Khu: A Tale of Ancient Egypt (9 page)

Sankhkare was not breathing.

The little boy’s face was ashen as he lay unconscious on his back, eliciting a loud gasp from the crowd whose eyes were now riveted to the scene. And climbing rapidly out of the water, Khu turned the boy on his side and struck him firmly on the back. Then he shoved his finger in the boy’s mouth and pulled out the partially eaten date that had gotten lodged in Sankhkare’s throat when he fell into the pond.

“Sankhkare!”
Neferu ran to her son, crouching down on the ground beside him, her eyes wide with the panic that drove her to the edge of madness as the realization of what had just happened dawned on her with a jarring impact.

The little
prince began to cough, gasping as he gulped for air. Then he cried inconsolably as the shock of the accident wore off, and the seriousness of the events struck him with dread.

“Sankhkare… Sankhkare…”
Neferu whispered as she held her son closely, rocking him back and forth to sooth the frightened child and calm her own frayed nerves. “It is alright now, my child… my sweet child,” she cooed lovingly to her boy.

“He will be fine,” Khu said in a low voice.

Neferu looked up suddenly as though she had forgotten
Khu was there. She said nothing at first, but stared at him with wide eyes filled with emotion. “Thank you,” she mouthed to Khu as hot tears streamed down her face. For a moment she just closed her eyes tightly and buried her head in her son’s chest, as a tumult of emotions assailed her. Then she lifted her head. “Thank you, Khu… thank you, thank you, thank you,” she repeated again and again as she locked eyes with Khu while scooping Sankhkare up closer to embrace him.

Khu blinked his eyes
with a slow nod to Neferu in acknowledgment. He reached out to caress the little boy’s shaven head, and the plaited sidelock of hair that was dripping water from the pond. That was when Neferu placed her own hand on top of Khu’s. She squeezed it with all the emotions overwhelming her for the tragedy that had so nearly happened, and for what Khu had done to avert it.

Khu turned his golden gaze on Neferu, looking her in the eyes with gratitude for the kindness she
was showing him for the very first time. And from that day on, the ice that had previously clogged her veins and frozen her heart, melted away.

And a
ll the hate, fear and envy were replaced by a reverential blend of wonder and admiration for the boy who saved her son’s life.

***

Mentuhotep regarded Khu and Nakhti with a faraway look in his eyes, as a servant handed each of the boys clean linen cloths to wipe away the sweat and dirt from their faces.

The boys
had spent the first part of their day in their schooling lessons as was customary for male children of the nobility and wealthier classes. Temple priests and scribes tutored boys in reading, writing, mathematics and medicine, along with a limited amount of geography, history and foreign phrases where applicable, so that they were well acquainted with governmental and temple procedures. While all pupils were taught to read and write, the other subjects were only reserved for those who would require them in their future careers, be it as government officials, priests, doctors or scribes, among the various occupations.

The
daily lessons lasted several hours from the early morning, and could be long and tedious with much memorization and endless copying of hieroglyphic scripts. The tutors were hard taskmasters, and were quick to correct wayward students with a lash of a rod. By the time the lessons were finished for the day, the boys had a great deal of pent-up energy which they were eager to exhaust in their combative training exercises, under the guidance of Qeb. It was a strict and vigorous routine, both mentally and physically, but one which helped to mold the boys into men.

The king
was pleased with his sons’ training and all the progress they had shown over the years. Both of them were intelligent, strong and capable. Khu’s natural aptitude was especially impressive, though one would never guess from his pragmatic and unassuming nature.

Mentuhotep
was remembering the time when he first discovered Khu’s special gift.

The king
had been attempting to settle a quarrel between two villagers who had come to the palace with some officials. Both of the men were skilled craftsmen, and worked in the village workshops. One of them was a carpenter while the other a metalworker. They lived on the same block and had enjoyed a comfortable living from the talents which had made their skills profitable.

The two men waited quietly before the king. The proceedings took place in a shaded courtyard where the king usually managed the
local affairs of his lands and people. The men standing before him had been foes for a long time. The years had engendered a spirit of competition which had degenerated into jealousy and envy. They tried to outdo each other in wealth and status, and the flames of that rivalry were fanned by their family’s petty conflicts, so that their mutual enmity extended between their wives, children, and other relatives.

One of the men had
begun stealing from the other several years before. At first it was an act of malice done to spite the other, but as time passed, it deepened into something more wicked. The guilty man sought to disparage the other’s good name. He would sometimes plant evidence to falsely accuse his rival of stealing, and to defame his good character. But nothing had come of it until recently, when the innocent man was found in possession of an amulet hidden in his shop. That amulet belonged to a temple priest. This was a serious crime, for while thieves were not tolerated, and their crimes were met with harsh consequences, stealing from the temple or from one of the temple priests was especially disdained as an egregious offence. 

Both men stood with their faces tight and jaws set. It
was impossible to tell who was guilty or innocent by looking at them, as both pointed their fingers to each other in accusation.

“For years he has been stealing from my family, Lord King,” the first spoke with his head bowed in humility as he stood before the king who was seated on a throne on top of a raised platform.

Two advisors waited at either side of
Mentuhotep, watching the events with the corners of their mouths turned down. Four temple priests were also in attendance, including the man from whom the amulet had been stolen. This case had been tried by priests earlier, but they had not been able to reach a decision on their own, even after praying to the gods for help in their deliberations. And so the villagers had petitioned to take their case before the king, where Mentuhotep would have the final say and judgment on the matter. But no one knew what to make of the testimony. It was one man’s word against another.

