The Pharaoh's Daughter: A Novel in Ancient Egypt

The Pharaoh's Daughter

(A Novel In Ancient Egypt)

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 by Rory Liam Elliott

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Cover Art: Lorenzo di Mauro

Editor: Ailsa Campbell

Story by: Susan Hart

CONTENTS

Prologue (It Begins)

Chapter 1 (Death)

Chapter 2 (A Summons)

Chapter 3 (Pharaoh)

Chapter 4 (Hope & A Puzzle)

Chapter 5 (Good Times & Bad Times)

Chapter 6 (The Living & The Dead)

Chapter 7 (Discovery)

Chapter 8 (Questions & Deceit)

Chapter 9 (Repayment Of An Owed Debt)

Chapter 10 (In Sickness & In Health)

Chapter 11 (Let My People Go)

Chapter 12 (Rebellion, Hatred & Love)

Chapter 13 (The Truth Revealed)

Chapter 14 (Who Done It)

Epilogue (Life Lessons)

Prologue

(It Begins)

An offering which the king gives,

and Anubis, lord of the necropolis,

first of the god’s hall;

May she be buried in the Western

necropolis in great old age.

Kemsa dreamt of the underworld.

Cradling his newborn child in one large arm, he walked along the old stone corridor which sloped downwards. The surface of both the floor and the walls was rough, and even though he walked in murky, smoke-filled light, he could sense everything. Lit torches, placed far apart, provided scant light.

He kept glancing down at his infant. The boy moved weakly and made small, mewling sounds. Kemsa knew that something was wrong even though this was his first baby.

Before leaving his house, he’d wrapped the child in one of his wife’s old shawls and its colorful designs were in stark contrast to both the pale skin of the baby and his own, much darker skin.

As he approached an inner antechamber, he saw a faint light glowing from the cavernous inner room of the old temple. Parts of the roof were broken and as he looked upwards, he saw a cloud-shrouded moon and few stars.

Kemsa thought he knew where the path led and he shuddered. Ancient Egyptians both revered and feared Lord Anubis as god of the dead. Kemsa’s wife Mery, mother of the child he held carefully in his arms, was a mummy maker and they both knew the importance of paying this god his just due, and with ample reverence.

With each step he took, Kemsa shielded his son from the slime covered walls and the black, oily substance which dripped off all sides. His pace slowed as he approached the cavern ahead and sweat beaded off his forehead.

Kemsa swiped his hand across his brow quickly to remove the wetness as he heard a strange, pounding beat, which echoed his own heart, and which reverberated through the stones of the temple as he approached the cave interior. He could feel it even through the soles of his feet and deep in his chest. Finally, he moved into the sulfurous light of the antechamber and pulled backwards in horror and shock.

Various half-human and half-animal creatures circled warily around the central figure which was seated on a large, throne-like chair placed at the far end of the cavernous room. These creatures were almost dancing – lunging back and forth and uttering a variety of horrific sounds.

Deferent to this central figure, they swayed their heads back and forth, but always returned their focus on the eight-foot tall, jackal-headed god of the dead, Anubis.

Kemsa drew backwards a few steps.

The throne on which the figure sat was carved from black basalt, almost the color of Kemsa’s skin and it gleamed with an inner, dark fire. There was an explosion of light and sound from the flames coming from a pit of fire in the corner. He knew instinctively that this was where Lord Anubis judged the souls of dead Egyptians.

He wanted to avoid looking at Anubis directly, but had to as he approached.

Kemsa felt like turning around and fleeing as fast as he could – back down the corridor and out into the Egyptian desert with stars blazing overhead. He knew that he couldn’t do that, because he had a task to perform.

He crept over to the figure sitting on the throne and carefully offered his child, as he fell to the floor on his knees, and prostrated himself before Anubis. He looked upwards and gave his undying obedience.

His throat had constricted from fear and he was unable to find any words to express his feelings. The air was cloying, and he coughed. Strong, putrid smells surrounded him and stuck in his throat like mucus.

