Magic of the Nile (27 page)

She was only vaguely conscious of all the bystanders as she, Hotepre and the zookeeper went to the pond, to open the gate. Unsurprisingly the crocodile was waiting close by, lounging in the morning sunlight.

“Are you ready?” she said to the creature.

He yawned, displaying a mouth full of jagged teeth, as if to say he wasn’t overly impressed by all the fuss and might prefer to nap, but he did walk forward, past her. Gazing from side to side as he went, the crocodile clambered onto the litter, which had been set down in the middle of the road. He struck a pose.

“He’s standing exactly like the statue of Sobek in crocodile form the priests will carry ahead of you in the parade,” Sahure laughed. “Did you tell the beast to adopt the matching stance?”

She shook her head. “No, perhaps the god is giving him orders directly, as well as through me.”

“And you’re sure the animal will stay still during the parade?” the zookeeper asked her.

Tyema nodded. “He’s obedient to my will because the Great One Sobek desires things to be done in such fashion today. The crocodile won’t stir till I release him to his new pond.”

She was to sit in a gilded chair at the back of the litter, visible to all, yet close to her animal. Sahure handed her into the chair, arranging the magnificent cloak in graceful swirls around her. The iridescent feathers shone in the sunlight.

“Pharaoh comes,” he said.

While all the time maintaining her concentration on the mental leash she held on the crocodile, Tyema had to see.

Nat-re-Akhte wore the double crown of Egypt today, and carried the cobalt blue-and-gold crook and flail of power. His kilt was fine linen, pleated, tinted with gold, tied with the elaborate red sash. A leopard skin was draped across one side of the kilt. He wore the magnificent pectoral depicting Horus the Falcon on his chest, gold, coral and turquoise gleaming in the sun. Pharaoh’s cloak was red, trimmed in gold and bearing his cartouche skillfully embroidered, guarded by a falcon on one side and the cobra on the other. The ceremonial braided beard adorned his chin today, although normally he was clean shaven, like most of his male subjects. It was almost painful to behold Pharaoh in all his glory. As he walked along the line of marchers, people knelt and genuflected.

Tyema’s heart beat faster at the honor of participating in a procession with Pharaoh.
My astounding new cloak might be beautiful, but mere feathers can’t outshine a living Great One.

Paying the crocodile no heed, Nat-re-Akhte stopped for a moment beside her chair. “Are you ready for this, Lady Tyema?”

“Indeed, my lord. It’s all so much grander than I’d imagined, but the procession pays proper tribute to Sobek. Thank you.” She knew if Pharaoh hadn’t taken a personal interest in this ceremony, things would have been done on a much lesser scale.

He nodded. “An outstanding cloak, my dear, quite unusual. The priests of the Theban temples will have yet another reason to feel cast into the shade. And so they should.” He didn’t wait for an answer but walked to his own chair, separated from hers by heralds and standard bearers with the insignia of the Nomes of Egypt, the one for Nat-re-Akhte’s home province being foremost. The back of his chair was a glorious gilded rendition of the sun rising over the Nile. Uncut rubies set at the tip of each ray sparkled in the real sun as it rose higher. Six fan bearers took up position on either side of him as the burly litter bearers raised the chair high. In front of him soldiers stood ready to march, carrying his gold encrusted bow, shield and sword, accompanied by two handlers with Pharaoh’s snarling hunting leopards on leashes. Behind him was another miniature boat, elaborately constructed and painted, bearing an effigy of the god Horus, Pharaoh’s personal sponsor among the Great Ones. Depicted in falcon form, the statue was taller than a man, wings outspread, decorated in vibrant multicolored enamel and blue faience, with the head gold plated. Gleaming eyes, one a diamond and the other a yellow stone she couldn’t name, gazed upon the scene. Tyema knew Horus and Sobek maintained a friendly rivalry, so she could find no fault with the parade concluding on a tribute to Horus.

