Imhotep by Jerry Dubs Page A

Khert-Neter.
    It
must be very strange to be a god, Ahmes thought.  He took the last bite of
the sweet roll.  Strange and very nice.
     
     
    P aneb kept stealing glances at Tim.
    He had
seen Hetephernebti, priestess of Re, several times.  She was happy and
smiling, often stopping to talk with people as she walked through the streets
of Iunu where the great temple of Re stood.  He had seen the stern-looking
Waja-Hur, priest of Thoth several times here at the tomb when he came to draw
hieroglyphics from the Book of the Dead.  He was ancient, and although
unbent by the years he carried, he had seemed weary and almost angry.
    This
god was as different from Brian and Diane as Hetephernebti was from Waja-Hur,
or from Djefi.
    The
male gods surprised Paneb with their energy.  But then gods must be so
full of life, it would be hard to contain it in a body, he thought. 
Although Brian had been larger and stronger, this god, with his intensity and
quietness seemed more powerful.  There was something about his face, an
openness and honesty, that made Paneb want to help and protect him.
    As if
he could help and protect a god.
    Ahh,
what would Taki think?
    She
was so attentive to the things that their family needed to survive from day to
day - cooking, fetching water, making linen to barter at the market for
food, shaving their heads, caring for them every day.
    She
had little time for the gods, except, of course for Ptah and Bes.  But all
the women wore amulets of Bes to help with childbirth and to keep snakes out of
the home.
    He
felt sad some times, worried that Taki was so involved in living this life,
that she never got a glimpse of what their eternal life would be like.
    When
he took priests to see his tomb paintings of the gods, Paneb would watch their
reactions.  Sometimes as they studied the drawings, Paneb would see their
eyes focus beyond the tomb walls, and he knew that his art had opened a window
for the priests to see into Khert-Neter.  They would stand a little
straighter, their voices would grow softer, even their movements would become
more graceful.
    Paneb
was inspired by those moments, by the proof that his work was pleasing to the
priests and so, perhaps, to the gods.  He wished he could share that
feeling with Taki, so she could understand his love of the tombs and his
eagerness to stand in the dimly lit underground chambers painting and communing
with the gods, especially Ptah, the god who guided his hand.
    But
then sometimes, when Taki was teaching their daughters to cook or to weave
linen and Paneb saw Taki’s concentration reflected in the faces of his beloved
daughters, he knew that they also communed with the gods.
    She
should meet this god, he decided.  It was a gift he could give her.
     
     
    T im shook himself free from his reverie and
looked across the desert as if finding himself here for the first time.
    He
couldn’t walk across the desert, hoping to survive for three or four days,
hoping to accidentally stumble across To-She.  For the moment, Brian and
Diane were beyond his reach.  He needed transportation; he needed a better
way to communicate than scratching in the sand.  He needed a plan.
    He
stood, careful to keep his damp fingers from touching the sand.
    He
picked up the long brush Paneb had used to draw in the sand.  Ahmes
hurried to his side to clear away a space in the sand.
    Tim
drew a box with a doorway.  He pointed to it and looked at Ahmes, who said
‘hewet.’
    He
pointed to the house again.  “Hewet of Paneb and Ahmes.” Then he placed
his hand against his chest and said his name.  Ahmes’ mouth gaped open in
surprise.  He turned to Paneb.
    “Father,
he wants to come to our house!”
    “Yes,
Ahmes, I think so,” he agreed, wondering if the god had read his mind.
    Tim
continued to draw, making a circle to represent the sun and then a dashed line
to show it moving across the sky and setting.
    Paneb
nodded.  “At night.  I think, Ahmes,” he said, thinking of