Now, standing before the altar, she raised her knife, point on high, and said, “I invoke You, God of destruction. I invoke You Whose name is Set. I call You by all the names that others do not know.” She said names stranger than any he had ever heard. “You Whose name is Set I call by Iopakerbeth and Iobolkhoreth, by Iopathanax and Aktiophi, by Ereskhigal and Neboposoaleth, by Lerthexanax and Ethrelnoth. You will come to me as I kill all that is evil in the Pig,” and she turned in a circle, knife out, and Menenhetet felt the Pig’s tongue grow rigid like the end of a cut branch, then push upward for an instant between his cheeks and fall away. Menenhetet could feel blood beneath his feet, but when he looked down, the floor was dry. He saw the face of the Pig, however.
It was dying, but the light did not leave its eyes as in a common death when water seems to sink slowly into sand. The light from the eyes of the Pig went away in a flash of lights and sudden shadows, like a stream falling over rocks, and Menenhetet saw many expressions pass. He saw fear in the face of Usermare from the day at Kadesh when the Hittite broke His nose, and a great pride, wild as a glint in the eyes of a boar, reflected back from the moist nostrils of the beast. Then the animal died and its face was like the round features of Honey-Ball when her eyes were asleep in the circle of her face. He could see the Pig no longer.
This ceremony had been different from others. For now he felt no desire for Honey-Ball. That was done. The Pig was dead, and with it had gone the fury of his member and the pleasure of his heart. Menenhetet was sad.
“I did not mean to kill the Pig,” said Honey-Ball, “only the part I did not make myself.”
“Who can know what will come?” he said slowly.
She smiled, but did not answer, and Menenhetet was moved by her next thought. “It is over with us,” she told herself, and gave him the measure of her love by the sorrow that overflowed in her. It was then he knew that his Secret Name was lost as well. He-who-will-help-to-turn-the-neck-of-Usermare belonged to Menenhetet no more, and now he had nothing with which to resist his Pharaoh.
EIGHT
Now, on the next night, Menenhetet was obliged to hold the hand of Usermare in the House of Heqat, the Pharaoh of the Two-Lands lying on His back, flat as the valley before the rising of the river, while the little queens made love to Him. Heruit and Hatibi were at His toes and Amait and Tait at His chest. The river was beginning to rise and so His nipples must be caressed until they swelled like Hapi, the God of the Nile Who had the breasts of a woman. An-Her, the spirit of harmony, gave long slow windings of her tongue to the folds of His belly, and Menenhetet, holding Him by the hand, could feel His navel trembling like an ear, and Heqat gave licks of her tongue to His sword, her lips like the tents of the Blessed Fields that are made from the petals of roses, inasmuch as the beauty of her mouth was equal to the ugliness of her face. By His head, Djeseret, the Sublime One, and Tantanuit would kiss Him as He inclined His face to one, then the other, all of these eight little queens as devoted to His body as if they prayed by His side in the temple, and their tongues were comfortable with one another. By the light of the burning wick in the saucer of oil, their eyes were as full of gold as the eyes of a lion, and their limbs gleamed.
Yet Menenhetet also felt His woe. Black as the mud at the bottom of the Nile was the gloom that lay beneath, and it shifted in the depths of His body like monsters in the unseen fields of the river mud. Old trapped odors of the most terrible fear drifted into Menenhetet’s nostrils from the stones that had been moved to face the wall. Mixed with His lust, rich as the beating of a stallion’s heart, Usermare was most uneasy in His belly from the shift of these stones, and a thought came to His mind across many years. Clear as a voice that Menenhetet could hear, Usermare said to Himself: “In the old days when I made love to Nefertiri, I could feel My Kingdom turn within.”
From Menenhetet’s fingers, along the length of Usermare’s arm, and through His body to His sword, Menenhetet felt Usermare enter Nefertiri as in the days when she was as young as Rama-Nefru, and Usermare knew Nefertiri in that way now by the mouth of Heqat on His sword. So, Menenhetet could live in the belly of young Nefertiri and that was as tender and royal a sensation as evening in the last rose-light of the sun. Menenhetet could not help himself, and his loins spurted, and he was wet in all the weakness of a field slave caught pilfering by his Overseer.
Usermare threw off the kisses of His little queens, and inquired, “What splendor brought you forth?”