Finally, he croaked out, Lord, I lay my child’s life in your hands.

Kemsa’s son began to cry and it was a tiny, pathetic cry. Kemsa shook with fear and stared at the floor.

Waves of power emanated from the lord of the underworld and he growled in a continuous, hideous rumble.

Kemsa heard Anubis’ claws as they clicked together and he could smell the sulfur which pervaded everything in the cavern

Suddenly, Anubis stood upright and abruptly took the child away from Kemsa and held him high in the air like a carelessly-won trophy. What can you promise me if I spare this child’s life? he growled.

The infant cried loudly.

Kemsa shook so much that a young boy could have pushed him to the floor.

Anything, Lord. I would do anything for you, lord, if you could spare my child. Please don’t hurt him

Without a word, Anubis walked off into the interior of the temple, Kemsa’s son held limply under one bony and black arm. A minute passed before Kemsa even dared to look up. He shook like an old leaf from a pomegranate tree. And, when he did look up, Kemsa saw that the room was empty.

He stood up, then scanned the room for a last time and went back over to the corridor door he came through. He pounded on the rough stones over and over until his fist bled and he cried out in pain.

I’ll do anything for you, Lord. I’ll promise you anything. My life is yours to do with as you see fit.

He paused and took in several heaving gulps of air.

Please, just let my son live. I love him so much

Chapter 1

(Death)

I have come from my town,

I have descended from my nome,

I have done justice for its lord,

I have satisfied him with

what he loves...

Kemsa snapped his eyes open, and then remembered the vision he’d just had. He looked over to where his wife Meryneith was giving birth to their child and this brought him instantly back to the present.

A midwife, a large and sweating old woman, grunted with the effort of assisting with the birth, but wasn’t able to lessen the pain and therefore stifle Mery’s screams. The mummy maker was in the middle of a hard labor and this was her first child.

Each cry cut through Kemsa like a dagger.

He remembered the first time they had made love, as well as the second, and the third time. Mery had told him that she felt their child was conceived when they danced on their rooftop nine months previously.

As he paced around the bed and then out into the living area of their house, Kemsa thought about the rare and powerful rainstorm that night of dancing. He hadn’t known at the time that Mery’s brother, the Theban taker of hearts serial killer, Thoth, was watching them from the street below.

Kemsa had missed death that night because of a madman’s whim.

His attention was wrenched away from the past when he heard Mery scream once again.

She panted heavily and at every scream, he cringed. The screams increased and he looked over at her.

He’d often wondered if it was his fault in creating a child, that he’d caused her this incredible pain. Kemsa felt the great responsibility that came along with creating children although he knew that Mery wanted them.

When she screams like that, I want to die, he told himself softly under his breath. He kept looking over at Mery, but finally, totally exhausted, he slumped down on a small stool placed in one corner of their bedroom.

When the child began to emerge, Kemsa was shocked at how the labor was going. The blood – there’s so much blood, he told himself quietly. He wondered if his wife would recover and if the baby was all right.

He convinced himself that it was almost too much to bear and until he could hold his baby in his arms and make sure that Mery would recover, he’d be unable to perform his duties as a police officer and protector of their family.

As he waited for the child, Kemsa remembered their early days in Thebes when he was just a young and very brash police officer, in love with a woman called Meryneith, who was the local mummy maker’s daughter. He’d loved her since they were children.

He thought about those early years when Mery, a child herself, taught other children and also when she offered bread and fruit to the hungrier little ones. He had always known her as a generous and loving soul.

He was shocked back to the present by silence, when Mery stopped screaming.

The midwife shuffled over and shook his shoulder. He’d drifted off once again. Rubbing his face – which was covered with a day’s worth of stubble – he looked up at the midwife. She pointed to the bed and told him, Sir, your child is born.

Kemsa bolted upright. He wondered if the child would be like Mery, or more like himself. He had hoped for a son so he could teach him how to become a police officer and drive their old chariot.

