A golden chalice that held the eternal flame floated above.
On either side of the Ben Ben, frightening statues of Anubis in his jackal form stood guard. It mesmerized Archollos so much that he put his hand out to touch the stone. The eyes on each statue flew open, and the jackals growled. The sound chilled us all to the marrow. Archollos, usually fearless, withdrew with a jerk and froze. The Orama whispered a magic incantation upon the guardians and they stilled themselves. Their eyes never left us. I saw one jackal curl his lip and show his fangs as a warning.
“Line up,” he instructed.
When ready, he recited the Liturgy to Atum-Ra. The esteemed Orama took his staff and pointed it to the sky. Great beams of cosmic radiance attuned each of us and we moaned to receive this gift from on high. Our cries of ecstasy belied the fact that these pulsations stunned our nervous systems. The down pouring heightened and just when we thought we couldn’t take anymore, it stopped.
“Prepare to receive your first Osirian Rite of Resurrection. The first veil around your body will be cleared of all distortion.” He summoned blue lightning which penetrated us through the top of our heads. We shook like thunder. It burned away all dross of the traumatic events we had encountered life after life. Purified. Reborn. Released.
“As Neophytes introduced into the greatest mysteries of all times, you have been renewed. All traces of contamination from impure Amun teachings are removed and you will pass with freedom through the Duat on your way to the heavenworlds. Welcome to the Inner Sanctum of Heliopolis.”
Perhaps Grand Djedti had listened to too many tales. I’d just received the most precious gift of eternal life from The Orama. Now, I could fulfill my destiny of becoming the High Priestess and save my family.
How could this path be perilous? Surely, she had been joking.
“O
ur spies tell us there was an uprising in Thebes. The Sesh yearn for the renewal of the rule of Amun,” said The Orama, flinching when the physician changed the bandage on his ulcerated leg.
“What have you heard?” asked Pentu as he peeled away the bloody linens.
The High Priest glanced toward me and raised his eyebrows.
“Merit-Aten is trustworthy. Her father has expressed that she be privy to all court affairs. You need not withhold information. She must understand the political and social threats being made.” Pentu examined the mottled skin and deep pockets of putrification.
“The Sesh crave the restoration of the worship of Amun because they do not understand how to pay tribute to the Aten. After all, the sun cannot be sailed up and down the Nile for festivals. It confuses them. They are an uneducated lot who miss the superstitions and fear imposed upon them for centuries.” The Orama bit his knuckle from the exposure of his wound to air. He patted his face to cool his burning flesh.
“How could they miss cruelty and oppression?” I asked.
“People become insensitive to it. The Aten offers freedom of worship and prosperity. Yet the Sesh may be incapable of governing themselves. Because they are now allowed so much freedom in Thebes, our military cannot control this rebellion. The people demand the return of the old religious dogma to help guide them.”
“The law is still the law,” I said, rising up. “The worship of Amun is banned. The Sesh will never be permitted to return to the old ways.”
The Orama offered a tight smile and appeared to choose his words carefully. “Khemit does not have enough armed forces available to keep the entire nation under surveillance, Your Majesty. What the Sesh do within the seclusion of their mudbrick huts would be a formidable task to legislate. They could have twenty idols gracing their altars, so should we destroy every flea-bitten shelter for justice? If the masses ever rose against us, who do you think would win?”
I sat down humbled. I had never considered that we didn’t have the power to make everyone honor the Aten. What if the Sesh weren’t content having free schools for their
akh
, or free medical care to aid them when ill? How could taking care of the needs of our country cause its citizens to revolt?
“About this uprising in Thebes, tell us more,” urged Pentu.
“My spies intercepted a messenger from Aziru of Amurru, who sent repeated pleas for the reinforcement of archers to defend Babylon. His urgent requests were not answered by Pharaoh Akhenaten, so he redirected his appeal to the Hanuti banished to Aswan.”
“This is most disconcerting.” Despite his words, Pentu remained unruffled.
The Orama fanned himself, in an attempt to cool his reddened face.
“Aziru will join allegiance with the Hanuti and Amunites of Thebes if they can raise a militia to defend his city.”
“I thought by imprisoning those three in the rock quarry we would be done with them,” said Pentu.
