Chapter 5: Prisoner.
Knights would compete against one another
under the watchful eyes of the heralds and ladies
of the gallery, earning renown and fame while
they demonstrated their prowess.
Knighthood, Chivalry & Tournament Glossary of Terms
The tepid liquid moistened his dry lips and awakened him. He gulped it longingly, at first unconscious to the intense pain in the back of his head. Then the world came into focus- not to Imhotep's great joy.
His head was leaned against the wall or something that he felt like a wall, and worried face, barely familiar, was wavering in and out of his sight. He squinted, trying to ignore fierce pain. To his surprise, he succeeded, and recognized the face at last.
It was Lateef, youngest of his priests. He was holding a jar with water and when he noticed Imhotep's gaze, blissful smile blossomed on his boyish face.
-Oh, bless Isis, you awakened! I feared you were wounded too badly.
Personally, Imhotep was pretty sure that being unconscious was much better, but he suppressed a scorn and forced a feeble smile. He looked around. They were locked in the large dirty wooden cage, staying in the middle of dirty village square. Horrible stench drifted over the piles of waste, scattered between poor lop-sided huts made of palm-tree leafs and clay.
He and his young attendance weren't the only prisoners. Three sulky soldiers, covered in dried blood, huddled in the opposite corner, eyeing Imhotep with obvious hatred. One of them noticed that he's back to conscience and spitted:
-You! It's all your fault, you dirty bastard! You led us in this cursed desert to rot!
-Only now he has to rot with us!- supported him second soldier-Where are your Gods now? Cannot see
them hurrying to rescue their beloved son!
And the warriors erupted in the fit of hoarse laugh. However, when the first of speakers met priest's gaze, he choked and crawled on his elbows to the back wall of the cell. "Evil eye" whispered he loudly and hastily turned his face away.
Ignoring them, Imhotep looked up at young priest.
-What happened? Where are we?
However, it wasn't Lateef who answered him. Sneering familiar voice drawled:
-Priest of Osiris back to life, great pleasure! I was sure that my blow had broken your skull, but you are
really thickheaded one.
Imhotep whirled back to see black smirking physiognomy of Lock-Nah,
pressed against the bars.
Of course, outside of the cell.
-Double treason? Impressing work even for you, Nubian.
-So, you do know. Even better. Spare me half of explanation. Look, I just considered, why should I take
half if I can take all? This empty-headed Magi led you all in my trap, and whereas he was sure that it
would be only trap for you, I decided otherwise. He was too greedy, this noble warrior of crown.
-Was? So is he dead? asked Imhotep.
-Of now. Valiant commander Ardeth ran back to Egypt border with the rest of his brave soldiers, leaving
you to die. Not that it was inconsistent with his plans.
Imhotep shrugged and looked at the far end of the square, where some people were scampering around the huge ugly statue of woman. It was made of black stone, with fat belly and enormous breasts. Then he turned back to Lock-Nah.
-What do you know about Ardeth's orders?
-Eager to revenge, are you? Decent feeling, but pointless in your current state-sneered Lock-Nah,
looking intensely at mysterious preparations Well, if it was your last request. Don't know the names.
But somebody with great importance wanted you dead. He mentioned once the Priest of Anubis. And
somebody of army commanders. That's all.
Somebody of army commanders...Cold hand clenched Imhotep's stomach. Mecktub, his own brother? Yes, it might be him.
But it seemed he had no time for further pondering, because the tall skinny figure detached from the crowd and walked towards the cage with prisoners. Then the second one, with mask covering his face, stepped out of largest hut and joined him.
They approached the cage, and Imhotep realized that the masked one was a woman, with hideous head of hyena hiding her face. She stopped next to the cage and stared at Egyptians from under her abominable hood. The second, old man with grizzled mane of filthy hair, croaked something on his language, and Lock-Nah nodded to him and translated:
-You were lucky. If not for the annual ritual of rebirth, you all would be sacrificed to Goddess. But now
Queen should choose one of you, foreigners, for the great honor-to fight with the previous king and to
kill him. Or die. If you win, you will be her husband and king for this year. To be killed by the next
contestant year later -this Lock-Nah apparently added from himself.
Soldiers in the corner chortled, pointing at the woman in mask, and making rude comments about the size of her breasts and hips.
-Shut up, you fools! hissed Imhotep, but too late.
Woman turned to her tribesman and uttered something, her voice sharp and cold. Old man nodded and continued:
-But first one of you will be sacrificed to great Goddess. You!- he pointed at the one of the soldiers,
with broad smirk still fluttering around his face. His smirk faded immediately, giving place to
expression of utter horror.
-No!-cried he, when several savages grabbed his hands and dragged him out of the cage, to the giant statue.
-Do something, Imhotep! pleaded the young priest, looking with terror as the body of their fellow prisoner disappeared behind the backs of swarming crowd.
-Like what?-muttered Imhotep-Be quiet, or we all be killed.
Woman and old man, obviously the priest of nameless Goddess, joined their tribesmen.
Imhotep gripped the bars and got up, despite of severe pain in his head. People gathered around something, which looked like rough stone altar, and several of them started to chant.
Imhotep recognized the song at once. It was the same wild howling chant, which came from the black storm. Pray before sacrifice. Already all the savages were swaying in the rhythm of the wild melody, joining it-and hundred of shrill voices welded into feral horrible hymn, hymn of death and devastation, cry of victim under the knife of priest, cry of priest when the hot blood poured from the fresh wound.
Terrible melody was bewitching, devouring your soul, drowning it into dark surge-Imhotep clenched his fists with such force that his nails dug deep into flesh, trying to resist this bewildering power, and instantly the graceful image of dancing girl came into his mind, cleaning it from the delusions.
He took sharp breath and looked at raving crowd-just in time to see priest's knife, lifting in the air and then rushing down, piercing the chest of hapless soldier. Shrillest note of incantation and the shrill cry of victim-and crowd gasped and roared in delight. Priest sliced prisoner's chest and ripped out the heart, still beating and bleeding. Now the ecstasy sounded in the song, the triumph of vulture devouring its still breathing victim…and then village people surged at altar and tore the corpse apart, feasting on bloody shreds.
Imhotep turned his eyes away from disgusting sight, and looked at his younger minion. The boy twisted on the floor, violently sick. Remained soldiers looked petrified.
The noise of approaching steps made him look back. It was Lock-Nah, his dusky skin now with faintly green shade; and hyena-masked woman. Her mask was now spotted with fresh blood. She peered again at bewildered Egyptians, then pointed at Imhotep and groaned:
-At-na ta bohe!
-You are the chosen. Congratulations , priest-scowled the Nubian.
SHOULD I GO ON?