Upon the Wings of Horus

The past has been rolled into a scroll I shall not see again.

- Book of the Dead

The sun had set the air on fire.

Dry heat, mixed with the smell of incense, permeated the air. The land was as voiceless as death until the first cries of mourners pierced the silence. A sarcophagus came into sight, gilded in gold and resting upon a funeral boat pulled by a pair of brown oxen. The whole procession was being escorted by a bald man in a white robe over whose back was draped the skin of a leopard. He held an ankh tightly in his hand. A solemn look was plastered onto the face of this newly-appointed High Priest as he walked on, continuing to lead his predecessor’s mummified body towards its house of eternity. Behind the funeral boat trailed the mourners, women who wailed and lamented loudly above the prayers and chants uttered by other priests. They tore at their hair, shed tears of sorrow, and threw ash upon their bodies. Servants followed closely behind, carrying a chest upon which sat a statue of the jackal god Anubis, guardian of the dead and their tombs. Rays of the sun pounded upon the statue’s sleek ebony and gold form. Contained within the chest were personal items of the deceased and canopic jars containing preserved remains of the body; all were meant to last an eternity.

Upon a rooftop sat a single cat. From her vantage point she watched the funeral. Her pupils had reduced themselves to mere slits, keeping out the harsh glare of the sun. Like the surface of the Nile, her green eyes glistened brightly, concealing an unfathomed depth. A powerful river of feelings and memories flowed through her mind and heart. She could see the High Priest Akhotep as he was in life, the temple he had served in, and the cats with whom he had shared his days.

Her memory rested upon the image of a cat, by the name of Sahu, whose fur held a sheen of tarnished silver. The words ‘I promise I will always be there for you’ streamed into her thoughts. Quickly she shut that thought out of her mind and focused instead on watching the funeral procession. The sight of a few mummified cats caught her eye. Neferure turned sharply away, bitterly wondering if the promise of ‘being there’ included resting in a dark tomb far beneath the earth.

Onwards the procession strode, towards the Nile where the priests, the mourners and the servants would all board boats and make their way towards the West Bank of Thebes. There the sun would set, behind the tombs of the dead. Akhotep’s spirit had already been taken upon the wings of Horus and judged before Osiris in the realm of Amenti, the land of the dead. His heart had already been placed on the scales in the hall of Two-Truths and by the power of Anubis, weighed against a single feather - just like the hearts of the cats to be buried with him.

Neferure had heard tales of the lands through which the departed passed on their quest for eternal life. The afterworld was filled with peril and hardship before one reached everlasting peace. Sahu had always been a survivor, but did he pass the tests of the gods? Was his heart lighter than a feather? His fate was a secret dreams would not tell.

She reached for his presence, always just beyond her grasp. It never left, but was never seen. It was as though she were living in two worlds. She was dying where there was no death, and living where there was no life. Nevertheless, she, as any cat, had retained her nonchalant and composed air in the past days when walking through the streets of Thebes, leaving none any clue to her internal strife.

A noise below refocused her attention.

Neferure looked down, swivelling her ears, and was surprised to see the Pharaoh, Ramses III. He stood there, still and silent as a lone tree in a garden, intensely watching the funeral procession. A striped nemes cloth was draped upon his head, gathered at the back and running down behind his ears. It made his face a mirror image of the gold cast cobra rearing upon his brow. An intricate usekh collar, with its many rows of coloured beads interspersed with gold, rested upon his shoulders. It contrasted dramatically with the fine white linen he wore for a kilt.

Peaking Neferure’s curiosity was a stranger who approached the Pharaoh. The man wore a garb of highly pleated white linen and finery, which he bore with a proud stature. He stopped and bowed before Ramses. His voice was layered with a sense of urgency.

‘My king, may life, health, and strength be given unto you.’

Ramses bade for the man to rise. Concern was etched into the Pharaoh’s face. ‘What is it that brings you from so far, Qetu?’

The man rose. Although he did not look Ramses in the eye, he continued in speech. ‘I know you have always respected my decisions as the Vizier of Lower Egypt; thus you must also understand my method of reasoning. I would not have come in person had I not felt it necessary. Words travel too slowly up and down the Nile.’

Neferure, with her keen feline eyes, watched the frown upon Ramses’ face deepen. ‘Does this deal with the problem you wrote of earlier?’ the Pharaoh asked.

‘Yes, it is spreading.’ This time Qetu met Ramses’ gaze.

