Imhotep (54 page)

“No,”
Diane said, smiling, “I’m not hurt.  I just want to thank you.”

Yunet
shook her head, not understanding.

“For
everything.” Diane sighed heavily.  “I’ve been a bitch,” she said in
English.  She looked around in the darkness and saw a clearing off to the
side of the path.  She stepped slowly to Yunet and took her hand.

Yunet
grasped her hand in return.

Diane
leaned closer to kiss her.  Yunet returned her kiss and, dropping the food
bag, put her arms around Diane to pull her close. 

After
a moment Diane pulled back and rested her cheek against Yunet’s shoulder. 
She ran her fingertips down Yunet’s back and flattened her hand against her
curves.

“Diane,”
Yunet said.  “I want you very much.  But we cannot take the time for
this.  We are not safe yet.” She squeezed her close.

“I
know,” Diane answered.  “It’s just that you have done so much for
me.  Before now, I mean, when I first got here.  You didn’t tell me
do anything; you were so patient and understanding.  I’ve been selfish in
every way.  I was angry with Brian and so I expected you to make it
up.  I know that sounds stupid.”

Yunet
brushed Diane’s hair with her hand and kissed the top of her head softly.

“Anyhow,”
Diane continued.  “I feel different about Brian now.  I know that I
still care for him, but it’s like I want to make sure he’s safe before I can
say goodbye to him.  I don’t know what will happen with you and me, but I
want you to know how wonderful you’ve been to me.  I’ve been so lucky to
have you as a friend, and as a lover.”

She
tilted her head back and kissed Yunet again, her eyes closed, her entire being
focused on the warmth and tenderness where they touched.  She opened her
eyes and gasped as she saw Siamun’s leering face over Yunet’s shoulder.

H
e killed Yunet quicker than he wanted to.

She
fought more fiercely than he expected and Diane even tried to fight him. 
He knocked Diane away with a sweep of his arm, but when he was turned away, Yunet
squirmed out of his grasp and grabbed a rock.

They
circled each other warily, Yunet calling out to Diane to run.  Siamun
watched her intently, waiting for an opening.  When he saw it, he swung in
low, dropping to his knee as he swiped his knife at her ankle.  Instead of
backing away as he expected her to, Yunet stepped closer.

She
swung the rock hard at his head, clipping just the back of it as he ducked
toward her legs.  He saw fiery lights in his head as he rolled forward,
his momentum knocking Yunet down.  He scrambled to get on top of her, but
was knocked sideways as Diane kicked him in the ribs.

Rolling
with the kick, he came to his knees as Yunet rushed him, swinging her thick
walking stick at him.  He rocked back on his heels and launched himself at
her, trying to get inside her swing.  As he moved, Diane tossed a handful
of dirt in his face.  Blinded, he felt the walking stick slam against his
shoulder.

He
screamed in anger and twisted his arm around to grab the stick.  He pulled
it violently toward him with one hand and thrust his knife toward where he
thought Yunet would be.

Yunet
was gripping the stick with both hands, realizing it was her only hope. 
When Siamun jerked on it, it pulled her toward him so quickly she wasn’t able
to dodge the knife that came at her at the same time.

The
knife caught her under the rib cage, driving upward under the bones, its sharp
tip cutting through her lungs and slicing into her heart.

She
fell against Siamun, her hot blood pumping out onto his outstretched arm. 
She was dead before she landed.

Diane
had emptied the food sack and gripping each end, she twisted it around Siamun’s
neck, trying to strangle him.  She heard him laugh as he jerked his head
forward, the movement slamming her against his back as he reached up to grab
her arms.  She felt the slippery blood on his hands, realized what it was
and felt a cold wave of terror replace her anger.

She
landed heavily on her back as Siamun came to his feet.

N
ow there was a burning pain along her
cheek and a sharp, bruising ache between her legs.  She stretched her legs
and felt the sticky pull of drying blood on her inner thighs. 

Slowly,
Diane opened her eyes.  She was lying on her stomach in a small
clearing.  She could hear the river rushing past behind her.  She
reached up to her face and felt the open gash where Siamun had cut her. 
From her other pains she knew that he had raped her after he had knocked her
out.

She
breathed deeply, her chest shaking in fear.  In the back of her mind she
was surprised to still be alive.  She thought of Yunet and in her memory
she saw again the ugly, chipped knife drive into Yunet’s stomach, she saw the
surprised look on Yunet’s face and then the sudden slacking of the muscles as
her heart stopped.

