The Chronicles of Amon book 2 The Sea of Marmara

  Chapter 13.

  They entered the temple through the main entrance so that everyone in the courtyard could see. The Pharaoh entered first, slow and majestic, followed closely by the high priest, arms folded, head bowed.

  Once they were inside, sentries closed the two huge wooden doors behind them, then took stations in front, securing the entrance.

  Once inside, the high priest bolted the door and then moved ahead of the Pharaoh, motioning for him to remain where he was.

  “Why do you do this, high priest? You know no one may enter without either your or my permission.”

  The priest moved quickly forward, checking behind the thick curtain beyond the altar. Convinced that no one else was there, he walked back toward the Pharaoh.

  “My king, one can never be too cautious. The rear entrance is guarded, but if my suspicions are correct, there may be those among us who cannot be trusted.”

  Khufu walked forward, approaching the curtain as usual. The high priest stopped him.

  “My king, my friend. Come. Stand before the altar. There is something I must show you, and much that I must say.”

  Khufu did as he was asked. The high priest stood behind the altar and placed his hands close to the corners of the gilded box.

  “My king. You were right from the very beginning. I am not who I claim to be.”

  The high priest placed his hands on the tabernacle.

  The seams at the edges of the box began to separate with a slight hissing sound.

  The high priest folded the lid back. As he did so the interior began to glow, red vapor rising slowly, spilling over the edge.

  “My friend. I am not Yunu. My name is Amon.”

  “You are the sun god?!” The Pharaoh staggered slightly, his mouth dropping open.

  “No my Pharaoh. I am not a god. I am but a man. I am that man whom the desert people say ‘came with the dawn,’ whom they say brought gifts and treasures of knowledge. For my purposes I thought it wise to maintain the illusion. . . .”

  “But that legend is old! Hundreds of years old! This cannot be!” The Pharaoh was aghast . . . then filled with anger.

  “You deceived me! You claimed my friendship! My trust! And all along you lied!”

  “My Pharaoh. It is true that I did not tell you my real name, though you sensed something amiss from the start. It was you who chose to believe my words, even though you knew nothing about me.

  “But THIS you must believe. NEVER have I misled you regarding my feelings for you, or for OUR people. Come. Step closer. There is something inside here I want you to see.”

  Amon reached into the box and slowly withdrew the transceiver. As he did so it changed from a dull red to blue.

  “Please, my king. Move the tabernacle to one side so that I may place this object on the altar.”

  As Amon did so, the blue color faded from the transceiver, revealing a smooth metallic finish.

  The Pharaoh stepped back as Amon came around to the front of the altar.

  “What is this thing?” Khufu was almost beyond words as his mind tried to sort out what he was experiencing.

  “Perhaps we should retire to the inner chamber so we can sit as I tell you my story.”

  Turning back toward the transceiver, Amon said: “Follow.”

  Khufu started, as the object rose slightly off the altar and hovered, motionless.

  Amon gently took the Pharaoh by the arm and led him through the curtain. The transceiver floated along behind them.

  Once the two men were seated on divans facing each other, the transceiver moved to a point between them, then settled slowly onto the floor.

  “My dear friend. I know you’re stunned by what you have witnessed. Please remember and understand that, above all else, I am your friend, your confidante, and truly, your brother.”

  Khufu was now almost in a state of shock. Seeing this object float in space, move of it’s own accord, respond to the high priest’s commands. It was almost more than he could absorb. He sat mute, hands clasped in his lap. His mouth hung partially open, lips moving slightly, trying in vain to find words for what he was experiencing.

  Amon recognized the stress his friend was under and leaned slightly forward, speaking softly.

  “Let me begin by saying I’m here with you now because I fear for your life and the welfare of your kingdom.

  “I was here when you were born. I was here when your father Snefru became Pharaoh. Before him Huni. Before him Khaba, then Sanakute, then Narmer who united the kingdoms; all the way back to Ptah, the first true leader of the kingdom.”

  “Ptah was not a pharaoh! He is a god!” Khufu exclaimed, having finally found his voice.

