Shadow of the Sun (The Shadow Saga) (57 page)

“Who else is available? Can we find Tuat or Shemat to assist?”

“Tuat left for her village yesterday and Shemat is celebrating at the Hathor Festival. If she has already consumed beer, she will not be allowed to enter the Per Akh and help. You know the rules,” said the assistant.

“Then I shall take on tonight’s responsibilities,” I said, my voice stronger than I felt. “Hopefully, we will not be too busy. Has that noblewoman arrived yet?”

She shook her head. “No. Perhaps tomorrow.”

I went back to Rennutet’s room.

“Where were you?” she asked. “I do not want to be alone.” Her pale and angular face showed signs of lack of sleep.

I cooled her brow. “I am sorry, dear one, there has been an accident and I am the only one on duty tonight. Let me see if we can move your baby down farther. I have three who will deliver immediately. I will be back as soon as I am able.” I worried that Rennutet’s strength would fade if she labored long.

An assistant peeked her head in. “Merit-Aten, I need to see you.”

“Yes?”

“The noblewoman has arrived, and I put her in the Opulent Room.”

“Is she well into her labor?”

“I am not skilled enough to answer that,” replied the assistant, “but there is a problem.”

“I shall assess her condition,” I said, and hurried down the hall. My headdress flapped at my cheeks and kept my long hair back from my face. Thankfully, my simple blue sheath wasn’t too soiled to present myself with dignity to a Khemitian noble woman. My childhood royal finery had become a distant memory. Before entering the Opulent Room, I brushed my sheath and cleared my throat, preparing to humble myself and be in service to the upper class women who frequented these halls. These privileged few ordered us around like we were common household slaves.

I pulled back the heavy curtain and saw a broad-shouldered man with his back to me hovering in front of my new patient. The bull wore the royal insignia of the Pharonic guard.

“Greetings,” I said. “I am here to serve.”

“Hurry, there is something wrong. She bleeds.” The man said, glancing over his shoulder. “There, there, my beauty. Our child will be fine,” he whispered to his consort.

“Let us move her to the cot so that I may examine her.” He scooped up his love with those muscular arms, “Please, please help her.”

“General Horemheb?” I asked as my eyes popped. I hadn’t seen him for over two years. His intense masculine presence within the Per Akh sacred birthing chambers seemed unnatural. How could an uninitiated man be allowed to enter the womb of Hathor?

“Merit-Aten, is that you?” he said, swinging his consort around so I could see her face. “How fortuitous. Dear One, look who is here.”

Shocked, all that came out of my mouth was, “Meti?”

“I
need a midwife now,” Meti said, shielding her face. It was obvious that she sought someone else. Someone with more experience than her firstborn daughter.

“I am the midwife on duty. I assure you, Meti, I am well trained,” I said, noting her mistrust.

“My little wildcat, this is no time to demand your way. Let your daughter examine you. It would be safer than calling another midwife,” said Horemheb.

“Very well,” she said through gritted teeth.

The General laid her upon the cot. Her sheath was shiny with blood.

“How far along are you?” I asked.

Meti glanced at Horemheb. “Nearly six months.”

Was that why she had refused to return to Akhet-Aten? Netri would be so worried.

“General, perhaps you would feel more comfortable outside,” I said, trying to allow us the privacy for an examination.

He stood up. “I should make sure the Festival Of Hathor proceeds with order.”

“If you dare visit those Maidens of Amem, if I so much as smell that cheap perfume upon you, I shall have your tongue cut off.” Meti’s glowering eyes promised that she would make good on her word.

Horemheb snorted. “I shall return to check upon you.” He swaggered away, and I could see the yellow flames of ego and strong will within his belly fighting her orange flames of sexual desire and need.

Meti sighed. “I do not feel well. I fell down the gang plank this afternoon on the General’s barge. It hurts. Will I lose the baby?”

“Meti, I cannot say for certain, but I am concerned. I need to call for clean linen.”

Just then an attendant beckoned outside the curtains. “May I see you?”

“Yes?” I asked.

“The noblewoman has arrived and she demands to use the Opulent Room. She said that she reserved it,” replied the attendant.