After
Siamun had overpowered Diane, he had ripped away her kilt to rape her. 
She had fought as hard as she could, twisting and trying to get a knee between
his legs.

Eventually
he had clamped both her wrists in one hand and stretched them over her
head.  Then he had put the knife against her face and threatened to cut
her if she continued to fight.  In a flash she remembered Brian’s battered
body on the stone chair and she had known that Siamun would show her no mercy.

“Go to
hell,” she had answered and had spit in his face.

She had
screamed as the knife cut her, but her legs had stayed clamped shut.  As
he had fought to pry her legs open, she had gotten a hand free and clawed at
him, raking open his face.  She had seen the back of his hand draw back
and then rush toward her and then all was blackness.

Now
she raised her head and felt it suddenly jerk backward as Siamun pulled on a
rope he had tied around her neck.

She
reached up and grabbed at the rope, but Siamun pulled it tighter.

“Come
on,” he said.  “We have someone to meet.”

A
s they came up the wadi, Diane felt an
overwhelming sense of dejavu.  When they rounded the last turn and saw the
opening of the tomb that she and Brian had walked out of a few months ago, her
knees buckled and she fell to the sand.

Siamun
swung his leg around the camel’s neck and slid down to the ground.  He
stooped over to pick up the rope that hung from Diane’s neck.  He was
tempted to pull it and drag her across the sand by her neck.

The
three-day journey had been exhausting.  He had never believed that a woman
could be so stubborn and so willing to die.  He had beaten her, cut her
and threatened her, but she refused to surrender.  He had taken her as she
lay unconscious after a beating, but it was less satisfying than using his own
hand.

She
continued to try to escape, even though there was nowhere for her to go and no
chance of her getting away from him.  The first few times he had knocked
her down, but then he had to wait until she was able to walk again. 
Eventually he had tied her up and draped her over the camel, but even there she
fought and twisted until she had fallen from the beast.

It
would have been so much easier to kill her.

Siamun
saw movement near the entrance of the tomb.  He pulled his knife from his
belt as he saw a person emerge from the dark opening. 

It was
Bakr.

He
came toward Siamun, his eyes moving from back and forth between him and Diane.

“Where
is Djefi?” Siamun asked.

“He is
in Ineb-Hedj.  I am to get him when you arrive.” He looked at Diane, his
face filled with pity.  He started to ask Siamun what he had done to her
and where Yunet was, but his tongue brushed against the opening where his teeth
had been and he held his questions.

“I’ll
get Djefi.  He asked that you wait here.”

Siamun
shrugged and tugged on the rope, heading for the dark shade of the tomb.

B
ecause it did not lie along the river,
To-She had fewer visitors than Ineb-Hedj, Waset, Khmunu and most other villages
in the Two Lands.

Still,
rumors did drift along the canal to the oasis.

The
guards who had been at Kom Ombo with Siamun had been unusually quiet about what
had happened there, but wild rumors arose, fed by their silence.  When
Djefi returned, an air of desperation followed him into To-She.

Bakr
and his other most trusted guards left with Djefi the morning Bakr had found
him tied up in Yunet’s hut.  They left quickly, taking to boats and
pushing hard against the weak current that came up the canal.

They
left behind rumors of the debacle of the dedication.  Neswy heard whispers
of torture and of Siamun’s re-enactment of the cutting out of the tongue of
Sobek.  He knew better than to believe everything he heard, but he also
knew that there usually was a kernel of truth in the tales.

He
leaned against a palm tree at the edge of the village and looked down the
pathway that Yunet and Diane had taken.  He had been overjoyed to see
Siamun head into the desert, but he knew that even the Two Lands were not vast
enough to hide Yunet from Siamun forever.

If
there was a whiff of truth to the rumors, then it was possible that Djefi was
in disfavor with King Djoser.  Neswy didn’t know anyone associated with
the royal family; the only two people he knew who had actually spoken with the
king were Djefi and Yunet.

Still,
Yunet was out there and Siamun was on her trail.  He hadn’t gone with them
because he would have slowed them.  But his staying at To-She would be no
help.  So he shouldered a small sack of food and followed after Yunet,
headed for the great highway of the River Iteru.

In a
few days he could smell the change in the air that followed the stronger
flowing river, and his spirits had grown lighter.  He had seen no signs of
violence along the path and so he believed that Yunet and Diane had safely
traveled this far. 

Ineb-Hedj
lay several more days north along the river.  There was a good chance the
women would reach it safely.  From there they could follow more frequently
used trails that would lead them north to the delta and Iunu where
Hetephernebti lived.

