Queen of the Heavens (6 page)

One afternoon, after Pentu had tutored me in hieroglyphs, I found myself drawn to the city. I walked down the path that led to Memphis, then made my way through its dusty streets to the central market where people from all walks of life gathered to barter for food, clothing, adornments, and household items.

“It’s Tuya the healer,” a merchant who dealt in fine jewelry shouted from the doorway of his shop as I passed by. “Because of her, I now walk without a cane.”

A crowd began to gather around me as I continued down the street.

“Will you help me?” a stooped man dressed in a fine kilt and wearing gold bracelets asked. “My back hurts terribly and the physicians have been unable to do anything about it.”

“You must go first to my parents if you want me to assist you,” I told him. “I‘m here today to help the poor.”

I spotted a sickly looking man in tattered garb sitting on a bench near a fish monger’s stall and walked up to him.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

“I’m always tired,” he answered.

“Do you work?”

“I want to, but can do so for only a short time. I have no fields of my own to till, and people won’t hire a person who can’t toil from dawn to dusk.”

“Lie down on the bench,” I commanded. “Find me a straw mat,” I said to no one in particular. Before long, a young woman from the crowd fulfilled my request.

I placed the mat beside the bench and knelt on it carefully, so as not to soil my dress. I held my hands side by side, a finger length from the man’s skin, and ran them up and down his body. I could feel energy moving everywhere, except at his navel, where the flow was blocked.

“For some reason, the food you eat gives you no strength,” I declared. I placed my hands on his abdomen and silently invoked Isis’ power as I directed the energy of the Cosmos into him.

“What gods do you pray to?” I asked as I released my hands.

“I pray mainly to Ptah,” he replied.

“Gather coconuts and place one before a statue of Ptah each morning,” I said as the man sat up. “At dusk, lift the coconut above your head and ask Ptah for strength as you smash it on a rock before him. Then eat the meat all at one time. Do this for ten days without missing a day.”

“This will heal me?” he asked.

“If you truly are devoted to Ptah it will heal you.”

“I will do as you say. I have no way to pay you now. Perhaps later, when I’m able to work I’ll be able to do so.”

“Don’t concern yourself with me,” I told him. “When you’re well and working, make an offering to the poor in the name of Ptah. That is all I ask.”

My attention was diverted by a commotion nearby.

“A leper!”someone shouted. “Be gone. Get away.”

I walked to the edge of the crowd and looked down the street at a stooped woman in rags. Several men and boys picked up stones and cast them at her. She crouched, and raised her arms to deflect the missiles coming at her head.

“Stop.” I shouted. “Allow the woman to come here.”

The people obeyed, but backed away some distance, not wanting to be near the leper. As she approached, my breath left me, as I looked at the face of a living being that was rotting like a corpse that had not been mummified. Puss flowed from open sores around the woman’s eyes, and a hole existed where once there had been a nose. I, too, wanted to back away, but found I could not move my legs.

“What power do you have that keeps the crowd from stoning me?” she asked.

“I’m a healer,” I answered. “The people respect me for this.”

As I looked at the woman, I knew her time in the earthly realm was all but at an end. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I cannot save you.”

“I would not expect you to even try. I know I’m about to die. I came to Memphis from the edge of the desert, where the lepers gather, to seek out my children one last time.”

“Did you find them?”

“Yes, but they would have nothing to do with me. Their fear of my disease kept them from even sitting with their mother for a short time.”

As I stood looking at the pathetic creature before me, I heard Isis’ voice.

“Embrace the woman and give her your love.”

Embrace a leper, Isis? I can’t do that
, I replied through my thoughts.

“Embrace her, Tuya. You must.”

Isis. I cannot. I, too, might become a leper.

“You call yourself a healer, and you won’t extend your love to the most wretched?” Isis cried. “You’re not deserving of my power.”

The goddess’ reproach came as a shock, for she had never before spoken to me with anger.

Forgive me, but I have great fear,
I replied.

Isis moderated her tone. “Love and fear cannot exist together, Tuya. Take the leper in your arms and give her your love. If you act with love and compassion, her disease cannot touch you.”

