The Memory Painter: A Novel (33 page)

Thoth had never heard his father speak of Horus before, but his thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a warrior dressed in full ceremonial armor. He clasped Thoth’s arm in a firm welcome and said, “I am Thutmose, Commander of the Guard for the House of Atum.”

Thoth looked up at him. The giant man towered over him by at least two heads and had muscles that made him look as if he could take on any army.

Thutmose and his guards led Thoth through the courtyard to the temple’s Constellation Chamber—the most magnificent room that Thoth had ever seen. He raised his eyes and marveled at the open ceiling, splayed with a golden, lattice-like web that connected all the constellations in the sky. The design revolved slowly to follow the movement of the stars as they rose and set each night.

Thutmose smiled, surprising Thoth with his genuine warmth. “Welcome, son of Ramses. Impressive, isn’t it?… Built to watch the night sky and honor the heavens.” Thutmose bowed and left him.

Thoth circled the room, wishing he had paid more attention to his astronomy lessons. The study of the stars had always been vital to Heliopolis, and Thoth knew that the astronomer who had designed this room was a master.

“The sky seems lonely without Sirius, our brightest star.”

A voice startled him from his reverie. Thoth turned and found himself face-to-face with Hermese. She was even more beautiful than she had seemed from afar. Her long black hair had been braided into a decorative rope interwoven with flowers that hung down her bare back. She was draped in exquisite shimmering robes that accentuated her feline grace, and her eyes were mysterious, colored like the most treasured emerald stone. Thoth stared into their depths and saw a deep wisdom. It overshadowed everything else about her.

He could think of nothing worthy to say to her.

They studied each other for a long time. The air was heavy with expectation, and Thoth could feel himself being judged. It would be the worst humiliation imaginable if she changed her mind now and sent him away.

But instead, she held out her hand to him and smiled. “Now let us dine.”

*   *   *

In every way it was like their wedding night, even though once Hermese was with child, Thoth would not be allowed back into the temple. It felt strange that they did not know each other, yet they had the world’s permission to be lovers.

Thoth had always known that one day he would do something worthy for his people, something that went beyond being a councilor’s secondborn son. He and his brother had grown up in the shadow of their father, who was the leader of the Council of Twelve—the men and women who ruled Upper and Lower Egypt. But there was no greater honor than siring a future Guardian.

Now he sat with Hermese in her private courtyard off her quarters. They were reclining on an enormous royal chaise, dining under the stars. Thoth felt his body grow warm. He knew an aphrodisiac had been put in the wine.

He reached out and touched Hermese’s hair, bringing it to his lips. She smelled like sweet spice and lotus flowers. “Is the same potion in your drink?” he asked.

“It’s part of the ceremony,” she nodded, a dreamy look in her eyes. “In case we don’t like each other.”

They both laughed and leaned forward. As they kissed, Hermese pushed him down and sat astride Thoth, her long hair covering them both. They made love, unable to satisfy their desire.

*   *   *

Before dawn, they lay on the chaise and looked up at the fading stars to see Sirius—the Star of Isis—return to the sky. A faint drizzle fell and rested on the trees, shrouding their view in mist. The continuous rains were something Thoth and Hermese had lived with all their lives.

Thoth listened to the humming vibrations emanating from the pyramids, something else he had lived with his whole life. But the hum resonated much stronger here than it did in the city, and he knew it would take a while to get used it. Someday he would love to learn how they worked and what the Guardian did to maintain them. He knew Hermese could never tell him, but it did not hurt to dream.

He closed his eyes, feeling more content than he ever thought possible. “Why did you pick me when my brother won?” he asked. “Was it because of Kiya?”

A shadow passed over her face, and Thoth regretted his words immediately. But then it was gone, and Hermese gave him a little smile, shaking her head. “You won during the match,” she explained, “when you finished your water and bread and offered the rest to the young boy who was sitting alone in the crowd.” Her fingers traced the lines of his face—his almond-brown eyes, his high cheekbones. Thoth was still a young man, his body not yet fully hardened, but she gazed at him as if he were perfect. “The tournament has nothing to do with silly games of strength.”

