Shadow of the Sun (The Shadow Saga) (3 page)

The dwarf chanted, oblivious to my danger. “Praise be to Hathor. Deity of fertility. Dearest Mother who resembles the rising morning star. Fair of skin. Eyes of bright. We call unto the East winds to ease this child from your womb.”

No! It is too soon to begin the ritual—the physician has not yet arrived. Help me!

A dignified man with a shorn head dashed into the room. “Your Majesty.” The Physician collected himself, then bowed.

“Praise be that you showed up to oversee this delivery. I almost assigned your Royal Physician duty to someone else.”

“I would not disobey you.” The Physician quelled her fiery wasp-sting with his confident yet quiet manner as the Queen relaxed. He purified his hands in the alabaster water bowl.

Beads of sweat dampened my mother’s naked body and the candlelight glistened upon it without shame. Nefertiti grabbed Hep-Mut’s arm. Childbirth could either be joyous or fatal. All mothers faced the possibility that the new life within might also destroy them, even here in Khemit, the most civilized and prosperous land in the world.

“Will I be well, Physician?” Tears filled Nefertiti’s eyes. “Where is my amulet?”

“You will be well indeed, even without it,” he said.

“My mother died after easting my younger sister.” Nefertiti winced. “It still haunts me. Please find my amulet.” Her brow furrowed. The contractions heightened with the intensity of a belt suddenly cinched too tight. I flinched and kicked inside my mother’s womb as the slick rope coiled around my neck.

“Nonsense,” said Queen Ti-Yee. “You have no need for some horse dung talisman sprinkled with boar piss. Pentu is the finest physician in the land. I will not tolerate any of those old superstitions. You are at court now in Khemit.”

Hep-Mut, the dwarf, pushed a small statue of Bes into my mother’s hand. No one else noticed. Nefertiti, only fourteen-years old, would have her first initiation into the birthing mysteries. A red drapery, strung between colossal granite pillars of the private Opulent Room, could not deflect the screams of agony of the neighboring mothers in middelivery here at the Per-Akh Birth House.

I did not want her to suffer because of me.

Pentu leaned closer to Nefertiti’s ear. “Think of these pains as expansions rather than contractions.”

“Expansions,” said Mother, remembering her birthing lessons.

“Do not give in to the pain,” said Queen Ti-Yee, softening her tone. “Now, pray to the All Loving Aten for the life you are about to expel. Translate this pain into pleasure.”

Mother focused on opening the tight lotus flower in her core to unfurl its petals and release me. The dwarf eased her into a squatting position on the bricks.

“Turn her to the East,” Queen Ti-Yee commanded.

This time Mother welcomed the pain and met it rather than fought it. Her contractions pummeled my tiny body. The dark constricted wetness, both a womb and a tomb, engulfed and terrified me. Soft moans escaped my mother’s lips. The first wave of orgasm overtook her senses and the deep guttural moans of the intensity of pleasure spilled out. Her whole body spasmed. My mother’s shoulders and hips rolled like the Nile River in a storm. I felt relieved she was no longer in misery.

I shuddered, then merged with the ecstasy. Warm tingles shot up my spine and colors exploded in front of my eyes and penetrated my being. How glorious. I didn’t want it to end. As with all babies, when my head crowned, a golden light burst forth from the womb, inseeding my soul with a protective light. I prayed my Mother would nourish both my body and soul in this life and allow me to fulfill my destiny.

“Push hard, for I believe the head will be quite large,” the Physician said. The dwarf massaged my mother’s stomach to move my head down, but the double wrapped cord was murdering me. The Physician manipulated the birth canal to ease out my skull. Pressure built up. I felt faint. Oh, what if I wested before I birthed?

“Hep-Mut, something is amiss,” said Pentu, in his physician-calm tone. The dwarf struggled to unwind the thick cord.

“The baby is turning blue,” said the dwarf.

Sweat poured from Nefertiti’s brow. “What… is wrong?” she panted. “We have to wait until the next expansion to free the shoulders,” said Pentu.

It felt like forever before my shoulders popped out. My heart rate plummeted and I was chilled to my core.

“A girl,” said Hep-Mut. She caught me, then unwrapped the rest of the cord and waited until it quit pulsing. “I cannot sever it too soon or she will gasp for air all her life.”

Queen Ti-Yee bent over to examine me. “She does not look right. Did the cord damage her?”

The Physician massaged my back and felt my pulse. “Put her upon her mother’s chest. Heart against heart. Pray to the Aten that she will live.” Live? But I had just been birthed. I felt so weak that if I didn’t cling to life, I’d be pulled back to the celestial world I’d just left. What if I failed to save my family, or worse, what if the Aten worship wouldn’t begin? This Birth House stunk of the stench of urine mixed with a dank humidity and made me gag. I coughed from the thick incense invading my lungs.

