Imhotep by Jerry Dubs Page B

Djefi’s
orders to be silent, “that the netjrew like to be secretive.”
    “That’s
why we never see them, isn’t it?” Ahmes said.
     
     
    W hen dusk came, Paneb sent Ahmes ahead to
make sure no one was along the path to Ineb-Hedj and to tell his mother that
she should prepare for a guest.
    They
had spent the afternoon teaching the god their language.  They took turns
drawing in the sand and saying the words to match the pictures.  At other
times they had acted out ideas, pretending to eat, drink, sleep and ride
camels.  The god was shy at first, depending on Ahmes and Paneb to decide
which words to teach. But when they ran out of ideas, unsure what he wanted to
learn, the god pulled an object out of the sack he carried.
    He
lifted part of it and showed Paneb and Ahmes that it was filled with pages of
papyrus only smoother and whiter.
    The
god drew pictures on the pages and asked Ahmes and Paneb to describe them.
    One
picture showed two men fighting.  Another showed a crocodile attacking a
man.  Others were less exciting: a boat, a man walking across the desert,
the sun rising and setting.  He drew a snake, a scorpion, a fire, and a
water pot.  His drawings were quick and accurate and Paneb, remembering
how the god Brian had thrown the spear so deeply into the sand, wondered if
there was anything the gods could not do.
     
     
    I t was dark as Paneb and Tim approached the
outskirts of Ineb-Hedj.  They were greeted by Ahmes who was out of breath
after running from their house back to the edge of town.
    “Mother
wouldn’t let me go because I wouldn’t tell her who the guest was,” he
said.  “I told her it was someone you met at the tomb, but I didn’t know
his name.  She asked what he did and if he wore a kilt.”
    Paneb
smiled.  “What did you say?”
    “I
told her it was a surprise.”
    Paneb
nodded.  “It will be, it will be.”
    Tim
followed none of the conversation.  He knew that the crash course in
Egyptian that afternoon was just a start at acclimating his ear to sounds he
had never heard before.  He hoped that being immersed in the language
would make him learn it quickly.
    The
moon was in its last quarter, however, the stars were bright and it was easy
for Tim to follow Paneb through the maze of hard-packed dirt streets of
Ineb-Hedj.  Mud-brick homes with open doorways and narrow open holes for
windows were scattered along the tree-shaded pathways.  At some places a
group of three or four homes faced each other in a half circle with a
rock-lined fire pit in the center of the clearing.
    It
seemed that Paneb was leading him through back alleys, avoiding areas where Tim
heard the sound of people talking.  Once they startled a pen of geese and
Paneb’s pace picked up as the geese began to honk.  At one house a young
goat tethered to a post cried out as they passed.
    Soon
they left the crowded area and entered a neighborhood where the pathway was
wider and straighter; the houses were larger and set back from the
street.  Most of them had head-high, mud-brick walls surrounding a small
courtyard.
    They
followed the street into a small cul-de-sac, where a larger house stood beside
two smaller homes.  The smell of cooking spices and horseradish coming
from the larger home reminded Tim that he hadn’t eaten since they had shared
the cinnamon roll.
    They
stopped in the dark clearing and Paneb pointed to the small house at their
left.  “The hewet of Taki’s mother,” he said.  Pointing to the other
smaller home, he said, “Hewet of Taki’s sister.”
    As Tim
nodded his understanding his stomach growled in hunger.
    Paneb
smiled at this human-sounding god.  “Taki will have prepared food.” He
started to pray that the food would meet this god’s approval, but then wondered
to whom he should pray.  If the god approved, he approved.  He had
seemed a very generous god so far.  Paneb hoped it would continue.
    “I
call my wife Taki, but her name is Takhaaenbbastet.”
    Tim
repeated