“Year
s?” the king asked.

“Yes, Lord King.”

“That is not true!” the second man spoke emphatically. “He lies!”

“Quiet!” one of the advisors yelled. “Do not speak unless spoken to.”

“You will have your turn to speak,” the other advisor said.

Mentuhotep frowned. He leaned back in his chair and raised an arm to rest his chin on the back of his fisted hand as he thought.
“And why have you not complained before this?” he asked the first man.

“I have, Sire, but I did not have proof.”

The second man scowled at that. He shook his head and closed his eyes in a grave attempt to keep silent and wait his turn. He tried to steady the beating of his heart.

The first man was perspiring
noticeably, and kept wiping his beaded brow, and then his clammy hands on his kilt, yet it was not that warm. A pleasant breeze carried the scent of roses, narcissus and myrtle flowers blooming in the surrounding gardens beyond the courtyard.

Tem had been watching in silence from the back of the room with Khu by her side.
She had already known of Khu’s gift of discernment from comments he would make, or simply from the way he would look at someone. And although she had tried to convince Mentuhotep before of Khu’s gift, the king had not believed her. He had dutifully listened with the measured tolerance of a lion putting up with the annoying antics of a cub.

The
young Khu stood by his mother’s side and observed both men enter the courtyard and present their testimony. But even before either had spoken, he knew who was guilty. He could see into their hearts as clearly as if they had been carrying them in the palms of their hands and presenting them to the king for all to see.

Khu tugged at his mother’s arm and she looked at him. Without saying anything, Khu lifted his chin in the slightest gesture toward the first man presenting his testimony. He was the guilty one.

Tem nodded to her child, and then whispered something to a nearby guard who went to Mentuhotep’s side and relayed the message.

Mentuhotep frowned
, and the corners of his mouth fell. How could the child possibly know who was guilty? The king wanted evidence of some kind before passing judgment. He prided himself on being a good and just ruler, following the ethical principles of
maat
which sought truth, morality, justice and order. He could not simply take the word of a child. Grave consequences would follow, and he had to make sure that the man who was truly guilty got what he deserved. It was how the gods had ordained things, and Mentuhotep was one who believed in living in accordance with divine will. It was the only way to ensure harmony in the world.

“Have them come here,” the king whispered to the guard, referring to Tem and Khu.

Both walked over to the dais, and bowed respectfully before the king.

“Come
closer, child,” Mentuhotep waved Khu closer, and the boy stepped up on the dais by the throne. The king draped an arm about Khu’s waist, drawing him closer so that they could speak out of earshot from the men standing trial. “Now tell me why you think this man is guilty,” he said in a low voice. “I cannot just condemn him. What if you are wrong? It is shameful to wrongly accuse the innocent,” he explained. “We will all be judged upon our deaths, and our hearts weighed against the feather of
maat
.”

Khu listened patiently to the king’s advice
, his expression unreadable. He knew that Mentuhotep sought to do the right thing, and he loved and respected his father for this. He was well aware of the arduous journey that the spirit went through as it traveled through the Underworld on its way to the Afterlife. It was a path rife with danger and monsters ready to consume wicked souls. After crossing a wide river and passing through narrow beast-guarded gates, the spirit would stand trial before Osiris in the Hall of Two Truths. Once there, Anubis would weigh the heart of the spirit against a feather of
maat
on the scales of justice, the verdict of which would be recorded by the ibis-headed god Thoth. If they weighed the same, the spirit would pass on to the glorious Field of Reeds. But if the heart out-weighed the feather, it would be devoured by the crocodile-headed, soul-eating demon Ammit, after which it would be forever condemned to a second and eternal death and damnation.

The two village men glanced at Khu and Tem. They wondered why they were here, and what the king was telling the boy with the strange eyes. They were both very nervous, knowing that the outcome of this trial
would forever change their lives.

“Khu?” Mentuhotep prompted. He was waiting for the boy’s response.

Khu looked into the king’s eyes and simply said, “If you go into the first man’s house, you will find something of value hidden there that does not belong to him; something he had stolen from the other man’s family, and then hidden in his own home. It will be the evidence you seek.”

And that is
exactly what had happened.

A stolen carnelian charm carved into a
kheper
scarab beetle was discovered after Mentuhotep had the guilty man’s home searched. The king questioned the innocent man and found that the charm did indeed belong to his family. It had been stolen the previous year, and hidden within a jewelry box belonging to the first man’s wife.

The first man was found guilty and publically beaten by the guards. He and his entire family were immediately exiled from the village, and
made to leave without taking their things. Their home and belongings were given to the innocent man in recompense for all the damages he had suffered.

After that,
Mentuhotep learned to trust Khu’s instincts, and began to rely more and more on Khu’s gift to help him as he presided over important matters.

Shouting
distracted the king from his reverie as he turned to see his younger sons wrestling on the sandy ground. They had been pole sparring when one of them hit another a bit too hard. A fight ensued, drawing the rest of the boys into a tangle of striking limbs and insults mingling with the dust.

“Coward!”
shouted one of the boys as he punched another in the chest.

“
You are the coward!” another yelled back. “And you smell like a donkey!”