“I do not know, my Lord.”
Like a woman giving birth, the stones of the ancestors of Usermare were grinding in His bowels, but Menenhetet had come forth, and so he could no longer feel his Monarch’s pains. Instead he was left in all the loneliness of his own poor wet thighs. Yet, even as he closed his eyes, he saw the great stone doors of the Temple of Seti knocked down that week, he heard the clinking in his ears of inscriptions being chipped away.
Through such a route did the Governor of the Secluded return to the dark thoughts of the Pharaoh, and Menenhetet felt once more by way of Heqat how Queen Nefertiri was near, yet within Her was Amon, and the sword of the Hidden One was like a rainbow of light in the small forest between Her thighs. The gloom that lay like mud on the heart of Usermare was the name of Amen-khep-shu-ef, for that Prince was the child of Amon. It was Amon who had taken the place of Usermare between the thighs of Nefertiri.
Usermare’s blood raced with the anguish of the hare when caught in the jaws of the lion. The member of Usermare grew soft in the mouth of Heqat, for the rainbow who was Amon whispered to the young Nefertiri, “You will give birth to a Prince Who will slay His Father.” Nefertiri groaned in great pain and much delight, while Amon came forth in great size and radiance, even as Usermare came forth with none into the mouth of Heqat. A woe from the blackest caves of Seker lay on the heart of Usermare. He saw a son who wished to kill Him.
“I will cut off the nose of anyone who conspires against Me,” Usermare now said to the eight little queens and glared at them so fiercely that no hope of joy was left for the evening. Once again, He lay on His back, deep in gloom, holding the hand of Menenhetet while the little queens attended Him, and Heqat now stood to the side, trying to summon the Gods He desired to be near.
“O Great Pharaoh,” said Heqat, “King of the Reed and the Bee, Lord of the Two-Lands, Host of Thoth, Most-Favored of Ptah, Son of Ra, we anoint Your body.” Heqat laid an oil blessed by the High Temple of Amon between His toes, and other little queens anointed His orifices and laid oil on the muscles of His chest which were like the waves of the Very Green. Yet the despair of Sesusi was profound.
“O Golden Falcon,” said Heqat, “You, Who are Horus, Son of Osiris, You unite heaven and earth with Your wings. You speak to Ra in the sky and to Geb in the fields. You are Horus Who Lives in the Body of Great Usermare.” Heqat lay her face upon the groin of Sesusi, but He did not stir. He lay as if in His tomb.
“O King of Upper and Lower Egypt,” said Heqat, “Lord of the Two Lords, Horus and Set, Your speech is like fire …”
“I know no fire,” said Usermare. “I am cold. Amon has hidden Himself.”
“Amon has hidden from the treachery of men. But none can destroy Him,” said Heqat. “For He has made heaven and earth and He scattered the darkness on the waters. Amon made the day with light, and has no fear. Amon made the breezes of life for Your nostrils.”
“For My nostrils,” said Usermare.
“Amon,” said Heqat, “made the fruit and herbs and the fowl and fish for Your subjects. He will slay His enemies, as He has destroyed all who dare to revile Him. Yet, when His children weep, He hears them. O You Whose speech is like fire, You are the Son of Amon.” Heqat took into her mouth all that was in the groin of Usermare and the King gave a great groan, but nothing stirred.
Then, Menenhetet, holding the fingers of Usermare, felt a new fear. For his Pharaoh heard the seven sounds as clearly as if He had been present last night at the Execution-of-the-Pig, and the seven sounds crashed together,
while the soup fell again upon the chest of Usermare. His heart burned with wrath, and a mist rose in His bowels from such heat. “I must gather My powers,” He said aloud, “so that I may calm the flood.” Why did He lie on His back if not to guide His thoughts toward all thoughts in His Kingdom that would soothe the flood? The high waters of this year must not rise too high. Yet He could not calm His thoughts. He was in a rage, and weary. He sighed heavily. No caress could relieve the dread upon His chest. “Never poison a Pharaoh, but at the time of the flood,” He murmured, and fear of Amen-khep-shu-ef returned like a foul smoke. Usermare sat up to stare at each of the little queens before Him. He looked at Heruit and Hatibi, Amait and Tait, An-Her and Heqat, Djeseret and Tantanuit, and he thought of other little queens not there, of Mersegert and Merit of the North, of Ahuri who performed the swallowing of the sword so well, and of Ma-Khrut—equal to Heqat at such services. His fingers gripped the hand of Menenhetet fiercely so soon as His mind saw the face of Honey-Ball. But His thoughts moved on to think of Oasis and Tbuibui and Puanet, of Squirrel and Rabbit and Creamy and many others. Like flowers waving before Him at the edge of the pond where Kadima swam at twilight, so did Usermare think of each little queen and wonder which one had sent out evil words.