Mother gasped. “An elongated head?”

“A highly unusual child, like her father,” said Pentu. “This head, this birth, heralds the first solarian child. The birth of the age of Aten. It is the fortuitous sign we have been waiting for. She must live.”

“Then it is true? Blessed be the Age of Light.” Tears of joy spilled down Queen Ti-Yee’s cheeks. She put a hand to her throat, which, I noticed, pulsated with a brilliant blue light. “We have waited so long. Now, this dark reign of Amun terror can end.”

The Physician, the dwarf, and Queen Ti-Yee joined together in mindful prayer with hearts and hands united. Swirls of radiant color pulsated from their bodies. Indigo, violet, blue, green, red and orange lights enveloped me. Because of my mother’s orgasmic bliss, I could see colors around others. Could everyone do this? At that moment, the world seemed so beautiful and safe. I desired to remain. I desired to fulfill my duty. I sputtered.

“She breathes.” Pentu sighed. “Though her heartbeat and breathing are not strong.”

The loving energy in the room shifted with a jolt. A stern female barged through the door.

“Greetings, Ti-Yee. Is it a boy?” The harsh woman peered down at my body. Everyone knew full-well that sons would rule, but firstborn daughters were desired to pass on the lineage.

The Queen reeled back. “Daughter, why are you here in Denderah at a birthing house?

“Because I need to know whether the child is a boy or a girl. And just because you raised me does not make you my mother. I will always first honor the woman who brought me into this world even though childbirth stole her life.” Sit-Amun folded her arms across her chest. The Queen grimaced. “Sit-Amun, it is a girl but this is a most inconvenient time.”

Sit-Amun drew closer. “You may be my brother, the Pharaoh’s Chief Royal Wife, but I am still his First Wife, and was awarded the title of Great Royal Wife, too. I have the right to visit anywhere. Let me see her.”

The golden ray of light that poured in from the top of my head subsided and the glorious colors withdrew. A shiver ran up my spine. I didn’t want the demanding woman near me. Her cold heart terrified me.

Pentu rose to protect me. “It is not wise to touch her yet. She has had a difficult birth. Give the baby some time.”

“Let me hold her.” Sit-Amun’s eyes narrowed into caves of darkness. “I could administer healing energies.”

Mother trembled. “What would a barren woman know about babies? It is bad luck.”

“We do not need your magic here.” Queen Ti-Yee frowned at her younger opponent.

“As the Court Physician, I do not think the baby should be removed from her mother’s breast.”

“Nonsense.” Sit-Amun reached for me without warning. “I only want to give the
akh
, your child, my blessing.”

I saw those large hands grabbing for me and recoiled. When her fingernails grazed my skin, an electrical blue impulse burst from my body.

Sit-Amun shrieked as the blue charge shocked her. She shrank back and blew upon her singed fingertips. “It is this child you should worry for, not I.”

“Leave, Sit-Amun.” Ti-Yee pointed toward the door. “You are not allowed near this child.”

Sit-Amun left in a huff.

Mother grabbed the physician’s sleeve. “Did you see that blue light?”

He nodded then scratched his head hard.

The vigor of that current made my heart beat strong. That sudden burst of energy renewed me, and life coursed through my body. Hep-Mut prayed aloud, “Bless this daughter. New Mistress, I pray that you do not beat me. I shall give you years of good service in exchange for loaves of bread and jugs of beer.”

“Hush now, Dwarf.” Queen Ti-Yee wagged a finger. “You dare not bring those fool-worthy superstitions into this birthing house. You have never been beaten and you acquired a taste for wine from my finest vineyards and grow fat from the Royal Cook’s meals.”

The dwarf guided my mother’s nipple toward my mouth while my grandmother Ti-Yee said the ancient prayers.

“Just as the symbol of the
Djed
represents the pillar or family tree, you will be a strong branch. I shall teach you our history,” said Ti-Yee. “You will carry on this lineage.”

Hep-Mut yanked the curtains away from the high window, encouraging the morning sun to stream in. Something glittered, which caught my eye. Inside a long niche in the wall stood a golden statue of a man with a stiff engraved beard. Both arms were thrust down by his side, his fists clutching two ankhs, the circle on top of a cross. A cloud of flies buzzed around it.

I kicked my feet and burbled, “Mmmmmmmm.”

“Your first sound,” said Mother. “M is a strong letter, so according to ritual, her name must begin with an M. But what if Sit-Amun is right? Should I be fearful for this child’s life?”

“Nonsense. She will be a leader.” Ti-Yee’s eyes shifted to the Physician.

“An elongated head could mean trouble,” said Hep-Mut.

“No, it means she is the prophecy.” Queen Ti-Yee’s lips pulled taut. Mother tilted her head, deep in thought. “Merit,” she decreed. “Her new title will be Merit-Aten, the Beloved of Aten.”