Ancient Evenings (90 page)

“But I want Peht-a-Ra protected. I want You to protect Him.”

“You wish to betroth Him to Bint-Anath? She is as old as You.”

“It does not matter. I want You to protect Our son. The Gods formed Our son in My womb.”

“Which Gods?” asked Usermare.

“Which Gods?” She repeated.

“You cannot name Them,” He said, “You do not know the Egyptian Gods.”

“My Gods are Yours,” She said stubbornly.

“Tell Me about Them.”

“I do not wish to know Their secrets.”

“You do not even know the secrets of Your own Gods.”

I could feel His thoughts. They lay heavily on my brow. The fear of great and terrible things had begun again in Usermare. His fear was like the weight of gold and full of majesty. I do not know if it was because of Heqat, but I heard the next of His thoughts, and so clearly that I would have sworn He said it aloud, yet He did not. “The longer I stay with Rama-Nefru,” He said to Himself, “the farther I will be from My Kingdom.”

She must have heard the echo of this. For She said, “You do not need Me to be near Your Gods. If You would sleep in the Temple, Your dreams would keep Them near. That is what My father does.”

Usermare snorted. His fear rose up from Him like the undulation in a swamp as a boat goes by. Nor was I surprised by the place to which His brooding had taken Him. He had begun to think of the dilapidation of the tombs of Pharaohs long gone by. Through His eyes, I saw the broken walls of the temple of Hat-shep-sut at Ittawi. He sighed. “Osiris is the only ancient God,” He said. “Who is worshipped everywhere. No priest allows His temples to molder. That is because He had a wise wife who knew the Gods. Isis was the Seat to the Seat-Maker and She made a wise wife.”

I felt Him mourn for the lack of love that had come between Him and Nefertiri. I was close to His misery as He rose from the bed of Rama-Nefru. She was so ignorant of all He needed. I heard Him say to Himself, “She is not a Goddess, She tells Me, and that is true. She does not act like one.” He left without saying more.

If I thought He had tired of Rama-Nefru, however, I was quick to learn my error. Even as He passed through the outer chamber, I saw by His elbow that I was to follow, and we walked together around the Eye of Maat. He now desired that His old charioteer should begin to instruct His Hittite beauty in the nature of the Egyptian Gods.

Each time I tried to say I would not understand what to teach, He would hear no more. “You know the Gods as I know Them,” He said. “That is good enough for Me. It is, therefore, good for Her. I don’t want a priest who will tell Her so much She thinks She knows more than Me.” He sighed. “You will do this,” He said, “and one day I will surprise you with a gift you do not expect.”

SIX

It was not long before I was in the worst difficulties. Twice around the Eye of Maat, and Usermare returned to Rama-Nefru’s room to tell Her that instruction should begin at once since the Godly Triumph was but a few days away. Then He left. She asked about papyri with which to commence Her study, and I could only reply that the best rolls were to be found in the Temple of Amon.

“Get them now,” She said, but I took the moment to tell Her it would be better to start in the morning. Indeed we could visit the Temple then. We would go in disguise. Like a child, She clapped Her hands in delight.

Next day, dressed as merchants from the Eastern desert, Her face in shadow beneath a woolen cowl, we left by the servants’ gate of the Columns of the White Goddess, crossed many a palace ground and pool and park and garden, passed through the gates of the last wall, promenaded down a great avenue, skirted the walls of the Temple grounds, passed through a Temple village of alleys and huts where many a workman for the priests lived with his tools and his family, and came at last to the Street of Scribes that ended before a courtyard and a chapel, next to which were Temple workshops and many buildings of the school. Everywhere was the industry of these priests. You could see young ones who were student painters practicing the art of temple drawings on a white wall, and on the next wall, other students were painting over yesterday’s work so they could begin new tasks tomorrow. We passed a Chief Scribe while he was scolding a student sculptor who had just cut a name in a cartouche, but had made a terrible mistake that even I could see. His Eye of Horus was with a spiral that turned in the wrong direction. Then there were musicians in the next alley practicing Temple music for the chants, and one school of scribes stood before other inscriptions on a Temple wall and copied as fast as they could, yes, it was a contest, and groans came out of the losers when the first fellow finished. We went by other courtyards and larger temples where you could see nothing through the great open doors but the white robes of priests listening to a discourse.

