Chapter 23
Without Love's jewel inside of me,
Let the bazaar of my existence by destroyed stone by stone.
O Love, You who have been called by a thousand names,
You who know how to pour the wine into the chalice of the body,
You who give culture to a thousand cultures,
You who are faceless but have a thousand faces
We will see a thousand chiefs prostrate themselves,
And a circle of ecstatic troubadours will play.
-Jalaluddin Rumi
Present day Egypt
It was her name that she heard before the chirping of the birds that woke her up, still entrapped in the circle of strong arms, as a voice said with the tinge of wistfulness and regret, in the lilting Arabic accent that she had grown accustomed to.
"Alexandra."
Chameleon eyes met deep brown ones, and held.
"We reach Hamunaptra today?"
Abruptly, the arms around her loosened and disappeared, and the intimate familiarity followed it into oblivion, his eyes shifting as he nodded wordlessly.
"I'm sorry," Ardeth stated. "Hamunaptra brings out the worst in people," he observed dryly.
"I'd say," She sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes before making her way down the slight precipice to the pool of water, smiling slightly at the memory of Ardeth barely clothed.
He was ready with the horses when she returned, handing her the reins of her horse, brow raised ever so slightly as she swung herself up. Mounting his own steed, he stretched out an arm towards her critically, examining her pallor before the horses took off.
"Are you sure you are ready to continue with this?"
She fidgeted slightly before answering.
"Ardeth, surely we have to travel this road, ready or not. How can we not, when" She gestured helplessly, "How can we not want to dig deeper when your mere touch brings sensations and and memories so wondrous and so frightening at the same time? How can we not go towards that something that calls so audibly?"
He sighed.
"Yes, yes, I understand."
The horses galloped forward, the blur of greens getting sparser as they charged out of the plant haven; she knew that lull of peace was a mere respite and what awaited them was probably something so unexpected and shocking that facing it took the courage that perhaps only mighty men had.
"Turn, turn around, how beautiful the world is!" She sang softly, impromptu, startling him with the musicality of the tune sung with her low voice.
"What was that?" He turned to her, and she was immediately glad for the horse that supported her legs that had turned weak and wobbly at his direct gaze again.
After the swift curse at the disobedient legs, she replied.
"Nursery rhymes."
At his mystified look, she explained, "Folklore, but well, meant for children. They were written in verse, some made absolutely no sense, the others, well, some contained darker meanings, if you get my drift. This one's Italian."
He looked bemused, and then shook his head.
"Although songs can still a tempest, dispelling the stormy air, I still wonder what children of the west are taught." He said wryly.
"I had never experienced a conventional school life, so I'm not the best person to answer that." She said pointedly.
They fell into companionable silence for a while, before Ardeth hesitantly took her hand in his large one, and they trotted that way slowly for sometime, neither of them voicing emotions that lay precariously at the surface. But her look was no longer veiled, and the depth of her eyes seemed to darken; the shadow of a smile still lay on her upper lip, a fading, almost anxious smile that seemed to call for a kiss.
"My memory. It seems to return in pieces." He ventured.
"What?"
"I am remembering odd pieces of information regarding the Medjai that I read about very long ago, which had slipped from the head."
"Oh no, please do not say it's something prophetic again." She groaned.
"I do not know," He told her honestly. "The missing section in Medjai history, as I did tell you before, occurred during the time of Ramses, the very time we are intrigued by. Butlegend says, that the scrolls are buried with the last of the Medjai protectors, in Hamunaptra. I cannot tell you more, I'm sorry."
"There are just so many questions." Alex murmured.
"And the Medjai rose again after two generations. They were again the protectors of the Pharaohs, special guards who were highly trusted. The records start there again." He said with no small amount of pride.
"How?"
He shrugged helplessly then, a look that she found unexpectedly adorable.
"Maybe more will return to me. Like I said, all that I know of the missing section is through tales and folklore."
"Like the phoenix, from the ashes," She told him, wide-eyed. "Mute existence that was given life again. How could this happen?"
"More ignorant people will call you a prophet, a philosopher. But as Rick O'Connell says, 'I'll simply take my chance with you.'" He told her with a grin. "Maybe Allah pities us, and allows his little beings on earth a glimpse of all that we have savoured before."
"Savoured?" She snorted.
He waved it away, digging into his bag, taking out suspicious looking bits of dried fruit and handing them to her.
