Imhotep (57 page)

With a
desperate effort Brian brought his hand up to hit the inside of Siamun’s arm
that held his throat.  He whipped his head forward hard at the same
time.  His forehead slammed against Siamun’s nose and Brian heard a
satisfying crunch as Siamun’s blood began to gush from his broken nose and fall
on Brian’s chest.

Through
the sharp, surprising pain, Siamun heard Diane start to scream as she swung the
hammer with a two-handed tennis backhand.

He
turned his bloody face toward the scream as Diane swung the hammer forward,
turning her shoulders and keeping her eyes on his face.  Siamun tried to roll
away, but Brian held his arms in a death grip.

Siamun’s
eyes grew large with fear as the stone hammer sliced through the air in front
of him.  There was a crackling sound as it hit his face, driving his
broken nose deep into his skull and splattering teeth down his throat and
across the clearing.

His
lifeless body jerked away from the blow and fell away from Brian, landing
heavily in the sand.

The
two guards who had been guarding Ahmes and Paneb rushed toward Diane, but Bakr
shouted at them to stop.  Looking at him, they saw him pointing to the rim
of the sand bank where Prince Teti and his soldiers were standing.

T
he rope slipped from Djefi's hand as
Imhotep ran to the tomb entrance.  He stopped there in shock at what he
saw in the clearing.

Siamun’s
body, his face crushed into his skull, lay on the sand in a puddle of
blood.  Brian was lying nearby, a pool of blood gathering under his belly
where the hilt of Siamun’s knife wobbled in the air. Diane knelt beside him
weeping.  Two of the guards stood near her, the others stood with Ahmes
under the canopy.  No one was speaking.

Sensing
other people, Imhotep looked up at the rim of the clearing to see Prince Teti
and his men.  He was about to talk to them when he felt a knife prick
against his side and the rope drew tight around his neck.

“Tell
Prince Teti that you and I must return to the tomb,” Djefi said to Imhotep,
pressing the knife against him.

“He
doesn’t have to speak, Djefi.  I have young ears.  I can hear
you.  Release him now,” Prince Teti called.

“So
you can kill me?”  Djefi squeaked.  He turned Imhotep toward Prince
Teti, using him as a shield.  With his back turned, he didn’t see
Brian drag himself across the sand, his eyes full of pain, but focused on
the sharp-edged reflecting disk that Ahmes had dropped.

T
he men who were at the tomb that day would
boast about what they had witnessed, telling the story in the hushed voice one
uses when talking about the gods.

They
would say that they saw the god Ipy, magical protector of the Two Lands, slain
and lifeless, a knife stuck in his gut.  Yet he brought himself back to
life.  Moving slowly as a shadow, the god crawled behind the evil priest
Djefi and with a sweep of his mighty arm, hurled the sun at the priest. 
The sun sliced into the priest’s fat back and then flew away, returning to the
sky.

And as
the evil priest fell to the sand, unable to control his now lifeless legs, the
god Ipy uttered a long, howling roar and collapsed, his great ka leaving his
lifeless body for the green fields of Khert-Neter.

I
mhotep felt a sudden yank on the rope
around his neck.  He fell backward and landed on Djefi who was surprised
to find himself abruptly lying on his side in the sand.  Rolling away from
the fat priest, Imhotep saw a brass reflecting disk roll through the sand
leaving a trail of blood.

He
looked at Djefi and saw a red gash across the priest’s back where the sharp
edge of the disk had cut into him, severing his spinal cord.

“I
can’t feel my legs.  How can that be?” Djefi asked himself.

Ignoring
him, Imhotep rushed over to Brian who had fallen face forward in the sand after
throwing the reflecting disk.

“Jush
ike a fribbee,” Brian whispered.

Diane
crawled over to him.  “Brian,” she said, caressing his face softly.

“Bye,
babe,” he said softly.

“No,”
she cried.  “This isn’t fair!” She pressed her face against his and held
him close as he exhaled a long, slow breath.

“Do
something,” she said to Imhotep.

He
laid his hand on Brian’s neck.  There was no pulse. 

“I’m
sorry, Diane,” he said.

Bakr
came across the clearing and knelt beside her.  “He truly was a god,” he
said reverently.

