Magic of the Nile (10 page)

Merys came to support her as she shuffled to the bench and sat down. “I don’t get the sense of a malady of the spirit or the body. Odd.” She laid one hand on Tyema’s flat stomach. “Let me concentrate for a moment. Living in the Afterlife has given me some abilities I never had here in daily life, maybe I can divine the cause, suggest a remedy.” Suddenly she lifted her hand away and stared at Tyema. “Not ill, sister. You’re—”

“Pregnant,” Tyema whispered, hand to her mouth as the realization flooded over her. “By the tides of the Nile, I’m going to have his baby.”

Her sister hugged her hard, rocking her back and forth. “It happens. It happened to me, remember?” Pushing the hair from Tyema’s face, Merys stared into her eyes. “Do you want this man’s child?”

Laying a hand over her abdomen protectively, Tyema said, “
My
child. And his. Oh, of course I want the baby. I never dreamt I’d have the chance to be a mother.”

“People will talk,” Merys warned. “They may even assume the child is Sobek’s, as you’re known to be high in his regard.”

“Will such rumors upset you?” Tyema’s voice faltered. Determination to have this baby mixed with distress in her heart at the idea of causing Merys any pain, even from gossip.

Merys kissed her on the cheek. “Of course not, silly goose. We know the truth and rumors, if they arise, may make life easier for you and for the child. I wish you well,” she said firmly, dispelling any worries Tyema felt on the issue. “I’ll be watching, although I must confess time runs differently in the Afterlife and it’s hard to remember my connections here.” She studied the advancing shadows in the garden as the morning sun rose higher. “I must go. The terms set down by Isis are stringent. She does
not
like me to come here, but when Sobek said you were in such distress—”

“Thank you.” Tyema gave Merys’s hand a squeeze and watched as her sister walked away toward the cliff with a wave, growing fainter with each step, like an old fresco bleaching off the wall in the sun, until she was gone.
Merys never changes, never ages.
I’m actually older now than she was when she went to the Afterlife.
It was a startling thought, one she’d never had before.
And now I’m to be a mother.
Joy mixed with fear of the unknown swept over her, bringing goosebumps to her flesh and she laid a hand on her abdomen. “I promise you, little one, I’ll be a much better mother for you than my mother was for me.” Longing for Sahure was a physical pain in her heart, so desperately did she want to share the joyous tidings.
Would he be happy?
 

Again, more seriously, she considered sending him a letter, to advise him of the news, but hesitated.
I don’t know where he’s stationed, I don’t know how to address such a missive, other than in care of Pharaoh’s palace, which might cause Sahure embarrassment, ridicule even, receiving a letter from a provincial priestess in such a way.
Of course she could write to the local nomarch, his uncle. Nodding at the less audacious thought, she decided that might be a better way to begin. A fresh wave of nausea pushed the vexing subject of communicating with Sahure from the forefront of her mind. Time enough to worry about all of that later, perhaps after the child was safely born.
 

***

One day, six months along in her pregnancy, no longer troubled by the morning sickness, but able to keep busy and handle her duties, Tyema walked into her office at the temple to find her scribe waiting with a perplexed frown. “What is it?”

He glanced at the object in his hand. “You received a private scroll.”

“A what?” Bemused by the baby’s sudden, vigorous kicking, she laid a hand on the side of her belly to feel the movement. Smiling, she gave her attention back to the scribe. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“A scroll, delivered this morning by military messenger. The man was specific he carried a personal note, not something involving temple business.” Jemkhufu’s lips were pursed as if he’d bitten into a spoiled fruit. He stood poised to sever the red wax with his short knife. “Shall I open the seal?”

Tyema held out her hand. “I’ll read it myself, thank you. Did the messenger wait? Is he here?”

“No, my lady.” He hesitated. “I had the feeling they’d gone out of their way to stop here. Both the driver and the officer were impatient to be gone. They certainly weren’t the usual mail couriers of the province.”

“Was the officer the one who came before, six months ago, on pharaoh’s business? You met him, remember?” She was casual but couldn’t meet her scribe’s gaze, instead fussing with the tablets on her desk.

