That God Won't Hunt
Table of Contents
That God Won’t Hunt
That God Won’t Hunt
By Susan Sizemore
“Rejoice, Princess Ipuit, for my son is of an age to marry, and who better than you to be chosen as one of his queens?”
Ipuit bowed low before the chair of the Queen Mother, her forehead touching the flank of a hippopotamus that was part of a hunting scene painted on the reception room floor. “I am blessed by this honor, Queen Ankhnes-Mery-Re.”
Ipuit did not feel quite as blessed as perhaps she should, for she had been happy far away from the royal city of Menfi. The mud brick palace crowded with people disconcerted her after years spent studying in a quiet, isolated temple. But duty and family obligation called her from her quiet retreat, and she could not feel sorry for herself, either. Being a great wife to the lord of the two lands was hardly a fate to cry herself to sleep over. She and Pepi had been friends when they were children. She had missed him when she went away, and enjoyed their occasional exchange of letters and presents. Still, it had been nearly a year since she’d heard from him, which was one of the reasons the queen mother’s summons had taken Ipuit so much by surprise.
“Come, girl, and sit beside me,” the queen mother ordered. “For I am your great aunt as well as your husband’s mother, if you recall.”
A servant moved swiftly to place a low stool beside the queen’s carved ebony chair, and Ipuit moved with some trepidation to take this seat of honor. Though she was a princess of the royal blood, daughter to the young pharaoh’s predecessor and half-brother, Nemtyemzaf, Ipuit did not think the mother of the present lord of the two lands bestowed such a mark of favor on her out of deep family feeling.
When Ipuit was seated, Ankhnes-Mery-Re dismissed her attendants. When they were alone, the queen mother took Ipuit’s hand in hers and said, “You have been away from Menfi for a long time, child. Look at me, and tell me of your life in the temple of Meresger.”
Initiated into the mysteries of a goddess who was known as The Lover of Silence, Ipuit had been trained to listen. She heard the importance her answer held in the queen mother’s sociable words. Her aunt was deeply troubled, and looking for reassurance. As a woman, or as the queen mother? Ipuit wondered. From a princess, or from a priestess? Was her concern for her son, or for the kingdom? But of course all these different parts of personality were mingled together, were they not, like the ba and ka that made up the totality of the living soul? Pepi was god and ruler, as well as the beloved child of Ankhnes-Mery-Re. And Ipuit reminded herself that she was priestess and princess, and capable of being useful as both.
“I have learned to love justice from serving in the temple of the Lady of Heaven,” she answered Ankhnes-Mery-Re.
“You are a great scholar, I hear,” Ankhnes-Mery-Re said, squeezing Ipuit’s hand. “A student of the great mysteries and magics.”
The queen mother sounded eager to know about Ipuit’s knowledge of magic, but the reception room door opened before Ipuit could answer.
The dogs entered first, a half dozen rollicking young hounds with prick ears and sleek red coats. Ipuit could not help but smile at the sight of such lively creatures, for she had always dearly loved dogs. She rose to her feet as the largest of the hounds came right up to her and began to eagerly sniff her all over. She laughed, and pushed the familiar creature’s head away, then almost forgot about the animal as a dozen men followed the dogs into Ankhnes-Mery-Re’s reception hall.
“Oh, my dear,” the queen mother complained to the young man who entered at the head of this entourage, “must you bring those beasts with you everywhere? They raise an awful stench.”
“These beautiful hunters are my brothers and sisters. I would not be happy unless they were always with me. Besides, they’re as washed and perfumed as I am,” the king replied airily. “Though they don’t like taking baths any better than I do.”
Only the friendly hound’s bumping her hand with its very cold nose distracted Ipuit enough not to gasp with shock at Pepi’s claim to dislike bathing, for being ritually cleansed in the water of the Nile was one of pharaoh’s daily duties.
