kingand not me. From the disapproval that radiated from Rashidi, I wondered if he suspected otherwise.
A flutter of white nearby sucked our attention toward the entrance.
“Hemi!” Merit drew up short and stood framed in the chamber entrance. She wore no heavy wig tonight, and her hair floated about her face. Her fingers drifted to her throat. “What are you doing here?”
I bowed to my love and the Great Wife. “I brought a sacrifice. I will ask the gods to restore ma’at after the death of Mentu.”
Rashidi led the goat into the shadows, and his voice wove its way back to us. “Ma’at cannot be restored when those the gods appoint refuse to obey.”
Merit and I watched the darkness where Rashidi had seemed to evaporate. She finally spoke. “He has always been strange, hasn’t he?”
I moved back toward the brazier, longing for the heat to penetrate my chilled bones. “Did you also come to offer a sacrifice?”
Merit sighed and studied the statue of Amun, seated on his throne, in the recessed wall. “I came to offer my questions.”
I rubbed damp palms together and faced her. “It is not easy to know the will of the gods.”
Merit slid beside me, her eyes still on Amun, touched my forearm with her four fingertips, and kept them there.
“Do you ever doubt, Hemi?” she said. “Doubt everything we have been taught about the gods?”
I tried not to move, so as not to disturb her fingers, and hoped that Rashidi was occupied with the goat. The familiar warmth spread from her touch, loosening the ever-present tension between us.
“I have more doubts than certainties, I’m afraid.” My mouth felt dry.
Her eyes roamed my face, and her other hand joined the first on my arm. “What doubts? Tell me.” She stood so close that the night’s chill now fled.
“The afterlife is promised if our hearts are pure,” I whispered. “But I know no one whose heart is pure.”
“Yes!” Her eyes lit with a conspiratorial glow. “It seems a futile hope, from the womb! How can we go on hoping to reach the afterlife, when in the honesty of our souls, we know we are unworthy?” A desert breeze worked its way into the temple and lifted wisps of her hair from her face. “And they are ever changing, the gods. So many, all competing. Atum for our parents. Ra for us.” She stared up at me, eyes bright. “Do you ever wish for one god who does not change, Hemi?”
Looking down at her there, with her fiery eyes and her beautiful lips, I felt myself in grave danger. I stumbled backward and let her hands fall. “I try to focus on a different kind of eternity, Merit. Pharaoh’s pyramid will be my immortality.”
Her chin dropped to her chest at the mention of Khufu. It is always this way with us, when we encounter each other alone unexpectedly. We pretend for a few moments that it is only the two of us. Then one mentions Khufu, and the spell is broken.
“He thinks of nothing else, either,” Merit said, a sadness in her voice. “He is frantic to see it finished as soon as possible. He flies into a fury when he hears of a delay.”
“Even Pharaoh fears his mortality.”
Rashidi appeared beside us again, as though summoned from the dust by the gods. He held a large alabaster bowl of raw meat andentrails. Merit wrinkled her nose, then turned away. “I must return to the palace. The Beloved of Ra will be asking for me.”
I watched her go, wondering if my effort to appease the gods here in the temple had now been negated by the thoughts of Merit that were resurrected each time I saw her face.
Rashidi’s nasal voice drew me back to the sacrifice at hand. “I thought you desired to restore ma’at, not create more disorder.”
I flexed my shoulders and wished I had brought my staff. “The building project will ensure the afterlife for all of us. My attention there will bring divine order.”
He shrugged and moved toward the inmost chamber, through a doorway tall enough to admit a god. I followed. Inside, a
A flutter of white nearby sucked our attention toward the entrance.
“Hemi!” Merit drew up short and stood framed in the chamber entrance. She wore no heavy wig tonight, and her hair floated about her face. Her fingers drifted to her throat. “What are you doing here?”
I bowed to my love and the Great Wife. “I brought a sacrifice. I will ask the gods to restore ma’at after the death of Mentu.”
Rashidi led the goat into the shadows, and his voice wove its way back to us. “Ma’at cannot be restored when those the gods appoint refuse to obey.”
Merit and I watched the darkness where Rashidi had seemed to evaporate. She finally spoke. “He has always been strange, hasn’t he?”
I moved back toward the brazier, longing for the heat to penetrate my chilled bones. “Did you also come to offer a sacrifice?”
Merit sighed and studied the statue of Amun, seated on his throne, in the recessed wall. “I came to offer my questions.”
I rubbed damp palms together and faced her. “It is not easy to know the will of the gods.”
Merit slid beside me, her eyes still on Amun, touched my forearm with her four fingertips, and kept them there.
“Do you ever doubt, Hemi?” she said. “Doubt everything we have been taught about the gods?”
I tried not to move, so as not to disturb her fingers, and hoped that Rashidi was occupied with the goat. The familiar warmth spread from her touch, loosening the ever-present tension between us.
“I have more doubts than certainties, I’m afraid.” My mouth felt dry.
Her eyes roamed my face, and her other hand joined the first on my arm. “What doubts? Tell me.” She stood so close that the night’s chill now fled.
“The afterlife is promised if our hearts are pure,” I whispered. “But I know no one whose heart is pure.”
“Yes!” Her eyes lit with a conspiratorial glow. “It seems a futile hope, from the womb! How can we go on hoping to reach the afterlife, when in the honesty of our souls, we know we are unworthy?” A desert breeze worked its way into the temple and lifted wisps of her hair from her face. “And they are ever changing, the gods. So many, all competing. Atum for our parents. Ra for us.” She stared up at me, eyes bright. “Do you ever wish for one god who does not change, Hemi?”
Looking down at her there, with her fiery eyes and her beautiful lips, I felt myself in grave danger. I stumbled backward and let her hands fall. “I try to focus on a different kind of eternity, Merit. Pharaoh’s pyramid will be my immortality.”
Her chin dropped to her chest at the mention of Khufu. It is always this way with us, when we encounter each other alone unexpectedly. We pretend for a few moments that it is only the two of us. Then one mentions Khufu, and the spell is broken.
“He thinks of nothing else, either,” Merit said, a sadness in her voice. “He is frantic to see it finished as soon as possible. He flies into a fury when he hears of a delay.”
“Even Pharaoh fears his mortality.”
Rashidi appeared beside us again, as though summoned from the dust by the gods. He held a large alabaster bowl of raw meat andentrails. Merit wrinkled her nose, then turned away. “I must return to the palace. The Beloved of Ra will be asking for me.”
I watched her go, wondering if my effort to appease the gods here in the temple had now been negated by the thoughts of Merit that were resurrected each time I saw her face.
Rashidi’s nasal voice drew me back to the sacrifice at hand. “I thought you desired to restore ma’at, not create more disorder.”
I flexed my shoulders and wished I had brought my staff. “The building project will ensure the afterlife for all of us. My attention there will bring divine order.”
He shrugged and moved toward the inmost chamber, through a doorway tall enough to admit a god. I followed. Inside, a
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