"It is time for breakfast." He declared.
"Sure, thank you," She sighed as she chewed the dried bits of fruit. "Anyway, not many have the honours of pronouncing that they consume breakfast atop a horse."
Ardeth laughed, a full-bodied emission of sound that warmed her. It seemed utterly fruitless to deny the strong attraction that she felt for him, but to admit that there might lie something else beneath plain attraction was dangerous ground. There was easy banter between them, neither willing to put sure words to describe the change in their relationship yet they had shared much more in days than people who have been together for years -
"Drink." He motioned to her refilled water skin. "Dehydration comes very easily without one realising."
She nodded, moved by the concern he showed, before looking upwards.
"Hamunaptra lies just beyond this mountain pass, Alexandra."
Was that a shiver that she felt creep up her spine?
"Only minutes now."
They cleared the mountain pass in silence, through the crevices of jagged and magnificent reddish rock that was wide enough to allow horses and their riders through; heavily eroded wadis and their imposing shadows framed their diminutive sizes, dwarfing all effortlessly.
"So where is Hamunaptra?" Alex was bewildered at the mounds of sands that stood before her as they emerged into the sunlight again; the landscape had not looked very different from all that had seen in the past 2 days.
"You are looking and stepping on part of the city of the dead," he informed her.
**********
Egypt, ca. 1279 B.C
Nefertiri was back in the confines of the palace, barely talking, barely meeting anyone, defying even the summons of the Viceroy, Enheduana-Rai noted, making her way softly to her own chambers. Yet in the time of political uncertainty, the many questions that one wanted to ask were seldom answered.
The curtains were parted and she found him standing partially hidden by the gossamer veils of cloths that billowed in the wind, surrounding his magnificent form, revelling that he had freely declared himself hers.
Aretas turned at her approach, face dark with a mixture of passion and a trepidation that she had never seen before, reclining onto the floor as their bodies moulded together with desire borne of agitation.
Rai, my love, he gasped out as she touched him tenderly, his hands fingering her body.
Surely I would not awaken from the excesses of joy, Aretas!
But his lips had not lingered on hers for long when the deafening noise of a shattering door under the force of many arms broke them apart. Before anything registered clearly, Aretas had been taken up roughly by several guards of the Viceroy, his arms forced behind him.
Sahure entered then, tall and austere, his face hard, and in his hands, he held a royal decree.
There seems a growing inclination of the women of the harem who have Medjai lovers, will you not agree with me? He tilted up the chin of Enheduana-Rai mock-affectionately, stroking a finger down her cheek, before pushing her shoulders roughly down until she kneeled before him.
You betray the royal crown, Medjai, he turned on Aretas then, with fury, drawing his own sword, nicking the side of Aretas, not hard enough to kill, yet forceful enough to wound.
Have I not given you and your friends ample warning? And now your captain was the last to fall under my command, Sahure continued, pleased at the look of great shock, disbelief that filled Aretas' features, that melted into great grief following the callous manner in which Djosyn's death was broken to him. You thought to escape me by bringing Nefertiri back to the Medjai camp, did you not? She is now brought back here. And she watched his execution.
The Viceroy's words went straight to the point, steering clear of personal coquetry, made to banish all apparent niceties into the realm of nothingness.
There was a black fury, a deep rage that was welling within, which threatened to burst out of his chest, rising in the mouth, yet it was forcibly swallowed back down and contained in the throat, bubbling and boiling as he and Enheduana-Rai were dragged away.
They were brought out to the public square, where the morbidly curious had gathered and were still gathering; young and old stood transfixed, the churning and flow of people guaranteeing the gradual formation of a riotous mob. The square opened on to a broad canal lying full and sparkling in the sunshine, the great waterway that told many of the splendour and might of Egypt.
Behold, the traitors of Egypt! The messenger shouted to the mob that cheered loudly in response.
Aretas swallowed hard again when he saw the remaining warrior-scribes who were brought out to join him.
Death to them!
The Viceroy had entered the arena grandly, garbed splendidly in his royal golden and blue robes, the very same that Ramses had worn on numerously occasions, and at his entrance a dramatic silence ensued.
The people have spoken! Sahure declared triumphantly, his brazenness both loathed and loved by many.
