Kemamonit Read online

  Chapter three

  I am the sorceress Kemamonit.

  I was born between the fifth and sixth cataracts of one of the great rivers that run through all our lives.

  I grew up on the shores of Holy River much like any child of Kush, I helped my family catch fish to sell at the market and played with my friends fighting and screaming on its shore.

  It was only much later in my life that I discovered that my river was only one of many great rivers that shepherded all the people of the shining blue pearl we live upon.

  My father was not a clever man, he was weak to all the desires of men and spent much of what we made gambling and drinking palm wine.

  I would catch him sometimes staring at me when he had drunk himself into a stupor, his eyes betraying some evil scheme involving me. I would stare back at him defiantly until he would guiltily look away.

  In the fifteenth year of my life my father finally put his evil plan into motion, my mother, who had always saved us all from the worst of his abuses, was deathly ill and spoke only in delirium. My father had abstained from wine for three days, always a dangerous sign for me and my siblings.

  His opportunity came when a group of light skinned strangers arrived from the Black land far to the north. They had traveled in a long extravagantly decorated boat which was manned by a crew of well-armed servants.

  I watched them with my friends as they walked down the gangplank from the boat to the shore daintily lifting their feet as if they feared the water.

  They wore many metal bracelets and collars studded with precious stones, their heads bore elaborate headdresses. They struck me as soft and effeminate, their arms were slender and their belly’s stood out like a bird’s chest.

  One of them looked in my direction and I could see the expression on his face turn from mild distaste to what I learned later was one of naked lust. He turned to one of the men on the shore helping to tie down the vessel and started an animated conversation constantly pointing in my direction.

  I was young and naïve and knew not of the passions which drive all men, I had looked at my reflection in the river many times and always saw a skinny wild haired child staring back.

  That I could be an object of someone’s desire seemed impossible and unbelievable.

  I should have run then and hid in the marshes until the men had left. I was like all the children of the river, I could swim like a crocodile and fish like the great stilted birds. I would have been well fed and impossible to find.

  Instead I foolishly went home and into my father’s waiting trap.

  It was over in an instant, I was seized, then bound and gagged the second I walked into our house, my father had sent my siblings away with some fish to trade for honey at the market so there was no one to help me fight.

  I was put into a large sack but not before I saw one of the fair skinned men give my father a small leather pouch with something in it.

  I hoped it was sand, and that my father would be too stupid to look first. I could tell from his eyes that he would be into the wine before my shadow crossed the threshold of the door.

  I was thrown into the boat like a sack of onions, it was only when the boat was under sail for half a day that the crew took me out of the sack and removed the gag from my mouth.

  My hands and feet were still tied but they were retied with softer ropes, “to prevent blemishes on my skin,” I was told by a cheerful servant. I shuddered when I realized why I needed to be unblemished.

  I sat on the deck of the boat for many days as it sailed down the river to the mysterious Black land, it shamed me that in between the heartsickness and tears at the loss of my siblings and friends a raging curiosity and excitement would flare up.

  I had never left our small village, the only excitement I had ever really had was running from a hungry crocodile.

  I had heard stories of cities with buildings that stretched into the sky peopled by thousands. The stories talked of temples so beautiful that the gods would come from the stars to talk to the great priests and magicians that resided in them.

  My family had worshipped Sobek the crocodile god, I had often wondered why, for all the sacrifices we had made to him the crocodiles still stared at me with hunger, their cold eyes hiding some cunning plan to seize me in their jaws.

  It was as I sat in the boat that I realized that Sobek had protected me from the crocodiles, but it wasn’t the crocodiles that I should have feared.

  I had lost count of the days we had sailed when the great boat finally pulled into a long stone pier next to a large stone building.

  We had arrived at the city of Lunu, I was finally untied, for my captures knew I had nowhere to run too as I could not have found my way back home.

  I had been surprised that the fair skinned man that had purchased me had never tried to sample the merchandise during our trip. He had not even talked to me, I could see him stare at me out of the corner of my eye when I would sit next to the rail looking at the water moving by, if I looked in his direction he would always turn away and feign disinterest.