Pepi came forward and kissed his mother on the cheek. At the same time he gestured that there was no need for Ipuit to bow. He kissed her on the cheek a moment later, leaving her skin rather damp. The informality surprised her, but it also pleased Ipuit to see that her future husband was affectionate in private despite being pharaoh.
Her favorable impression was dimmed a moment later when Pepi stepped back and announced petulantly, “Djau said I had to come see you before I could go hunting.” He looked Ipuit over critically, then his gaze shifted to contemplate the shafts of sunlight coming in the windows set high in the thick wall.
Ipuit looked toward the king’s entourage, and saw several familiar faces. One was Queen Ankhnes-Mery-Re’s brother, the vizier Djau, who had served as co-regent with the queen mother during Pepi’s childhood. From the bold, and very nearly disdainful way the vizier returned her regard Ipuit surmised that he was very confident in the influence he held over the king, though Pepi was now a man. Ipuit was careful to bow slightly to the vizier, as a niece to an honored great uncle.
As if Djau’s attitude was not disturbing enough, Ipuit saw that a priest of Seth stood at the vizier’s side. She firmly believed that Seth was a god of darkness and mischief, though his priests defended his role as a god of love. Dark magic came where Seth was. Seeing Seth’s priest so close to the vizier gave Ipuit at least one answer to the meaning behind Ankhnes-Mery-Re’s questions. Perhaps Ankhnes-Mery-Re hoped Ipuit would influence Pepi to favor the goddess of justice over the god of chaos. When the Seth priest looked at her and smiled a thin, contemptuous smile, Ipuit knew he was aware the queen mother might think this as well, and he did not believe Ipuit had any hope of succeeding.
Ipuit saw the man’s scorn as a challenge, but gave him no indication she accepted it. She stayed as quiet and unobtrusive as she could, willing herself to seem no more than a meek shadow at the queen mother’s side. But for the enthusiastic young hound that continued to lean against her and nudge at her hand for a petting.
“You are a persistent thing,” she murmured to the dog, and the king heard her.
“That’s Nebshedd. He’s a house hound, that one.” The pharaoh sounded disappointed in this lean red hound. He looked at the vizier. “I have seen my mother and my new queen. Can I go hunting now, Djau?”
“But, my dear, there are ambassadors. And the marriage, and—” the appalled queen mother began.
“Pharaoh is no longer a child for you to rebuke, sister,” Djau interrupted. “He will do as he pleases, and we will loyally wait for him to turn his attention to us—when it pleases him.” He bowed, then gestured toward the door. “If it pleases you to go hunting, my lord, then we rejoice in what pleases you.”
Pharaoh yelped with joy at this encouragement to ignore his duties, and he rushed from the reception hall without a further word or glance for his mother or wife-to-be. The dogs bounded out on his heels, with Djau and the rest moving almost as quickly to follow the king.
The queen mother and Ipuit looked at each other in shock and amazement, but neither voiced any complaints about pharaoh’s behavior. A god could do as he pleased, and it was traitorous to say anything about it. “If my lady allows,” Ipuit said instead, “then I should take my leave as well. The journey to Menfi has been tiring, and I have much to do to settle into my new household.”
And much to think on, she added to herself, as she made a formal bow to Ankhnes-Mery-Re.
##
What do I know so far? Ipuit asked herself now that she was alone in her large new bedroom. How much more do I need to know? And what will I do about it when I
have all the knowledge I need? This last question was more of a prayer to her wise goddess than a question to herself, but Ipuit knew she must be the one to act upon the insight Meresger granted her.
She had changed from the carefully pleated court dress into a straight linen shift, the carefully applied makeup had been washed off, and her heavy wig now sat on a stand in the nearby dressing room. Her rooms surrounded a private courtyard that held a fragrant garden and a delightful blue-tiled fish pool planted with reeds and lotus. Her personal quarters opened onto a shaded verandah and a pleasant breeze wafted in to cool the room.