He sat
on the riverbank to ease his aching leg, resting for a few minutes before
trying to walk a little farther before daylight left.

Upriver
he saw movement.  Two boats were heading south, their sails raised as the
wind pushed them against the current.  A third boat was near them, but its
sails were down, so he knew that it was following the river, heading north.

  Neswy
watched the third boat grow larger as it approached.  It began to veer
cross current toward the canal opening.

Unsure
exactly what he would say, Neswy stood and waved his arms at the boat.

There
were two men rowing it, a third stood by the stern holding the tiller.  He
must have seen Neswy because the boat began to curve toward him.  Neswy
didn’t recognize the man at the tiller.  The rowers had their backs to him
as they bent over the oars, but Neswy’s heart leaped as he saw the broad
shoulders of the one man.  He smiled to himself.  He would recognize
those shoulders anywhere; he had clung to them for three days.

He
waved his arms quicker and shouted the man’s name, “Brian!”

“S
o they were going to Iunu to find
Hetephernebti?” Imhotep asked.

“Yunet
said they would ask her for sanctuary.”

Imhotep
shook his head.  Hetephernebti was the king’s sister and high priestess of
Re, but she did not keep armed men at her temple.  Her strength and
influence came from her integrity and willpower.  Would that be enough to
protect Diane and Yunet from Djefi?  Waja-Hur’s reputation and holiness
hadn’t protected him.

If
the women get that far, if they are able to elude Siamun,
he thought.

Although
he had never met Siamun, from what Brian had told him, Siamun was a brutal,
murderous thug. 

Neswy
seemed confident that the women had gotten a good start on their escape from
To-She because Siamun had gone into the desert while the women followed the
water.  But he was just as sure that as each day passed it was more likely
that Siamun would turn his search to the river and eventually find them.

“Can
you protect them if we find them first?” he asked.

Imhotep
nodded.  “The king has given me authority.  I will place the women
under my protection.”

Neswy
looked at Imhotep, Bata, and Brian.  Bata carried a knife and seemed
confident.  Neswy knew that Brian was strong and brave.  But neither
of them had seen Siamun since his return from Kom Ombo.  He was no longer
human.  It would take more than these three to protect Yunet and Diane
from Siamun.

“Are
there others?” Neswy asked.

Imhotep
understood what he was asking.  Why did he think his authority would be
any stronger than Hetephernebti’s?

This
land was so different.  On the one hand, the king’s word was law.  On
the other, if there was no fist, then the word was meaningless.  He
carried the king’s word, its presence shown in the menat he wore around his
neck.  But he lacked the king’s fist.  Would Djefi and Siamun obey
him knowing that the king’s might was behind him, or would they kill him, feed
his body to the crocodiles and deny that they had ever seen him?

He
turned to Bata.  “Who is governor of this nome?”

Bata
shook his head.  “Prince Teti only came through here once, to hunt in the
delta.  We didn’t visit with anyone.”

“I
know a family there,” Imhotep thought out loud.

“When
we get to Ineb-Hedj, we’ll go to the home of Paneb, the tomb artist.  I
know where he lives and he will know who we can find in the city to help us.”

He
turned to look downriver, eager to see the white walls of the city.

D
jefi was shocked at how battered Diane
was, but in his heart he wasn’t surprised.  When he had turned Siamun
loose on the women, he had known there would be violence; he had suspected that
Yunet would not survive. 

Now he
hoped Diane had enough spirit left in her to care about living.

But
she refused to answer his questions, even as Siamun yanked her head back,
gripping her dirty red hair in one fist and placing his knife against her white
throat.

Instead,
she stared back at him defiantly, her eyes aflame with hate. 

Although
she refused to answer his questions - and Djefi wondered if she really
didn’t know how she got here - he wasn’t ready to discard her. 

If she
didn’t hold the secret to escaping Kemet, then perhaps she could be used to pry
it from Imhotep.  He put her in Bakr’s care.  “Keep her alive, but do
not let her escape,” he ordered him.

Bakr
reached for Diane’s arm to help her walk, but she twisted away from his touch,
falling in the process.  As she sat on the ground, Bakr removed the rope
from her neck and tossed it aside.  He leaned close to her and whispered,
“Stay alive, Diane.  I will try to help you.”

If she
heard him, she gave no sign.  But she allowed him to help her to her
feet.  Bakr led her to a small shelter - four poles and a palm
branch roof - that provided a little shade.  He helped her sit and
then ran for a water skin.

Djefi
motioned for one of the guards to bring a stool and follow him into the tomb.

