stall to another in search of the perfect cut of beef, the freshest mint, the greenest cabbage. Huy, captured in spite of himself by yet another new experience, was thrilled to see the litter overtaken by a chariot that sped by in a swirl of dust. “The plumes on the horses are blue and white!” he said excitedly to Ker, who nodded.
“Iunu is an important religious and commercial centre,” he commented. “The man standing behind the charioteer is probably a royal herald or an Overseer of some kind. We are approaching the temple precincts, Huy. This is where you will be living.”
Huy leaned out. Ahead he could see the glint of sunlight on a canal, growing wider as the litter approached. The bearers swung right, walking now on grass, and soon were passing a large lake that had opened out from the canal. Resting on its blue water was the most magnificent boat Huy had ever seen. Its planking was gilded and sparked fire at him as he passed. Its cabin was also gilded. On its prow and on the flag fluttering atop its mast was a falcon head surmounted by the scarlet disc of the sun. “This is the temple of Ra and that is his boat,” Ker explained. “We must get out now, and walk.” The litter was lowered, and Huy looked about him with wonder.
Before the lake was a huge concourse of stone flags, already hot under his sandals. Dazzling to his eyes, it ran away to where a pylon reared up against the dense blue of the sky. To either side, tall columns cast foreshortened shadows over the paving, and Huy could see that many more of them marched out of sight, just within the solid wall that surrounded the precinct on three sides. A few people paced beneath the pylon, but on the whole the immense space was empty, baking in the heat the flagstones generated. Lawn dotted with several sycamores and the greyish feathers of tamarisks flanked both lake and approach, and groups of priests had gathered in the trees’ shade, the sound of their conversation falling dead before it could reach the man and his small companion.
Ker’s litter-bearers had retreated from the sun without being ordered, and Ker and Huy began to cross the concourse, Ker carrying Huy’s two leather bags. It seemed to take a very long time, but at last Huy found himself standing under the welcome coolness of the pylon. He had no time to appreciate it, however. Ker led him on into the wide outer court and across it, coming to a halt at the farther end where a huge double door was set into a stone wall on which were carved the mighty sun-crowned falcon heads Huy had seen on the god’s boat. A man who had been sitting on a stool to the left of the doors rose and bowed. “Greetings. I am the Door Opener of Heaven. The reverent, the gift bearers, and the petitioners may enter the inner court. If you wish to proceed, you must remove your sandals.”
Ker returned the bow. “I am Ker of Hut-herib, here to deliver my nephew into the care of the Overseer of the School. We are expected.” The man nodded, and taking hold of a ring on one of the doors, he pulled it towards him. The inner court was smaller than the outer but still bewilderingly vast to Huy. Far ahead of him lay the Holiest of Holiest, the place where the god dwelt. Its door was tightly closed. The court was roofed, making a not-unpleasant dimness but for the clerestory slits high up in the walls, and to right and left more doors stood ajar.
“If you will wait here, I will send him to you,” the door opener said, and glided away, his bare feet making no sound. Huy, standing there beside a motionless Ker, felt all at once unreal. He could sense the contours of his own room around him, the hills and hollows of his mattress beneath, and knew that in a moment his eyes would truly open, not onto this phantom world but onto Hapzefa’s familiar face as she set his breakfast down beside him with a rattle of cup and spoon.
It seemed to him that he was inhabiting a timeless place, that he had been gripping his
“Iunu is an important religious and commercial centre,” he commented. “The man standing behind the charioteer is probably a royal herald or an Overseer of some kind. We are approaching the temple precincts, Huy. This is where you will be living.”
Huy leaned out. Ahead he could see the glint of sunlight on a canal, growing wider as the litter approached. The bearers swung right, walking now on grass, and soon were passing a large lake that had opened out from the canal. Resting on its blue water was the most magnificent boat Huy had ever seen. Its planking was gilded and sparked fire at him as he passed. Its cabin was also gilded. On its prow and on the flag fluttering atop its mast was a falcon head surmounted by the scarlet disc of the sun. “This is the temple of Ra and that is his boat,” Ker explained. “We must get out now, and walk.” The litter was lowered, and Huy looked about him with wonder.
Before the lake was a huge concourse of stone flags, already hot under his sandals. Dazzling to his eyes, it ran away to where a pylon reared up against the dense blue of the sky. To either side, tall columns cast foreshortened shadows over the paving, and Huy could see that many more of them marched out of sight, just within the solid wall that surrounded the precinct on three sides. A few people paced beneath the pylon, but on the whole the immense space was empty, baking in the heat the flagstones generated. Lawn dotted with several sycamores and the greyish feathers of tamarisks flanked both lake and approach, and groups of priests had gathered in the trees’ shade, the sound of their conversation falling dead before it could reach the man and his small companion.
Ker’s litter-bearers had retreated from the sun without being ordered, and Ker and Huy began to cross the concourse, Ker carrying Huy’s two leather bags. It seemed to take a very long time, but at last Huy found himself standing under the welcome coolness of the pylon. He had no time to appreciate it, however. Ker led him on into the wide outer court and across it, coming to a halt at the farther end where a huge double door was set into a stone wall on which were carved the mighty sun-crowned falcon heads Huy had seen on the god’s boat. A man who had been sitting on a stool to the left of the doors rose and bowed. “Greetings. I am the Door Opener of Heaven. The reverent, the gift bearers, and the petitioners may enter the inner court. If you wish to proceed, you must remove your sandals.”
Ker returned the bow. “I am Ker of Hut-herib, here to deliver my nephew into the care of the Overseer of the School. We are expected.” The man nodded, and taking hold of a ring on one of the doors, he pulled it towards him. The inner court was smaller than the outer but still bewilderingly vast to Huy. Far ahead of him lay the Holiest of Holiest, the place where the god dwelt. Its door was tightly closed. The court was roofed, making a not-unpleasant dimness but for the clerestory slits high up in the walls, and to right and left more doors stood ajar.
“If you will wait here, I will send him to you,” the door opener said, and glided away, his bare feet making no sound. Huy, standing there beside a motionless Ker, felt all at once unreal. He could sense the contours of his own room around him, the hills and hollows of his mattress beneath, and knew that in a moment his eyes would truly open, not onto this phantom world but onto Hapzefa’s familiar face as she set his breakfast down beside him with a rattle of cup and spoon.
It seemed to him that he was inhabiting a timeless place, that he had been gripping his
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