Dream Boat (4 page)

Donata gripped her hands together and joined the chorus: 'Mine eyes adore thee.'

The High Priest spread his bare arms wide. 'Hail to thee,

Ra, who gladdens our hearts with the Boat of the Morning.'

Donata indeed felt her heart swell as she pronounced the second chorus: 'Beautiful art thou.'

'O Living Lord, rest thy rays upon the bodies of your servants!'

'Hail to thee, Ra, in thy rising.'

As the third and final chorus died away, the great gates of the temple swung open to reveal a magnificent replica of the barque in which the mighty sun god travelled across the sky by day and cruised the underworld at night. To frantic applause, the boat was wheeled into the open air by ten white-robed acolytes, five on either side, and Donata's heart skipped a beat as the light of early sunrise danced reflections off the silver and the gold, the lapis lazuli, the amethysts and the garnets. The Boat of Dawn! So lovely to behold, and soon - very soon - Donata would herself become a Bride of Ra.

'Let us give thanks,' intoned the priest, 'to the Great God, Lord of Heaven, the Giver of Life, without whom nothing can originate, that he has traversed the Realm of Night in safety and warded off the Serpent who waits in the dark lands beyond the West.'

'Thanks be to Ra.'

As the acolytes melted away, the priest moved forward to anoint the cedar wood with unguents while priestesses strewed rose petals into the boat and rattled the bells of their silver sistrums. The priest turned, reached into the soft moleskin sack which hung from his belt and threw a handful of what looked like soot into the burning brazier.

Whoosh! A soft explosion rang out, alarming the temple parakeets, and clouds of blue smoke filled the air, temporarily masking the entrance, so that for a count of, say, ten, attention was focussed on the hieroglyphs carved deep into the stone walls and on the alabaster sphinxes which stood guard. Then a handsome Negro began to beat on the shell of a giant bronze tortoise with a single fleece-covered drumstick, the resonant throb echoing round the packed enclosure.

Boommmm. Boommmm. Boommmmm . . .

The mist cleared, and to the tune of silver trumpets a procession of creatures half-human, half-beast glided out from the great temple of Ra. Led by Anubis, with his jackal head and wearing a golden cloak which swept the marble floor, the next in line was Osiris, a plumed crown upon his head, his blue-painted face covered to the mouth by a mask of pure gold whose cheekpads shone with the light of the sun god and whose almond-shaped eyes glittered bright with emeralds. Behind him followed other deities: Hathor, with her arching cow's horns; falcon-headed Horus; Bast the great cat goddess. With hands clenched into fists, Donata watched them form a V, with Anubis at the front, Osiris right behind him and the other gods fanning out on either side behind.

I am ready, Lord, I have prepared. Donata's heart fluttered. Could they hear her? she wondered. Did the gods recognise that she had followed her instructions to the letter? Her eyes alighted on Thoth, standing at the rear of the left-hand flank, his ibis beak pointed up towards the sky, his human hands holding out his sacred reeds and scrolls, and Donata knew instinctively that the holy scribe would know his servant had obeyed, for Thoth was God of Wisdom from whom no secrets could be hid.

Donata could hardly swallow. Suppose, she thought, suppose this time it fails.

The High Priest moved forward to Anubis and handed him a set of balances and an ostrich feather. Solemnly the jackal god accepted them and stepped to one side for the mighty Osiris to speak to his people.

'Know me,' he cried, holding high his sacred
ankh,
'for I am the Lord of the Underworld and I am immortal.' A hush had settled over the congregation. 'Last night, the great Ra battled with the Serpent and passed safely through the twelve sacred gates to bring his light and warmth to my kingdom. At his hallowed touch -' the golden mask turned full force upon the sun, dazzling the spectators - 'the mummies of the dead shook off their bandages. Those who had been lame walked

straight. Those who had suffered poverty in this life were given lands to own, and Ra breathed life into barren women that they might bring forth a child.'

An excited shuffle rippled round the crowd, and only Donata, it seemed, felt a weight descend upon her stomach. Don't let it fail, she pleaded. Don't let him die.