  “It’s true he is remembered as you say. But to me he was an excellent carpenter, and a good friend. He was the first to attempt unification of the kingdoms, but he was murdered in his sleep before his work could be completed.”

  “You cannot know these things! Only the elite . . . the royals have this knowledge. You are a deceiver!”

  “My friend, my Pharaoh, never the less it is true. I tell you these things so that you may come to believe what I must reveal. Of all these men, of all who came before you, none of them have been faced with what will soon confront you.”

  “You presume to tell a Pharaoh what he must do?! You came to me out of nowhere. I will send you BACK!” The pharaoh was becoming desperate.

  “Should you choose to do so, it is within your power. But before you decide, there is more I desire to tell you. You expressed your concern about your mother and the chief priest.”

  Khufu nodded, remembering the secretive manner in which they had responded to his unexpected intrusion.

  “My Pharaoh, they conspire to dethrone you.”

  Khufu jumped to his feet, filled with rage at the thought.

  “How can you know such a thing? She is my MOTHER! She would never. . . .”

  He paused in mid-sentence as an old forgotten memory began to surface.

  “Yes. You remember that day so long ago, when as a child you saw Hetepheres walking with Shehat in the garden. There was a child walking between them, each holding one of his hands.”

  “Yes. I remember. He was singing. His singing became quiet as they passed from my view.”

  “My friend, calm yourself. Please sit. What you think you remember is not what actually happened.”

  Amon walked over and sat beside him. Placing a hand gently on the pharaoh’s knee, he continued:

  “That boy you remember. He was your older brother.”

  There was a long uncomfortable pause. Neither man moved. Then slowly the pharaoh turned toward Amon, tears filling his eyes.

  “Yes. . . . He was Tolneh. He was sick. . . . I remember now.”

  “You never saw him again, did you?”

  Khufu shook his head slowly, then stared intently at the floor.

  “This will be hard for you to hear, but I swear on our friendship that it is true. What you heard was not your brother singing. He was crying. He didn’t want to go with them, but he had no choice.

  When they were out of the garden they were out of sight of prying eyes. When she was sure no one could witness, your mother smothered the boy.

  “Shehat dug a shallow grave next to a small statue of a hawk, and placed your brother’s lifeless body in it. Then he moved the statue to cover the grave.”

  For a long moment Khufu paused, remembering.

  “I know this statue. It is still there, just outside the inner court. But how can you know this? You said there was no one there to witness.”

  “It’s true that there were no people there, but this device WAS there.”

  Amon pointed to the transceiver and gave the ‘activate’ command. Immediately it rose a few inches off the floor and hovered.

  “This is called a transceiver. Later I’ll tell you more about it and how I came to possess it. But for now I’ll only show how it was present outside the garden, but yet was unseen.”

&n
bsp; He gave the ‘mask’ command, where upon the device began to shimmer, becoming hazy, gradually matching the light intensity of the room and the floor coloring, until finally it was nearly invisible.

  “How . . .?” whispered Khufu.

  “Later, my friend. For now, let me continue.”

  “Your brother had a sickness called epilepsy, or ‘falling sickness.’ Most of the time he was normal. But sometimes, for no apparent reason, he would fall down. His eyes would roll back in his head and his body would begin to shake. Then after a time he would again be normal, not remembering anything about what had happened.”

  “Yes.” Khufu nodded slowly. “I’ve seen this before in some of my people. They have become possessed by demons.”

  “No. They are not possessed. They are sick.

  Your parents believed as you do, that Tolneh was possessed. They feared that when your older brother grew to adulthood and became Pharaoh, that the demon would possess him again and take control of the kingdom.

  “They could not afford to let that happen while he was in power. They feared it would compromise THEIR power, their access to the throne. So, to prevent this from coming to pass, they chose to put him down.

  “To ensure that no one found out, they also had his wet nurse, his servants, and all who knew of his sickness, killed. This device, this transceiver witnessed it all.”

  Khufu had been just a toddler then. The memories he had of his brother seemed more like dreams than actual memories. Over time, as his life became filled with new experiences, the memory of his older brother faded.

