Khu: A Tale of Ancient Egypt (2 page)

Heryshef
—ram-god who was the ruler of the riverbanks. Heryshef was the patron of Nen-nesu in Lower Egypt.

Horus
—falcon-headed god of the sky, son of Osiris and Isis. His name means “Distant One” also “He Who is High.” Horus was the god of war and protection, and represented world order. He was the patron god of Nekhen in Upper Egypt. The Eye of Horus emblem was ubiquitous in ancient Egypt, and symbolized strength and protection.

Isis
—goddess of motherhood, fertility and healing. Isis was the wife of Osiris, and mother of Horus. She was revered for her protection and magical powers.

Khonsu
—moon god, and son of Amun and Mut. He was worshiped in Thebes as part of the Theban Triad.

Min
—one of the male fertility gods. He was also the god of the eastern desert, and was believed to be the protector of gold mines, quarries and caravan routes that ran through the eastern desert region. Min was the son of Osiris and Isis, and brother of Horus.

Mut
—wife of Amun, mother goddess, and queen of goddesses. Mut was usually depicted in human form wearing the vulture headdress. Along with Amun and Khonsu, she was worshipped as part of the Theban Triad.

Osiris
—god of the dead and the Underworld. Osiris was the patron of Abdju (Abydos), and was revered for his life-giving contribution to the land’s vegetation. He was represented in mummified human form, holding the crook and flail, and wearing the
Atef
feathered crown on his head.

Ptah
—god of craftsmen and principle god of Inbu-Hedj (Memphis). Ptah was also revered as a patron of royalty. He was depicted in human mummified form holding a staff.

Re
—sun-god who sailed across the sky each day in his golden Barque of a Million Years, then on through the Underworld in his night barque. Re is one of the creator gods who was often depicted in human form with the head of a falcon wearing a sun-disc headdress. Re was later called Amun-Re when he was merged with the god Amun to become lord of the gods. His main cult center was in the city of Heliopolis in Lower Egypt.

Sekhmet
—lion-headed goddess of war, battle and vengeance, whose name means “Powerful One.” Sekhmet was the wife of Ptah and daughter of Re. She was believed to have caused and cured epidemics as well.

Seth
—god of the desert and storms, and evil brother and murderer of Osiris. Seth and Horus were eternal rivals.

Thoth
—god of wisdom and patron of scribes. He was depicted as a man with the head of an ibis, as well as in the full-animal form of an ibis or baboon. Thoth recorded the verdict of Osiris during the judgment of the dead after the Weighing of the Heart proceeding.

Thoueris
—one of the fertility mother goddesses depicted as a pregnant hippopotamus. She was closely associated with Isis and Hathor. It was believed that Thoueris ensured safe childbirth.

Wepwawet
—one of the funerary gods, he was also the god of war. Wepwawet was the brother of Anubis, and usually depicted in full-animal form of a wolf or other canine.

O
n the east bank of the River Nile, where the papyrus reeds grow in abundance and the lotus flowers bloom, a boy was hiding. He had made the long journey south to Thebes from his village in the north, first on a small papyrus raft that had fallen apart after a few days, and then on foot. He walked for days on bare feet, keeping to the riverbank, pausing only to rest when his legs could no longer carry him, or to eat whatever fish he was able to spear with a makeshift lance, or to nibble on the ripened fruit that had fallen from the doum palms growing beyond the reeds in the lush floodplains. And deeply fatigued, he had fallen ill with a high fever after he had finally crawled into a small space between the tall papyrus reeds that would shade him from the sun’s early morning rays, and keep him safely hidden.

Only
the night herons spotted the bedraggled child with their red eyes, their light gray and white plumage softly luminous in the pale moonlight. The birds moved away from the boy, stepping closer to the river on short yellow legs where they came to stand still at the edge of the water. They waited quietly, hunched and brooding as they ambushed their prey with sharp black beaks, catching the silvery fish as they swam just beneath the water’s surface. But the boy noticed nothing except for his own racking pain, for the fever had left him delirious and shivering long past the darkest hours of the night until he had at last succumbed to a fitful sleep.

Early the next morning
three servant women who worked at the nearby palace were gathering some of the reeds and lotus flowers that grew by the water when they came upon the sleeping boy.

“What is it
Mesi?” one of the three asked when she saw the first woman stop suddenly and turn to them, raising a finger to her lips in a gesture of silence.

Mesi did not
reply. She only shook her head and motioned the other two over.

The sun’s
early morning rays were slanting through the scattered trees and over the reeds by the riverbank, setting everything aglow. The servant women would never even have suspected that the boy lay asleep nearby if Mesi had not almost stepped on his small frame. The women crept closer around thick clusters of flowering plants and tall grasses, eager to see what had startled Mesi. Then all three stared down at the sleeping boy who lay curled in a fetal position in the center of a bunch of reeds. He had fashioned a kind of nest for himself, away from the water, and away from prying eyes, until now. Perspiration beaded his forehead, and his skin took on a sallow pallor. His breathing was shallow and labored. He looked small and weak.

“He is ill,” Mesi
whispered as the boy began to stir.

The boy sensed himself being watched, much like a gazelle senses the presence of a lion. And
fluttering his eyelids, he then opened them and fixed his feeble gaze on the women servants.

All three of them gasped.

Never before in their lives had they seen eyes like his. They were like the eyes of a cat, gold with speckles of green. The women stared in wonder at the boy, captivated by him. His almond-shaped eyes had a pale, translucent and luminous quality to them. They were a piercing shade of golden quartz with bits of malachite like the gemstones used to make precious amulets and jewelry treasured by the people. He was beautiful.

