THE HAPU THREAD
The bright and lonely Sirius star hung low in the morning’s eastern horizon of ancient Egypt, striking a balance between the late evening sky and the newly emerging dazzling rays of the Sun God Ra. He emerged triumphant once more from the belly of the Underworld, where he battled every evening to protect his beloved Egypt from the ever-present chaos. But the solitary Sirius not only heralded the new awakening, it also announced the long-awaited annual Akhet flood season, which would once again bring the life force that kept chaos at bay and allowed Ma’at to rule over Egypt for yet another year, bringing prosperity and peace to her lands.
A time of rejoicing and celebration was now upon the Thebaid, and the Sothic priests standing atop Thoth Mountain lit their sun-dried wooden beacons, their flames soaring high into the dusky morning sky. One by one, the lofty mountain peaks set light to their own declarations announcing the arrival of the annual flooding for all to see; it was unquestionably a great time of jubilation throughout the land.
Inside the elevated stone Temple of Sankhare the inner chambers rang out in solemn chants, interspersed with the musical chimes of the Hathoric sistrum as it was played together with the enchanting rhythmic beating of the tambourine. The air carried a scent of subtle burnt incense, while the white-robed priests offered their sacrifices to the gods and performed their libational ceremonies to Hapi, the hermaphroditic Nile God, praising and giving thanks for the bountiful harvest that awaited them.
Below them, the Theban necropolis laid quiet and still, and a low morning’s mist hung like a soft blanket, covering the low-lying mud brick buildings, while the soaring architraves of the stone pylons broke through the low cloud cover. The towering rectangular mud brick walls of the House of Millions of Years sliced through the low mist, creating the illusion of a giant, enclosed milky lake. Wild jackals could be heard in the distance as they howled and cried out to one another, scavenging for their breakfast among the scraps and rubbish that were thrown out and discarded during the previous night’s entertainment and celebrations. Thebes lay asleep, secure in its beds and in the arms of its loved ones, unaware of what was about to be unleashed from the bowels of the underworld.
Across the open fields planted with seasonal crops, the protective man-made dyke that served as a boundary between the swollen Nile and the western town lay still, while the eastern dyke stood defiant against the increasing current of the great Nile as its waters began to increase, protecting Ipet-resyt and the spectacular sphinx-lined avenue that terminated at the vast sanctuary of Karnak.
The quays and harbors of Thebes groaned and moaned as the wooden ships of differing sizes creaked with the swell of the water around their bows and sterns. The great flotilla moored outside Karnak was ready to receive its dignitaries and diplomatic guests that had gathered at the western royal palace a few days before in readiness for the great festival. The ferrymen pulled hard on their ropes, fighting against the amplified current of the Nile as they ferried their passengers, who were mostly servants and traders preparing for the day ahead, laden with their wares and goods.
An eerie silence emanated from both of the sacred sanctuaries, but within their respective hallowed stone walls the incumbent priests hurried around, preparing for the days’ rituals, installing the necessary incense burners and numerous altars that brimmed with generous offerings, and dressing the divine idols within their private chambers. Meanwhile, the high priests of Karnak took to the sacred lake to perform their daily ritual of cleansing and purification: Descending the stone steps into the refreshing cool waters, they shaved their entire bodies and removed all that was impure upon and within them. They were presided over by their young apprentices who watched attentively, and made ready their consecrated robes and garments, which they would wear when presenting to the living idols. All were oblivious to the apocalyptic catastrophe that was about to take place.
Across the vast western lake of Birket Habu, the royal house of Pharaoh Amenhotep III showed signs of life, as the king and his harem slept peacefully within their respective bed chambers. His numerous young children were just beginning their day, and his older children, the Crown Prince Thutmoses and his younger brother (the future pharaoh) Amenhotep IV, had taken the opportunity to hunt in the secluded valleys of the Theban Mountains. His oldest daughter, Princess Sitamun, was already being prepared for the day’s events, as this would be her first public appearance as the king’s wife. Her friend and official mentor, Amenhotep, son of Hapu, had organized her staff and requirements the evening before, allowing him the extra time to rest. He had just returned from Kheny, where he had recently finished his third year of overseeing the extraction of stone blocks for the great Temple of Aten, built for the younger son of the Pharaoh, Amenhotep IV. The kitchens and servants of the palace ran around preparing the day’s forthcoming festivities to celebrate the annual Nile inundation, while also tending to the needs and requirements of the vast number of dignitaries that were housed within the royal guest rooms to the east of the palace.