He took her hand and kissed it. “So what will happen now?”

Hermese nestled against him and closed her eyes. “You will stay in the temple with me until I am with child.” When he didn’t say anything, she looked at him. “You can leave the temple by day if you need to visit the city. But nights, you’ll sleep here.” For a moment she looked unsure and asked, “Is that acceptable?”

He hugged her to him. “Immensely.”

*   *   *

When Hermese was not busy with her other responsibilities, they spent all their time together
fulfilling their duty
, as they came to call it.

Thoth understood that, since she had no siblings, it was vital that she bear a child. On occasion, he had begun to overhear the hushed whispers of a servant or physician coming to give Hermese news of her father. Hermese had tried to pretend that it was nothing serious. But as the days passed, Thoth began to suspect that the Guardian was ill and in fact getting worse, and he realized just how vital it was that Hermese give birth to the next heir.

Since his arrival, Thoth had been treated by everyone else as an outsider and had been under strict orders to remain inside Hermese’s quarters. He was not allowed to talk to anyone or explore the temple fortress. Although he accepted the rules and tried not to feel like a prisoner, by the month’s end, he was overcome by an overwhelming urge to see his family. Thutmose granted him leave and reminded him that he must be back by evening.

It was the first time he had returned home, but before he could even sit down to dinner, his brother challenged him. “There are rumors that the Guardian is dying.”

Ramses gave his eldest son a sharp look. Thoth kept his face impassive, unwilling to divulge any knowledge he had gained inside the temple. He served himself and took his time answering. “I know he is unwell.”

In truth, the Guardian would, most likely, die soon, but the House of Atum wanted to keep his illness a secret.

Seth laughed. “Your lover will take her father’s place. She’s too young and not even with child. The people will oppose her.”

Thoth put down his bread. He had begun to lose his appetite. “What do you suggest, brother? That we will no longer have a Guardian? That is heresy.”

Seth’s voice rose with a passion Thoth had never heard before. “It is an ancient system put in place by elders who are no longer here. If we are truly a free society, we do not need a House of Atum hoarding our forefathers’ wisdom—keeping it locked away in a complex we cannot even enter. What gives them the right to control the pyramid and its force, to share none of their knowledge? They want to keep us ignorant and enslaved.”

Ramses banged his fist on the table. Both brothers jumped. “The House of Atum wields its power benevolently, selflessly preserving the past and protecting the future.”

Seth rolled his eyes—his father was merely reciting one of his favorite speeches.

But Ramses wasn’t finished. “The Elders knew firsthand what happens when such a force is exploited. The Guardians were put in place so that it would not happen again. As long as I am councilor, they will never be unseated.”

Seth kept his eyes down as he spoke. “Dissension is growing. You are one of the few who oppose abolishing the system.”

Thoth could tell that Ramses was about to erupt again and tried to make his brother see reason. “Seth, the members of the House of Atum are the people’s last link to a lost history. Someone must be entrusted to be the keepers of this sacred knowledge.”

“Why? Why do you blindly accept the law?” Seth shouted. “Only they know the full spectrum of the sciences and arts, which are all but forgotten by the people. They alone control the power of the Great Pyramid, distancing themselves from the outside world.”

Ramses banged both fists on the table this time. “To keep what they safeguard from being corrupted by greed!”

Seth glared back at his father. “The Guardians have always been archaic, and they have become pompous in their isolation. Society is voracious, Father. It will always search for a way to destroy anything that exists outside of it.”

Ramses bellowed, “How dare you speak such words at my table? Do you think I do not know what poison you are brewing outside these walls? The High Priestess chose your brother to sire the next Guardian. Do not forget you fought for the honor too. And lost.”

At this, Seth fell silent. His father was the one man who was still able to put him in his place. A scholar and a warrior, Ramses was also a father to the people. He was as noble as a king, and he possessed a fair and true heart. But Thoth had never seen him angrier.

Ramses took Seth’s wine goblet and turned it over, signaling that Seth was no longer welcome to drink at his table. “I am ashamed to call you my son.”