‘Could it be a plague of Sekhmet? Have we angered the great lioness goddess, the eye of Ra?’ Ramses asked.

‘Quite possibly. This plague has been linked to the spread of vermin. If it follows the same pattern as it has in the delta, then we will see the cats here affected first. It will quickly pass to the people.’

Neferure perked her ears and drew her head forward. Her muscles tensed at the thought of disease spreading among her kind. Neither Pharaoh nor Vizier paid her any attention. Few humans believed, or knew that, the cats they so intimately shared their lives with could understand their language. The Pharaoh knew and believed this, but Neferure was not so sure about the Vizier.

‘Very well,’ Ramses replied, ‘increase the amount of offerings and hymns at all of Sekhmet’s temples.’

‘I have already done so.’

Ramses looked away and towards the horizon. For a while he was silent, as if waiting for an answer to come from the mouth of Amun-Ra himself. ‘This problem will not be so easily solved,’ he continued. ‘Such a poor time it is for these evils. I must strengthen the power of Egypt before the Sea Peoples invade. I will need your help in this new mystery, but for that I need you in your proper place. I will speak to the gods and when I find an answer you will hear of it.’

Qetu paused for a moment before replying. To Neferure’s eyes he seemed vexed. ‘I shall depart as soon as possible, when the boats are ready.’ He paused for a moment, then decided to speak once more. ‘If I may ask, why did you not lead the funeral yourself?’

‘I decided to give that chance to Khesef-hra.’

‘Was I correct? Does he make a fine High Priest?’

‘Yes,’ Ramses said, ‘so far he has performed admirably.’

There was again a silence. Qetu broke it, adding some words of support. ‘My lord, I will help make Egypt healthier and more prosperous than ever before. You may put your full faith in that.’

Ramses looked at him and gave a slight smile. He then dismissed the Vizier. Qetu bowed and nodded his head, then left, heading towards the river.

* * * * *

It was late by the time Neferure returned to her home. The pale glow of twilight had enveloped the land. During the day she’d wandered the dusty streets and rested beneath a sycamore tree, replaying the days events in her mind and thinking of what Qetu had told Ramses. She wondered when the plague would strike in Thebes and how it would effect the lives of cats. She figured it would strike the strays first. They always bore the brunt of any disease or hardship. A strange feeling haunted her, which told her some deeper evil lay beneath the surface of recent events.

She sat now in her garden, on the edge of a grand rectangular pool. Blue and white lotuses rested upon the still waters; their flowers had already submerged themselves underwater for the night. Ornamental fish swam beneath the surface, amongst the lotus roots. She enjoyed the challenge of catching them.

An evening breeze wafted through the garden, laced with the scent of jasmine. Many of those flowers bordered the pool. Sycamore and pomegranate trees were planted in rows, their shade greatly revered during the heat of the day. Two willow trees stood before the pool. Many thin branches of theirs hung down like a living curtain over the water and earth. The soil was rich with memories of Neferure’s youth.

The next morning she would go and visit Heqaib. He would surely have something to say about the news she had recently heard. More importantly she wanted to know what he thought had happened to Sahu’s spirit and if he could ease her fears. Heqaib had known Sahu even before she had. It was he who had come to her, some forty days ago, and told her what she had never wanted to hear. Neferure would have visited Heqaib that very night but he was growing old and he was odd in that he preferred sunlight over moonlight. He was an odd cat in many ways.

Neferure passed through the garden, her paws daintily trotting over grass and dirt until she came to the entrance hall of her home. It was the estate wherein lived Ta, the Vizier of Upper Egypt.

The estate was bested only by the palaces of the Pharaoh. As were all houses of the living it was built of mud brick. Only the dwellings of the gods or the resting place of the spirit were built of stone. The house was a grand structure. Its walls were plastered and painted white and bore colourful images of marshes with fish, lotuses and flying birds, or else images of deities and events of day-to-day life. Furniture was both sparse and elaborate; it was inlaid with gold, silver and electrum and crafted by some of the finest artisans of Egypt. Wooden columns, which supported the ceiling, were carved at the top to resemble the symbol of Upper Egypt, the lotus flower.

Recessed into the wall to Neferure’s right was the household shrine, holding statues of the gods worshipped by the house’s inhabitants. One of the largest statues was that of a cat.

Ta’s wife, Hatia, was a patron of the goddess Bast and her strong devotion was evident in the elaborate gold statue she had commissioned.