Further to the southwest, dust clouds could be seen rising from the desert floor where the king’s loyal regiment carried out their drills, perfecting their routine that would march ahead of the Pharaoh and his household during the processional march later that day from Karnak to Luxor, and the royal quay that would later witness the Pharaoh disembark his Gleaming Aten barge.
The barge was moored at the palace’s harbor and was also receiving its last preparations for the day’s events. Its sails were lowered and re-wrapped, the decks were washed down and polished, and its royal cabins received their final adjustments to accommodate the royal couple and their off-spring as they would take to the lake’s waters during the festivities later that day.
A little farther south, dull cracks could be heard from the western dyke, as she began to moan and cry out under the strain of the swollen river against her. Unable to fight off the ever-growing force of the flooded Nile and hold back the immense pressure any longer, she surrendered, collapsing in on herself, allowing the dark, muddy waters to cascade over her like silk. Washing down into the open fields below toward the sleeping Thebes, the irrigation ditches filled with the rushing waters, channeling them across the dry fields that had no time to soak up the moisture, carrying with them the loose debris and dry foliage that laid strewn across the ground, and picking up the shocked grazing cattle and donkeys in its path. The current continued toward the narrow streets that were home to thousands. The maze of streets funneled the waters, lapping at the weak wooden doors. Oil lamps were lit, providing the necessary light to help young children to the safety of the rooftops. The men cried out to one another, racing to the now-broken dyke that was allowing the Nile to spew into Thebes. They hurried with their adzes and reed baskets to repair the damage and hopefully stem the ever-increasing rising waters, their wives screaming back to them as they huddled with their children for safety on top of the weak dirt rooftops while their rooms beneath them filled with muddy waters. The streets were now running rivers; the rubbish that once laid around now accumulated in the streets carried by the flood waters, crashing against the mud brick walls, which were becoming drenched in water and disintegrating at a rapid rate. The livestock were carried away by the rising waters, most succumbing to the heavy current and debris hidden beneath the murky waters. Those who were not fortunate enough to hear the initial alarms screamed and called out to those on the rooftops, holding their outstretched hands in the vain attempt of salvation, but alas there was no reprieve or assistance that could be given to them, as they, too, were swept away to their watery graves.
Then across the rooftops a thunderous crack was heard, followed by another, and again another. The great embankment walls of the lake began to buckle under the pressure of the waters, weakening the muddy supports. Then, with no warning, the embankment wall began to crumble; behind it millions of gallons of water hung in the air, almost motionless for a split second, before it came crashing down on the crowded rooftops below. The rooftops, unable to bear the weight and sheer force that bore down upon them, yielded and crashed into the waters like a house of cards, and were subsequently carried away by the immense currents. The occupants of the rooftops now struggled and clambered for the nearest floating material that they could cling to, and mothers cried out for their children as they were separated and torn from one another.
Street after street began to disappear beneath the waters now strewn with lifeless bodies, debris, and livestock as Thebes was systematically torn apart from its very core. The waters continued to pour from the lake and mixed with the swollen river water as it crashed against the western dykes’ weakened walls, engulfing it in wave after wave, carrying away those men that ran to its aid only moments ago. The combined waters sent a huge wave of destruction toward the east bank and the Temple complex of Ipet-resyt.
At first it seemed as if the river’s current would sweep the devastating wave of destruction downstream, but the sheer weight and momentum behind it could not stop, and it crashed against the east bank dyke, creating a huge hole in its defense. The sun court of the temple complex and the inner courtyards filled with the remains of the Theban west bank village, bringing the spindly scaffolding towers crashing down into the waters. Sphinx after sphinx was engulfed by the never-ending wave, sweeping and clearing the ground beneath it as it continued unabated, tearing at the roots of the tall and splendid palm trees that stood between the sphinxes, shattering the stone reliefs as they fell. The mixture of debris, palm trees, scaffold planking, brush, and the remains of houses interspersed with the contorted, broken, and ripped bodies created an avalanche from the depths of hell, on course with the house of heaven in a cataclysmic battle that would see no sure victor.