I did not want to do this. For a moment, I thought of disobeying Isis, but I feared another reproach from the Queen of the Heavens more than I feared the leper. With trepidation, I reached out to the woman and placed my arms around her. The stench nearly sickened me as my nose came close to her rotting flesh. Then, to my surprise, the violet hue filled my consciousness, and the terrible stench turned to a smell as sweet as that of a lotus blossom. The leper and I were both petals in the Flower of Life, and all fear vanished as love flowed between us. Isis was correct. Where love exists, fear cannot, and as I continued to embrace the leper I realized she and I were one.

When the violet hue lifted and we finally separated, I remained filled with peace and calm. The woman looked into my eyes, her lips, or what was left of them, upturned in a slight smile.

“I was never afraid of dying,” the leper said, “but before crossing over to the afterworld, I wanted to know love one more time in this world. Even my children could not show me love, but you did, and I am grateful.”

I reached out and stroked the woman’s face.

“Your courage will be rewarded as you face Osiris’ Judgment,” I said.

The woman took my hand in hers and kissed it. “The rewards will be yours, my dear,” she replied, then released my hand and walked away.

As I watched the woman depart, I did not regret that I could not heal her body, for I had helped instead to heal her soul, and she had helped to heal mine.

When I turned again to the crowd, I saw the people had maintained their distance. “Which of the poor among you desires my assistance?” I asked, but no one responded. “I’m here to help you,” I said. “Why does no one come forward?”

The fear in the people’s eyes answered my question.

“You worry that since I touched the leper, I might now be a leper. Is this not so?”

The crowd remained mute.

“I embraced the leper with love in my heart,” I told the people in a loud voice. “When love is present the dark forces are powerless.”

After some moments, the young woman who had brought me the straw mat stepped forward.

“I would be honored if you would help me,” she said.

“What ails you?” I asked.

“Usually I’m well, but from time to time I fall to the ground thrashing about. I don’t remember what happened, but often I’m severely bruised. I fear that someday the thrashing will kill me.”

“Lie down on the bench,” I said.

As I performed a healing ritual, I noticed Father standing in the crowd. I acknowledged him with a nod and though he did not interrupt me, I knew by the stern look on his face that he was not pleased.

VI

So be it,
I said to myself.
Isis commands me, not my parents. I must live according to her will, not theirs.

After finishing the healing ritual on the young woman, I walked over to Father. The stern look had not left him.

“Don’t fault me for being here,” I said. “Isis commanded me to work among these people.”

Father brushed away flies that had been attracted to the market by the carrion and fish. “Your mother and I were worried about you. We feared you had been taken away by thieves or eaten by a crocodile. A servant who came here to barter for linen told us where you were.”

“There’s no need to worry, Father. The gods and goddesses protect me. Sekhmet would devour the soul of anyone who would do me harm. I wish to continue coming to the market to help the less fortunate whom I find here.”

I spoke with determination, letting Father know through the timbre of my voice that nothing would deter me.

“I don’t know, Tuya. These people you want to help are not of our kind.”

I sensed Father was wavering, so I pressed my advantage.

“You may throw me in my room and bar the door, but I’ll find a way out,” I declared. “Isis wants me here. I act according to her will, not yours or mine.”

“All right, Tuya,” Father said, with exasperation in his voice. “On occasion you may come to the market to do your healing, but you must always let your mother and I know where you are so we won’t worry.”

“I will, Father, now that I know I have your approval.”

“I don’t approve,” Father snapped, “but I’ll accede to Isis’ wishes.”

Dusk had arrived, so I walked home with Father. The next morning I studied hieroglyphs with Pentu. Soon after midday, I performed a healing approved by my parents on a nobleman’s wife who suffered terribly from pain in her joints. Later in the day, Mother summoned me to the garden, where she was sitting with Father.

“We must talk, Tuya,” she said.

“What about, Mother?”

“We can wait no longer to find you a husband. Most of your friends are betrothed or married. Before long, no man will want you.”