  “Had he lived, he would be Pharaoh, not I.”

  “This is true, my friend. But there is still more to this story. Your father came to be Pharaoh not through blood line, but through bloodshed.

  “During those times, as now, power struggles were prevalent. Though the upper and lower kingdoms had become united, still there was dissension. Through military maneuverings and political compromise your father won control of the kingdom.

  “Shehat became chief priest as a result of that compromise. His lineage is Nubian, not Egyptian. Factions from the two original kingdoms never could arrive at a compromise as to who would be the ultimate ruler.

  “It was decided that a representative from a ‘neutral’ kingdom should act as arbiter, operating behind the scenes, thus preserving the image of the pharaoh.

  “Your father, who by then had become pharaoh, knew of these long-held disputes. His spies identified the dissenters and brought them before him.

  “Shehat was present at their trial. He was forced to witness their be-headings and was threatened with the same unless he would swear publically his loyalty to your father. Reluctantly, he did so.

  “But Shehat had his own agenda. His plan was to eventually bring his Nubian bloodline into power. To do this he seduced your mother and planted his seed in her. Your older brother Tolneh was the offspring of that union.”

  “Then I AM the rightful pharaoh!”

  “Yes. Your father knew all of this, the indiscretion between your mother and the chief priest, the illegitimate child, everything. But he was powerless to do anything, for fear that the scandal would be made public and his position compromised.

  “As it turned out, the death of your half-brother solved the problem for your father, and created a whole new problem for the chief priest, which brings us to this point. Shehat and your mother are conspiring with the Nubians to have you overthrown.”

  “But I am the rightful ruler. My people are loyal to me, NOT to my mother or Shehat. They would not let that happen!”

  “Ordinarily I would agree. But there is still more to this story. The chief priest has been in contact with the Nubian leadership many times over the last few years. Together they have conspired to seize power under the guise of a staged invasion from the south.”

  “How can you know these things? Ah! The ‘resources’ you spoke about. Tell me. Who are they? How do they contact you? You never leave the city, and security is such that no stranger can enter.”

  Amon smiled and pointed to the transceiver.

  “This, my pharaoh, is my ‘resource’; or more accurately, this and others like it.”

  “There are more?! How many? Where are they?”

  Amon was not prepared to reveal more about them, particularly their relationship to his friends aboard the Brighid. It would be difficult enough to explain how he had ‘lived’ as long as Khufu thought he had. But explaining extra-terrestrials, and time dilation? Perhaps there was another way.

  “My friend, for all these years you have trusted me. Is this not correct?”

  “Yes, but THIS!” Khufu swung his outstretched arm toward the device. “Did you make it? How did you make it? Where are the others? How many of them do you have?”

  “In due time, friend. It is less important how I came to acquire them than it is to deal with the looming threat posed by Shehat.”

  “This. This . . . ’transceiver,’ as you call it. It is beyond my comprehension! It rises in the air at your command! It follows you! It even disappears at your command! SURELY it is supernatural. . . .”

  “My brother. In times not so long ago people who had never seen a chariot thought it had come from the gods. Even today in the lands far to the south, people who have been isolated for all their history would not comprehend even the clothing we wear. Yet we ourselves are not gods, though they would perceive us to be otherwise. For now, let us set this matter aside and decide how we will confront this most eminent threat.”

  Khufu sat quietly, mulling over all that had been said: His brother, whom his mother had killed! His father, who had concealed the act, even from HIM!

  Shehat, who would kill a pharaoh for his own self-aggrandisement. And his mother! And the transceiver!

  It was too much to absorb all at once. The Pharaoh took in a deep breath and then slowly stood to face the high priest.

  “My friend Yunu . . . Amon. . . . You once said something which I have never forgotten. It was here! Right here in this very place. ‘I am required by law to love the Pharaoh. But the man, my brother. Him I love willingly.’ From that day to this, those words have rung true to my soul in a manner which I cannot deny. The high priest Yunu, the illusion; Amon, the man, my friend, my brother! The illusion, I will maintain. The man, my true brother. Him I will love willingly.”