Pharaoh must have made some sign she missed because suddenly her litter was raised into the air. Tyema clutched the arms of her chair as the eighteen men carrying her and the crocodile adjusted their hold on the ebony poles to achieve maximum stability. She glanced at Sahure for reassurance and he grinned, giving her a raised thumb of support. Far ahead, at the beginning of the procession, she heard the blare of trumpets. From her new position, supported on the shoulders of the massive litter bearers, three men at each corner and on both sides in the middle, she could see movement in the ranks of marchers. She took a deep breath, knowing she had to stay calm to play her part in this pageant, and more importantly, to ensure the crocodile played his. So far the animal stayed locked in his regal pose, watching his surroundings with the deceptively lazy demeanor of his kind. The litter bearers closest to him exuded almost palpable fear, and she wished she’d had time to reassure the men the crocodile was firmly under her control.

Music began, a somber march supported by the rhythmic pounding of drums and then a moment later, her litter was in motion. As she was carried through the gates of the palace road onto the wide street, the roar of the assembled crowd made her blink. The roadway was lined with excited, expectant people, at least ten deep, come to see the parade and marvel. Tyema stared straight ahead as she’d been instructed by Edekh, although it seemed wrong not to acknowledge the people who’d come to watch. The cheers for Pharaoh were deafening. Nat-re-Akhte was a popular ruler, much beloved. She glanced back once, and saw him sitting straight and unsmiling, the picture of a Great One come to life. She was glad she’d met him in private prior to today, knew what a kind and thoughtful person he was, despite wearing the Two Crowns and being a god walking the earth.

The procession wove through Thebes along the path they’d all agreed to, passing the large temples of other Great Ones and coming to a halt in front of the somewhat less impressive building that was Sobek’s. As she arrived at the temple, Tyema saw the marchers who’d gone before her had dispersed to prearranged places beside the building, along the towering pillars inscribed with hieroglyphics extolling the powers of Sobek or in the square in front of the main entrance. Sobek’s cadre of priests had also regrouped, waiting to greet her.

Pharaoh was carried past her, directly to the stairs, which he alone ascended, so he stood above the crowd. His guards, heralds and attendants fanned out along the steps below him, creating a gorgeous pageantry, which drew the eye upward to the magnificence of Egypt’s ruler.

Pharaoh raised his arms, nodding his head solemnly to the four corners of the compass, showing the crowd the crook and flail. The cheering cut off abruptly in response to his unspoken command and Tyema heard people whispering as they jockeyed to get a better view, waiting to see what would happen next.

“People of Thebes, it pleases us to welcome the gift of Sobek to this, his temple,” Nat-re-Akhte said, projecting his voice to the crowd. He pointed the flail at Tyema, her cue to rise and sing.
 

Lost in the emotion of the moment, Tyema took a deep breath and launched into the song she’d insisted upon, an old and beautiful hymn to Sobek. She hoped her voice carried to the entire audience but all she could do was honor the god with the strength of her performance and other worries fell away. The applause when she finished was startling to her, but she supposed it must be the Theban custom.

The First Priest answered her song with one of his own, starting the verse in his own rather reedy voice and then being drowned out by the strong baritone chorus of his under priests, who stood ranked behind him. Lemertet sang the solo.

Pharaoh ascended the stairs and disappeared alone into the temple. Tyema knew he was going to join them at the pond. She sat down so her litter bearers could carry her and the still quiescent crocodile to their final destination of the morning. A much reduced set of marchers accompanied her around the side of the temple, through the gardens, to the pond, followed by an orderly crowd of Theban citizens. She’d been told a line of guards would cut off access once a certain number of lucky commoners had been admitted to the pool area.

Pharaoh was waiting, seated on his golden chair, held aloft by the seemingly tireless litter bearers.

As soon as the Theban priests took their places, Tyema’s bearers set her platform down with barely a thump. She descended from her perch, aided by Sahure, and mentally commanded the crocodile to accompany her to the edge of the pond, where the gate had been opened. He walked briskly, long tail sinuously weaving as he went. Hotepre fell in behind her, marching proudly. When they reached the pond, the crocodile suddenly spun, rose to his full height on stubby legs, showing off his rare purple underside, and bellowed.

