Scroll of Saqqara(200)

“I want you to dictate two letters for me,” he said. “One to Nubnofret and one to Pharaoh. Put them in your own words, Ib, for I have no time to do it myself. Tell them that Hori has died and mourning has commenced. Tell Nubnofret …” He fell silent, pondering. “No. Beg Nubnofret in my name to come home.” Ib nodded, tight-lipped, and bowed himself away. Khaemwaset crooked a finger at Kasa. “I am about to perform magic,” he said. “I need you to assist me, but you must not speak. Do you understand?” He opened the door and both men went in.

“Highness,” Kasa said, and Khaemwaset could hear the fear in his voice, “I am not an initiate. I have not been purified. I can only hinder the spell.”

Khaemwaset was already in the inner room, unlocking all the chests and throwing back the lids. “I am not purified either,” he replied. “Do not worry. Now be silent.” Kasa obeyed.

A sly voice whispered in Khaemwaset’s mind. Do you want to do this? At least you have something, proud Prince, and if you destroy them you will have nothing. Besides, Nenefer-ka-Ptah is himself a magician .What if he senses your aim and thwarts you? Do you imagine that the practice of magic has grown more sophisticated since the days when he wielded the power, or are the ancient spells more undiluted? You are sullied and weakened by your own gross sensuality. Can you put forth the spiritual energy you will need? Close the chests. Go back to your couch. Take her in your arms, for the one thing that will never change is your warped, perverse desire for her, and surely it is better to assuage one pain than be engulfed by the many. He moaned under his breath and went on selecting the things he would need, then he carried them back into the office. The Scroll of Thoth and the scrolls Hori had persuaded him to read were on the top. He deposited everything on the desk.

“Listen carefully,” he said to Kasa. “I need a small amount of natron. You can get it from the kitchen, but make sure it is fresh. I need a large bowl of running Nile flood-water. Bring two pieces of linen that have never been worn, a jar of virgin oil and my white sandals. I have incense, a mask and the unguent of myrrh here. Try not to attract attention while you do these things, Kasa, and be as quick as you can. Shall I repeat the list?”

Kasa, shook his head. “No, Highness.”

“Good. And bring a razor. My body must be shaved.”

Kasa backed out quietly and the door clicked shut behind him. Khaemwaset turned to the Scroll of Thoth. He knew now that Hori had not been mad enough to dig out the tomb and take it away. It had simply returned. It was his responsibility now, his doom, and nothing could avert the consequences. Perhaps Nenefer-ka-Ptah had come by it in just such a way. Perhaps its ownership went from corrupt magician to corrupt magician with a trail of terrible consequences in its wake, an inherited curse, Khaemwaset forced himself to unroll it, scan it, enter into its black mystery. Then he set it aside and began to read Antef’s bold script. He wanted to familiarize himself with every detail for which Hori had died. His mind began to wander to his son, but desperately he wrenched it back to the task at hand, for after thought came emotion, and after emotion the maelstrom of insanity.

He had finished reading and was returning the scrolls to their chest when Kasa returned. A young male servant staggered to the desk with a large bowl of water, set it down, bowed and withdrew. Kasa placed the other things beside it and stood waiting inquiringly. Outwardly he was calm, but Khaemwaset sensed the turmoil beneath. Thank the gods for Nubnofret’s training, he thought. Kasa will not break.

“The first thing you will do is shave me,” he said. “All of me, Kasa, from head to toe. Not one hair must escape. Such purity is important.”

He lay on the hard, tiled floor while his body servant drew the razor in short strokes over his skull, in long sure motions down his body. Khaemwaset fought to settle his mind and bring it to the profound state of concentration he would need. He began the prayers of purification silently as Kasa worked. When the man was finished, he stood. “Now wash me in the flood-water,” he commanded. “Do it with one of the pieces of linen. When my body is clean, repeat the process on my hands, breast and feet. At that point I will open my mouth. Wash inside it as well. I caution you again: Do not speak.”

Kasa did as he was told, his hands moving gently but efficiently over Khaemwaset’s body. Night still gripped the house and there was no presentiment of the dawn that surely could not be far away. Khaemwaset felt that he had lived an age since he had spoken to Antef in the passage, since he had run out of the house and down the water-steps, since he had seen, had seen … He felt Kasa’s linen brush his foot and automatically intoned the accompanying chant. “My feet are washed on a rock at the side of the lake of the god.” He opened his mouth and closed his eyes, his tongue rebelling as Kasa wiped it and then touched the roof and the teeth. “The words that shall emerge from my mouth shall now be pure,” he said as Kasa finished. “Now, Kasa, charge the incense holder and place it in my hand.” The servant did so and soon the office began to fill with the fragrant grey smoke.