  I had noticed the same behavior from some of the young boys of my village, I had been as confused by it then as I was now. I had a moment of panic thinking that his disinterest was because I was going to be some kind of human sacrifice for a particularly nasty god with large teeth.

  It would be interesting to see a real god I thought in my panic.

  The light skinned man who had purchased me disappeared almost immediately after the boat had been tied up. The servants stayed behind and unloaded what little cargo there was and removed anything of value.

  I was taken by two large armed servants and led through one of the gates in the cities walls. I was almost knocked over by the smell once we emerged through the gate and past the bored looking guard posted next to it.

  The stench was almost palatable, a mix of excrement, smoke and body odour accented with numerous other scents I could not recognize.

  I started to cough as the fetid air entered my lungs, my two escorts turned and looked at me smiling slightly.

  “You get used to it,” one of them said.

  “It’s not as bad at the temple,” the other chimed in.

  “Temple… am I to be sacrificed?” I started to shake and I felt tears roll down my cheeks.

  They both laughed out loud.

  “Only if Ahmes wife finds out about you,” one of them said.

  “Ahmes? Is he the one who bought me.”

  “No more questions pretty one,” he replied, a stern expression on his face.

  I walked in between my two escorts in silence looking at the people and buildings we passed by.

  The buildings all seemed to be impossibly large and exotic, they towered over the rubbish strewn street. There were endless crowds of people dressed in many different costumes some so brightly colored it mesmerized me.

  I almost gasped when I saw people with skin so white it was as if they were made of linen. I saw men with fierce curly beards that jutted from their jaws like a spearheads.

  There were also men and women with shaven heads that gleamed in the sun and I glimpsed a white skinned woman surrounded by servants with long straight hair the color of honey.

  We walked for a small amount of time more until we entered an enormous flat space which surrounded the largest building I had ever seen. It was dominated by two columns separated by about fifteen cubits. The sides facing each other were straight while the opposite sides sloped at a slight angle.

  The columns stretched to the sky the height of ten men.

  “Here you are pretty one, the temple of Atum you’re new home,” said one of my escorts.

  They walked me towards the large columns, I noticed a large wooden door between them.

  Once we were in front of the door one of my escorts banged his fist against it in an irregular pattern, a secret code I thought. The door opened inward and an attractive middle aged woman walked out.

  “You must be Kemamonit, we�
��ve been expecting you,” she said as she saw me, she held out her hand.

  I tentatively put my hand in hers.

  “She’s all yours,” I heard one of my escorts say. I turned my head and watched them start to walk back to the city. I looked back at the woman who held my hand, she seemed to have kind eyes.

  “Come, you must be tired and hungry,” she led me through the great door.

  “Why did you stop reading professor?” Shelley said.

  “The scroll is almost done, and the only thing left on it looks like a spell,” Charlie replied

  “It’s getting late and we haven’t found a way out,” Mohammad said.

  They all looked around the chamber, there were no doors or openings.

  “I guess this is one of the drawbacks of magic,” Shelley said, Charlie could sense a small amount of panic in her voice.

  “Don’t worry if all else fails we still have the sledge hammer,” Charlie pointed to it on the floor. He had not let it go when Mohammad had said Kemamonit’s name.

  “She sure is a good writer, I’ve read translations of other papyri and they don’t sound anything like this one,” Shelley said.

  “To be honest I’m kinda filling in the blanks. The reason most ancient documents sound so boring and at times confusing is they lack context. The people who translate them tend to be really conservative to the point of taking words right out of any context and just doing a straight substitution of an English word for the ancient one.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “That’s one of the reason’s computer translators were so bad when they first came out, everything we say is in some kind of context, take a phrase like “don’t have a bird,” you can use it when someone’s angry, or you can use that same phrase at a pet store. They have completely different meanings depending on the context.”

  “Oh, I see,” Shelley said.

  “What are we going to do next?’ Mohammad said.

  “I think I should read the spell,” Charlie said.

  “Won’t that be dangerous?” replied Shelley

  “I think if Kemamonit wanted to kill us she would have done it by now.”

