the dried red petals from the flower Sahure had placed in her hair.
***
Her older sister Paratiti, who’d been chosen by Sobek years ago to be Tyema’s guardian until she took over the temple, arrived from her home in the village one day late in the eighth month, by prearrangement bringing her daughters and the wives of her sons, as well as a gaggle of girl children. The group ate lunch with Tyema in the temple’s private gardens, laughing and chattering in the shade of towering palms and fragrant acacias. The older ones talked about when their babies had been born, exchanging funny stories and teasing each other. Tyema sat in the midst of her extended family, marveling at what a strange feeling it was to be with them all, but the impending birth of her child gave them common ground. She felt relaxed, unworried, since they were in her home and she was the hostess. In control. The baby moved and kicked just enough to remind her the two of them were in this together, and after all the entire gathering was in Tyema’s honor, organized by Paratiti. Some of the women had brought embroidered swaddling clothes for the baby and there was one big parcel they refused to let her open. It had taken two of them to carry the basket from the donkey cart at the front gate to the garden where the lunch was being held.
Finally, as the temple servants brought plates of honeyed cakes and figs at the end of the meal, Paratiti gestured at the oversized basket. “Bring the gift now.”
Her daughters hauled the sturdy container to Tyema, setting it on the ground next to her. Smiling, she said, “I can’t imagine what this might be.” Lifting off the lid, she set it aside and removed the top layer of straw packing. Below the straw she found a fine pair of birthing bricks, smooth, freshly painted in white, with stunning portraits of the goddesses Hathor and Tawaret drawn on the sides in turquoise, gold and red. Protective spells were inked in black hieratic. Tyema sat with a brick in either hand, examining the art.
“Do you like them? I made the bricks myself,” Paratiti said anxiously. “I said blessings to Hathor as I mixed the mud and straw in the brick-making forms.”
“And we had the best artisan in the village do the paintings,” Tyema’s favorite niece, Renebti, added. “He wouldn’t take payment since it was for you.”
“I—I don’t know what to say,” Tyema stammered. “I’m touched.”
“I hope your god won’t mind, but birthing a child is a female mystery and he isn’t known for involvement with such things. His crocodiles come from eggs after all. We were afraid you wouldn’t have proper bricks here when the time comes.” Paratiti gestured at the temple behind the garden.
“You do know this isn’t Sobek’s baby?” Tyema asked.
Her sister patted her on the hand. “No matter whose baby this is, you’ll need all the magic and charms and assistance you can get when the child arrives.” She eyed Tyema’s belly. “You’re so tiny and the baby is so big!”
The older women laughed conspiratorially. Tears burning in her eyes, Tyema fought not to cry. For the first time ever she felt a part of the family, cherished and cared for. She set the bricks down with care, so as not to risk breaking or chipping them, and turned to Paratiti. Suddenly frightened at what might lie ahead when labor began, Tyema said, “You will come, won’t you? To help me?”
“Of course, little sister. You don’t even need to ask.” She hugged Tyema hard. “But you’ll be fine. The women in our family give birth easily.”
***
Surveying the neat lines of his temporary camp, humming with activity behind the shield barricade on the seventh night out from Thebes, Sahure was well satisfied with the progress his small army had made since leaving the capital. They’d had few breakdowns of chariots or support wagons, and the logistics staff under the chief military scribe was some of the best in the army. Marnamaret had
***
Her older sister Paratiti, who’d been chosen by Sobek years ago to be Tyema’s guardian until she took over the temple, arrived from her home in the village one day late in the eighth month, by prearrangement bringing her daughters and the wives of her sons, as well as a gaggle of girl children. The group ate lunch with Tyema in the temple’s private gardens, laughing and chattering in the shade of towering palms and fragrant acacias. The older ones talked about when their babies had been born, exchanging funny stories and teasing each other. Tyema sat in the midst of her extended family, marveling at what a strange feeling it was to be with them all, but the impending birth of her child gave them common ground. She felt relaxed, unworried, since they were in her home and she was the hostess. In control. The baby moved and kicked just enough to remind her the two of them were in this together, and after all the entire gathering was in Tyema’s honor, organized by Paratiti. Some of the women had brought embroidered swaddling clothes for the baby and there was one big parcel they refused to let her open. It had taken two of them to carry the basket from the donkey cart at the front gate to the garden where the lunch was being held.
Finally, as the temple servants brought plates of honeyed cakes and figs at the end of the meal, Paratiti gestured at the oversized basket. “Bring the gift now.”
Her daughters hauled the sturdy container to Tyema, setting it on the ground next to her. Smiling, she said, “I can’t imagine what this might be.” Lifting off the lid, she set it aside and removed the top layer of straw packing. Below the straw she found a fine pair of birthing bricks, smooth, freshly painted in white, with stunning portraits of the goddesses Hathor and Tawaret drawn on the sides in turquoise, gold and red. Protective spells were inked in black hieratic. Tyema sat with a brick in either hand, examining the art.
“Do you like them? I made the bricks myself,” Paratiti said anxiously. “I said blessings to Hathor as I mixed the mud and straw in the brick-making forms.”
“And we had the best artisan in the village do the paintings,” Tyema’s favorite niece, Renebti, added. “He wouldn’t take payment since it was for you.”
“I—I don’t know what to say,” Tyema stammered. “I’m touched.”
“I hope your god won’t mind, but birthing a child is a female mystery and he isn’t known for involvement with such things. His crocodiles come from eggs after all. We were afraid you wouldn’t have proper bricks here when the time comes.” Paratiti gestured at the temple behind the garden.
“You do know this isn’t Sobek’s baby?” Tyema asked.
Her sister patted her on the hand. “No matter whose baby this is, you’ll need all the magic and charms and assistance you can get when the child arrives.” She eyed Tyema’s belly. “You’re so tiny and the baby is so big!”
The older women laughed conspiratorially. Tears burning in her eyes, Tyema fought not to cry. For the first time ever she felt a part of the family, cherished and cared for. She set the bricks down with care, so as not to risk breaking or chipping them, and turned to Paratiti. Suddenly frightened at what might lie ahead when labor began, Tyema said, “You will come, won’t you? To help me?”
“Of course, little sister. You don’t even need to ask.” She hugged Tyema hard. “But you’ll be fine. The women in our family give birth easily.”
***
Surveying the neat lines of his temporary camp, humming with activity behind the shield barricade on the seventh night out from Thebes, Sahure was well satisfied with the progress his small army had made since leaving the capital. They’d had few breakdowns of chariots or support wagons, and the logistics staff under the chief military scribe was some of the best in the army. Marnamaret had
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