D
iane wanted to kill Djefi herself, but
Imhotep intervened.

“Don’t
do this, Diane,” he said to her in English.  “Djefi can’t harm anyone
now.”

She
stood over the fat priest, then she spit on him and turned away.

Prince
Teti and his men were in the clearing now.

“What
do you want us to do with him?” Prince Teti asked Imhotep.

Imhotep
shook his head.  “That is up to you, Prince Teti.  I want nothing of
him.”

Prince
Teti turned to the two guards who had helped Siamun.  “Take Djefi and
Siamun’s body into the desert.  Two days' journey.  Once you are
there, tie Siamun’s body to Djefi’s back.  Leave him there to crawl home.”

“I am
First Prophet of Sobek,” Djefi said.  “You cannot treat me like a common
criminal.”

Prince
Teti smiled. 

“You
are right, First Prophet.” He looked at the guards.  “Leave a water bag
with him.”

A
s the men carried a screaming Djefi away,
Prince Teti said to Diane, “We will give Brian this tomb.”

She
looked at him uncomprehendingly.

“He
means Brian will be buried here, in this tomb, Diane,” Imhotep explained in
English.  “It is a great honor.”

She
stared at him.  “Then how do I get back?  I want to leave this
place.  Forever.”

Imhotep
shook his head.

“I
don’t know, Diane.  I thought I found the panel we came through, but it
looks different.  I had marked it with a toothpick, but the toothpick is
gone, so I don’t know.  You might not be able to return.”

A
fter Prince Teti ordered Brian’s body
carried to the mortuary temple to be embalmed, he went with Imhotep to Paneb’s
home.

“I am
sorry your friend was killed,” Prince Teti told Diane as they walked through
the town’s dark streets.  “Although I did not know him, I heard that he
was a brave man.”

She
nodded an acknowledgment, but stared off silently into the distance. 
Walking beside her, Imhotep saw the effort she was going through not to
cry.  She had already told them how she and Yunet had been captured by
Siamun and what had happened afterward.

He
thought of all she had lost and the pain she had suffered.  He thought of
the love he had found with Meryt and the child she was carrying, the honors he
had received from King Djoser and the certainty he felt that this was where,
and when, he belonged.

The
passage through the tomb had brought him home. 

It had
led her to hell.

W
hen they reached Paneb’s house, Imhotep
took Diane aside to talk with her while Paneb and Ahmes were reunited with
Taki.

The
air around them soon filled with the smell of roasting goose as Taki, her
mother and sister began to prepare a meal.  Prince Teti, seeing Taki’s
intent to feed him and his company, sent three of his men to find a bakery and
brewery.  Another was dispatched to the governor’s house with a message to
be sent to King Djoser.

Noticing
Imhotep trying to find a private place to talk, Paneb took him to the stairs
that led to the roof.  As Imhotep and Diane climbed them, he recalled his
first nights in this ancient land, how the air had smelled fresh and clean, how
the sand had seemed whiter and newer.

Despite
the deaths at the tomb, he still was willing to trade the random violence,
poverty and material greed of his time for the rigors and hardships of life
here.

He
knew Diane wouldn’t feel the same way. 

She
had seen only the brutal side of the Two Lands.  While what she had
experienced was horrifying, Imhotep thought it was individual violence, an
aberration from normal behavior.  The violence and uncaring from his time
had become an epidemic.

None
of this would matter if they couldn’t figure out how to return her to her time.

H
e led her to a low stool along the edge of
the roof beneath the dark fronds of a palm tree, a spot he had sat at so long
ago to avoid the sun.

“You
don’t know how to get back,” she said, making it a statement, not a question.

“Not
exactly.  Well, no,” he conceded.

Her
arms were crossed in front of her bare chest, a sense of modesty returning as
they spoke in English.

“Wait
here,” he said.  He walked across the roof and jogged down the
steps.  “Dedi,” he called when he saw Paneb’s oldest daughter in the
courtyard pouring beer for the soldiers.  “Could you give me a robe for my
friend?”

Dedi
gave him a questioning look, but went into the house and returned with a linen
robe.

Imhotep
gave it to Diane and then turned his back as she put it on.

“I
don’t want to stay here,” she said quietly.