Just
inside the tomb entrance, Djefi sat and peered down the dark passageway. 
The paintings on the walls were more complete than they had been the first time
he visited the tomb when the walls had been covered only with gray sketches. 
But the light faded inside the hallway.  The far end was shrouded in
darkness.

There
is a great secret hidden here,
he thought. 

Somehow
Brian, Diane, and Imhotep had emerged from this tomb.  There had to be
another doorway, an exit somewhere down the tunnel. 

He was
fairly certain that the three strangers were not gods.  Diane had been
beaten and was near death.  During the time she had been with him he had
seen no sign that she was anything other than a woman like any other. 
Except now.  Threatened with death and after three days with Siamun, she
still had the strength to ignore his threats.

Brian
had been left to die in the desert, Djefi had assassins sent after him, he had
his tongue cut out, and Siamun had tried to feed him to a crocodile. 
His
tongue cut out, like the god Sobek.
  Djefi’s skin began to crawl as he
thought about Brian and Diane.  After what they had been through, they
still were not dead.  They were still defiant.

Are
they gods after all?

Djefi
shook his head.  This line of thought was taking him nowhere.

He
peered down the dark hallway.  Somehow it led to another land, a strange
land far from Kemet, far from King Djoser. Did a false door open into this
other world?  Would a magic enchantment open it?  Was there a secret
lever to pull?

Paneb,
the tomb artist!  He was here when the strangers arrived.  He would
know the inside of the tomb and its secrets better than anyone.

“Siamun!”
he shouted.  “Go into Ineb-Hedj and bring me the artist.  His name is
Paneb.  And bring his helper.  I don’t know his name.  He’s a
young boy.  And Siamun,” he added, “don’t harm them.  I want to give
them a chance to help me first.”

A
s they disembarked from their boat, Brian
grabbed Imhotep’s arm.  “Effie’s bow,” he said, pointing to a decorated
boat that bobbed in the water near them.

Neswy
saw what they were looking at and gasped.  “Djefi’s boat,” he said, not
knowing that he was repeating what Brian had said.

Imhotep
frowned.  “He was banished to To-She.  He is supposed to stay there
until King Djoser visits him.  That was clear.”

He
pulled Brian aside and spoke softly in English.  “There is only one thing
here that can interest Djefi - the tomb we all came through.  That’s
where he’s heading.  If he’s left To-She despite the king’s command to
stay there it’s because he’s planning to run away and there’s no place in this
land, in this time where he can hide from King Djoser.  I don’t know what
Diane told him, but he must think that there’s some way for him to get away.

“What
can she tell him?”

Imhotep
didn’t wait for Brian to answer.  “I don’t want Djefi to escape.  No,
that’s not right.  I mean I don’t want him to find that secret panel and
get into the tomb where we passed through.  Because if he does find the
passage, then people from our time might find their way here.  Can you
imagine what that would mean?  Our time and world are messed up with greed
and violence … ” he paused when Brian scowled. 

“Yes,
it’s violent here, too.  But imagine Siamun with a machine gun or Djefi
with an air force? 

“This,”
he opened his arms to indicate the world they were in, “is so innocent and
clean.  If people from our time find it, who knows?  Do the Americans
storm in here and set up democracy so that five thousand years from now they’ll
have a foothold in the Mideast?  Do radical Muslims come in and somehow
prevent the rise of Christianity?  No matter what happened, it would
pollute time.”

Brian
looked at him puzzled.

“Yeah,
I’ve been thinking about this a lot.  You know King Djoser has named me
Imhotep.  You know who he was?  He built the Step Pyramid. 
There isn’t anybody here named Imhotep.  So, I must be him.  And it
feels right.  I mean, I really think I am Imhotep.  I belong here.”

He
stared down the river as he collected his thoughts.

“The
point is if people could travel back and forth from our time to ancient Egypt,
then evidence of it would have shown up.  So, however we got here, and I
have an idea about that, it just happened for the first time.  I think we
have to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

“So we
have to keep Djefi from getting to our time because once he’s there the people
there won’t stop until they figure out how he got there from ancient Egypt.”

He saw
that Brian was staring at him in confusion.

“Yeah,
I’m rambling and maybe all I really want is to keep this for myself.  I
mean, to lose myself here.”

He
sighed.  “I don’t know.  What do you think?”

“I
whan kill iamun and effie. Anh hep Iane.”

Imhotep
turned to Bata.

“We’ll
go to Paneb’s house and then see who we can get to help us, who will act in the
king’s name.”

P
aneb was trying to decide if there was
enough light left in the day to go to the tomb.