'Heed me, for I am Osiris, son of Ra. Follow me along the path to purity and blessedness, because only through me can you, when the time comes for hearts to be weighed against the Feather of Truth, advance to the Fields of the Blessed.' He paused and spread his hands in supplication to the sun. 'Father,' he said solemnly, 'Father, I am ready.'

Softly the drumbeat began again, this time with two fleece-tipped sticks. The High Priest lifted his eyes to an archer, stationed high on the wall and asked, 'And you, my child? Are you ready?'

The archer bowed, placed one hand upon his knee and said, 'With your blessing, master, I am.'

'Let it begin.'

At the High Priest's holy benison, the congregation fell to its knees. With his long shadow stretching out behind him, the archer straightened up and put an arrow to his bow.
Twang! 
Straight to Osiris's heart! With a strangled cry, Osiris fell back, caught by falcon-headed Horus and by Thoth. Her hands to her feline face, Bast pushed past the others, who quickly gathered round the stricken body as the cat goddess cradled his head in her lap. Twice Osiris's legs thrashed, his arm twitched, then with an arch of his back, he slumped and lay still. Mumbling broke out among the deities as, wailing, they fell upon one another, hugging and weeping, the cobra with the crocodile, the vulture with the cow.

Down on her knees, Donata felt herself sway, oblivious to the moans and sobs which had broken out around her, and when Horus pulled a bloody arrow from the lifeless body of Osiris, Donata felt as though a knife had plunged into her own heart. What now? she thought, watching the plumed crown rock back and forth upon the ground. What happens to us now?

'Silence!' The High Priest tried to stem the mounting hysteria, as calls for the archer's own life grew stronger and more urgent. 'Our brother has suffered enough, let him be!' The devastated archer had broken his bow in two and cast his quiver to the ground. Now he beat his breast with a violence shocking to behold. 'Remember, it was the wish of Osiris himself that the archer should fire.'

Donata fought for breath. Shot through the heart with an arrow, surely Osiris could not return? But no, you must be strong, she commanded herself. Osiris has told us he is immortal and that, through him, the gift of immortality can be bestowed upon his people. Her eyes misted. Supposing, though, his heart was false? Supposing he had lied to her -to them all - and this was not possible . . . All her hopes and dreams would turn to dust, everything she believed in would tumble to the earth, crushed and broken.

The drumbeat changed again. Solitary strokes, loud and sombre.
Boom.
Anubis, with his jet-black jackal head, walked across to lay the Sacred Balance beside an alabaster sphinx upon a table of black granite.
Boom.
Black and white. Evil and good.
Boom.
On one side of the scales, Anubis laid a dripping lump of meat, and Donata's stomach turned when she realised this was Osiris's bloody heart.
Boom!
With the utmost care, Anubis placed the ostrich feather on the other plate and, with an audible hiss of relief as he stepped back, he watched them balance . . .

A cheer rose up, but Anubis cut it short. Osiris was dead and his heart weighed true, but could he be reborn? Yes, could he? wondered Donata. Purely through the way of righteousness, could Osiris be resurrected from the dead?

As cow-headed Hathor, her soft mouth offering up silent prayers, bent low over the corpse, Anubis replaced the heart into the bloody body and purified his hands in the bowl of holy water proffered by the shaven-headed priest. Donata held her breath as the jackal leaned over the corpse.

'Behold your son, O Lord of the West.' Even through the heavy mask, the voice of Anubis rang deep and melodious.

'Behold Orisis, whose heart has been found to be without evil, and whose virtue Thoth has recorded, Thoth from whom no secrets are hid.'

The ibis beak nodded solemnly and held up for all to see the Scroll of Truth where the judgement had been recorded.

'Once more,' cried Anubis, holding horizontal the sacred
ankh
and pointing it at the dead man's mouth, 'let the son of Ra walk among his people!'

With a collective gasp, the crowd goggled as the jackal lowered the holy
ankh.
It was true! Osiris
was
immortal! They could see for themselves the mouth below the golden mask opening at the same speed as Anubis moved the
ankh. 
Donata felt tears roll down her cheek. Praise be to Ra, from whom all life is given.