“I
know,” he nodded.  “If I were you I wouldn’t either.  I’m so sorry
about everything.  These people,” he gestured toward the courtyard, “they
are the most giving, helpful, gentle people.  But,” he hurried on, “there
is a raw violence here, and a different view of death.  I know that. 
I’m not saying this is paradise. 

“I
think it’s because they don’t live as long as we do and they don’t get as
attached to things, cars, books, whatever.  They don’t want to die and I’m
sure they are afraid of it, but they see it every day.  They don’t have
hospitals, so they care for their ill as best they can at home and then that’s
where they die.

“It
might be better, I mean, it’s natural.  Everyone dies.  We shouldn’t
fear it.  Animals don’t.” He knew he was rambling.  He stopped when
he saw the expression on her face.

“I
know.  You don’t want to stay here.  I’m not trying to talk you into
it.  I’m just sorry that you ran into Djefi and Siamun instead of
Hetephernebti and Tama and Meryt.”

She
drew a deep breath and shuddered.

“I
just want to go home.”

He
barely heard her words.

Kneeling
by her, he said, “I’m not sure how, Diane.  Tell me about you and Brian,
how did you get through?”

She
looked off into the distance, remembering.  “We went into that tomb with
that guide.  I don’t even remember his name.”

Imhotep
nodded.  “I saw you.  I was sitting near the Step Pyramid sketching.”
He shook his head.  “I told this to Brian.  I forgot that I haven’t
ever talked to you.  Well, at least that you remember.”

He
continued when he saw she was confused. 

“I saw
you at Iunu at the festival a week or so after I arrived here.  Everyone
was drinking and that night I came across the canal to where you were, but you
were pretty wasted.

“Anyhow,”
he continued, “I saw you and Brian go down into the tomb with the guide, then
he came up by himself all confused.  That got me curious.  I ended up
sneaking into your room at the Mena House and then looking for you in the
tomb.  I was scared that the guide had mugged you or something and left
you down there.”

She
sighed. “That was forever ago.”

“Yeah,”
he agreed.  “When I got into the tomb, I found this tunnel.  I had to
crawl through a broken wall to get to it.  Then I saw handprints on the
wall.  I pushed where they were and the wall swung away.”

She
nodded.  “That’s what happened with us.  Brian was just playing
around.  We sneaked through that opening to hide from the guide. 
Brian was always playing tricks like that.  Then our flashlight died. He
was feeling along the back wall to try and find an exit.  The wall just
opened up.”

“When
you got through, did you look at the wall, see what was marked on it?”

She
shook her head. 

“No, we
just followed the light and ended up out in the desert.  We had no idea
anything weird had happened.”

Imhotep
remembered his own sensations when he had emerged from the tomb and the hawk
had flown overhead, cawing loudly.

“How
did it happen?” she asked.

“The
ancient Egyptians,” he nodded toward the courtyard, “spend a lot of time
thinking about and planning for the next life. 

“Did
you ever hear of the Book of the Dead?  Well, it’s not a bunch of scary
hexes or curses; it’s more like a manual for priests.  It has magical
spells they’re supposed to say to help the dead pass into the next life, the
Field of Reeds.  Some of those spells, they’re more like prayers really,
would be written on the tomb walls.  That way the dead person didn’t have
to memorize them.  Some of the spells are really praises to different gods
and or prayers asking for their help. The Book of the Dead also has the
words a priest is supposed to say at different times during the burial
ceremony.

“So,
anyhow,” he said, “I think that the priest who wrote the spells over the
false door where we came through made a mistake in the wording and it made the
false door a real door to our time.”

He
waited for her to object.

“Look,”
she said finally, “I really don’t know how we got here.  I can’t argue
that we’re here.  I just want to get out.  Take me back there
tomorrow and we’ll push the door back open and I’ll leave.”

“It
doesn’t open anymore.  I tried with Djefi.  The inscriptions are
different now.”

“So
put them back the way they were,” she said.

“I
don’t remember.  Neither does Paneb.  I asked him.”

“So
who does?  Find the guy who put them up there, find the guy who changed
them.”

Imhotep
shook his head. 

