legs were gaining strength.  He had
regained some of the weight he had lost, but his ribs were visible and the
small bones in the back of his hand were no longer hidden beneath thickening
flesh.

The
tender cut edge of his tongue was healing, a crusty scab had formed and then
scaled away from it.  The sharp pain and constant throbbing had given way
to phantom twitches and occasional aches.

Each
evening he assessed himself, measuring his progress and deciding what he could
add to his workout.

Pahket
was always with him, her presence sometimes reminding him of when he and Diane
had first arrived at To-She and everything had seemed mysterious and fun. 
She was more somber since the evening when she had cried, and he caught her
watching him at times, searching his expression for signs of disapproval.

He had
tried to let her know that she had nothing to be ashamed of for being afraid of
Siamun, but he knew that she understood very little of what he tried to
say.  He smiled at her, laughed at her when she flopped on the sand while
trying to do push-ups, and he held her when they slept.

She
was shyer now than she had been at To-She and he didn’t understand why until he
remembered her expression at Khmunu after they had watched the ceremony and he
had seen Tama for the first time.  He knew that she had had a crush on him
and he must have hurt her with his open desire for Tama.