Anhay found it extremely soothing. In fact, the practice calmed her nerves more than anything she had tried before. Chisel in hand, she would lose herself in her work. As the village’s best and most accurate stonemason, Anhay could and did sculpture the most intricate and beautiful statues, alters and even massive stone sarcophagi. In her little studio at the back of their large house, she now sat delicately chipping away at the broad shoulders of a life sized statue of Pharaoh. “Hello Mater.” Anhay nearly fell off her stool as the calm was punctured. In the process Pharaoh’s left ear was nearly a casualty. “Sorry. Sorry?” apologized an immaculately dressed Imhotep. “Didn’t mean to startle.”
“Hotep, what‘re you doing sneaking about the place?” gasped Anhay.
Imhotep stood sheepishly just inside the door of the studio, head down, hands in his pockets. “Thought I might find you here. Ahem,” slight pause. “I did want to speak with you, alone, that is. What with the balloon probably going up tomorrow and all that. All probably be dead soon, what? Just sort of wanted to say sorry if you’ve been, sort of, a trifle disappointed in me. You know, things not worked out as per intended. Not quite the ticket, not dovetailing as it were.”
All the time Imhotep was unburdening his soul, Anhay had climbed back on her stool. With her back to Imhotep she pretended to continue her work. As Anhay listened to Imhotep’s own estimation of his worth, a myriad of emotions vied for supremacy. The one that won was shame. Anhay had known from the start that one of her twin son’s was very different. As the years had passed and it became more and more obvious, Anhay had become more and more distant. Imhotep was simply tolerated as an amusement whilst Kysen was encouraged. The fact that Imhotep has striking blond hair and piercing blue eyes, whilst the rest of his race has black hair and dark eyes, tended to single him out. The fact that everyone but the family needed to listen closely to understand a word he said, was also a strong pointer. The gimme though, was Imhotep’s eccentric behavior regarding his refusal, since his fourteenth birthday, to become, as expected, a hedonistic, sex obsessed, thug. Anhay knew that no matter what, Imhotep was her son. Anyway, they would all be dead tomorrow, so what did it matter. Anhay turned to face her son. “I lov…” Imhotep was gone. “Please Ky,” Abana begged, “I don’t want another scene with Dad. I couldn’t stand another row just now. If he asks, just say you were with me all afternoon. OK?” Kysen and Abana were the first two to arrive at the dinner table on the roof of the family home. “What were you doin’ then?” smugly asked Kysen. “I had an appointment that needed my attention,” Abana curtly replied, hoping Kysen wouldn’t press the matter. “Another spot of horizontal dancing?” Kysen grinned whilst raising and lowering his eyebrows. “Don’t be crude. Will you give me an alibi or not?”
“Listen our Aby. Y’know we’ll all probably be dead by this time tomorrow. What with Pharaoh not being too pleased an’ all with the way he’s gonna find progress around here. Things not being up to scratch an’ all. And what with me still needin’ certain urges to be taken care of, I was wonderin’ if yer could see yer way clear to…” The only time the family were ever all together in the same place at the same time was for their daily evening meal. Today wasn’t like any other day, even though everybody pretended it was. “OK, Who’s turn is it to thank the Gods for this bountiful feast,” said Zemti. “I’ll oblige,” offered Imhotep. The rest of the family, including Imhotep, cupped their chins in their hands and looked up to the heavens. “We give thanks to the mighty Amun, the father of life itself, for this veritable gift of sustenance. Ptah must also always be in our thoughts… (20 minutes later)… and we mustn’t forget Sobek, the crocodile God , for not eating us. Pharaoh be praised.” The rest of those gathered around the table repeated “Pharaoh be praised,” and clapped their hands three times above their heads. “Good job it’s salad,” muttered Maya. “I’m starvin,” Kysen told nobody in particular. Everybody simultaneously got stuck in. Lots of satisfied eating noises could be heard from all around the table. Slowly the sounds of sustenance died away until there was silence, just as there had been before they had started. “You did us proud there An. That was a good spread,” praised Zemti. Muttered thanks plus, “capitol,” and, “yeah good scran,” could be heard from various places around the table. The short silence was broken by Anhay. “It’s no use putting off mentioning it anymore. The whole village is aware. Pharaoh will arrive here at lunchtime tomorrow, and we’ll all be dead by tea time. “What a drama queen…” Zemti tried to make light of it. “…Sorry if the truth hurts, but that’s the way it is,” continued Anhay. “It’s not that bad. Is it?” asked Zemti.
