“Now, how in the world does a man get a bee sting in a place like that?”
Beyond Nectanebo’s workshop the columns of the great temple rose up black against the midnight blue of the sky. Before the temple stretched a broad courtyard flanked by porticos of lotus-stalk columns under whose eaves inert figures lay curled on papyrus mats, men and women indiscriminately. One could hear the collective sigh of their breathing. Now and then, one would moan or stir in his sleep. Serpents glided silently among them, tongues flicking out, touching eyelids, bringing dreams. Incense hung heavy in the moist night air.
The only illumination was the pale glow of oil lamps set upon the ground by each sleeper’s head. The priests of the temple kept watch throughout the night, some resting on stools, others bending over the recumbent figures, those who were restless, whose dreams wouldn’t come—touching, whispering incantations, assuring them that the compassionate Mistress of the Universe and her consort were with them and would heal them of their gout, their headache, their infertility. Attending were the priests of Isis, of Serapis, of Thoth; and the priest of Anubis—Alexandrinus—his head covered by the towering jackal mask, long-snouted and sharp-eared, painted black on one side and gold on the other. Through small eye-holes in the long neck he peered into the darkness.
Then one of the sleepers—she hadn’t really been asleep at all—arose and came silently toward him, holding her lamp before her. Quickly Alexandrinus led her around the back of the temple and through a small door into a private cell. He turned to her, raising his arms to shoulder height, palms outward. “Praise the Queen of Heaven,” he said. The voice was deep, the accent Egyptian, whether honestly come by or not. The voice of a god.
“Praise the Daughter of the Stars,” repeated Turpia Scortilla and threw herself against his broad chest. He could feel her trembling.
“Not wise for you to come here.”
“It worked! My Lord, it worked! Eight nights passed after I buried the tablet, I didn’t sleep a single one, lying in my bed, listening, not daring to hope. Then the night before last they came—Ereschigal, Phokensepsou, Cheloumbra, and Abrasax. They came! Flying through his window. I heard the beating of their wings, and then slashing and ripping with their talons. I saw the marks on his body the next day and nearly fainted. I haven’t stirred from my room since then until tonight. But I had to see you, to tell you. It’s all happening exactly as you told me—”
“ I told you?” he broke in sharply. “I told you nothing. It is the divine that speaks through me. Never say I told you.”
“Yes, my Lord.” She lowered her head. “We—we haven’t done wrong, have we?”
He stroked her hair. “Isis is Queen of Hades as well as Queen of Heaven. All means to an end are within her compass.”
“But I’m frightened. The penalty for magic is death. The police are camped in our house, some inspector came around. I wouldn’t speak to him, but what if he comes back?”
“These police are stupid men. Calm yourself. The next step is the will. When is the reading?”
“Lucius wants it the day after tomorrow.”
“Then there isn’t much time. Verpa wrote what you suggested to him?”
She nodded. “A hundred thousand.”
“Now I’m going to teach you how to lift a seal. It’s a simple trick, some book maker’s glue mixed with chalk, it hardens quickly. Lift it off and you have a perfect mold. The rest will be simple.”
“Oh, Goddess help me. I’m afraid. I don’t think I can go through with this. My nerves…”
“You can. The demons have done what you commanded, the rest you must do yourself. Anubis will hold your hand, as I do now.” He pulled her to him. Not gently. An animal growl rose deep in his throat, he pushed her on her knees on the cold stones, although he knew it hurt her, and pulled up her stola. Her spine was
Beyond Nectanebo’s workshop the columns of the great temple rose up black against the midnight blue of the sky. Before the temple stretched a broad courtyard flanked by porticos of lotus-stalk columns under whose eaves inert figures lay curled on papyrus mats, men and women indiscriminately. One could hear the collective sigh of their breathing. Now and then, one would moan or stir in his sleep. Serpents glided silently among them, tongues flicking out, touching eyelids, bringing dreams. Incense hung heavy in the moist night air.
The only illumination was the pale glow of oil lamps set upon the ground by each sleeper’s head. The priests of the temple kept watch throughout the night, some resting on stools, others bending over the recumbent figures, those who were restless, whose dreams wouldn’t come—touching, whispering incantations, assuring them that the compassionate Mistress of the Universe and her consort were with them and would heal them of their gout, their headache, their infertility. Attending were the priests of Isis, of Serapis, of Thoth; and the priest of Anubis—Alexandrinus—his head covered by the towering jackal mask, long-snouted and sharp-eared, painted black on one side and gold on the other. Through small eye-holes in the long neck he peered into the darkness.
Then one of the sleepers—she hadn’t really been asleep at all—arose and came silently toward him, holding her lamp before her. Quickly Alexandrinus led her around the back of the temple and through a small door into a private cell. He turned to her, raising his arms to shoulder height, palms outward. “Praise the Queen of Heaven,” he said. The voice was deep, the accent Egyptian, whether honestly come by or not. The voice of a god.
“Praise the Daughter of the Stars,” repeated Turpia Scortilla and threw herself against his broad chest. He could feel her trembling.
“Not wise for you to come here.”
“It worked! My Lord, it worked! Eight nights passed after I buried the tablet, I didn’t sleep a single one, lying in my bed, listening, not daring to hope. Then the night before last they came—Ereschigal, Phokensepsou, Cheloumbra, and Abrasax. They came! Flying through his window. I heard the beating of their wings, and then slashing and ripping with their talons. I saw the marks on his body the next day and nearly fainted. I haven’t stirred from my room since then until tonight. But I had to see you, to tell you. It’s all happening exactly as you told me—”
“ I told you?” he broke in sharply. “I told you nothing. It is the divine that speaks through me. Never say I told you.”
“Yes, my Lord.” She lowered her head. “We—we haven’t done wrong, have we?”
He stroked her hair. “Isis is Queen of Hades as well as Queen of Heaven. All means to an end are within her compass.”
“But I’m frightened. The penalty for magic is death. The police are camped in our house, some inspector came around. I wouldn’t speak to him, but what if he comes back?”
“These police are stupid men. Calm yourself. The next step is the will. When is the reading?”
“Lucius wants it the day after tomorrow.”
“Then there isn’t much time. Verpa wrote what you suggested to him?”
She nodded. “A hundred thousand.”
“Now I’m going to teach you how to lift a seal. It’s a simple trick, some book maker’s glue mixed with chalk, it hardens quickly. Lift it off and you have a perfect mold. The rest will be simple.”
“Oh, Goddess help me. I’m afraid. I don’t think I can go through with this. My nerves…”
“You can. The demons have done what you commanded, the rest you must do yourself. Anubis will hold your hand, as I do now.” He pulled her to him. Not gently. An animal growl rose deep in his throat, he pushed her on her knees on the cold stones, although he knew it hurt her, and pulled up her stola. Her spine was
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