Khu: A Tale of Ancient Egypt (17 page)

Sudi watched from the shadow of a stone column in an arcade, as several priests carried the portable gilded barque holding the cult-statue of the god Osiris on their shoulders. The god of the dead and Afterlife was made of gold, and stood with his legs wrapped in mummified burial fashion as he held the crook and flail in arms crossing over his chest. His serene face had a long, slender, black-painted beard on a chin that jutted proudly, while his head was crowned by the tall, white conical-shaped
Atef
crown with two ostrich feathers on the sides. The feathers of his crown symbolized the
maat
concept of universal order, truth and justice against which the souls of the dead were weighed and subsequently judged.

But only the priests saw
the magnificent god-statue, for he was shielded from the common people’s eyes by a curtain woven from the finest linen. The priests bore the heavy weight of the god on the gilded barque, which was decorated with hieroglyphs carved in relief, as they exited the Temple of Osiris in Abdju.

It was the Festival of Osiris.
 

The annual feast drew
many pilgrims from all over Egypt, as well as those people seeking to profit from the throngs and festivities filling the crowded streets with excitement. Today was the culmination of a celebration that had commenced eight days before with much prayer and chanting to the god who gave life to the floodplains through the fertile fields’ vegetation. People craned their necks to get a glimpse of the venerated god as the reenactment of his burial took place. The procession would take Osiris from the inner sanctuary of the temple, beyond the sacrificial rooms, through the hypostyle hall, colonnaded courtyard, and out through the pylon’s massive entrance guarded by two colossal stone figures of Osiris. All the civil servants and courtiers of Abdju waited in the Avenue of Sphinxes leading up to the temple’s grand pylon, while the masses of people stood beyond the guarded walkway and its surrounding gardens, which were graced with fountains sparkling in the morning light.

Sudi thought he saw
Ankhtifi standing among the officials. But his view was obscured by smoke rising in spiraling plumes from the burning incense, waved by a priest circling the barque carrying the golden god. A priest chanted in prayer as the fragrant incense wafted over the effigy of the god:

Glory to you, Osiris

K
ing of the Everlasting

Homage to you whose names are
Manifold

Holy Protector and Guardian of Eternity

Who dwells in the Land of the Just

Mighty are your ways

Clothed in the Light of Truth

The procession made its way out of the temple and down the Avenue of Sphinxes. Priestesses shook hooped
sistra
ceremonial rattles as fan bearers waved their long wooden-handled ostrich-feather fans reverently over the barque. People prostrated themselves in adoration, welcoming the god with hymns of devotion and gratitude. The officials followed behind the priests in observance of the Going Forth of Osiris Ritual commemorating the burial of the god who would be accompanied by his wife Isis and son Horus, whose smaller statues waited at the ancient Tomb of Osiris that once belonged to King Djer from the First Dynasty of the Old Kingdom.

Sudi followed behind some pilgrims as the procession
took them through several of the cemeteries lying west of the temple, where more ritual prayers and chanting brought blessings upon the dead who continued to pay homage to the great god from their otherworldly realm. Those who could afford it dedicated
stele
stone tablets bearing elaborately carved inscriptions and paintings of scenes in tribute to Osiris, while others placed small offerings of food and flowers they had bought from the village marketplace catering to pilgrims celebrating the special feast. The poorest pilgrims left a small lock of their hair in a symbolic gesture of their subservience before the god to whom they desired to give a part of themselves, and as a sign of their meekness and humility.

Sudi lost sight of his two companions who were
somewhere in the vast crowd. More than ten days had passed since Mentuhotep’s trusted emissary had left the ruler’s side on the evening they had departed Nekhen, after the king had sent him off to spy on Ankhtifi. The three men had gone back to Thebes before setting off for Abdju.

Odji
the gatekeeper had seen them arrive, and had wondered why they had returned so soon without the king. But Sudi had not even glanced his way when he and the other two men entered the royal compound, after leaving their boat in the care of a ferryman by the riverbank. They gathered fishing nets and other supplies, before changing out of their finer kilts to don the simple loin cloth of humble fishermen who worked along the Nile.

Odji
grew instantly suspicious when he saw the three men disguise themselves before they left. He surreptitiously followed them as he tried to eavesdrop on their conversation in hopes of learning what they were up to. But Sudi had kept his mouth shut the entire time as he efficiently went about his work. Only one word had slipped out of the mouth of one of his partners: Abdju. But it had been enough.

Sudi and his partners
had arrived in Abdju disguised as fishermen with a few baskets of fish they had caught in their nets along the way. They sold their catch in the open air market of the village where people traded all sorts of goods during the busy time of the festival.

P
ilgrims flooded the streets excitedly, pausing to look here and there at the many stands laden with food, crafts and offerings made available during the ritual feasts. There were large sacks of wheat, barley and lentils sitting on the ground next to baskets of onions, garlic and leeks, as well as crates of melons, cabbages and cucumbers. Tables were piled with varieties of dates, figs, colorful grapes, and raisins, while others were stacked with cheese, dried and salted fish, fowl and other meats. Bunches of herbs and heaps of colorful spices including aniseed, coriander, cinnamon and fennel, filled the air with their enticing fragrance. Jars of oil pressed from flax, sesame and almonds waited on the ground. Pottery, copper goods and all sorts of craft items lured spectators over for a closer look.

