Later Still:
Aamaat, Henequet and Ha'enre had modified was-scepters into golf clubs of sorts and were practicing putting into emptied unguent-vessels, Ha'enre having done with the unguents inside the vessels whatever it is that dead- kings-turned-deities do with that sort of offerings.
Unfortunately, the M*A*S*H 4077 didn't happen to have a thousand of bread and beer, a thousand of ox and fowl on board. Which had always been the plus side of voice-offerings: they required less transport.
Ha'enre had eyed Henequet hungrily for a moment after they were introduced, until he was reminded of the Egyptian's disapproval of human sacrifice, at which point he simply shrugged and returned to watching the Sed-festival, remembering his own mounting of the Northern and Southern thrones with fondness.
And just now, Reder came up to Aa's side and hopped up onto a higher register to whisper into his ear.
Aamaat laughed, and called over to the Wab-priest, "Two-souls: How's the purification going?"
"Just fine, Aa. Lord of the Two Land, Son of Ra, Given Life, Stability, and Dominion like Ra: the bark is sterile. Will you board?"
Pehettyra struggled to keep the bulky double-crown balanced on top of his head while he tried to maintain a ceremonious bearing down the stairs, nodding his head in approbation, which didn't help his case with the hats any.
The crowd of doctors, scribe and mummy grew solemn at this last part of the procession, while on the sands 4,077 slaves knelt in supplication. Ra's boat was on the horizon as the Southern Strength of Ra mounted onto the ceremonial boat and was lifted by a special crew of captives.
Ha'enre gave a questioning look to Aamaat, who retunred it with a wink and was evidently trying to stifle a giggle as the bark moved toward the first rest-enclosure. The dead Pharaoh, ex-Horus and current Osiris-on-Summer- Vacation, was confused.
But not for long.
The ceremonial bark slowed as it approached the enclosure. Some of the captive slaves were looking among themselves, their light hyper-northern skin seeming to blush, even from afar.
"What in Ptah's Blazes is the hold-up?!" the Pharaoh demanded.
There was no need to answer. A pair of tiny, beady eyes peeked out of the darkness of the bark-enclosure, followed by a very timid-looking, inexplicably unclothed Nose-Ka.
"Purenes!" Pehettyra exclaimed, "Explain yourself!"
Feneka Purenes whimpered to himself as he dashed out from underneath the enclosure.
"Purenes! You coward!" shrieked an equally unclothed Princess Megeret, peeking out after him, crying out and trying to cover herself up under the raucous laughter of the surgeons and company. Even her father was hiding a guffaw under his stern countenance. Princess Megeret's name translated, officially, to "Lady Silent Canal," though several around the camp preferred the alternate translation: "Rather a Pain."
"You realize, Feneka, this means you'll have to marry her!" Aa called out.
"No! If Nose-Soul marries The Pain," Henequet complained, "He'll be Pharaoh after The Son of Ra Pehettyra."
"The Son of Ra Purenes?" Ha'enre cringed, "Well, there goes MY dynasty, down the drain..."
"Well, I, for one," Aa pronounced, "Am all for it."
The other physician, the Osiris, and the scribe looked at him incredulously.
"As royal physicians," Aa explained to Henequet, "We'll have to mummify him when he dies. It'll be the fastest, easiest mummification ever. No brain."
"Aha..." Henequet smiled, catching the drift. "No heart, either."
"No lips..."
"No chin..."
"No spine..."
"No ..."
The physicians bantered back and forth. Purenes and Megeret hurried to clothe themselves. Ha'enre laughed and clapped his old Scribe Reder affectionately across the back. Pehettyra shook his head and chuckled as he completed his first Sed-festival as Pharaoh of the 4077th Mastaba.
~End~
Aamaat, Henequet and Ha'enre had modified was-scepters into golf clubs of sorts and were practicing putting into emptied unguent-vessels, Ha'enre having done with the unguents inside the vessels whatever it is that dead- kings-turned-deities do with that sort of offerings.
Unfortunately, the M*A*S*H 4077 didn't happen to have a thousand of bread and beer, a thousand of ox and fowl on board. Which had always been the plus side of voice-offerings: they required less transport.
Ha'enre had eyed Henequet hungrily for a moment after they were introduced, until he was reminded of the Egyptian's disapproval of human sacrifice, at which point he simply shrugged and returned to watching the Sed-festival, remembering his own mounting of the Northern and Southern thrones with fondness.
And just now, Reder came up to Aa's side and hopped up onto a higher register to whisper into his ear.
Aamaat laughed, and called over to the Wab-priest, "Two-souls: How's the purification going?"
"Just fine, Aa. Lord of the Two Land, Son of Ra, Given Life, Stability, and Dominion like Ra: the bark is sterile. Will you board?"
Pehettyra struggled to keep the bulky double-crown balanced on top of his head while he tried to maintain a ceremonious bearing down the stairs, nodding his head in approbation, which didn't help his case with the hats any.
The crowd of doctors, scribe and mummy grew solemn at this last part of the procession, while on the sands 4,077 slaves knelt in supplication. Ra's boat was on the horizon as the Southern Strength of Ra mounted onto the ceremonial boat and was lifted by a special crew of captives.
Ha'enre gave a questioning look to Aamaat, who retunred it with a wink and was evidently trying to stifle a giggle as the bark moved toward the first rest-enclosure. The dead Pharaoh, ex-Horus and current Osiris-on-Summer- Vacation, was confused.
But not for long.
The ceremonial bark slowed as it approached the enclosure. Some of the captive slaves were looking among themselves, their light hyper-northern skin seeming to blush, even from afar.
"What in Ptah's Blazes is the hold-up?!" the Pharaoh demanded.
There was no need to answer. A pair of tiny, beady eyes peeked out of the darkness of the bark-enclosure, followed by a very timid-looking, inexplicably unclothed Nose-Ka.
"Purenes!" Pehettyra exclaimed, "Explain yourself!"
Feneka Purenes whimpered to himself as he dashed out from underneath the enclosure.
"Purenes! You coward!" shrieked an equally unclothed Princess Megeret, peeking out after him, crying out and trying to cover herself up under the raucous laughter of the surgeons and company. Even her father was hiding a guffaw under his stern countenance. Princess Megeret's name translated, officially, to "Lady Silent Canal," though several around the camp preferred the alternate translation: "Rather a Pain."
"You realize, Feneka, this means you'll have to marry her!" Aa called out.
"No! If Nose-Soul marries The Pain," Henequet complained, "He'll be Pharaoh after The Son of Ra Pehettyra."
"The Son of Ra Purenes?" Ha'enre cringed, "Well, there goes MY dynasty, down the drain..."
"Well, I, for one," Aa pronounced, "Am all for it."
The other physician, the Osiris, and the scribe looked at him incredulously.
"As royal physicians," Aa explained to Henequet, "We'll have to mummify him when he dies. It'll be the fastest, easiest mummification ever. No brain."
"Aha..." Henequet smiled, catching the drift. "No heart, either."
"No lips..."
"No chin..."
"No spine..."
"No ..."
The physicians bantered back and forth. Purenes and Megeret hurried to clothe themselves. Ha'enre laughed and clapped his old Scribe Reder affectionately across the back. Pehettyra shook his head and chuckled as he completed his first Sed-festival as Pharaoh of the 4077th Mastaba.
~End~