Now that she had sent her women away, Ipuit stepped out to the verandah, took a seat on a bench by the wall, and combed out her shoulder-length hair while she thought over what she knew after less than a day back at the palace. She had heard rumors from people she’d talked to on the river journey from her quiet temple. Rumors that the young king was more frivolous now that he’d reached his majority than he had ever been while under the tutelage of his co-regent mother and uncle. She remembered Pepi as a dutiful boy. He loved to hunt, she’d been told. He hated being confined in the palace of Menfi. More than anything else he loved to be out for days on end, living for the exhilaration of the chase. This endless holiday had been going on for nearly a year.
What she thought she knew from her observations was that the vizier Djau was encouraging Pharaoh’s immature behavior because he did not want to give up the power he wielded during Pepi’s childhood. The queen mother was trying to counter Djau’s influence by insisting Pepi take wives and other trapping of adulthood. Djau kept a priest of Seth by his side. The priests of Seth were adepts at dark magic. The queen mother—
“Rrrrawfff, rawff, rrraff!”
The loud barking not a foot away from her startled Ipuit out of her reverie and brought her to her feet. “By Lioness’s wrath!” she swore, then looked down and said, “Oh, it’s you.”
The long-legged red sight hound dropped to its haunches in front of her, tilted its head, and looked at her with what she would have sworn was laughter in its large brown eyes. Nebshedd, she remembered it was called. He wore a gold collar inset with carnelian and lapis. “Quite the court beauty, aren’t you?” she asked. She stepped into the hot afternoon sunlight of the garden long enough to see if any human had come into her quarters with the dog, but decided after a few moments that Nebshedd had found his way to her on his own. She was rather pleased by the animal’s interest, actually. It was nice to have one friend she could trust utterly in the palace.
When she turned and went back into her bedroom, the dog followed her inside. Nebshedd showed no respect for her person or property as a queen of the two lands as he immediately jumped onto her bed and made himself comfortable.
Ipuit crossed her arms and looked at the beast with tolerant amusement. “Why aren’t you out hunting with the king? That’s right, I recall he said you preferred staying in the palace. Is that any way to earn your keep? Are you hiding from the master of the hounds, you lazy creature?” Nebshedd yawned in response to her questions. “Stay if you like,” she told him. “I have some work to do.”
There were several small chests in a corner of the room that she had not allowed the servants to unpack. She went to them now. First she knelt and said the appropriate prayers before the inlaid chest that held a statue and ritual objects of her goddess. Then Ipuit reverently opened the chest and set up a small altar on a low table with the contents of the chest. After she had lit incense and two alabaster lamps, she picked up one of the other boxes and brought it back to the bed, where she took a seat and opened the box. The dog looked at her curiously when she brought out a papyrus roll.
“What’s this, you’re wondering?” she said to the dog. “Not something for you to chew on, my pretty one. This,” this told Nebshedd, “is a book of wisdom. Magic of the deepest kind. For if I am called upon to battle a Seth priest, I will need to study and pray and prepare myself.”
The dog looked at her as if he actually understood and, as if to guard her privacy, Nebshedd got up off the bed and went to sit alertly at the door. He watched vigilantly while Ipuit read until the sun set and her servants insisted she eat and bathe and be prepared for bed.
The servants wanted to send for the master of hounds to take the dog away, for they were wary of the large hunting hound despite his lazy ways and friendly manner. They wanted to bring her a cat, if she must have a pet. Ipuit was nearly as fond of cats as she was dogs, but cats did not make particularly good guardians. At least she’d never heard of a cat that barked at the sound of intruders in the night. Besides, she felt that it was meant that the hunting hound had come to her. She did not let them take the dog away, or send for a cat, but she did feed Nebshedd a good part of her dinner. She was glad to have him with her when the dark drew down.