Neferure took a long look at the seated, proud, and dignified image of the feline goddess - an image which bore such a likeness to her. Hatia often spoke of seeing the essence of Bast shine through all cats and how some, more than others, carried themselves as though they were deities on earth.

Now Hatia was standing before her prized statue of Bast, holding a small child in her arms, bundled in linen. Black kohl lined her eyes, matching the colour of the sleek hair which framed her face and fell just short of her shoulders. Her arms and neck bore exquisite gold jewellery of serpents and winged scarabs. The soft candlelight from the shrine danced upon the faces of both mother and child.

‘Bast,’ she said in gentle whisper, ‘great goddess of the sun, protectress of cats, of children, and of Egypt, please guard my new child as you would your own.’

After placing an amulet of a cat around the boy’s neck, Hatia retreated from the entrance hall. Neferure followed the wisps of linen trailing behind as Hatia walked. Soon both of them had entered a stately room filled with carved columns, murals and fine furniture. It was the grand hall of the estate.

Grooming herself upon a chair was Takhaet. She was of a fine and delicate feline build. Hardly ever did she choose to set foot outside. Neferure attributed this to the wind. She supposed it would both ruffle up Takhaet’s fur and pick her off her feet. Takhaet’s markings looked as though they had been washed away by the annual flood, giving her a muted, yet elegant, pastel look. When these were contrasted against Neferure’s bold markings set upon fur coloured as aged gold, one would never guess they were sisters. When Takhaet finished grooming her left shoulder, at last seeming satisfied with her appearance, she looked over at Neferure as if knowing what was on her sister’s mind.

‘He was born a stray,’ Takhaet said blankly, referring to Sahu. ‘Just be thankful he didn’t die as one. I hear a cat of Per-Maahes will be arriving here in Thebes tomorrow, by boat. That lineage is supposed to be -’

‘Don’t you realize there’s something wrong with all of this?’ Neferure injected.

‘Yes. Strays, even former ones, should not have proper burials.’ Takhaet looked at her paw, scrutinizing its appearance. ‘Strays are strays because they must have angered Bast. She can see what is in their souls. If they were ousted by her then they surely should be ousted by us as well.’

Neferure shot a glance at her sister. Takhaet often looked upon strays with the expression humans reserved solely for vermin, but now she had gone too far. ‘I speak of the human they’re burying.’ Neferure continued, ‘When I last saw Akhotep he seemed oddly worried. Both Sahu and I observed it. Sahu said he would follow Akhotep around the temple to see if he could find the source of his unease. Now, both are . . .’

‘Dead?’

‘Yes.’ Neferure looked down at her paws.

‘And you’re connecting these two events?’ Takhaet asked, in a tone suggesting she didn’t care to hear the answer.

‘I am.’

Takhaet straightened out a single hair on her paw. ‘You don’t think you’re simply trying to give Sahu’s end a just cause? I find Akhotep’s death quite plausible. Simply, he died because it was his time to die. Being old, and likely forgetful, he left a lantern burning as he fell asleep, and one of the cats, maybe even Sahu, knocked it over while chasing a moth. Fire, pain, and death followed.’

‘I don’t believe it was that simple,’ Neferure declared, meeting eye to eye with her sister. ‘When I went to investigate I did see a lantern but I did not see any remains of a scroll, nor could I smell any papyrus. I doubt Akhotep would have left the lantern lit if he hadn’t been reading.

‘I saw the doorway seemed to have been scorched the most, as if that was where the fires began. Also, Akhotep was rushed to be mummified in only forty days when I know he could have afforded the full seventy day procedure. And now I hear talk of a coming plague. The Vizier of Lower Egypt himself came to deliver the news. He says the plague will strike the strays first, and then the housecats. Doesn’t it seem a little odd that all these events are coinciding? There is some deeper evil behind these events. I know there is.’

Takhaet swished her tail in annoyance. ‘As usual I don’t agree with you. Although I will accept your opinion as your own, I only ask you promise me one thing. Don’t waste your time trying to solve mysteries that aren’t there.’

‘I can’t make that promise. It would be betraying Sahu’s memory not to find out what he died for.’ Neferure stood proud and narrowed her eyes. ‘Unlike you, I couldn’t live with that.’

‘Suit yourself. You always have.’ Takhaet straightened her posture, jumped off the chair and daintily walked away with her head and tail held high in the air. A few paces from the doorway she looked back. ‘You know, curiosity will be the death of you.’

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