The ferrymen, unable to deal with the elevated waters, frantically hacked at their ropes, sending their crafts cascading down the river. Some survivors who managed to get through the first part of the event clambered and hung on to the ferries as they were swept downstream. The quays and harbors that held the collection of boats and barges fell victim to the wave from the west, as the ropes that held the fleet in place strained, stretched, and eventually snapped. Some boats drifted apart and crashed into one another, sending the wrecks to the bottom of the Nile, while others escaped and floated to the safety of the north, carried along by the strong current.
The Sothic priests of Sankhare could only watch in horror. The pylons that they had observed standing above the silky mist earlier in the morning now provided a sanctuary to those who clung to its very sides, the waters of the lake continuing to spill out like the intestines of slaughtered offerings. The once-magnificent towering mud brick walls of the House of Millions of Years disintegrated and slipped into the murky waters, no longer stretching toward the heavens. The view of the east bank was not as clear; but, it was obvious that the same fate had overtaken her, as well. Helpless, the priests could only watch with tears in their eyes, their arms and hands outstretched toward the heavens as they cried out to the gods for mercy and compassion for their fellow Thebans.
The priests of Karnak closed the mighty wooden doors of the great southern pylon, and having braced them from within, awaited the swollen current as it made its way down the processional route. All they could do was run from sanctuary to sanctuary grabbing what idols and service ware they could to protect them from the oncoming chaos. Then, as if made of twigs, the huge wooden doors burst open, just as the formidable Apophis himself had smashed his way through. The priests were washed away with the deluge, as the remains of both east and west poured through the now-broken doorway, and the rubbish, which accumulated behind it, piled up higher and higher, crushing those who clung to the floating debris. The inner courtyards filled with the contents of both the east and west as it was carried in on the water’s crest. The pillared halls of Karnak now smelled of dirt and only the cracking of bones against stone and the bloodcurdling screams of those being squashed and buried beneath the palm trees could be heard. Other floating debris rolled uncontrollably in between the pillars and statues. The gods had abandoned them all, and slowly the screams and cries diminished to just a few, as death had come to Karnak.
The destructive flood now found its natural course and began to take the waters back to the river. The lake, having emptied upon Thebes, lay empty and shallow, with its base writhing with fish that jumped and gasped for air in its muddy slip. The hippos that once grazed among the bull rushes now languished in the mud. The Gleaming Aten lay broken in the bottom of the lake, her masts and rigging snarled and entangled among the remains of the royal cabins, which now stood empty and filled with mud and debris, fit for no man or swine, let alone Pharaoh and his family. What was once the crowning glory of Thebes now lay bare, empty and bereft, once built by the royal architect Amenhotep, son of Hapu, as part of the Pharaoh’s ambitious plan of restructuring Thebes.
Thebes had been destroyed, wiped clean from the earth by the hands of the gods of chaos. It was no more, and only the screams and cries of the survivors and those who were still trapped or injured could be heard across the wasteland. Only the royal palace was left unscathed, protected by its location high up on the desert floor and behind the great lake, as suggested to Pharaoh by his eminent architect, Amenhotep, son of Hapu. One might ask if he had foreseen this apocalyptic event, hence his recent return to Thebes.
The streets that were once filled with traders and Thebans now lay hidden, buried beneath tons of mud and debris. Where houses once stood, now only twisted wrecks of mud provided evidence of what was. It was difficult to discern where one street ended and another began. Only the stone structures stood defiant, lashed by the muddy waters and blood-spatter, as livestock and Thebans were thrown against their walls like confetti, breaking their bodies like glass, leaving behind shadows of their victims as a stark reminder of the morning’s horrific events.
