Chapter Ninety One: Hathor
Kiya ran along the riverside path towards Thebes. On the bank of the Nile the reeds grew high, but the other side of the path was open farmland. Apart from occasional palm groves, there was little to hide Kiya from people using the upper road.
She held baby Meri in her arms and worried that he might never recover from the loss of his life force. What a pointless sacrifice to make. Kiya was fond of Hernieth but her neighbour was an old woman and going to die soon anyway.
Meri’s love was unconditional. He loved everybody, regardless of age or gender. He made no judgements but would heal all who needed it – until his life force was used up. How could she protect such a child?
She looked at the upper road and could see a few people, just the usual traffic of farmers walking to and from Thebes. How soon before her father’s friends came running to the house, anxious to have their ailments cured? Kiya quickened her step. She must take the baby away from Thebes, but would he be safe anywhere in Egypt? Wherever she went, people would become aware of his wondrous gift.
A figure emerged from a palm grove and stood blocking the path. Kiya stopped and was poised to run away, when she smelt the aroma of new-mown grass and recognised the scent of Hathor. Cautiously she approached the goddess and as she came closer she saw that Hathor was in the form of a woman with horns curling on either side of her head.
“I see that the baby has been born,” said Hathor.
“Please let me pass, Hathor,” Kiya said. “The baby is in danger.”
“How so?”
“Meri healed our neighbour and now the word is being spread.”
“You allowed a baby to heal? What kind of mother are you? His life force is too small and will soon be exhausted.”
“I know that now. But I did not know it before. Please believe me Hathor, I would never knowingly do anything to harm Meri. He is the most wonderful baby.”
“Give him to me,” Hathor said and held her arms out. Kiya hesitated. “Hurry up child. We have little time.” Kiya put Meri into the arms of the goddess. The baby opened his eyes and beamed up at Hathor. She looked down and must have sensed his love for she held him more closely and smiled. “I will look after him,” she said.
“No!” cried Kiya.
Hathor frowned at her. “Do you think me incapable? I am the goddess of motherhood. I have cared for the children of gods for millennia.” She unbuckled the strap of her shift and exposed a breast.
“Please don’t take him from me. I am his mother. I love him.”
“A poor mother you have turned out to be, Kiya. You have had your opportunity to care for Meri and you have been found wanting.” She pressed Meri to her breast and he started to suckle. “What do you intend to do with the baby now? Stay in Egypt and try to keep his gifts hidden? Go into the wilderness and both starve to death? Your wish to keep him has nothing to do with love, it is selfishness.”
Tears were pouring down Kiya’s face. “I cannot bear to be without him.”
Hathor’s expression softened. “I will return him in due course, when he is grown. But be aware, Kiya. You cannot keep a child like this to yourself. His love is for all, not just for you.”
“If I give him to you, do you promise that I will see him again.”
“I promise.”
“Where is Anubis?” asked Kiya. She was so used to the two of them being together that she half expected him to emerge from the reeds.
“The foolish man thinks he has found a way to stop eating human flesh. He is obsessed with guilt at the lives that have been sacrificed to his hunger. I blame you, Kiya, he still harbours thoughts that you might be with him once more.”
“But I am married to Dennu. How can Anubis think that I would love him again?”
“It is a strange relationship where husband and wife live apart,” said Hathor.
Kiya fought back an urge to defend her marriage and asked, “What about you?”
Hathor shrugged. “I have learnt to be patient. The lifetime of a mortal is but a pinprick in eternity. You have been useful to us, Kiya, and I am prepared to tolerate the situation without harbouring thoughts of revenge.”
“Thank you.” Kiya was indeed grateful for, with an alter-ego of the lion Sekhmet, Hathor would make short work of any adversary.
There was a flurry of movement on the upper road and Kiya looked round to see a large group of people hurrying from Thebes towards her house. Time was running out. She turned back to Hathor and saw the baby stir and raise a hand to caress the breast from which he suckled. Kiya could see that he was already growing stronger and she knew that entrusting him to Hathor was his best chance of survival.
“Let me say goodbye,” said Kiya. She stepped forward and kissed Meri’s cheek. The glow of his love warmed her heart and gave her the strength she needed to let him go.
“Farewell, Kiya,” said Hathor. “Remember that a child grows quickly when fed on my milk.” She turned and strode away along the path and as she went she gradually faded until she and the baby became as insubstantial as mist and disappeared.
Kiya walked slowly home, her heart grieving for her lost baby. Far away came the sound of raised voices. The Thebans must have discovered that Meri was no longer at the farmhouse. It would not be long before they came searching for him.
Two men were hurrying towards her along the path. “Where is the baby?” they asked.
“He is dead,” she replied. “His life force was extinguished when he healed Hernieth.”
“No!” They looked shocked.
“I was hoping he would heal my warts,” said one.
“My daughter lies gravely ill at home,” said the other.
Kiya felt sorry for them. “I regret that you have made a wasted journey,” she said. “I will pray to Meri’s soul that your daughter will become well.”
They followed her back towards the house. “What have you done with the baby’s body?” said the man with the sick daughter.
“I made a basket of rushes and floated it down the Nile,” lied Kiya. “What better resting place than upon the river which brings us life?” The thought of Meri dying caused tears to run down her cheeks once more and the men were convinced by her grief.
“Our condolences,” said the man with the warts. “We are very sorry for your loss.”
“It is sad that he died for such an old woman when he could have healed my daughter.”
Teos greeted them as they reached the farm. “What has happened?” he said. “Where is the baby? The house is full of people wanting to be cured.”
“Your grandson is dead,” said the man with warts. “I’m sorry, Teos. His life force was wasted on healing the old woman.”
“No!” Teos looked stricken. His gaze fell on Kiya. “I am so sorry, my dear.” He held out his arms and enveloped Kiya. She started to cry bitterly. It had all been too much.
“We will tell the others,” said the man with the sick daughter. “We must leave you to grieve in peace.”
The men walked up to the farmhouse, leaving Teos and Kiya beside the Nile.
A few minutes later Ramala hurried down to them. “It is safe to come back now, everyone has gone.” She too put her arms around her daughter and within the warmth of her parent’s love Kiya’s sobbing gradually subsided.