SquidgeWorld Archive

Chapter One: The Candidate

Thebes. City of the Living, teaming with life, with loves and hates, with money and with sacrifice, with kings and slaves. City of a thousand temples, home to the god Osiris. In the pale dawn, the barque slowly pulled up at the Thebes temple quay. Already the sun glared off the gold that covered the sides of the boat, off the raised tips of the oarsmen's blades. To the sound of pipes several priests disembarked and raised a panel of linen to shade the gangway. Neferure slowly made her way down off the boat followed by her students. Leaning heavily on her staff, she breathed slowly, trying not to pull air in so deeply that it hit the painful place in her chest. Imhotep stood impassively with his priests. Crossing his hands before him, he bowed deeply to the old woman. The sem priests with him lowered themselves to the floor.

"Lady, I am here at your bidding". He said, drawing her hurriedly to where chairs had been set under a canopy and pouring her a cup of cool water. She took the cup gratefully. Imhotep's eyes were drawn to the shadows that marked her thin but elegant face, to the new lines that appeared around her mouth. Despite the black wig on her head and the malachite paint around her eyes, the God's Wife of Osiris, High Priestess of Isis looked truly sick...

"I am dying," she said. And at once his eyes were riveted to hers. He felt

the world turn over. In her eyes he saw both pain and acceptance. "I bring you those who might serve after me. These past few months they have been trained in the House of Life. I am too old now to train them further; you must take them to Hamunaptra and the House of the Dead. You must initiate them in the Mystery." He stood stunned, looking at the frail woman who had been his own teacher, who had wielded such power in the Kingdom and taught him the pleasure that the pursuit of power could bring. And he saw nothing but darkness.

Suddenly a shadow stepped between him and the sun. Three young women stood, looking down at him. He waved each of them chairs and sat down heavily himself. It was... unusual for several candidates to be put forward for the role of the God's Wife. But then things were hardly normal in the Temple or in the Kingdom. Seti was new to the throne. And before that it was only a score of years when the worship of the gods was outlawed and the temples closed. Only a few years since the Heretic had ruled the Two Kingdoms... This would be the first initiation since Princess Neferure had given herself to be the God's Wife in the days immediately after the capital was returned to Thebes.... And for it to come at a time when there were already dark stirrings in the court. Neferure coughed and the priest looked up...

She spoke haltingly her words intersperse with gasping breaths. "Princess Nefertiri, I think you know. For the last year she has been in training as a Guardian, I had thought to send her guard the Treasures of Anubis but... This is Tiy, daughter to my own sister. She has served me as my assistant at Karnak for five years. And this is Sekhere, from the southern temple at Abu Simbel." Neferure faltered and fell back into the seat. Tiy rose and held the cup to her lips, one arm closely around the old woman. Nefertiri watched the old woman and Imhotep with those fierce proud eyes. He smiled faintly, the pharaoh's daughter reminded him of Seti in his youth, in days before he was king when they had served together in the Army of Ramses. There was another who knew the ways of power and its price. Sekhere was a shadow in the background. He was aware of her watching him, she was afraid he thought. He wondered what it was she feared - the initiation or him. Neferure coughed again, great racking coughs that seemed to tear at her chest.

"She needs to rest", Tiy said looking up at Imhotep. "It might be best if we took her back to the Temple at once." Neferure head collapsed onto her chest, her breathing laboured. In a lower voice she added. "I think she only has days to live my lord."

Imhotep bowed low before his master. Seti, lounging on his throne, nodded for him to rise. The two most powerful men in the Two Kingdoms had the ease together of long acquaintance. With Imhotep Seti could be a man as well as the most powerful ruler in a thousand miles. The pharaoh's private chambers were quiet and almost empty in the cool morning air. Apart from the priest and his lord, there were only the omnipresent Medjay and pharaoh's new favourite Anhk-sun-amun. Imhotep felt her hot gaze on him. She reminded Imhotep of a snake - fascinating, sinuous, beautiful and ultimately deadly. She was naked, as she so often was, and covered in fine lines of paint that reminded the priest of scales. He shivered.

"My lord with your permission I am leaving immediately for Hamunaptra with the candidates. Neferure is sicker than we understood. There is not much time."

The pharaoh frowned. He looked older these days and no surprise thought Imhotep. Already this year there had been two attempts on his life. "Do you want guards? My Medjay...."

Imhotep nodded slowly. His powers were great, but even he could not be everywhere at once. And he needed to give most of his attention to preparing for the initiations. "It would be safest. Nefertiri will be with us." The pharaoh's head shot up, his eyes locked on his High Priest. "There has been trouble since the last Inundation with attacks on the road to Hamunaptra and in the Valley of the Kings. I left a contingent of priests there but...."

"Nuy." One of the Medjay ran into the centre of the room and dropped to his knees. "I want you to accompany Imhotep to Hamunaptra. Make sure my daughter is safe. Guard my Priest and his servants. Watch for trouble." The Medjay bowed his head to the floor and left, already calling orders to his men outside. The pharaoh lowered his voice, so he almost whispered. "Make sure nothing happens to her. You know I have had a number of ... threats recently. The oracle predicted my death from treachery... yesterday one of my food tasters have been poisoned... Keep her safe Imhotep.... or else" The final two words were spoken louder, with Seti stared into the priest's eyes with the hot fire of anger and power that his court had come to know and fear. Imhotep bowed again to the floor and left.

From the shadows behind the throne Ankh-Sun-Amun watched him go, a faint frown marking her forehead. Her father had taught her that change was always an opportunity... and if Nefertiri and that troublesome priest were vulnerable... She must speak to the Pteh-Ure the Servant of Set, and soon....