  Charlie looked back at the papyrus and put his index finger under the first word of the last paragraph.

  “Ok here I go,” Charlie started to read.

  Pepi had grown into a man and had become a master carpenter much sought after in the city of Lunu.

  Kemamonit appeared before Pepi during the hot summer months with a task for him.

  “I will bring you to a far off land Pepi and you will build a small house for some guests I will have.”

  Pepi knew not to argue with the powerful magician and retrieved his tools and one of sons to help him with the construction.

  Pepi built the house in a green land of grass and trees he had never seen before, Kemamonit paid him handsomely and set about sending him and his son back to Lunu.

  “How will you’re guests get here?” He asked as Kemamonit prepared to her spell.

  “When they get their invitation they will know to turn it over and fold it.”

  Pepi disappeared in a flash of light.

  “Well nothing happened,” Mohammad said.

  Charlie grabbed the objects holding down the corners of the papyrus and put them back in his pockets then he turned it over.

  “Looky here,” Charlie pointed to some arcane looking writing.

  “It’s not ancient Egyptian, I’ve never seen this type of writing before,” said Mohammad.

  The writing was written in two columns separated by a three inch gap, there was a line running down the right side of the first column and the left side of the second column.

  “Did you ever read Mad magazine?” Shelley asked Charlie.

  “Ya, a couple of times when I was a kid. Why?”

  “The foldy thing they did with the cover.

  “Ah…”

  Charlie took the papyrus and folded it so the columns were exactly side by side, it took a minute to get it to line up just right.

  He was rewarded with a blinding flash of light.

  “Jesus Christ!” Charlie rubbed his eyes, the now familiar pinpricks of light filled his field of vision.

  “I wish she’d tone down the fireworks,” he heard Shelley say.

  “I suspect it’s to show us how powerful she is, and maybe to distract us to what’s really going on,’ said Mohammad.

  Charlie’s vision returned after a few seconds and looked around. The three of them were sitting in a beautiful meadow surrounded by a large forest made up of both coniferous and deciduous trees. He could see a large range of mountains far in the distance.

  Charlie followed Shelley and Mohammad’s gaze behind him, he saw a square wooden building about thirty feet wide, it had a flat roof.

  He also saw a large wooden table in front of the building it had four chairs around it two on each side. It appeared to have food and utensils on its surface.

  Charlie looked down at the ground to see if the papyrus with the spell was still there, it wasn’t.

  They got to their feet and walked towards the building.

  As the three of them got closer to the table they could see there were four large platters in the middle of the table with two plates on each side. The plates had a small round loaf of bread on them.

  There were also cups and little saucers filled with water.

  Two of the platters had some large cooked fowl on them, it looked to Charlie like duck, one had a large fish complete with its head and the last was piled with various dates and melons.

  “God that smells good,” Shelley said as they stood next to the table.

  “Look there’s wine,” Mohammad pointed to a large clay jar standing next to the table.

  Charlie bent over to examine the Hieroglyphic’s on the jar.

  “Hmm… it’s the good stuff, three times good,” Charlie pointed to a series of Hieroglyphic’s that repeated three times, “imported from Canaan.”

  “What’s that,” Shelley pointed to a broken piece of pottery sitting next to one of the plates. It had what appeared to be writing on it.

  Mohammad walked over and picked it up.

  “Ostraca, it’s a note from Kemamonit. It says enjoy your meal mysterious guests.”

  “Why would she write it on a pottery shard?” Shelley asked.

  “That’s the post it note of antiquity, half of what we know about ancient times comes from these things,” Mohammad replied.

  Charlie looked more closely at the table and noticed a knife beside each plate, they appeared to be made of obsidian.

  Charlie picked one up and examined it, “Wow, look at these knives.”

  The knife was perfect, the blade looked like it had been cut with a laser, there were no chip marks and it was perfectly symmetrical.

  “This woman is sure an enigma, she writes notes on pottery shards but creates an obsidian knife we would have a tough time recreating today,” Charlie said.

  “Are we going to eat? I’m starving,” Shelley said.