I took Her at last to the top of the Western Tower where there was a good view overlooking the boats moored to our quays, four or five lashed to one another out from the wharves, and more than I had ever seen before, were coming up and down the river.

The four corners of our tower were honored by four wooden masts, sheathed in gold, their flags languorous in the light winds of this bright morning, and before our view, many avenues went out like rays of light, and each avenue was lined with statues of rams or sphinxes. In the distance, we could see the canals of Thebes leading up to the docks, while the roof of the Great Temple of Amon spread out beneath us like a terrace. Everywhere was the sight of laborers scrubbing the tiles and flagstones of the monuments and patios of Thebes, and from markets came the sound of music. What a preparation for the Festival of Festivals.

“It is beautiful,” She said, “and rare for Me. I never see the city of Thebes.” Through Her eyes, I witnessed another beauty, for the gold on the pyramidion of many an obelisk in these Temple grounds, had picked up the glow of the sun and shone like leaves of gold on a green and dusty tree. The sky above seemed larger than all the Gods to fill it. “Let us go,” She said, “to see the teachings in the Temple of Amon.”

“That will take long,” I told Her. “Even the First Priest has to wash his hands seven times before he can touch a holy papyrus,” but when She insisted, I was obliged to explain that the priests would never let us, dressed as strange merchants, enter such holy rooms, whereas to tell them who She was, would create the most injurious gossip in their schools. Besides, we would lose this incomparable view and the nearness of the Gods to all that we would say.

She was annoyed to be thwarted, yet after a silence, said, “May I ask any question?”

I was fearful, but I looked back into Her eyes and nodded calmly.

“You will not think it is a silly question?”

“Never.”

“Very well then,” She said. “Who is this Horus?”

“Oh, He is a Great God,” I told Her.

“Is He the Only One? Is He the First First?”

“I would say He is the Son of Ra and the Beloved of Ra.”

“So He is the same as the Pharaoh?”

“Yes,” I said, “the Pharaoh is the Son of Ra and the Beloved of Ra. So the Pharaoh is Horus.”

“He is the God Horus?” She asked.

“Yes.”

“Then the Pharaoh is the Falcon of the Heavens?” She asked.

“Yes.”

“And He has two eyes that are like the sun and the moon?”

“Yes. The right eye of Horus is the sun, and the left eye is the moon.”

“But if Horus is the child of the sun,” She asked, “how can the sun be one of His eyes?”

My legs were crawling with ants. So they felt. I did not like to talk of these things. I knew my arm, but I was not an artist and could not draw my arm. She needed a priest to tell Her. “It must be so,” I said. “The Eye of Horus is also known as the Pharaoh’s daughter, Wadjet, who is the Cobra. The Cobra can breathe fire, and kill all of the Pharaoh’s enemies.” I was tempted to tell Her that while I had not seen the fire of the Cobra at the Battle of Kadesh, I had certainly felt it.

“I do not know what you are talking about,” She answered. “It is like a rope that is twisted.”

“Well,” I said, “that is because They are Gods. The Pharaoh comes out of the Gods, but the Gods also come out of the Pharaoh.” When I saw the dying look of any hope that She could follow me, I said quickly, “I do not know how that can be, but it is so. That is how it is with the Gods. Amon-Ra is He-Who-begets-His-Father.”

“But who is Osiris? Is He Amon? There!” She said. “I have not dared to ask that question in all the time they have kept Me in Egypt.”

“Osiris is not Amon,” I said, and was pleased I had something clear to tell Her. “Osiris is the Father of Horus, and He is also the King of the Land of the Dead. His Son, Horus, because He is also the Pharaoh, is the Lord of the Living.” I should have been silent, but to the understanding I now saw in Her eyes, I added, “And to Osiris belongs all the trees, all the barley, and the bread and the waters, also the beer because the fermentation of the grain is halfway between the living and the dead.”