The Orama leaned forward. “Not to worry, the one who received Aziru’s request was discovered using black magic to contact the others. You could say he had an unfortunate accident and broke his neck.”
“Let me guess, was it Ases-Amun?” asked Pentu.
“No, Mery-Ptah.”
“Oh, no!” I said, feeling light-headed and ill. Sit-Amun would unleash her rage upon the Atenists, or, even worse, my family. Of all people, how could her lover have wested?
The men turned toward me.
“I meant, oh, no, someone had to die, and you know how my father does not want anyone to suffer,” I said, trying to cover my outburst.
“We cannot take chances. If Aziru does influence any of the Hanuti or the Amun priests to assist him, it could be bad,” replied The Orama.
“And what do the Amunites ask for in return?” I asked.
“That information has not come forth.” The Orama shifted in his chair. “But, based upon the divination of the stars, there may be a great upheaval of power. Antagonism could come from an unexpected enemy.”
“Female or male?” asked Pentu. “Is it conjuncting the Moon or the Sun?”
“It could be a person, a group, or a neighboring country. But a civil war could start if this situation is not revealed and remedied.”
I shook my head. “The Aten has no enemies. We are at peace with all.
The Aten embraces everyone.”
“Your Majesty, while the three of us venerate The Atenic Laws, others do not uphold the integrity of unitive consciousness.” Pentu patted my hand. “Until we can educate and wrench the masses from the former shadow of tyranny, we must accept that polarity still exists in Khemit. While it is indeed true, Your Majesty that we have no enemies, those who live in darkness will undermine the beauty of what your father aspires to create.”
“How can I help?” I felt utter despair.
Pentu smiled. “Your job is to pass these initiations and join your father in ruling Khemit.”
“These troubles are not your concern, nor your responsibility,” said The Orama. “We will uncover the traitors. You must remain faithful to your studies and the training we offer.”
Pentu put an arm about my shoulders. “Now, it would be wise for you to attend this evening’s ritual.”
“What will we be doing tonight?”
“Tonight is the
Ritual of the Last Breath
,” said Pentu with care.
He let the secret slip. I gloated. I must be getting better at asking. Then it hit me. “Last Breath? As in another lesson from the Book of Breathing?”
“No, Your Majesty,” said Pentu.
Pentu and The Orama exchanged quick glances but remained silent. I felt I should push hard. Something in me told me I should know what was coming.
“Pentu, I wish to know more.”
The Orama tapped his nose in thought. “I make it a strict rule that initiations never be revealed. The mind will chatter with fear, giving all the reasons why one would fail. Then the entire reason for giving the initiation becomes polluted and distorted. But Pentu and I have had many discussions about whether this particular one should be revealed to you.”
“Why?” I asked, and then trembled.
“We base many of the other initiations upon the skills you have acquired. For this one there is no training and it is emotionally difficult for most Neophytes, yet it is a necessity for the afterlife,” said The Orama. “Do you wish to know or would you prefer we keep it a secret?”
Well, that was like carving a hole in a water bucket and expecting no one to notice as water gushed out. “I wish to know.” A shiver ran down my spine.
Pentu reached for my elbow to steady me.
“Your Highness, you and your class will be entering the
Room of Soul Reflection
. You will witness your own deaths in this lifetime.”
“Pentu, why would anyone want their future foretold in that manner?”
“This is part of your path as a Neophyte in the Temple of Heliopolis. You relive how you die, then witness how your body turns to dust in order to learn to move into the higher realms after death. More important, it is arrogant to be so attached to your body that you cannot let it go upon your final breath. Many beings get stuck here upon their westing.”
I remembered all the souls that had been stuck in their bodies along the Nile. I at least had tried to help them. What if no one freed me? “What if I die in a horrible manner? I could not bear to relive that pain. I have nearly died by an assassin’s arrow, the High Priest of Osiris’s scepter, and then a poisonous snake. The others will most likely live a long life. For me, I cannot be sure.”
“And that is why we decided to reveal this initiation to you alone. We are aware of your unusual talents and that you may try to…” The Orama paused, “change the outcome of what you see.”
“Could I?” I asked, feeling relieved.
“No!” boomed The Orama. “If you alter your destiny and your moment of death, then you will be banned from Amentii and be forced to walk for all eternity in the underworld.” I shuddered.
“We tried to warn and guide you,” said The Orama.