Mother’s words caught me by surprise, though there was no reason they should have. I may have been a healer who knew how to read and write, but I also was entering womanhood and was expected to marry and bear children.

“What of my healing work?” I asked.

“That would be up to your husband,” Mother answered. “Your duty to him would be to produce children and bring them up properly.”

Mother’s words irritated me like a rash.
Why should I, who has Isis within her, be commanded by a husband?
I thought. “Don’t my desires matter?” I inquired.

“Your desires could lead you to an early and terrible death,” Mother replied with her voice raised. “A merchant’s wife told me that yesterday in the market you even touched a leper.”

“Lepers deserve to be loved, Mother.”

“Quiet, Tuya. Your Father and I will find you a worthy spouse. It is bad enough that you go to the market to heal the poor, but touching lepers? I won’t allow it. Neither would a husband.”

I seethed with anger at Mother’s words.

“Who would you have me marry?” I asked. “Ibana, the scribe’s son? He looks like a toad.”

“Ibana is a possibility, but first we must aim higher,” Mother said. “The power of Isis flows through you, but the power of Horus flows through the Pharaoh. It would be fitting for you to be with him.”

Despite my anger, Mother’s words made me laugh. “The Pharaoh! You’re joking,” I said, but Mother’s countenance did not change and I knew immediately she was serious. “Lord Harenhab is an old man!” I screeched. “If I’m to marry, allow me to be with a young man who can show me love and passion.”

“Not Lord Harenhab,” Father interjected, to my great relief. “The Pharaoh will die childless, but everyone knows the Vizier Ramesses is Harenhab’s favorite and someday will succeed him. Ramesses has a son Sethos, who is called Sety, who would then be in line for the throne.”

“Is Sety handsome?” I asked.

“Yes. Quite,” Father replied.

“We’re commoners. He wouldn’t want me.”

“I’m not so sure. You have power the priests and priestesses don’t possess. Ramesses is not of noble birth, either. He was once a soldier like me. Having a young woman in his family who talks with the gods might appeal to him.”

“Your Father will let it be known through his friends at the palace that you’re available to marry Sety,” Mother said.

“Your plan won’t work, so why even bother trying?” I responded.

“You’d prefer to be married to a scribe’s son who looks like a toad instead of to a Prince?” Mother rejoined. “We may be commoners, but we’re of very high stature, and you speak with Isis. This will pique the interest of the Vizier Ramesses and his son.”

I ceased arguing with Mother. Continuing to do so would have done no good, and besides, I was no longer sure what I would argue about for I was confused. I went to my room and sat on the floor before a gilded statue of Isis given to me by a woman whose pain I had eased.

What should I do?
I asked the Queen of the Heavens.
My parents talk of their wishes but not of mine, but what are my wishes? I’m a healer, but I’m also entering womanhood and I want to lie next to a husband someday and know love.

I went to my bed. A part of me wanted to cry, but another part wanted to scream so that I might vent the passion that was boiling inside me so powerfully that it seemed as if it would burst through my skin.

Each day, my attention was being drawn more and more to men, their movements and mannerisms, and the appearance of their bodies. As I lay in bed, I imagined myself being held in the muscular arms of a young man of substance, then caressed by his gentle hands. My skin tingled, and the excitement in my heart expanded to fill my whole body. I touched my sacred place and it quickly became wet.

I coveted a man who would make love to me with passion and power, caring and kindness, and who would allow me to do the same for him. As the throes of desire enveloped me, I thought of myself but a few years before, playing with my wooden dolls and imagining myself as the mother caring for the child. I fell asleep with the thought of myself holding a child against my breasts, with my husband embracing me.

The next morning, the sensual aroma of lotus filled the air as I waited by the pond for Maya to arrive. The night’s sleep had done nothing to still my mind, temper my desires or lessen my apprehensions, but I felt at ease as soon as my teacher walked through the gate. Maya floated over to me like a goddess.

“My parents want me to marry,” I told her as she sat down beside me on the stone bench under the banyan tree.