The Medjay driving the chariots pulled them into a circle. Dusk was falling, and already the temperature was plummeting with it. They would not reach Hamunaptra tonight. Nuy, the Medjay captain shouted orders and tents began to rise and fires were lit, creating a small island or warmth and humanity in the Red Land. Imhotep stood passively as the camp was set up around him. Like the centre of the whirlwind, he was still, staring upwards caught in the beauty of the star-filled sky. There was such beauty in Nature and such power.... Since his meteoric rise through the priesthood, since his initiation power had become his love, the thing that sang him to sleep, that drove him onwards. Neferure had warned him so many times that power corrupts. But he was pure. His intentions were righteous, he served the gods. He was certain of it. Since his initiation he had given up so much to make sure of that. He looked up at the stars and saw in their pure light a refection of his own power. He smiled. Suddenly he was aware of voices.

"Sekhere." Nuy said hesitantly, standing at the entrance to one of the tents. Through the shadows on the tent wall Imhotep could see that Sekhere was newly bathed and not dressed. She hastily wrapped herself in a towel and opened the flap a little "I must speak with you.... Please, as your friend, don't do this.... Don't go into that place. Don't leave me. I... I thought we were..."

"You left me."

"I would have come back".

"It was years."

"I would have come back".

"Perhaps, but things have changed Nuy. I am no longer the old bastard's slave girl. I am singer of the temple, a servant of Isis. You left. The old bastard died. The priestess saw me and offered me another way... and I took it. Please ...Nuy...leave me alone".

From the darkness Imhotep watched Nuy lurch away form the tent. He had heard the whole interplay. Neferure had long ago taught him that listening unseen could be a highly useful skill. He wondered vaguely how the Captain of the Medjay knew this girl. He faintly remembered that Nuy had been stationed at one of the Nubian forts, serving the old Viceroy, but that had been years ago. He stepped closer to the tent and with that sultry smile that drove many of the women of the court the despair, looked inside, shielding himself with a rush of power from being seen. Sekhere was almost naked and shivering. She stood a moment looking sad and lost, then briskly rubbed at her body with a linen towel. Her skin in the flickering light was almost black. Against blue tattoos, that almost covered her body, seemed to shine with an unearthly light. Imhotep was tempted to step inside, to examine those marking more closely. In a way they reminded him of the Words of Honour tattooed on the bodies' of the Medjay, and yet these were not hieroglyphs but some sort of ritual markings... He wanted to touch them.... Suddenly Sekhere turned and looked directly at the priest. He eyes searched the space where he stood. She knew he was there. Impossible, but she knew. Quickly Imhotep faded back into the desert night.

Disturbed, Imhotep walked out into the desert to try to sit with the darkness. He let go of some of the turmoil that troubled him. He wondered about the Priests of Set, rumour said that they had a desire for the throne. But his mind kept coming back to seeing Sekhere.... He tried to focus on the ceremonies that were to come...But his mind came back to her dark body... to those tattoos... He lay down on the sand, staring up at the stars. Osiris, Horus Harakte, Lady Isis be with me now. Her body.... He felt strange. He had not been interested in a woman, any woman, as a woman since his own initiation all those years ago. Tentatively, an unfamiliar uncertainty etched on his face, Imhotep touched himself. His manhood stayed flaccid under his exploring hand... despite the images.... He was safe, still pure. A smile, richly seductive, yet somehow empty crossed his face.

Suddenly there was a cry from the direction of the camp. In a rush of power, Imhotep transformed to sand and whirled towards the camp. All was chaos. Men in skins armed with clubs were hurling themselves into the camp, yelling "Set! Serpent Lord". In the centre of the camp he saw the flash of weapons, heard the cries of injured men. Imhotep stopped, solid once more. He drew a deep breath, breathed deep into the sand, the desert night, the stars. He filled himself with power. He surged forward, opening his mouth in a great cry and the sand rose answering him. Hi Power swept through the cam dragging the raiders into the sand, as though the earth opened and swallowed them. Imhotep took another deep breath and smiled. It was ecstasy to let the power of his gods flow through him like this. He strode down the dune towards the camp.

At first there was silence in the devastated camp. Then he heard Nuy begin to call orders to the Medjay. Striding to the space at the centre he found the three young priestesses and two older ones who were Nefertiri's maids waiting. Nefertiri had a sword in her hand, there was blood on the blade. She wiped it clean absently on her white robe. "Another peaceful night?" She looked eloquently at Imhotep and moved off into the darkness, her maids trailing her. Tiy was sitting quietly on the lip of an overturned chariot. She looked up at him and then looked drown again, focussed on the Medjay at her feet and the wounds she was tending. Sekhere was naked, the towels someho w lost in the struggle. She stared at the sand where the raiders had vanished, her eyes blank.

"Sekhere." Imhotep touched her arm. She started, and then stared at him her eyes wild. Imhotep was aware of a faint taste or smell like honey... He reached for the source of it. Searching. She scrabbled backwards. "You. You killed them all."

"They were trying to kill us."

She shook her head. "You did it with that thing...that power you have"

"It's a gift." Imhotep smiled, "A gift of the gods'

"No." she said and fled. As she went Imhotep was again aware of the almost overwhelming smell of honey. Bt the smell, the scent of her power was in his mind.. not on the desert breeze. Imhotep felt a rush of exultant joy. So that was why Neferure had chosen her from among slaves.... Like himself, she had the Gift of Power. It was rare. Very rare. And she feared it. He must help to change her mind... she could be useful to him.. in the court, in the Temple. He began to plan his campaign, like a lover seeking to seduce an innocent virgin.. He would woo her.