“That is odd,” I replied. “Meti, did you reserve this room?”

“Of course not. How could I have known this accident would occur?”

“The authority of the Per Aat outranks any Khemitian noblewoman,” I replied.

“No. I do not want to make a fuss,” Meti said, with caution.

I looked at her suspiciously. “That has never been a problem before. Why not claim the Opulent Room? It is the grandest suite in Denderah.”

“Because I hope not to draw attention to my circumstances. You can see this child is the fruit of General Horemheb’s loins, not of your father’s.”

I stared at her, speechless.

“Is the room available or not?” screamed an angry woman.

“Yes. Tell whoever it is she can have it. Is there another way out?” Meti asked.

“Yes, the attendant’s door is through that small flap.”

I helped her outside just as I heard an entourage of people push their way in. Once Meti settled into a much plainer room, I assessed her. When I examined her abdomen, there was no little light. The baby had died. Then I remembered the thymus gland determines whether a mother will keep her child.

“Meti, please forgive me,” I said and sent a blue electrical pulse through her thymus gland.

She grabbed her belly. “What is happening?”

“I am sorry. The child in your womb has died. You must expel it. I shall be right back.”

I ran to Rennutet, who was squatting on the bricks, covered in blood, and wailing.

Fear embroiled me. “Rennutet, what is wrong?”

“I do not feel well,” she said.

“Let me examine you.” I felt the baby’s head crown. Rennutet’s belly tightened with another contraction.

“I do not feel strong enough to push,” said Rennutet weakly.

“You must try! Do you understand me? If you do not expel this child, you are both doomed to west. I cannot shield you from the truth.” I looked at the fragile girl. Above her head, the death portal formed. I remembered that Pentu had warned me not to interfere again.

The attendant gave a worried look. “Merit-Aten, the people in the Opulent Room demand to see the acting midwife.”

“Is the woman laboring?” I asked.

“Her expansions are far apart. But you really should come.”

“I am delivering a baby right at this moment, and I shall see them in a short while.”

Rennutet hemorrhaged. She squatted as her life spilled out between her legs. She would soon rejoice to be free of physical form. Rennutet screamed. Her ragged breath caught. “Dear Friend, declare the Lustration of the Invocation to the Rites of Osiris.”

She called me a dear friend. I had never had a dear friend before. Why was it when I opened my heart to someone they left me? And usually by death. Tears threatened, but I willed them away. I had to be strong.

“Push hard,” I ordered.

With the last bit of energy she could summon, the fragile girl expelled her tiny daughter into the light. I held the babe close to her mother so their two hearts could say goodbye. I waited for the placenta. The blood coursed harder. The placenta emerged, and so did Rennutet’s uterus. I held her hand as the life drained from her body.

“Let me go this time,” she whispered. “I should never have easted into this world. Perhaps I only came forth to bear this daughter.”

Now I allowed those silent tears to come. I looked down at my dear friend’s bloody newborn and saw her as she truly was. “She is beautiful and she glows golden. Like Hathor, she too is the daughter of Ra. The power of the Cosmic Light of your initiations is evident in her constitution.

Go forth, Rennutet. Safe passage. Return to your divine celestial essence.”

I commenced the Lustration of the Invocation and as I said the last word, Rennutet’s peaceful spirit escaped through the door I opened. Tears dripped down my cheeks. My friend would be happy at last.

“The woman in the Opulent Room demands your attention,” said the attendant.

Why tonight when I was the only one here? My legs felt weak.

“And the woman you sent down to the far room is calling for you,” the attendant continued.

“Find a wet-nurse and care for this child until I return,” I said. “She is dear to my heart.”

I raced back to Meti’s room and saw that she had refused to allow anyone else to assist her. The Per Aat of all Khemit crumpled over; her kohl liner smeared her cheeks. “I cannot believe my baby died,” she said sorrowfully.

“It is the will of Aten.” I put my arm around her. “It was not strong enough to enter into this world, and we must send its soul back to the celestial abode.”

A short while later Meti birthed a thin, lifeless baby.