A son, or daughter, could learn reading and writing from Mery, who made her own books from papyrus sheets and had a hundred of them in her home. Kemsa smiled when he remembered how eager Mery was to learn everything she could about her father’s mummy making business, and the world outside their ancient city of Thebes.

The midwife shook his shoulder again and held out her hand for the few coins, which were the cost of her services. Kemsa dug into a fold of his kilt and gave them to her, and after telling Kemsa he had a son, she gathered up her shawl and few tools and left.

Kemsa went over to their bed, where Mery cradled the infant in her arms and offered him a smile.

Son? he asked her for confirmation.

Mery nodded and smiled once again and Kemsa offered up a quick prayer to the gods for their favor.

She unwrapped the infant slowly as he had been swaddled in linen. He’s perfect – see? He looks just like his father.

Shaking with fear, Kemsa helped her to unwrap the rest of the cloth surrounding the baby, stood in shock for a moment, and then stepped back a few paces.

Why do you say that? He doesn’t look like me at all. There’s something wrong with his eyes! Why isn’t he moving or crying?

Kemsa took one last look at a devastated Mery and his son – making no sound and barely moving and with odd eyes and a deformed head – before running from the room and out into the hot desert of Ancient Egypt.

****************

After a few days of mourning as was customary, Mery and Kemsa buried their son under a pomegranate tree in their yard. He had barely lived a few hours when they had both woken from a restless sleep, gone over to look at the tiny child, and found him dead.

Immediately crying, Mery had picked the baby up and held him in her arms for hours, not even letting Kemsa look at him. In the days following, they had both shuffled around the house and ate or drank nothing.

Later, and before he was to be taken away to be mummified, Mery cast a life mask from his face, which she hardened in her kiln and hung on their wall. She would often go by the only tangible memory she had of her son and touch it gently with a few of her fingers. Because she couldn’t bear the thought of mummifying her own baby, they had Asim – another mummy maker – do it.

Kemsa would always remember that day for the rest of his life.

Asim had knocked softly at their door lintel; coming in quietly, he took their son’s tiny body – all wrapped up in linen strips – and with a few words of kindness, left their home.

After that, Kemsa often found Mery sitting under the pomegranate tree, either asleep in the sun, or crying – it would depend on the time of day and what mood she was in and whether something or other had triggered the memory.

She told him later that she was dreaming about the land of the dead, wondering what it was like and whether their son would be looked after properly.

Mery had known from the very first moment she saw Kemsa as a tall child, shy and smiling all the time, that she would marry him some day. She thought him handsome and liked the way he never yelled at anyone or fought with the other boys.

Her brother Thoth had been jealous of Kemsa and was always taunting him and trying to pick fights. If Mery had known he was her brother and not just a slave owned by Quasshie – she had told herself often – things would have turned out very differently.

She knew if that had been the case, Thoth wouldn’t have become the taker of hearts and the worst serial killer in Theban history.

Mery loved Kemsa’s happy nature and how he was always respectful to her, and everyone else. They were constantly together and she knew that each of them realized that it would always be so.

Thinking about days long past, Mery smiled to herself. It took her mind off her baby’s death when she thought about Kemsa and their childhood. She always looked at Kemsa with desire and longing and didn’t remain angry with him for long, after their rare disagreements.

In those dark days after his son’s death, Kemsa couldn’t work or eat or even sleep much. He often found himself mumbling incoherently. He would remind himself, and he couldn’t remember where he’d heard the phrase, that when everything you love had been taken from you – all you had left was revenge.

Trouble was, he had no idea who or what he could blame and therefore take revenge upon. When he could find no one else, he blamed himself , starting to feel ill from his anger.

Like Mery, he also tried to remember the pleasant memories – hoping against hope that they’d replace the bad ones. The feeling of Mery holding onto his waist tightly as they drove the chariot which they’d repaired through the narrow streets of Thebes, made him smile.

Kemsa realized that his wife