Free Imhotep by Jerry Dubs Page B

dark eyes stared
back unblinking.  Then the priest frowned down at Ahmes, turned away and
waved the remaining guard to his side.  The guard helped Djefi walk away,
back toward the sedan chair to return to Ineb-Hedj.
     
     
    P aneb stood staring after them, his stomach
a knot of fear.
    “Are
they truly netjrew, father?  Did they come from Khert-Neter?” Ahmes
whispered.
    Paneb
looked sadly at his son.  “We cannot speak of this,” he said.
    “Not
to Mother?”
    “No,
Ahmes, not to anyone.”
    “Because
Sobek will take me?  I am the ‘children’ the First Prophet meant?”
    Paneb’s
eyes filled with tears.  He wiped them away with the back of his arm.
    “Yes,
Ahmes.  But, we won’t let that happen.  There is a proverb from
before my father’s time.  It says, ‘People bring about their own undoing
through their tongues.’
     “Our
tongues will not bring about our undoing, Ahmes.  We will honor Djefi’s
demand.  I do not understand why he wants it so, but he does.  So, my
son, we will talk no more of the netjrew.”
    “But
we can when we are alone, can’t we?”
    Paneb
shook his head.  “No, Ahmes, not even then.” He saw the disappointment in
his son’s eyes.  “Except when we are here and there are no workmen with
us.  Only then.”
    Ahmes
looked at the tomb entrance, his eyes still seeing the gods who had emerged
there.
    “Father,
did you see how strong his arms were?  Did you see how he threw the
spear?” Ahmes threw a pretend spear, mimicking the god’s motion and swagger.
    Paneb
reached down and stroked his son’s smooth head.
    “Yes,
Ahmes, he was the tallest and strongest netjer I have ever seen.”
     
     
    P aneb and Ahmes entered the tomb to search
for the entrance the gods had used to journey from Khert-Neter, but they found
only what they expected – walls and rock.
    Later,
instead of returning home, Paneb decided to spend the day alone with Ahmes,
hoping to exhaust the topic of gods and spears by letting him talk and ask his
questions.  Paneb thought it would be easier for them to keep the secret
if Ahmes had a chance to ask all the questions he could find.
    The
next day they worked alone in the tomb and Ahmes remained full of questions.
    Was
the goddess Bastet?  And shouldn’t her head have been a cat’s head like
all the statues?  Why did she have red hair?  Which god was he? 
Was he a god from some other land?  Could a god even be “hesy” – from
outside Kemet?  What was outside Kemet?  Did anyone go there? 
Did they have different gods?  I wouldn’t want to share our gods, would
you?  If a god could come here from Khert-Neter, could we go to Khert-Neter
and then return?  Would we see our ancestors there?
    By the
evening of the second day Ahmes at last grew quiet.  Although Paneb
welcomed relief from the constant questions, he wondered what the
reflectiveness meant.
     
     
    N ow as they approached the tomb on the
third day since the gods’ arrival, Ahmes had grown more interested in repeating
what he had seen, as if planting the memories so that one day he would be able
to tell his children about the time gods had walked out of a tomb.
    It was
too early for Paneb to breathe a sigh of relief, the threat Djefi had made
still clutched at his heart whenever he thought of the fat priest, but he felt
at last that it might be possible that they could keep the secret.
    He
wondered how much longer they would need to.  Eventually, he reasoned, the
gods would leave Sobek to visit other gods at their temples.
    Paneb
and Ahmes sat on stools under the palm shelter.  Paneb had removed his
kilt and hung it from the canopy.
    A sack
with rolls of papyrus lay in the sand at their feet.
    Ahmes
looked at the rolls and realizing what they were, tried to sit quietly and
erect, like an adult.
    “You’ve
guessed, haven’t you?” Paneb asked.
    Ahmes
nodded.  “You’ll let me draw today.”
    Paneb
reached into the sack and pulled out a papyrus.
    “Thoth?”
Ahmes