  Charlie and Mohammad looked at each other, “I guess so, don’t use the finger dishes though,” Charlie said pointing to the little saucers full of water.

  “Or eat the fruit, the cooked stuff should be safe,” Mohammad continued.

  “I have a two bottles of water anyway,” Shelley replied.

  Charlie and Mohammad checked their own pockets and found their own bottles.

  The three of them sat down and started eating the meal, Charlie picked up the clay wine jar opened it and filled Shelley and his cups.

  “Don’t I get any?” Mohammad asked.

  Charlie looked at him with a surprised expression on his face.

  “Its research, I’m sure the prophet would understand.”

  “I guess that makes sense, it’s not often you get to drink five thousand year old wine.”

  The fish and duck were both steaming hot and were absolutely delicious. They were flavored with both fa
miliar and unfamiliar spices. The wine was made of grape and as far as a Charlie’s beer palate could tell of exceptional quality.

  “My God, they sure could cook back then,” Shelley said in between bites.

  They were all using multi-tools to eat.

  “I don’t think this is typical ancient food, there aren’t a lot of fat mummies,” Charlie replied.

  “The bread’s got some kind of grit in it though,” Shelley made a face as she bit into it.

  Charlie and Mohammad grabbed their own loaves and took a bite, “Stone ground wheat, it’s why they all had bad teeth. You’ve just confirmed a theory Shelley,” Charlie said.

  Shelley’s face blushed a little, “really?”

  “Yep, bread was one of their staples, and a lot of mummies have serious tooth abscesses. It was always thought the stone used to ground the wheat was the reason. Now we know for sure.”

  “Charlie did you notice the cups,” Mohammad said.

  “What about them?”

  “They’re exactly the same.”

  “Well they’re probably a set,” Charlie said a confused expression on his face.

  “No I mean exactly, look even the irregularities and little cracks are the same.”

  Charlie picked up Shelley’s cup and compared it to his, “You’re right.”

  Charlie stood up and compared his chair to the extra chair at the table, it was exactly the same every knot and blemish.

  “I guess we just learned something about magic.”

  “You know what else is weird, there are no jet contrails in the sky. Where do you think we are?” Shelley asked.

  Mohammad took his cell phone out of his pocket, “No bars.”

  Charlie looked around to see if there were any recognizable landmarks, he thought the distant mountains looked familiar.

  “It’s not North America, we’d be eaten alive by black flies and mosquitoes in this type of environment,” he said.

  “There might be answers in the building, why don’t we finish up and look,” Mohammad said.

  They finished the rest of their meal in silence.

  The buildings entrance had no door, it was just an opening. Charlie walked through it cautiously and looked around. There was a door resting against the wall next to the entrance. It looked to work by being lifted into place and barred shut with two wooden ties.

  “Hinges weren’t invented yet,” Charlie thought.

  The room had no windows but was well lit by the same square light panels that had been in the tombs ceiling. Charlie immediately saw Kemamonits large sarcophagus against the far wall, the shelves with the papyri were there as well.

  The walls of the room were not decorated and consisted of unpainted wood planks, the only furniture consisted of four odd looking beds complete with white linen and large pillows.

  “I thought ancient Egyptians used headrests?” Shelley asked when she looked at one of the beds.

  “They may have used pillows at first, but switched to headrests because of parasites. The climate started to change pretty dramatically in the Nile valley around eight thousand BC,” Charlie replied.

  “The wood smells like it was cut yesterday, it’s cedar I think,” Mohammad said.

  “I guess the beds mean she expects us to stay a while,” Shelley said, she walked over to a small entrance covered with a fabric curtain she had just noticed.

  “Well the toilet’s not magical, and it’s been used.”

  “Really?” Charlie said, he walked over to the opening and looked over her shoulder, he saw a tiny room with a limestone bench against the far wall. The bench had a large hole cut in the middle of it. He could smell the faint odor of feces.

  “I guess Pepi really did build this place, not that that makes any sense.”

  “I think we should start reading the papyri again, maybe it’ll give us some answers,” Mohammad said.