She thought she saw Nefertiri from the corner of her eye, standing at a corner unmoving, fist clenched. The soldiers had released her, at Sahure's orders, she realised dazedly; only the Medjai were bound, and made to lie on their backs on the elevated and jagged rocks that Ramses had used for past executions.
But the soldiers had not drawn their swords, instead, multiple vials of effervescent and incandescent crimson seemed to materialise from their hands, and the crowd murmured at the beauty of the vile liquids that, appearing tinted red as they caught the sun's rays, and becoming a muted orange when caught in shadow.
Enheduana-Rai gasped, the orange liquid was a newly administered drug that she herself had never seen before in her experience with poisons, mostly that of snakes, its potency still unknown to her.
She saw the slight motion of Sahure's lips before his command was heard, as if from a distance, the noise in her ears too loud to ignore. The unpleasant impulse that sullied the air around her fettered her, just as Aretas' strength and freedom were now fettered.
With swift hands the soldiers pulled up the heads of their Medjai prisoners and with a tight pinch of the nose, emptied the full contents of the vials down their throats; they gagged but spat out nothing with their tilted heads as the drug rushed madly down the vital linkways of the body, filling, consuming, rotting.
Behold! Sahure commanded. Your ruler of Egypt is fair and just. They die because they disobeyed the royal court. But they will be granted burial prayers and rites in Hamunaptra! Hamunaptra -the traditional burial place of honour of the Medjai still stands! Their souls will live on in the underworld!
The crowd had fallen silent as the fallen Medjai were dragged away after the exit of the Viceroy, silently followed by two women from opposite sides of the square.
Because no battle is ever wonthey are not even fought. The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools.
-William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury
Present day Egypt
"Ardeth, you told me that Imhotep was raised from the dead, and he brought with him the plagues?"
He nodded in affirmation.
"And an earthquake shook Hamunaptra?"
A second nod.
"But that is of no consequence. Hamunaptra collapsed, the pile of rubble that was excavated out by Anck-su-namun's reincarnation weeks ago."
"Yes, I know," She said a little impatiently, dismounting, where their horses had stopped, running to the main excavation site. "But look at this." She pointed to a few irregularities found in the mess that was now Hamunaptra, rock protrusions that were something more than fallen pillars.
Merciful Allah, he had never noticed, the sharp protrusions that were created when the earthquake that released the undead Imhotep happened, too sharp and finely cut to be mere rockfall, yet too squarish to be supporting pillars, that crisscrossed each other, obscuring a dark gaping hole downwards.
"What are those?" She asked, brow furrowed in concentration.
Ardeth had dismounted after her, and they both stood at the edge of a slope that was deceptively deeper than it looked
"Hamunaptra is famed for so many things, the place where all things associated with death and the Afterlife are taken into, but it is a city of the dead, a city just like Thebes, only of darkness, and sometimes, a city of evil, complete with treasure stores, with secret passageways and labyrinths few know about. Unfortunately it yields no secrets."
Alex looked disappointed, and started to turn away before his hand, tingling with memories of present and past, stood before her.
"But even the guardians of the Pharaohs have never noticed these protrusions before."
"And?"
"I think you might have just pointed out an entrance that leads deep down somewhere."
**********
Egypt, c.a 1279 B.C
Hamunaptra was deathly silent by night; its only sign of life were the low moans and groans that they heard as they approached the funeral hall. Fettered and already weak, the fallen Medjai were laid on their backs, bound loosely, as they waited for death to claim them.
The delay of a day, the time that they had wasted hastening their way to the city of the dead had only increased her fear and anxiety that threatened to choke her; all she hoped was to see him before his breath left him.
Nefertiri, he barely lives; how can I not hope to save him? She cried out woefully as she ran to him, thankful for the slight heave in his chest. But I will not watch him die and do nothing! And the journey back to the palace is too arduous for him.
The queen was looking upwards, in contemplation.
But the rest of the Medjai?
We cannot bring them all. Cut him loose. Now follow me, was her single command. We will hoist him and carry him.
They stole past the darkened passageways built into and underneath the city of the dead, arms straining with the effort of their very precious load, stopping to rest every few moments against the blackened walls, as Enheduana-Rai silently ran a gentle hand along the side of his face, as if her bare hands contained the power to heal instantaneously.