“He is
the
One
,” one of them uttered in astonishment. “The one in the prophesies… he must be,” she said, unable to tear her gaze from the boy’s eyes.

“He is beautiful,” another one whispered.

The boy stirred again and mumbled something incoherent. He was still in the clutches of the fever, although it had subsided a bit with the night’s retreat. His body ached, and his eyes burned with the effort of opening them. All his strength had long since drained away, and he lay helpless as a newborn lamb.

“
It is alright, child,” Mesi told him soothingly as she bent down closer to his side. “You are safe here.”

The boy calmed down and
relaxed his thin frame, exhaling quietly and closing his eyes once again. The three women took note of his blood-stained, dirt-encrusted clothing. He wore a linen shirt in the style of a short tunic over a loin cloth. Both had been white at some point, but had changed to a filthy-brown. The blood staining his clothing had long since dried to a thick crust, which also soiled much of his body. His head was shaved except for one long plaited lock that hung to one side, as was the custom for children who had not yet reached puberty.

The women exchanged worried glances, wondering what possibly could have happened to the boy.
A red-tailed hawk screeched above as it glided under the cloudless sky, and one of the women shuddered. Dragonflies and butterflies fluttered their iridescent wings by the shoreline where rocks jutted out from the Nile’s murky depths.

“
Let us carry him to the palace,” Mesi suggested, and the others agreed.

Together the three women
cleared away some of the reeds and took the boy to the palace that was set farther back from the floodplain. Mesi—the strongest of the three—lifted his small frame while the other two carried the baskets with the lotus flowers and reeds. 

***

“Khu…”

The boy heard a sweet voice whisper to him. It seemed to float from someplace
far above where he slept. He dreamed of fields of wheat and barley stretching as far as the eye could see. They rippled softly in a breeze, like golden waves in a sea that caught the light of the midday sun.

“Khu…”

The voice again. Beautiful, melodic and sweet like a juicy ripened fig. He walked in those amber fields searching for the voice that called to him, wading through the lush crop that was ready for the harvest. The sun warmed his skin as he ran his hands over the tall stalks whose bearded spikes tickled his belly like fur.

“Khu…”

The boy stirred, leaving the amber fields behind. He moaned softly in his sleep as he sought the voice that beckoned him once again. Then slowly he opened his eyes with the effort of one who had lain ill for days. At first his vision was blurred with sleep. But the figure sitting by his side came into focus as he blinked and sighed from the low reed mat serving as his bed. The mat was stretched over a wood frame, and covered with a thin woolen mattress and linen sheet. His head was supported by a wooden headrest and cushioned by a small pillow.

“Khu…” the woman smiled when the boy finally fixed his gaze upon her.
“You are Khu,” she stated with a proud upward tilt of her chin. “Protected One,” she continued. “
My
protected one.”

The boy did not reply at first. He believed himself to be dreaming
still. He did not recognize the beautiful woman with the melodic voice. Nor was he familiar with his opulent surroundings. He had been born to a simple peasant family who lived in one of the many mud-brick dwellings that were clustered together by the fields where they toiled. His village had been attacked by raiders who wreaked havoc throughout the northern region under one of the pretenders who had claimed the throne of Lower Egypt. All of the villagers had been slaughtered including his family. Only he had escaped.

But he remembered none of this.

All memory of his family and village had been swept from his mind, including his name. The traumatic events had left him without any recollection of his identity or past. All that remained were bits and pieces of elusive information, vague situations or feelings that were triggered by unrelated occurrences.

“You are Khu, child. That is your name now. Khu,” the woman repeated. “And you are
my
son now,” she said in a softer tone as she stroked the long plaited sidelock of hair that lay on the small cushion by his shoulder. “Son of Tem. Tem Salih-et, She Who is Righteous, King’s Beloved, and Queen of Upper Egypt.”

The boy only nodded. He did not know what to say
to the woman sitting before him. He had never seen a noble, let alone a queen. Her title did not really mean much to him at all. He felt strangely removed from everything as though nothing were real.

Tem
had a serene expression on her lovely face, making her natural beauty radiate from within her. Her dark straight hair was cut to frame her oval face, and just brushed the tops of her shoulders as was the custom for women at that time. A thin gold band encircled the top of her head, from which hung an amulet carved of lapis lazuli that rested on her forehead. She wore a long white belted linen tunic dress that was wrapped about her slender body and gathered over one shoulder.

Tem
was queen and principle wife of King Nebhepetre Mentuhotep II—Lord of the White Crown and Ruler of Upper Egypt. Her royal blood had descended from a long line of kings, just like her husband Mentuhotep. Like most noble marriages, theirs had been a dynastic alliance to secure their bloodlines and continue the royal succession. Tem was already related to the king. She was his half-sister. But she had never born him any children.

Tem had tried to conceive a
child but had failed again and again. She had tried all the prescribed herbs and potions that were believed to help increase fertility. She had also consulted with the priests of several temples and made many offerings to the gods on behalf of this special intention, especially to Hathor and Thoueris who oversaw fertility and childbirth, as well as to Amun who was patron of Thebes. Hathor was the ancient cow-goddess whose nurturing character imbued the milk of life into all things worthy. Tem had prayed most fervently to her—patron of all women—pleading before the statue that bore the headdress of cow horns with a moon-disk between them. But none of the gods had listened, and the herbs had only made Tem’s skin break out in an unsightly rash. Nothing had helped. And feeling defeated, she had finally given up on the dream of ever becoming a mother. Her womb was as barren and dry as the desert surrounding Egypt, east and west of the Nile.