Helped to his feet by Horus and Thoth, Osiris moved closer towards the congregation, that they might see the bloody robe for themselves. The arrow was then passed around, the head still wet and sticky.

'Know me,' he cried, 'for I am Osiris, Lord of the Underworld and I am immortal!'

Rapturous applause rang out, cheers and catcalls and whistles. Men and women wept openly, rejoicing in the resurrection of their lord, until the High Priest moved in to disperse the proceedings by pointing out that Osiris must rest after his ordeal in the Hall of the Dead. The remainder of his words were lost to Donata, because now was the time. This was her appointed hour. The moment she was to become a Bride of Ra!

Slipping away from the knots of joyous disciples, she edged round the wall of the House of Life in which the sacred scrolls were stored, past the holy pool and through a wicker gate in the temple compound wall. After the staggering events they had witnessed, no one else had yet left the temple grounds and quickly the high stonework muffled the babble of excited conversation until all Donata could hear was the song of birds celebrating the return of the Dawn Boat in their own mellifluous language.

The valley, in the early morning light, was never more beautiful, she thought. A perfect pear-shaped valley surrounded by lush wooded hills, protected by the Mount of Osiris at its north-west tip. The Cradle of Ra. The secret dwelling place of the Ten True Gods.

With no trouble whatsoever Donata located the ancient chestnut tree with its twisted, spiral trunk, for her directions had been clear and she had memorised them until she was word perfect. A gnarled old olive, twin hawthorns, an arbute still in full fruit, she clambered up the hillside past them all, hooking left, turning right, until she arrived, puffing and quite breathless, at the boulder shaped like a heart. For a moment, she considered sitting on the rock, quickly discounting the idea in case it held some holy significance. She had come too far to risk throwing it away!

Instead she plucked a twig of low-hanging poplar and fanned herself with the broad leaves. The last thing she wanted was to appear before her bridegroom out of breath and sweaty! She adjusted the lie of her shift over her bosom to better display her cleavage, and realised that the climb had twisted one of the straps which went over her shoulder. That's better!

Despite the solemnity of the occasion, Donata allowed herself a secret smile. Hardly the bridal attire her parents had imagined: a single piece of pleated cloth suspended by two thin cotton ribbons! No veiled headdress, no orange blossom, no carrying over the threshold. Or would she? Be carried over the threshold? For the first time, Donata realised she had absolutely no idea what this marriage involved.

True, she knew she would not be the only wife and that Ra came in many guises, both human and godlike - unfortunately, that was where her knowledge ended. Oh, well. She fanned a little harder. The uncertainly only added to the feeling of adventure, of a thrilling new beginning.

Peeping through the branches of a broom bush, from her lofty vantage point Donata looked down across the entire valley, over the high walls of the temple enclosure, over the shimmering rooftiles of the brewery, the bakery, the

stables, and her pulse raced as her eyes scanned the royal palace of Mantu. Which of those rooms would be hers, she wondered? Glorious visions flashed through her mind. Of golden couches, lavish drapes. Food served on silver platters as harpists strummed in the corner.

A far cry from - where was it? oh, there - that puny arrowslit which represented her current bedroom window. Ha! Donata wouldn't miss that cramped crate of a room, devoid of furniture apart from a narrow bed, a chest and stool! Imagine her surprise when, two nights ago, she had returned from prayers to find a goblet waiting beside her pillow, full of wine.
Wine,
when only beer was served at mealtimes. Wine. The nectar of the Pharaoh.

Who left it there, or when, were mysteries, but Donata had drunk the wine and maybe she had drunk it too fast, because almost immediately her head had begun to swim, her limbs had felt weighted, paralysed. Figures had started to swirl before her in the mist. One minute Anubis, his black jackal head thrust close to hers, then the ferocious beak of Horus was peering at her, and then Thoth.

'Sister, you have been chosen,' Thoth announced, 'as the next Bride of Ra.'