He stopped before the ugly face of Heqat, and said, “You are from Syria. So you know the prayer of my young Queen Rama-Nefru. Say this Hittite prayer against the demons who are as numerous as the dust.”
“Do You speak of the incantation against the worms, Good and Great God?”
“That is the one,” said Usermare. “Say it before the enemies who are in the air can escape.”
“These worms,” said Heqat, “cannot be seen. But their howling is heard in the Palace when the night is still.”
“I hear them,” said Usermare.
“They can be found in the rafters of every house. No gate can keep them out. They pass beneath the door. They separate the wife from her husband.”
“Call forth the Gods who will chase them. Call upon your Gods,” said Usermare.
“I call upon Nergal,” said Heqat, “who sits at the top of the wall. I call upon Naroudi who waits beneath this bed. He will bless us if we give him food and drink.”
Now, Usermare stood up. Once the little queens had begun to offer their gifts, He usually did not rise from the bed until He came forth many times, but on this night, as if disturbed by the Nile, whose murmur could be heard across the distance of all these gardens and parks, agitated again by the sore irritations of His thoughts, He stood up and told Heqat to bring food and drink to set beneath the bed for the Syrian God Naroudi. Then Usermare grasped Menenhetet in the full sight of the four little queens, and said aloud, “It is Isis I desire.”
Menenhetet did not know whether it was his own terror, but a giddiness began in his feet. He could not speak for the fright. Usermare, despite forty-two circles of silence, was near to his thoughts.
“Do any of you,” asked Usermare, “know the Ceremony to Invoke Isis?”
The little queens were silent.
“You, Heqat, who are ugly as a frog. You are a Syrian and know words of magic in two tongues. Invoke the Nearness of Isis.”
“Great Sesusi,” she said, “the ceremony is reserved for a Pharaoh or a High Priest.”
“It needs a High Priest?” asked Usermare. “You, then, Menenhetet, will serve. For this hour. No more. More would offend Amon.”
“Lord of the Two-Lands,” whispered Menenhetet, “I do not know the words.”
“Heqat will say the words. You will hear them.” Menenhetet’s hair was rudely grasped by His hand. Then Usermare lay back upon the bed, and brought Menenhetet’s nose near the divide of His buttocks.
“Pray,” said Usermare, and Menenhetet heard the scream of Isis as the body of Osiris was cut into fourteen parts.
Yet, the first fruit of such prayer was the clear voice of my great-grandfather himself. Menenhetet began to speak aloud once more as if his voice could not only reach our ears, but was ready to travel through the night and be heard by Hathfertiti and Ptah-nem-hotep, no matter where they might be.
“Yes,” said my great-grandfather, with a look of much sympathy toward my father, as if to state that he, Nef-khep-aukhem, asleep or not, would understand, better than any, those sentiments that came from licking the Royal Buttocks, “you are one to know of these matters,” yes, none could know better than he how my great-grandfather felt.