“No, my lady, I’d never seen this person before.” Jemkhufu sounded happy to make this statement.
 

Tyema took the tiny rolled up papyrus he handed her. Glancing at the cartouche imprinted in the red sealing wax, she saw it was Sahure’s. Relieved to a degree the letter was from him and not some message
about
him, she tucked it into a side pocket on her voluminous dress.
I need to be alone when I read this.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Jemkhufu raised his eyebrows, as if he was expecting her to read it to him.

For the thousandth time she reminded herself of the many things to do after the baby was born and things settled down for her, finding Jemkhufu another temple to serve was imperative. His attitude toward her now varied between unctuous pity and hinting if her child was a boy, he’d need a man’s influence as he grew up.
And I’m sure Jemkhufu thinks he’s the right person to provide the influence and guidance.
Tyema sighed, not having the energy to rebuke him and then spend the morning dealing with his hurt feelings. She walked around the desk and pulled out the chair. “Not now. I’m sure the message can wait, since it apparently isn’t temple-related.”

“But what if a response is required?” The scribe wasn’t giving up, apparently driven by curiousity.

“You know I was taught to read and write hieratic as part of my training for the duties of high priestess. I’m perfectly capable of writing my own response.” Impatience made Tyema’s voice sharper than she’d meant the tone to be. She took a deep, calming breath and smiled. “Tell me about the number of new students enrolling in our school next month, hoping to become fine scribes.” She sat down, trying to find enough support for her aching back as the chair creaked under her.

“We have fifteen, my lady, from all over the nome. The superiority of our graduates is becoming widely acknowledged.” Jemkhufu consulted his notes and launched into a discussion of the incoming students and the arrangements for them.

Tyema forced her lips to curve in apparent good humor and nodded at the appropriate points as best she could, finishing the day’s work and finally escaping into the private garden a few hours later. The whole time her fingers itched to pull the private letter out of her pocket and read it. The baby was unusually restless as well, perhaps sensing her own inner turmoil.
 

She sat on her favorite bench, under a large acacia tree, next to an unruly bed of chrysanthemums. Taking the scroll out of her pocket and balancing it in one hand, she stared at it for a long moment. Resting the other hand on top of her swollen abdomen, she said, “This is from your father, little one. Do you think he’d write me if he bore me ill will?” It warmed her to think she’d been on Sahure’s mind, wherever he was. “Well, only one way to find out.” She broke the seal with her fingernail, sending little shards of red wax falling to the pavement, and unrolled the scroll. The writing was bold, slashing black hieratic.
From Sahure, Captain in Pharaoh’s Own Regiment to Tyema, High Priestess of Sobek in the Ibis Nome, may the gods grant you life, prosperity, health.
Now posted by Pharaoh to take command of the Southern Oasis. I think of you often.
His personal cartouche was scrawled at the bottom of the papyrus. A bit disappointed, Tyema flipped the scroll over to be sure she hadn’t missed anything. “Not lover-like in the least.” She remembered how proud he was of his station as a warrior. “You never claimed to be a poet, did you, my love?” Shaking her head, she levered herself from the bench. It was frustrating to be so big and awkward. “Still, baby, it’s a tremendous promotion for him. Huge responsibilities.”

 
And the dangerous, remote Southern Oasis isn’t a place he’d take a wife to, so maybe he hasn’t gotten married yet.
Immediately Tyema took herself to task. It was no business of hers where he went, what he did, who he did it with. She’d refused him for her own compelling reasons and nothing had changed. Glancing at her belly as the baby kicked hard, she laughed. “Well, all right, one thing
has
changed, even if Sahure remains unaware.” As she walked into her bedroom, her smile faded.
Now that I know where he is, I’m going to have to tell him about our child. He deserves to know.
Deciding today wasn’t the day for composing a demanding letter, she pushed the thought away. Time to change out of her simple dress into a robe suitable for singing the evening devotions. But first she put the scroll inside her ivory-and-turquoise embellished keepsake chest, pushing the papyrus to the back, under her tattered doll from childhood and the dried red petals from the flower Sahure had placed in her hair.