“Then I will be no longer.” Without another word, Seth stood up and stormed out of the house.

Thoth and his father both sat in silence. Thoth knew Seth was not a lone voice clamoring for change—the threat of which he spoke was real. The opposition would use the transition as an excuse to challenge the balance of power. Still, he tried to have hope. “Don’t worry, Father. He will return.”

Ramses shook his head. “Your brother is not the man you think he is. Some days, I’d swear Kiya took his spirit with her when she died. I do not know him anymore.” He stood up and went to his writing table.

Thoth noticed how painfully he moved. For the first time in his life, his father looked truly frail. “Are you unwell?” Thoth asked.

Ramses brushed off the question with a wave of his hand and returned from his desk with a sealed scroll. “Give this to the High Priestess and no one else.”

Thoth held his surprise in check. Only the House of Atum knew how to read the inscriptions left by Heliopolis’ ancestors. The people remembered a few of the symbols, but not enough to make use of them—to do what Hermese called reading or writing. Their history had been carried down orally, through the stories told by the priests. Ramses had taught Seth and Thoth more symbols than most parents, but Thoth had not placed much importance in the lessons. He could not imagine why his father had written to Hermese, but had enough self-discipline not to ask. He did not recognize the seal on the scroll. It was neither the council’s nor their family emblem.

Ramses handed Thoth the scroll and clasped his arm. “By the powers of Re, may she be with child before the next moon.”

*   *   *

That night Thoth made love to Hermese with a ferocity he could not restrain. Afterward, as they lay beside each other, he recounted his visit home and handed her the scroll. She did not open it, but, instead, studied the seal.

“What is it?” Thoth asked.

“An answer.” She smiled and put the scroll away in a small wooden chest.

“You will not read it in front of me? What secrets could you possibly have with my father?” he teased.

She laughed but said nothing.

“Fine, keep your secrets then.” Thoth grabbed her and pulled her back on the pillows. “I’ll share mine. I never want to leave here, ever, or to leave you.”

Hermese hugged him close. “My heart feels the same,” she admitted, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “I have found a way to give us more time.” She reached over to her dressing table and took out a miniature clay pot. Her voice grew softer still. “As long as I drink this, I will not be with child.”

Thoth sat up and whispered, “You break every ancient law.”

“Then tell me not to drink it.”

Thoth could not say the words. He wanted to steal as much time with her as possible.

She poured the dark, viscous liquid into a cup and drank it in one swallow. “We will fulfill our duty, but not just yet,” she said and crawled back under the sheets and kissed him. They never spoke of it again.

FORTY-ONE

Hermese drank the potion for six months, and for six months, they pretended that their prolonged union did not affect the world outside the temple fortress. But Thoth could sense the storm coming. Hermese’s father had grown more ill, and she spent more and more time away from her quarters making decisions in his stead.

Only the Guardian knew how to harmonize the pyramids’ oscillation so that they vibrated in sympathy with the Earth, channeling its energy and resonating with its magnetism. Not only did the pyramids run their civilization, but they also stabilized the Earth’s shifting crust by drawing upon its seismic energy. The Elders had understood that the pyramids played a crucial role in helping to avoid cataclysmic events. They had suffered such occurrences before with tragic consequences in the time of the Great War. It was for this reason that Heliopolis had been built—to start again and protect the ancient knowledge before it was lost. The Elders had lived in the First Time and had become Heliopolis’s first Council of Twelve—the wisest men and women chosen by Osiris and Isis to lead their civilization. It was the Elders who had created the new laws when Horus died, and the First Time had died with him. And it was they, Heliopolis’ benevolent forefathers, who had given the Guardians unconditional autonomy in their duties.

It often amazed Thoth to think that Hermese knew how to control such an incredible force, and yet he had never met anyone more humble or more giving.

It pained him that he now only saw her at night. In the mornings, she had started leaving papyrus scrolls on her writing table for him to look at so that he might have something to occupy his time. He had no idea where they came from, but he had the feeling that others in the House of Atum would not approve of her actions.