As the Sirius star began to disappear in the haze of the dawn, Ra began to emerge on the eastern horizon, bringing with him the first rays of light descending upon what was left of the once glorious cradle of life. Where was he now? Where were the gods earlier that morning when the people needed them? Some wailed and threw dirt into their hair, screaming hysterically as they mourned their dead, while others cried and embraced those who they were reunited with in this darkest hour before dawn. Seeking blame and assurance at the same time, the heavens lay silent. Only Sobek the crocodile god spoke out as he roamed the disaster area gorging and feeding upon the drenched carcasses as they lay in their thousands among the remains. Along with the dead, the injured lay incapacitated; trapped beneath the remains of the houses and debris, they, too, were being torn limb from limb as Sobek and his many cousins enjoyed their easy pickings, the blood only adding to the image of misery and woe, as great pools began to build up from the crocodiles’ feeding frenzy.
The jackals returned from their safe mountain lairs, responding to the stench of death in the air. Even Horus joined them, along with Thoth, as they, too, tore at the exposed innards and blood-stained flesh, pecking at the eyes of the dead, stabbing their victims with their incisor beaks while Horus ripped at the flesh with his hooked beak and talons. The Goddess Nekbet circled above them all, waiting for the dead to ripen in the heat of Ra as he climbed even higher into the morning sky. The surviving family members could only look on with terror as they were incapable and helpless to stop this horrific and ghastly show and ask: When would this nightmare end?
Egypt had never witnessed such a tragedy in all its history. What was left of the holy priests of Karnak and Ipet-resyt were now unified with the people, as they too searched the wreckage for survivors and their own brethren, hoping to find answers in their prayers and spells. It was impossible to believe that only a few hours earlier Thebes was celebrating the rising waters as it had done for countless centuries. If only they had known what was in store for them, the entertainment might have been less jovial. Instead of presenting bountiful seasonal offerings and seductive libations, the priests were now offering comfort and their crude and somewhat-barbaric medical assistance to those who required their educated minds. Mummy wrappings that would have served those in the afterlife were now being wrapped upon the living. The embalming tables that usually served the dead were now lined with the wounded. The sanctuaries that once held the golden statues of their beloved gods were now filled with the injured as they sought shelter and security within the remaining stone walls.
Pharaoh sat speechless upon his throne as his viziers recanted to him the death toll and tally of destruction that had been unmercifully unleashed upon his beloved kingdom. His royal court filled with the remnants of the higher aristocratic families, all wanting an audience with Pharaoh to answer the pressing question as to why them and why now? Had he received word from his father, Ra? What would become of them? Had his wayward and misfortunate younger son foreseen this disaster coming in a prophecy, hence his plans for the new city of Akhetaten to the north? Were the rumors of Amenhotep, son of Hapu, true? Had he really informed Pharaoh of this calamity? Were the shepherds and lepers to blame for Egypt’s chaos? Is this why they had been removed from the security of the cities to the abandoned quarries? Had they truly been spared by the gods?
Fingers began to point and low whisperings echoed throughout the court as gestures toward the eminent sage Hapu began to multiply. High officials and nobles began to single out the scapegoat who would take full responsibility for the catastrophe that had just attacked their kingdom. Hapu was their obvious target of aggression; it was, after all, his grand lake that had just spilled its guts across Thebes. Everything that he had built and overseen had been turned to ruins and was the cause of so much heartache.
Chaos now reigned upon the throne of Egypt. What little resources they had left were being pushed to the limits. Word had been sent to the four corners of the land, recalling the armies on the furthest outposts to return to their grief-stricken homeland, leaving behind unprotected borders between Egypt and her nine bows. But it would be days if not weeks before they could all return. The dignitaries and special guests that had travelled to Thebes to join in the festivities now left by whatever means they could find, their boats and other modes of transportation swept away or destroyed in the flood. Fleeing a devastated land and its distraught people, they hurriedly left their private quarters, taking with them anything and everything they could carry to aid them in their long journeys home.
All Pharaoh could do was to sit in silence, slightly slouched with his hands resting on the base of his neck as he listened intensively to the cacophony of voices around him, hearing all although understanding none. Why had this happened to him? Had he not been a faithful servant? