Theodosia and the Last Pharoah (29 page)

I looked down at the unconscious little monkey. Who was more deserving than the pharaoh's loyal pet?

I got up out of my blankets and saw that Major Grindle had left the tent already. I wasn't particularly worried, as he and Khalfani had been talking almost nonstop ever since learning of their matching marks. Probably exchanging war stories or battle tips, I thought.

Using the last of the water in the pitcher, I washed, ate a cold piece of flatbread, then went to collect Sefu. I wrapped the monkey in a blanket, tucked him close to my chest, then went to the tent flap and peeked out.

There were a number of people about, all of them busy with their morning chores. Hopefully they wouldn't notice me. Or if they did, they'd be too in awe of a Rekhet to stop me.

As I headed for the temple, I kept my eyes down and ignored the occasional curious glance that came my way. I entered the vestibule and wound a path among the columns of Hypostyle Hall until I came to a small door on the right that led to the sanitarium—the ancient room of healing. I paused at the door. "Hello?" I called out, but there was no reply. There didn't seem to be any doctors about, nor
sem
priests, nor attendants of any kind. Still, the door had been opened and unlocked. Cautiously, I stepped over the threshold.

It felt as if I had passed through a shower of minuscule sparks, their burn cool and clean rather than fierce like the heat of fire.

The room held a small healing bath filled with water, which sat in the middle of the room. On either side of that was a row of three beds, all empty. On the far wall was a long table, above which stood shelves and cupboards. The wall closest to me had an alcove with three statues. The first was Sekhmet, the goddess of fire and destruction. It had always seemed odd to me that she was the goddess who had brought the plague and general destruction but was also in charge of healing. The next two statues were of Thoth and Horus. Thoth had taught the healing arts to mankind and Horus was the god Thoth had so spectacularly healed that it had inspired one of the most powerful amulets ever—the wedjat eye. Along the foot of the statues ran rows of hieroglyphs.

I gently laid Sefu down on the bed closest to the shelves, then went back to the statues to read the inscriptions at their bases. I was in luck! These were just like the statues back at our museum, the ones that had come from the sanitarium at Dendera. Those statues had been inscribed with healing rituals and spells. I chose the spell on the Horus statue, thinking his sort of miraculous healing would best correspond with Sefu's problem.

Prepare an ink made of honey, the juice from a flaming red poppy, and sour wine. Mix thoroughly.

I stopped there and got up to examine the shelves. I had seen two mortars and pestles sitting on the table. Since this was a working temple, perhaps the sanitarium cupboards contained some of the ingredients I would need.

The cupboards turned out to be a veritable treasure trove of ancient Egyptian healing ingredients! There were jars and vessels, small bowls and tiny boxes, filled with all manner of strange things. Small hieroglyphic labels were affixed to each of them. Bat dung, crocodile urine, lettuce milk, honey, fly dung, ostrich dung, scorpion venom, lotus seeds, hippopotamus dung, ibis dung. (Who knew so many different types of dung had healing properties? Although I must confess to being grateful that the spell I was working with did not require any.)

I removed the three ingredients I needed and carefully poured them into one of the mortars, then began stirring it with the pestle. When it was well mixed, I went back to the statue to read the rest of the instructions. (Honestly, they should have placed the statues closer to the workspace, for efficiency's sake.) I knelt at Horus's feet to read what came next.

Using a new reed, dip it into the prepared ink, then write the following spell on the inside of a clay bowl. When the spell has dried, pour water from the healing bath into the bowl. Swirl nine times, then have the patient drink it.

I glanced over at the poor unconscious form of Sefu. I wasn't sure how I was going to get him to drink it, but I'd cross that bridge when I came to it. I got back to my feet and returned to the worktable. There was an entire stack of unused clay bowls on one shelf, so I helped myself to one of those. Next I searched in a drawer for an unused reed. The hardest part was remembering the beastly spell. I'd write three words, then forget it and have to return to the statue to refresh my memory. I finally got so vexed that I carried the whole thing over and worked at the foot of the statue, just to save time.

At last it was finished. But how long did it need to dry, I wondered?

A shuffling step outside in the hall drew my attention. I looked at the door, holding my breath to see if whoever it was would come in here. I was not doing anything wrong, I reminded myself. Besides, I was Rekhet. Surely that stood for
something.

An old man came to a stop just inside the doorway. He was dressed in a traditional peasant robe and held a staff in his right hand. That's when I noticed that his eyes were cloudy and he held his head at an alert angle.

"Hullo," I said, not wanting to startle him.

He turned his head in the direction of my voice, confirming my suspicion that he was blind.

"Greetings," he said, coming more fully into the room. "Are you the new
senau
priestess, then?"

"Oh no! Not at all. In fact, I'm hoping no one minds that I'm in here."

"Are you ill, then?"

"No, my, er, friend is." I looked over my shoulder at Sefu, then back at the old man. "Actually, he's a pet, not a person, but he belonged to Gadji—I mean, the young pharaoh—so I don't think the gods will mind, do you? I mean, they used to mummify monkeys, once upon a time, so surely they won't think it wrong if I'm trying to heal one?"

"I should not think so," he said, shuffling farther into the room.

"Oh, here, let me help you." I hurried forward, gently took his elbow, and steered him to the bed next to Sefu's. "Is there something I can get for you? Or help you prepare?" I asked.

His face creased in puzzlement. "Prepare?"

"You know." I gestured toward my face, then realized he couldn't see me. "For your eyes," I whispered.

"Ah." His face cleared. "These old eyes can wait. Tell me what you have tried so far on your small friend."

I told him of the ink and the spell I'd written on the inside of the bowl. "Only—only he's unconscious and I can't figure out how to get the potion into him."

"Perhaps I could be of some help with that." He put his staff down on the bed. "If you were to place him in my arms and show me where his mouth is, I could hold it open for you, and then we might get some down his throat?"

"Oh yes, that would be perfect," I said. "Thank you so much!" I hurried over to Sefu's bedside, gathered him up in my arms, then carried him over to the old man. "Here you go," I said. "Hold your arms closer together—he's very small," I explained.

The old man took the monkey gently in his arms, cradling the head in the crook of his elbow. "Show me where his mouth is."

"Here." I placed my hand on his, then carefully guided it to Sefu's cheeks.

"So if I squeeze like this, does his mouth open?"

"Yes! That's perfect. Hold it just like that." I hurried to fetch the bowl. I poured water from the healing bath into the bowl and swirled it carefully nine times. Then I returned to the old man and tentatively began dribbling the potion down Sefu's throat. It was painfully slow going. The monkey's mouth was small and the bowl quite large. It took forever to get all of it down his gullet, but at last we were finished. "That's the last drop," I said, then put the bowl down.

"That is good, for I fear his stomach might pop if we were to give him any more." The man reached down and very gently patted Sefu's stomach, then held the monkey out to me.

"Thank you ever so much," I said, taking Sefu from him. I stared down at the monkey. "I have no idea how long it will take to work, do you?"

The old man shook his head.

"Would you like me to help you now? I could, you know. All you have to do is tell me what you need and I can mix it up for you. Or I can see if there is a seeing spell on the Thoth statue. Or perhaps it would be the Horus statue," I mused.

"No, child, I am fine, but thank you for your offer."

An uncomfortable feeling came over me. "You didn't come here to be healed, did you?"

He smiled and shook his head, and as I looked at his cloudy eyes, I knew. He was the Seer of Maat. It made sense in a perfectly ancient Egyptian sort of way—in order to see the truth, you had to be blind to the distractions of the physical world.

Before I could confirm my suspicion, there was a strange rumbling sound. I looked down in time to see Sefu struggle to sit up, and then a veritable gusher of water erupted from his mouth.

"It sounds as if it's working," the old man said dryly.

"It is!" I said. I was so happy, I didn't even mind having to clean up what Sefu had just spewed forth. However, by the time I was done, the old man had disappeared.

I felt bad about that and hoped I hadn't offended him. However, I was thrilled with my success. Before long, Sefu began to chatter quietly to himself, and I knew he would make it. I lifted him in my arms and carried him off to show Safiya. It wasn't exactly her brother, but it was a hopeful sign.

CHAPTER THIRTY

The Seer of Maat

T
HE NEXT MORNING
the word came down that the Seer of Maat was ready to address the wedjadeen. We ate a hurried breakfast (me feeding most of mine to Sefu, who was ravenous). When we were done, Safiya arrived and announced that we'd need to undergo rites of purification before being allowed into the presence of the Seer of Maat. She headed for the door and motioned for us to follow.

"But what about Sefu?" I asked. "Can he come, too?"

Safiya shook her head. "I am sorry, but no. Nothing made from animals may pass into the birthing room."

Birthing room! That part sounded promising. I didn't think they'd execute us in something called the birthing room. I told Sefu to stay. Since the food wasn't leaving, he showed no inclination to follow us.

Safiya led us to the temple complex, past the pylons to the sacred lake. I had a horrible moment when I thought she was going to have Major Grindle and me take a bath together in the lake, but instead, she simply bade us to remove our shoes and wade through the shallow waters, cleansing our feet of the worldly dust that clung to them.

The water swirled at my ankles and lapped against my shins. There was a faint tingling sensation, as if I were wading through the soda water Father puts in his whiskey sometimes.

At the thought of Father, a sharp stab of homesickness sliced through me, and I realized I would have given just about anything to be back in London, in our museum, with Mother and Father and even Henry all around me. I refused to entertain the idea that I would never see them again.

I stepped out of the sacred lake onto a square of pure white linen, then into a pair of sandals made from reeds. Two lector priests showed Major Grindle to his changing room, while Safiya and another girl escorted me to mine.

Inside the small changing room, I saw that they had a large basin of water, presumably from the sacred lake. I stepped out of my gown, then stood shivering in my petticoat—not from cold, mind you, but from sheer nerves. They dipped linen cloths in the water and made as if to wash me with them. I leaped aside. "I can do it myself!" I said. Honestly, I hadn't had anyone wash me since I was two years old! I snatched the wet cloth from Safiya's hand and began scrubbing at my face and neck. When they were clean, I dipped my arms into the basin up to the elbows and scrubbed some more. I insisted that both girls turn around before I would wash anything else.

When they had, I did a quick, thorough job of it, then hastily slipped into the pure linen shift they had laid out for me. I hesitated for a moment, then searched for a pocket of some sort. I daren't be without my Babel stone. Not when so much could be at stake. Surely I needed to understand every word spoken.

But the wretched shift had no pockets. In the end, I decided to stick the stone between my foot and the sandal, and I'd just be sure to shuffle my feet. Before I could tell the girls to turn around, a strange sound came from far off, as if someone had dropped hundreds of dried peas onto the floor.

"That is the summons. It is time." Safiya straightened my shift and fussed with my hair one last time. She dismissed the other girl, then came and put her hands on my shoulders. "No matter what happens, I know that you did all in your power to help my brother. I, as well as the gods, will always be grateful for that." Then she kissed me on both cheeks, took me by the hand, and led me out into the hall to the doorway of the birthing room. Major Grindle was already there and waiting for me, a lector priest on either side of him. He looked quite different in his white vestal robes, but no less commanding a presence. His wedjat eye showed quite plainly. All for the better, I thought.