Of God-Kings and Pharaohs

It was early afternoon. A stifling, sand-filled haze had descended over the Nile. The lowering sun cast a sepia filter onto the landscape. The distant sandstone structures of Giza stood as red outlines before the burgundy peaks of the pyramids. Above the wide mirror surface of the water, dragonflies darted between clouds of hungering mosquitos. As usual the water was calm and azure, disturbed by only a few boats and even fewer frogs. Beneath the sounds of the nearby dock, tiny ripples lapped at the wet silt. A forceful wind came from upriver, bringing with it the aroma of spiced meats and incense. Grains of sand bounced along and dived into the edge of the water.

'Over there! Look!' The cries came from a small wooden rowboat out in the middle of the water. The three men inside were dressed in identical shendyt skirts and thin bands of bronze clung to their necks and forearms. The man at the front, who appeared younger and more agile, had his finger outstretched towards the riverbank. The vessel slunk towards narrower water until the bottom stuck on the riverbed. The younger-looking one leapt over the side; his feet were of a similar colour to the wet sand he stood upon. As he approached the bank, the frown he wore accentuated a deep, triangular scar that ran through his left eyebrow. There, caught in a clump of weeds and lotus flowers, lay a tiny pink bundle of limbs. The child was curled up in a woven bowl, peaceful and unharmed. In the silent Arabian winds that flittered between palm fronds, they studied it for a while. Its minute fingers twitched and an unidentifiable expression pulled at the corners of its narrow lips. It was then that they spoke in low voices, their tongues dancing like serpents from baskets. The greying man with a leather complexion spoke first.

'His skin. . . It's like ivory. Where did he come from?'

The remaining man, short and with a sly face, sneered at him,

'That's no boy, you imbecile. Why is an infant girl dumped in the river?'

The young man tore a large strip from above the hem of his shendyt and covered her body from the sun. He lifted her, so the others could see her fine head of hair.

'Look, brothers, her hair is like spurts of flame.'

As they gawked, he placed her in the small well of the rowboat and worked to push the vessel away from the shoreline. 'Her skin is blinding in the sunlight and the river didn't drown her.' He jumped back into his position at the front of the boat. 'The lizards didn't prey on her, nor the vultures. . . .'

There came a splashing from the shore and the men turned to look. A jungle cat, appearing as if it rose from the Egyptian sands, pounced upon the boat, nestling itself against the babe's side. They dared not remove it, instead readying their poles, plunging them into the riverbed. The young one spoke again, eyes wide with wonder, 'We must take her to the Pharaoh and his Queen. It would appear that, in our boat, we have a gift from the gods.'

He waved his hand to one side and the men drove the boat forward. They sped towards the Royal Harbour of Giza, leaving the water as serene as they had found it.

The young man carried the child through the top sector of the marketplace; the other men following closely behind. The marketplace never stopped. Every day it remained the same colourful buzz of business and gossip. It was here that most citizens learned to haggle. If you couldn't buy an item for under half of the original price, you were not yet Egyptian. The men wound their way through several cobbled sandstone streets. Each was scattered with woven crates and caskets amongst rickety wooden stands etched with poor attempts at Arabic. Sheet coverings, striped with maroon and faded yellow, provided small pockets of shade for the crowds. These same crowds dispersed like oil on water when they noticed the men. It was a common anxiety that guards would imprison those who peddled black market goods. In reality. they cared more about the urchins that stole them. The guards hurried now through the seemingly-deserted streets, until they came to a monolith that marked the border of the palace grounds. The cat, which had curled its lithe body around the baby girl, peered its head over the side of the basket and twitched its ears about like rose-coloured radars. They ascended the steep palace steps, passing unflinching watchmen. The young man adjusted the gods' package in his arms so that he could manage the last twenty-five steps. After reaching the summit, their strides echoed along the blocks of sandstone until they reached the end of a lengthy passage and entered the Pharaoh's hall.