Aretas was caught in a delirium, suspended between heaven and earth, yielding to the effect of the poison that tore out his arteries. The pain threatened to dissipate everything, his eyes sometimes squeezed shut, sometimes rolled backwards, sometimes opening wide, struggling to rekindle the contours and shapes of all that the normal body would be able to perceive as he was carried past.
Nefertiri led them towards a seemingly dead end, the wall thick and rough, ghoulish, and the bile that arose in Enheduana-Rai was deep and fearful, thinking that the queen had led them into a trap, expecting more outpourings of Egyptian soldiers.
But the queen stepped aside, and with a fluid motion released a lever, her action causing the heavy wall to slide open, a wall that was in fact, a door that opened up into a labyrinth.
I am familiar with the bowels of Hamunaptra, Rai, the queen smiled slightly. You were afraid; I saw that fear in your face. You watched and saved me when I lost my child. I will not betray you to the very soldiers whom I loathe myself.
The corridor that they found themselves in was even narrower and shorter than the one that they had just run through, tapering off into a distance just as their awareness was starting to taper off, lulled into a tiredness and light-weightedness caused by the stale, musty air. Yet things of long ago imprinted seemed to renew themselves, along with old forgotten feelings.
Enheduana-Rai looked at Aretas' hands and the strain that the poison had made on his body -light blue veins that snaked and bulged with the effort, slowly turning a hideous purple over the olive skin of his, their weak pulse as the sign of ebbing life nonetheless served as her assurance. Once, not too long ago, passion had pounded with boisterous joy, slowly and violent through those same blood channels, the remembrance now cruelly sensual.
She did not know how long they carried him further; all that she knew was that her eyes were trained on his paleness and breathlessness, until they reached an empty chamber, in which a hard slab of rock rose from the middle, wide and large enough to accommodate his body.
Imhotep's private chamber, she heard Nefertiri say softly. So long ago, from the time he was a youth, apprenticed to another high priest.
But how did you?
She bit back her question, not wanting to infringe any further on the queen's good will.
Surely you know, Rai, that I am no immortal being descended from the gods, Nefertiri sighed. I am a woman, just as you are, with real feelings and I share your grief more than you realise, because I also saw Djosyn die in front of my eyes. Death humbles even the greatest of all kings and the most beautiful of women. As a princess of the royal court, I was granted access to many places.
Let us lift him, Enheduana-Rai interrupted urgently. Their combined strength was already failing, the near lifeless body placed atop the stone slab as gently as they could.
But Nefertiri was caught in her own memories; they streamed freely, bouncing off the bare walls so immensely that they were soon inundated; at their touch, the walls were unhesitatingly repainted and re-coloured just as she saw them the way they once were.
But as a young girl whose cup of curiosity was too full to contain, I followed the young Imhotep, wide-eyed and besotted with him, and found this chamber that he always entered as an apprentice.
Enheduana-Rai glanced at her then, as if she measured the words of the queen carefully, her many thoughts still unspoken.
This is all I can give you - the few remaining ointments that I pray will be of use to you.
I thank you, my queen, she replied with gratitude, before turning to examine the various containers and vases.
These unguents will not expel the poison, even though it is a slow acting one, she said grimly, before lifting her gown to remove Aretas' own dagger.
Endnotes:
What can I say about poisoning as part of a defence of this story? That modern science is very skeptical and has spoiled many a good story.
It may be said, however, that most of the stories of wonderful secret poisons are quite as incredible as that of the magical mirror: Poisons whose action could be timed to a nicety; poisons whose evil influence would be exerted not immediately, but after months or even years; poisons that left no trace; all these are popular traditions but with no substantiation in veridical history and used to mythic proportions. But we also know that toxins are sneaky things that do remain, even after years of application.
The Ebers Papyrus written by the Egyptians is one of the oldest medical documents available, dated about 1550 BC, it reveals many customs, traditions and practices of the ancient Egyptian doctors, describing over 800 recipes, many containing recognizable and identified poisons-for example, hemlock, aconite, opium and some of the toxic heavy metals such as lead and antimony. Some of the pharaohs are known to have experimented with poisons, perhaps for practical matters of government and State.
But this is fiction, all that comes from the great realm of imagination after all.
In Cicero's words, "Omne ignotum pro magnifico", [what is unknown is always held to be great]; the maxim is especially true of the legends of poisoners and their occult powers as they are found in traditional folklore.
*Hee Hee*