***

Her older sister Paratiti, who’d been chosen by Sobek years ago to be Tyema’s guardian until she took over the temple, arrived from her home in the village one day late in the eighth month, by prearrangement bringing her daughters and the wives of her sons, as well as a gaggle of girl children. The group ate lunch with Tyema in the temple’s private gardens, laughing and chattering in the shade of towering palms and fragrant acacias. The older ones talked about when their babies had been born, exchanging funny stories and teasing each other. Tyema sat in the midst of her extended family, marveling at what a strange feeling it was to be with them all, but the impending birth of her child gave them common ground. She felt relaxed, unworried, since they were in her home and she was the hostess.
In control.
The baby moved and kicked just enough to remind her the two of them were in this together, and after all the entire gathering was in Tyema’s honor, organized by Paratiti. Some of the women had brought embroidered swaddling clothes for the baby and there was one big parcel they refused to let her open. It had taken two of them to carry the basket from the donkey cart at the front gate to the garden where the lunch was being held.

Finally, as the temple servants brought plates of honeyed cakes and figs at the end of the meal, Paratiti gestured at the oversized basket. “Bring the gift now.”

Her daughters hauled the sturdy container to Tyema, setting it on the ground next to her. Smiling, she said, “I can’t imagine what this might be.” Lifting off the lid, she set it aside and removed the top layer of straw packing. Below the straw she found a fine pair of birthing bricks, smooth, freshly painted in white, with stunning portraits of the goddesses Hathor and Tawaret drawn on the sides in turquoise, gold and red. Protective spells were inked in black hieratic. Tyema sat with a brick in either hand, examining the art.

“Do you like them? I made the bricks myself,” Paratiti said anxiously. “I said blessings to Hathor as I mixed the mud and straw in the brick-making forms.”

“And we had the best artisan in the village do the paintings,” Tyema’s favorite niece, Renebti, added. “He wouldn’t take payment since it was for you.”

“I—I don’t know what to say,” Tyema stammered. “I’m touched.”

“I hope your god won’t mind, but birthing a child is a female mystery and he isn’t known for involvement with such things. His crocodiles come from eggs after all. We were afraid you wouldn’t have proper bricks here when the time comes.” Paratiti gestured at the temple behind the garden.

“You do know this isn’t Sobek’s baby?” Tyema asked.

Her sister patted her on the hand. “No matter whose baby this is, you’ll need all the magic and charms and assistance you can get when the child arrives.” She eyed Tyema’s belly. “You’re so tiny and the baby is so big!”

The older women laughed conspiratorially. Tears burning in her eyes, Tyema fought not to cry. For the first time ever she felt a part of the family, cherished and cared for. She set the bricks down with care, so as not to risk breaking or chipping them, and turned to Paratiti. Suddenly frightened at what might lie ahead when labor began, Tyema said, “You will come, won’t you? To help me?”

“Of course, little sister. You don’t even need to ask.” She hugged Tyema hard. “But you’ll be fine. The women in our family give birth easily.”

***

Surveying the neat lines of his temporary camp, humming with activity behind the shield barricade on the seventh night out from Thebes, Sahure was well satisfied with the progress his small army had made since leaving the capital. They’d had few breakdowns of chariots or support wagons, and the logistics staff under the chief military scribe was some of the best in the army. Marnamaret had given him seasoned infantry troops so the pace of the daily march was fast. Sahure sent scouts ranging ahead and always the report was the same— other than local traffic, the great caravan road was empty.
An unprecedented and ominous state of affairs.

Soon he and his three captains would gather around the fire to eat dinner and discuss strategy as they’d done each of the evenings on the march. He’d unroll the great map of the Southern Oasis issued to him by Pharaoh’s archivist and he and his staff would work on designing an approach to counter any eventuality the group could think of.
Including the senior sergeants was a good move. Even if they mostly sit by the fire, listening and occasionally offering a suggestion, better they understand the entire picture so they can convey the strategy to the men. Soldiers fight better when they know the bigger picture. And Menkheperr is doing an excellent job as my second in command. He’ll always have my back, has ever since we were cadets together.