“Through the gilded nails of Ramses the Second,” said my great-grandfather, “by way of His royal sweet-breathing palm, I had already entered some of the great and powerful halls of His thoughts. But that was as nothing before the entrance to His Kingdom provided by the Mouth of the Pit. I knew no more defiance than a slave. I even girded myself to breathe the putrefaction of the swamp, but it was otherwise. For I saw the light of Ra at the end of a great and golden chamber. This was no foul exchange like swilling in the traps of Honey-Ball even as she, in homage to the balance of Maat, would bury her mouth in me, good pig to pig, no, I was drawn forward by the tip of my tongue. Like the paw of a dog scratching the earth for new mysteries, so did it quiver to kiss the buttocks of Usermare. Even to suffer my nose as a plow, or my tongue as a spade (for His hand was rude!) did not make me feel as if I were being buried in Egyptian mud, no, it was more like entering a temple, I swear, He had been so much anointed and by so many little queens, that He smelled of perfume, and I, entering, learned of royal passions that grabbed at me as quickly as the hook that enters your nose for the old dead stuffs of the brain. So His rage came to me, and His royal desires. He lay there, attended by the others, washed by their tongues from His ears to His belly, and by Heqat on His sword whose base rubbed like a pillar on my head when she sucked at it, and buffeted me like a lion’s tail whenever she forsook it long enough to intone, ‘O Goddess of the Green, Great Isis Sister of Osiris, Nephthys, and Set, child of Earth and Sky, Lady of the Swamps,’ on the words went until she must suck again, but I, rooting in the pit like a beast, was the only one to know the thoughts of Usermare, and I can tell you that He was dreaming of how He would devour all the Gods in the Land of the Dead, at least all Who were His enemies. He traveled on a ship that was like the Boat of Ra and it went past fiery furnaces on the banks of the Duad. I could see the damned squirming in ditches while Goddesses vomited forth a great fire from burning rocks to consume these souls and shadows who were enemies of Usermare. I even thought I beheld the body of Amen-khep-shu-ef in flames. Certainly I saw devils of mist and rain, and the fiends of cloud and darkness.
“In this boat with Usermare was a great Pharaoh, and He was as strong and beautiful and as great in height as Usermare. I knew it was His ancient ancestor, the Pharaoh Unas for whom the Festival Hall was being built. Now, in the company of Unas, Usermare moored the boat and went onto the shores of the Land of the Dead in order to hunt other Gods. I saw the chase. Many of these Great Lords were soon caught, and servants to Unas and Usermare cut Them up and cooked Them in great pots. I saw Usermare eat the parts of these Gods, even as His ancestor Unas also devoured the best and finest, while older Gods Whose flesh was dry were merely broken like wood, and Their brittle bones used for fuel. But the spirits and souls of the best Gods were taken into Usermare, and He grew Their features. Now, I saw His mouth, His nose, and His eyes as they came to Him from the Gods. He was Horus, the son of Osiris, yet He was Osiris Himself, and Usermare sat with the Lord of the Dead, side by side, there with Osiris on the Great Throne that is made of a material clearer than water and brighter than light. Usermare sat in the place of Isis.
“All this was in the mind of my Pharaoh, Great Ramses the Second, Usermare-Setpenere, lying among us with His scented body, our own God, Sesusi, in the warmth of His flesh, and I, suffused with the blood of the fires He saw and the meals He consumed, radiant with the glow of the luminous fields where the flowers of the stalks of grain shone like golden stars, was close to believing that I would never breathe again, just so cruel was the pinch
of His buttocks on my nose, yet I was relieved that He had suspicions of me no longer, and merely enjoyed Himself eating those Gods. His gloom was gone. The base of His sword trembled against my forehead even as He came forth into the mouth of Heqat. Then He lay in repose against a golden field of grain. Yet He would not release me.
“So I continued to kiss and to lick, seeking to give pleasure to Him Whose appetite was best satisfied by the body of a God, and in the peace that came upon all of us now that He was no longer in His most woeful mood, so did I go back to the village of my boyhood, a boy again, if indeed not a child just born, and was returned to calm memories of my past, as firm and certain as the stone and clay that are baked by the sun. I lived not only in my Pharaoh’s heart but in my own, and that was like being in the Two-Lands. One is the knowledge of all that is behind us, and the other must be our vision of what is yet to come. In that manner was my mind equal to two minds, and my hands held the separate buttocks of my Great King whose cheeks were as firm as the haunches of a horse. Out of His heart, into the wisdom of my hands did I begin to live in the despair and joy He knew of His two Queens, of Nefertiri and Rama-Nefru.
“Although I had been near to Queen Nefertiri but once, and never to Rama-Nefru, now they were like the Two-Lands of His two buttocks, and by His right mound was I led to drift on His sweetest memories of Nefertiri, for He had gone back to the year of His ascension to the throne. In that season when the young King meditated on the works of His dead Father, Seti, He searched for feats to excel His Father, and by that path came to think of the dry wells on the roads that led to the gold fields of Ekayta. No water was to be found on the route, and half of the laborers perished on every trip. No gold had come out of Ekayta to celebrate the Reign of Seti.