A short distance away was
an assortment of live animals corralled in a pen. They too were traded in the marketplace, or obtained for ritualistic slaughtering in sacrificial offerings.

The three men
had spread out over the sacred city whose tombs, shrines and memorials drew pilgrims from far and wide, seeking to pay homage to the great Osiris who ruled the Underworld.

Ankhtifi had come ahead of King Khety so he
could make good use of the time and opportunity to influence the many local officials and visiting chieftains gathered there from the surrounding smaller settlements. Since he had arrived, he had tried to persuade them to support Khety in his military quest to conquer Upper Egypt and reunite the kingdoms. With their backing, he would then convince the priests, and they in turn would prompt the people to follow along. But it had not gone so easy.

“What do we have to gain by supporting him?”
one asked, crossing his arms over his chest

“Security, prosperity, wealth,” Ankhtifi said.

“But we have been doing fine without him,” another objected with a high chin.

“Speak for yourself,”
blurted another. “Times have been very difficult.”

“And there have been raids too,” another added. “I know of more than one villag
e that was destroyed by raiders.

“So do I,” the first nodded sternly
.

Ankhtifi said nothing
at first. He just let them speak. Many of them were venting their frustrations with the way things were. They wanted to better their lives and improve the status of their settlements. But they were not sure how to go about it, and were wary of supporting someone who might bring about a change for the worse. Change for mere change’s sake could be a very foolish thing.

“And what about the droughts?” another shook his head, narrowing his eyes. “The river’s flood has been low where we are. Does King Khety have the power to stop the droughts?” His tone was dubious.

“Can he make our fields yield more grain?”
one man challenged derisively, pushing his shoulders back. “Or our cattle more fertile?”

“What about King Mentuhotep?” Another
interrupted, jabbing a finger into the air. “What would he say to your machinations?”

“If you call a desire to better your lives ‘machinations,’” Ankhtifi retorted
coldly. He was making mental notes of those dissidents that might stand in the way of Khety’s plans, and filing their names and faces away in his mind. His jaw started to twitch in frustration, and he began to open and close one of his hands at his side, trying hard to resist the urge to grab the handle of his mace hanging under the layers of his kilt.

Many
of the officials were hesitant at first, but some managed to come around after assurances were made that their support would be repaid tenfold.

“You will
be rewarded with positions of greater power in the reunited kingdoms of Lower and Upper Egypt under King Khety,” Ankhtifi told them.

The
procession had finally arrived at the Tomb of Osiris. Its columned façade rose above the high plateau of the desert, facing east. The lengthening shadows of the late afternoon, silhouetted the stony grandeur against the golden light of the sun, which kept ducking behind puffy clouds scattered in the heavens, like the frothy peaks of waves in the vast blue sea. People watched as the priests disappeared with the god into the tomb’s heavily fortified entrance, where the Mysteries of the Divine Rites would be performed, enabling the spiritual essence
ka
of Osiris to join that of Isis and Horus, and in their joyous reunion, prosper and make fertile the land of the living.

The
joyful and devout worshippers began chanting along with the priests as they gathered outside the tomb. Priestesses were shaking their
sistra
rattles along with the musicians who played tambourines, clappers and flutes as they encircled the barque. Other priests wafted incense in copper burners, while fan bearers waved the blessed smoke over the barque with their long wooden-handled ostrich-feather fans.

S
ome of the people in the crowd lifted the linen cloth draped on their shoulders and pulled it over their heads in reverence of the moment, joining their voices to the chanting which rose to the heavens like the smoky wisps of incense perfuming the air.

Arise Osiris, Life-giver to the Land

Arise
god of the earth and Underworld

Make the river waters flow

Imbue life in the fields

Make fertile the
black soil

And the hearts of men

Arise O Great One

Father of Horus

Faithful Husband of Isis

Arise and
prosper in your kingdom of old

Sudi noticed the
serious expression on Ankhtifi’s face as he retreated with a few of the officials back to the town center of Abdju where the evening festivities had already begun. Ankhtifi had hung back and waited with the officials while the rest of the crowd had dispersed. At one point, Sudi could not find Ankhtifi and thought he might have already left. But then the chieftain mysteriously emerged from the tomb, whose entrance was barred from anyone but the high priests laying the god to rest.

A chill prickled Sudi’s spine when he saw Ankhtifi’s face
, as he ducked out of the narrow, rectangular opening cut into the rock of the mastaba tomb. A streak of blood was smeared across his cheek. But the chieftain casually wiped it away with the back of his hand as though it were nothing more than perspiration beading his brow. It was not his own blood, Sudi realized, but that of someone else. Two other men followed Ankhtifi out of the tomb, and they joined several officials who had been waiting outside.

Sudi closed his eyes for a moment and drew a linen cloth about his head to hide his face.
He had a very bad feeling about this, but could not risk getting caught by lingering behind. He knew that he would find out whatever had happened inside the tomb soon enough, whether he wanted to or not. So he left the tomb site with the last of the pilgrims so that no one would suspect anything of him.

Sudi realized that t
he men who had stayed behind at the tomb site with Ankhtifi, were those whose loyalty sided with King Khety. This included Odji’s friend Mdjai, whose own small village was one of the several nearby settlements under the jurisdiction of Abdju. The rest of the officials had gone back to the town center soon after the chanting and incense had faded away, and the priests had entered the royal necropolis to complete the requisite prayers and ablutions which were part of the Mysteries of the Divine Rites, honoring Osiris in his tomb.