“YES,” replied everybody else, rather loudly.
Rhovah, the family pet, wasn’t normally allowed in the house but was allowed by Anhay to feed on the scraps left by its family. He was not just a family pet. He was a loyal guard dog and excellent hunter too. Anhay felt the need to show she cared one last time. Later, as dusk fell, Tejibi and Zemti sat on the porch drinking the last of the good stuff. “Well, it looks like this is it old friend. I fear that on the morrow we will be finally parted, in more ways than one,” feared Tejibi. “Yep,” agreed Zemti, “my only ambition left was to reach the big five Oh, get a bit of parchment from Pharaoh, and fade away gracefully. Now, all I'll get from Pharaoh is a quick death if I'm lucky.” “This village's luck has run out. Quick deaths aren’t the fashion this season,” slurred Tejibi. “I know. I’m living in hope…” admitted Zemti. “...Hope is for the young. Hope is for those who can foresee a glittering future, not check mate in 2 moves. As I see it, all the males in the village will be either crucified upside down, hung drawn and quartered, with optional castration, or buried up to our necks in the desert until the vultures have eaten our faces away. The women, of course, will be given to pharaoh's soldiers to be raped to death.” Tejibi had sobered up remarkably. “The ordeal will involve much pain and will seem to last forever.” “Do you think it would be safe to assume the village aren’t exactly relishing this visit from our leader tomorrow?” Zemti asked. “The whole village are bloody terrified is more accurate,” was Tejibi’s assessment. A resigned hush descended. The two old friends sat deep in thought contemplating their short futures for what seemed like forever. Zemti suddenly spoke. “Do we still have a large supply of mad Mel's metal polish, goat dip, and wood stain formula...? “...that kills 99% of living things. We sure do.” Zemti finally came to a decision “Mass suicide in the square at sunrise?”
“I’ll spread the word,” said Tejibi moving into action. Why Abana should have been in the barn at that time in the evening, Memnon had no idea. But Maya had just told him she had seen her going into the barn earlier. They had met there that afternoon but he couldn’t remember arranging anything for later. As Memnon headed for the barn Kysen emerged with a faraway look in his eyes and a contented if bemused grin on his face. As if in a trance Kysen ignored Memnon and passed him by. Memnon mistook his glazed expression for a narcotic state. Memnon came across Abana lying on her back on a pile of straw in the corner of the barn. Hands behind her head, Abana stared into space as if trying to work out a hard sum. “Aby...?” “...If your request involves you sticking anything of yours into anything of mine, and grunting loudly, the answer is no. Definitely not. I'm shagged out. Literally,” countered Abana before Memnon could plead his case. “But Aby. I am summoned to the palace this very sunset. I will not see you again for at least two inundations, for I escort Pharaoh and his armies into battle with the Eastern hordes. We leave at sunrise.” Abana instantly realized what that meant. “You mean Pharaoh won't be visiting here tomorrow after all?” “I'm afraid not my sweet.” Memnon tried to empathize. Abana jumped to her feet, “you just sit here Big Boy,” She grinned, and dragged Memnon to the floor , “whilst I hurry to the square to ring the bell and make a quick proclamation. When I come back I shall separate you from your brains,” Abana ruffled his hair, “Figuratively speaking that is, and you shall be sore for the next three sundowns.” There appeared a big, if confused, smirk of satisfaction on Memnon's face as Abana rushed out of the barn.
  |