Tyema sensed the people behind her falling back in fright, but Sahure stayed close, hand on the hilt of his sword. Hotepre laid a restraining hand on his arm. Tyema stepped forward, spread her hands in a calming gesture and addressed the crocodile. “Be welcomed to your new home, child of Sobek, and dwell here in peace for many years as ruler of this bask.” She sent the animal a firm thought of command, to enter the pond.

For the space of several heartbeats the crocodile stared at her, its yellow eyes gleaming. No one moved, the crowd was hushed. Tyema felt no fear, knowing herself secure in Sobek’s grace and protected from attack. She just had to persuade this suddenly stubborn animal to go where she wanted him to be. Pointing at the pond with one hand and cupping the other over the largest emerald in her ceremonial pectoral, Tyema sent Sobek a mental plea for assistance. Thunder rumbled above in the clear sky and the waters of the pond trembled, waves racing across its previously undisturbed surface. A blaze of green sparks from the emerald under her hand cascaded down her other arm like liquid lightning and flew to outline the crocodile as another thunderclap split the air. Still ablaze with the illusion of green flames sent by Sobek, the crocodile moved in a rapid circle, demonstrating how fast he could be if he so desired, eliciting screams and gasps from the crowd. He slid and slithered down the embankment, diving into the pond with a small splash.

Temple workers hurriedly closed the gate.

Tyema felt drained. Her knees seemed to have turned to water. Sahure stepped forward and put his arm around her, guiding her back to the chair on the litter. Dimly she heard the Theban priests chanting a benediction, but she was too worn out from the excitement, the effort of controlling the beast and the singing, to pay attention. She sat in the chair, which had been moved into the shade, and did her best to look as if she was properly attentive to the conclusion of the ceremonies. Sahure made sure the fan bearers stayed with her to keep a constant breeze flowing. All thought of singing any more chants herself had fled. Thankfully Lemertet concluded the ceremony without making any requests of her, only giving a graceful speech directed at her, in appreciation for her conducting the crocodile to Thebes.

“Pharaoh has departed so now we can depart as well,” Sahure said eventually. “Are you well enough to be taken to the palace in this litter? Do you need some wine to restore your strength first?”

“I should take my proper leave of the priests,” she said, hearing how thready her voice was.

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Stay here. I’ll bring Lemertet to you.”

“I think serving as the channel for Sobek’s power, to send the crocodile into the pond, wore me out.” Tyema tried to breathe deeply. “No ceremony has ever affected me so deeply before.”

“It was a spectacular effect,” Sahure agreed. “Hotepre, stay close to your priestess while I fetch Lemertet.”

He strode off, easily making his way through the thinning crowd of spectators and soon brought the jubilant under priest to speak with Tyema.

“This has been a once in a century day for our temple, thanks to you and your crocodile,” he said to Tyema, clasping her hand and kissing her cheek. “The offerings and sacrifices today have been unprecedented.”

“I’m glad we honored the god properly.” Tyema was a bit taken aback at so much discussion of the financial gain for the temple’s coffers.
 

“Of course, of course, and the song you insisted on was absolutely the right way to begin the ceremony here at the temple, quite a thrill for the crowd to hear one of the traditional paeans,” Lemertet said smoothly. “Will you stay for the feast?”

“Lady Tyema is expected at the palace.” Sahure’s voice was firm. He gestured to the eight waiting litter bearers and they took their places, preparing to lift her chair. The rest of the “barge” on which she and the crocodile had ridden had been taken away earlier, leaving only the special chair and a reduced contingent of men to carry her.

“Will we see you again before you depart Thebes?” Lemertet asked.

 
“In a few days perhaps. I’d like to come and see how the crocodile does,” she said.

“Any time.” The priest waved as she was carried away.

“Must we travel through the streets of the city?” she asked Sahure, dreading the idea of being a spectacle again.

“No, we’ll be taking side roads to the palace.” He leaned closer, tucking the cloak around her more efficiently. “Retracing our steps in the open would tend to lessen the drama of the earlier procession. And the feasting will be going on, which can get rowdy, out here in the city.”