“They
were drawn by the Priest of Thoth, scribe of the gods.  He must have made
a mistake.  He was very old, Diane, I mean really old, especially for this
time.  Later when he inspected the tomb, he saw the mistake and wiped it
out and drew the correct hieroglyphics.”

“So
get him.  Aren’t you like a commander or something?”

“I
can’t.  Djefi killed him.”

They
sat together in silence, each looking out at the distant desert.  Diane
was filled with despair.  She was determined to not let events or other
people shape her life any longer and now, finally free of Djefi and Siamun, she
was still under their thumb. 

Imhotep
had mixed feelings.  He was sorry that Diane couldn’t go home, but he was
relieved that no one else would wander through the passage into ancient Egypt.

Taki’s
head appeared over the roof line as she climbed the stairs bringing them
food.  Ahmes was walking behind her, carrying a jar of beer and two cups.

Imhotep
rose quickly and went to help Taki with the platter of food.

“Thank
you,” he said, taking the tray from her. 

She
glanced at Diane, but Imhotep stopped her from walking over to Diane. 
“Please, Taki, give us a few more minutes.”

Ahmes
had gone to Diane and, setting the two cups on the roof, poured two beers for
them.  He set the jar of beer down and turned to follow his mother back
down the stairs.

He
took two steps and then turned back toward the roof.  He ran up the steps
and across the roof to Imhotep.

“Yes,
Ahmes,” he said.

The
boy looked up at Imhotep, his eyes bright and excited.  Reaching into the
lock of hair that was gathered at the side of his head, he pulled out a shiny,
plastic toothpick.  “Is this yours, Lord Tim?  I found it in the tomb
when we came back from the Festival of Re.”

Imhotep
took the toothpick from the boy.  That explained why he couldn’t find it
earlier.  But it didn’t matter now, the inscriptions over the marked panel
had been changed.  It was just another painted wall.

Unless
...

Imhotep
dropped to his knees before the boy and grabbed his shoulders excitedly. 
“Ahmes,” he asked, “do you remember the inscriptions that were on that panel?”

“No,”
Ahmes answered, shaking his head.  “There were too many to remember. 
But I copied them down.”

T
he next day Imhotep, Paneb and Ahmes
looked at the drawings.

“He is
always copying the drawings,” Paneb said, examining the papyrus scroll. 
“His hand is getting surer.  See, the lines are drawn without hesitation.”
He turned to Imhotep.  “His early lines waver.  They were without
confidence.  But look, now,” he sounded like any proud parent.

Diane
leaned over Imhotep’s shoulder.  “Do you know what they mean?  Can
you read them?  Are these the right ones?”

“No, I
haven’t learned to read them.  I will, though.  I don’t know if these
are the right ones or not.”

“Should
we get someone who can read them?” she asked.  “Just to make sure they’ll
work.”

Imhotep
shook his head and answered in English.  “I don’t want anyone to know
about these.  I’ll have Paneb paint these over the panel.  We’ll get
you back to your time and then we’ll change them back to the way they
were.  Then we’ll destroy these,” he said, nodding to the scrolls. 
“I don’t want anyone like Djefi finding a way to get to your time or one of our
modern day Djefis finding a way back here.”

T
hey left at dawn the next morning, walking
quietly past Prince Teti and his soldiers who were sleeping off the beer from
the night before.

“I
don’t know if Waja-Hur said any incantations as he drew the signs,” Paneb told
Imhotep as they reached the wadi.

Imhotep
nodded.  “I know, Paneb.  This might not work.  But we have to
try now.  King Djoser will be here in a few days and I want to have this
finished and the scroll burned before he arrives.  No one must know about
this.  Once Brian is entombed, and the door sealed, I’ll feel
better.  But these,” he clutched the drawings, “must be destroyed.”

After
Ahmes and Paneb set up the reflecting mirrors, Imhotep and Paneb went
inside.  They agreed on which panel had been changed and Paneb began to
repaint the hieroglyphics.

Imhotep
went outside to wait with Diane who was sitting in the shade of the palm
shelter, trying hard to not think about what she had seen in the clearing the
day before.

“I
keep wondering how things would have been different if I hadn’t been angry with
him that first night at To-She.  Or if I had insisted that he come with us
to Iunu.  You could have talked with him then, we could have left with you
and gone back to our time right then,” she said.