She sent up a silent prayer to Meresger for having at least one true friend as she settled into her bed on her first night back at Menfi. She did not trust the vizier, or his Seth priest, or any servants but the two maids she’d brought with her. She thought that the queen mother had sent for her for good motives, but Ipuit knew that the favor of royalty was a chancy thing. If she did not bring about the results Ankhnes-Mery-Re wanted, then the queen mother would discard her in favor of a new tool to do her bidding. Ipuit did not resent Ankhnes-Mery-Re in any way. She was the daughter of a pharaoh herself; she knew how royal games were played. She also believed Ankhnes-Mery-Re believed it was the good of the two lands and her son’s best interests that were at stake in this game with the vizier. Ipuit would do what she could to help.
But what was she to do? She fell asleep pondering that question.
She did not think it was much later when the dog’s wet nose pressed against her cheek woke her. She blinked a few times, then turned her head to look at the dog. The small lamps of her shrine gave enough light for Ipuit to see that Nebshedd had something in his mouth.
“What have you got?” she asked as she sat up.
When he dropped the dead asp in her lap she wished she hadn’t asked.
“Ah.”
She sighed, and examined the corpse of the deadly creature carefully, holding it up with one hand while she rubbed Nebshedd’s ears and head with the other. She wondered which of the servants had left the snake in her room. The one who had protested the most about the dog, she supposed. What to do? To make a fuss about an assassination attempt would make her seem weak in her enemies’ eyes, while to act as if nothing had occurred might make her seem enigmatic and mysterious. That she was shaking like an acacia in a windstorm right now was something no one but she and the dog need ever know.
She calmed down when Nebshedd whined a little and licked her hand. “Good dog,” she said. You saved my life, she thought, and wondered what sort of reward she could give a creature who already wore a gold collar and was the pampered pet of pharaoh. Because he was a dog, she did what dogs love best: she patted him and praised him and scratched his belly for a while.
When she was done petting Nebshedd, Ipuit took the dead snake outside and tossed the body into a patch of flowers. Then she looked up at the moon, shining round and full tonight, the finest jewel in the garb of the goddess of the night. She closed her eyes and lost herself for a few moments in prayers of thanks to the Lover of Silence and the goddess with a thousand souls. She was still caught in the rapture of worship when she stepped back into her bedroom. At first, all she heard was a fluttering in the darkness, like the sound of a bat or a bird trapped up near the ceiling. The sound drew her rather than sparking any fear of another attack. The dog was not barking. In fact, but for the fluttering of small wings there was a deep, intense silence about the room. Ipuit stepped from the verandah into total darkness. No moonlight entered through the door or windows. There was no tiny flicker of flames from the lamps in the shrine. Darkness, deep, thick, and swirling with the manifestation of deep mystery. Magic had entered this room where a short time before death had been unloosed to strike at her.
When she turned her gaze up to where the dog was staring she immediately recognized what the dog was staring at. It was not a bird, or a bat. The delicate creature with the head of a human and the body of a bright-colored bird was a ba, one part of a human soul, though who it belonged to and what it was doing here she could not at first fathom. The ka was the strongest part of the soul, the essence of all a person was; it resided in the body and in the spirit world. The ba was the ka’s messenger and servant. The two blended spirits made up the essence of a complete soul. The ba could not survive without the ka, but it was known that ba spirits could become lost and be led astray.
Poor little spirit, she thought. What was it doing here? And what did it have to do with one of pharaoh’s hunting dogs? Poor Nebshedd, she thought, to be haunted by a ba when you should be chasing hares or sleeping on the end of the bed.
Then she suddenly understood exactly what it all meant. Ipuit did not know if the knowledge that came to her in a flash of clarity was a gift of the goddess, or if it was simply the only possible explanation. To do such a thing to any soul was a heinous crime, but to do it to Pharaoh—it went beyond crime to the deepest type of sin. It was blasphemy and heresy and wickedness so vile only the priest of Seth the god of chaos could possibly have contemplated it. Even to think of what had been done made Ipuit feel unclean and tainted.