“I thought all the grain belonged to Isis.”

“That is also true,” I said quickly. “It belongs to Isis as well. But then Isis and Osiris are married.”

“Yes,” She said, “but what belongs to Horus if He is the Pharaoh?”

“I cannot tell You of all the things, but they are many. I know the Eye of Horus is oil, but it can also be wine, and sometimes it is eye-paint.”

“You say He is the Son of Osiris?” She asked unhappily.

I nodded.

“But if Horus is the Son of Ra then He is the Brother of Osiris, not the Son,” Rama-Nefru said.

“Well, He is also the brother,” I agreed. I could no longer see the avenue below us. A haze was over my eyes. Whether it was from the return of my former confusion, or from the many waves and currents I felt between my ears at the thought of all the Gods I must yet name, I do not know, but I felt faint, so faint that no matter how rude it might seem to leave Her standing alone, I squatted suddenly and rested my buttocks on my heels. Whereupon, She also squatted and continued to look at me eye to eye.

“We must go back to the beginning,” I said. “Before Ra, there is Atum, His grandfather. Atum had two children, Shu and Nu, but we also call Nu, Tefnut.”

“Shu and Tefnut,” She repeated.

“They gave us air and moisture.” I could see that She repeated this to Herself as well. “From Shu and Tefnut were born Ra and Geb and Nut. The last two are the earth and the sky. Geb and Nut made love to each other.” I started to cough. “Some say,” I muttered, “that it is Ra Who made love to Nut.” Now, I continued to cough. I did not wish to interrupt myself but was obliged to. “They do not know the father,” I said, “but Nut’s children are Isis and Osiris, and Set and Nephthys, and also the God Horus. He is the brother of Osiris, except that He is also all the other Gods as well—Shu, Tefnut, Ra, Geb, Nut, Isis, Osiris, Set and Nephthys.”

“Then how is Horus the Son of Osiris?”

“Because Horus died. He fell from a horse. So He had to become the Son of Isis and Osiris in order to be born again. That was after Osiris was killed by Set. Yet Isis was still able to make love to Him.”

“My legs are weak,” She said. “I will never learn all of this.”

“You will,” I said.

“I won’t. You talk of many Gods. But we are standing on the tower of the Temple of Amon and still you do not speak of Amon. Nor of Ptah. Sesusi is always telling Me of His Coronation at Memphi in the Temple of Ptah. I thought this Ptah was a Great God.”

“Oh, He is,” I said. “He comes out of the earth. In Memphi, they do not believe it was Atum in the sky at the beginning but Ptah. They think everything that there is rose up out of the waters with the First Hill, and this First Hill belonged to Ptah. Out of the First Hill, the sun was born. In that way, Ra comes from Ptah, and Osiris does also, and Horus.”

She sighed. “There are so many. Sometimes I hear of Mut and Thoth.”

“They, too, can come from Ptah.”

“They can?”

“Well,” I said, truly perspiring—the faintness would not go away—“They really come from the moon.”

“Who?”

“Mut and Thoth. And Khonsu.”

“Oh.”

“The moon is the other Eye of Horus.”

“Yes.”

“The first eye, as I said, is the sun. You can see it in the kernel of corn. The kernel of corn is shaped like an eye.”

“Yes.”

I did not tell Her that the Eye of Horus was also the vagina. I did, however, explain how the two ladies of Upper and Lower Egypt, Wadjet the Cobra and Nekhbet the Vulture (who was also the White Goddess) were in the Double-Crown that sat on the Pharaoh’s head. Even as the Pharaoh Himself was Horus, but also Horus and Set.

“How can He be Horus and Set?” She asked. “They fight each other all the time.”

“They do not fight each other when They are in Him,” I explained. “The Pharaoh is so powerful that He makes Them live in peace.”

She sighed again. “I cannot understand any of these matters,” She said. “I grew up in a land that has four seasons. We speak of spring and summer and fall and winter. But you have only three seasons in Egypt, and it never rains. You have a flood instead. You do not have our beautiful spring when we see the new leaves.”