Eye of the Moon Read Free Page B

with the wings of her gold vulture crown sweeping the air. Why was she out on the river so early?
    But as the barge came closer, I saw it was a man who sat there. By his elaborate dress and spangled leopard skin, I knew he was the highest of high priests, Wosret—the Most Powerful One.
    The barge came straight toward the temple jetty. Village boys were shoving and pushing and squabbling to reach out and catch the ropes. The captain stood bare-chested in the prow, wearing a short linen wrap. A gingery beard jutted from his face like a tangled bush and met with the nest of hair on his chest. He wore no wig, and his equally matted red hair fell to his shoulders like a wild cloak and was tied at his forehead with a white band.
    All
were wearing the same headbands. The white headbands of mourning.
    The women began whispering.
    â€œSomeone has died.”
    â€œBut who? And why has
he
come?”
    â€œYes. Why
him
?”
    â€œWhat can be so important?”
    â€œMust’ve been someone really important; otherwise the highest of high priests wouldn’t have come here.”
    I whispered a quick prayer to Hathor—not only goddess of the moon, but also the goddess who carries the souls of the dead to the West.
    Servants stepped off the boat and beat cymbals to ward off evil spirits as the highest of high priests was carried ashore in a golden sedan chair encrusted with lapis lazuli and turquoise and jewels of rainbow hue. The sand in his pathway was swept with a date-palm leaf and sprinkled with precious oils as he was set down.
    The women fell to their knees.
    My father came rushing down the path, already dressed in his temple clothes, a broad gold band around his neck and the gold crocodile bracelets clasping his upper arms. I was pleased I had pleated the linen of his tunic properly and left it under a heavy stone to flatten overnight.
    He bowed. “My Lord, Wosret. Most Powerful One!”
    The highest of high priests held up his hand and the crowd fell silent. His high cheekbones and strong nose with flaring nostrils gave his face the appearance of carved wood rather than flesh. And his eyes under dark-lined eyebrows looked as if they had been replaced with glass. Jet-black obsidian set in a statue’s face. Lifeless as a lizard’s eyes.
    â€œHenuka, as her majesty Queen Tiy’s trusted priest and embalmer at the Temple of Sobek, I’ve come to fetch you for a special embalming.”
    My father bowed. “It must be someone of great importance for you to have come personally, my Lord.”
    Wosret’s eyes gave nothing away. “This I cannot yet announce.”
    â€œMy daughter is my helper. If the embalming is of great importance, I’ll need her assistance.”
    Wosret’s eyes flicked coldly in my direction but moved quickly away again. Despite the sun on my back, I felt a small shiver run through me.
    â€œThen let her hurry. The weather is warm. We mustn’t delay. The bodies will not last.” He snappedhis fingers at his servants and they stooped to lift his chair onto their shoulders once again.
    Bodies?
I wanted to ask, but my father’s look silenced me.
    â€œNever address the high priests personally unless spoken to,” he hissed. “Now, be quick. Collect my instruments and resins of myrrh, hekenu, and nesmen and the bark of cinnamon, cloves, and oils. Bring the
Book of Temple Inscriptions
, too. Tie and seal the chest with clay so no one will meddle with it. And pack the ceremonial wig box and my pleated linen garments. Be ready to leave immediately.”
    I squinted back at him. “What about the crocodiles? The First Moon appeared this morning before sunrise. It’s the day of Ritual and offering to Sobek.”
    Wosret turned in his chair as he was being carried and called out over his shoulder, “Do not delay, Henuka.”
    My father bowed and smiled, then spoke under his breath. “The Ritual must wait. The demands of the