City of the Dead Read Free Page B

sight, my king, my Egypt. He was Horus on earth. And it was my job to protect him, even from himself.
    Khufu sighed dramatically and threw his head back against his throne. The red-and-white-striped nemes framing his face slipped a bit, knocking askew the golden snake that reared at his forehead. The Keeper of the Diadem, whom Khufu kept ever ready for such wardrobe emergencies, hurried forward and straightened the headdress, then backed away, eyes downcast.
    “The priests are angry,” Khufu said. “But the treasurer is happy.” He rubbed his eyes. “Why can I not make everyone happy, Hemi?”
    I studied the carpet beneath his canopy. “It is your role to keep divine order, my king—“
    He fingered the links of the gold pectoral on his chest. “The whole of Egypt is set in motion by my will, Hemi. The taxes are paid to fill my treasury, wars are undertaken to make my name great, buildings are erected in my honor.”
    I nodded, familiar with his need to rehearse these facts.
    “And yet, always there are the old counselors who served my fathers, the generals with their loyal troops, the priesthood with their religious power. I must gratify and placate and watch my back.” He slapped a hand on the armrest. “Does this sound like the duties of a god to you?”
    “Even the gods—”
    “And now this change you have insisted upon. The priests of On are arriving, furious about the dismissal!” Khufu stood and thrust a finger at me. “You could not understand, Hemi. Your men love you. I do not like to anger priests!”
    I leaned against my staff. “This great project you have undertaken, Khufu,” I began in a soothing tone, “greater than even your father dared build, it requires all that the Two Lands can give. To move the center of worship here to Giza has consolidated your power and your wealth in one place—”
    “But to declare myself Ra on earth …” He pointed to one of the pillars, with its carved relief of Amun bestowing favor on the king.
    “Yes. These are the actions of a true god.”
    The meat bearer approached, with a meal of gooseflesh and beef on a golden platter. He set the food on the footstool before Khufu, whispered, “Life, Health, Strength!” and disappeared.
    Khufu collapsed back to his throne.
    It was complicated, our system of worship. Countless gods were assigned to all aspects of Egyptian life, but somehow it brought order to the land. The king would be Ra when he traveled to the west at his death. On earth, he was son of Ra. But to declare himself Ra now, before his death, was to pull support from every corner of Upper and Lower Egypt, brooking no argument. I believed it was necessary for the achievement of our mutual goals.
    “And what of the project?” Khufu asked, tearing off a huge piece of meat. “Perhaps it is too much for you.”
    “If the king would approve plans for the queen’s pyramid …”
    “Is that why people are saying you are behind schedule?”
    “Who has said this?”
    “You know that everyone expected me to name Ahmose vizier,” Khufu said, a slight smile playing at his lips. He popped the meat into his mouth and chewed noisily.
    “Perhaps my brother should stick to collecting taxes and leave the building to me.”
    Khufu laughed. “We are all still little boys, are we not, Hemi?”
    Some of us are.
    As if on cue, Perni-ankhu, the king’s dwarf and cupbearer, scurried into the room with a tall cup of the king’s wine.
    “Ah, here is Perni, to dance for us.” Khufu clapped and took the wine from Perni. “Gladden our hearts, Perni. Hemi here is always much too serious.”
    From a corner of the Great Hall, waiting there mute until summoned, a lyre struck up a lively tune. The dwarf clamped his hands to his waist, beneath his rounded belly, and did a sidestep away from us, then swayed his hips as he walked an unseen line through the pillars down the hall. The music picked up, Khufu laughed, and the dwarf kicked up his heels.
    “He is so amusing, is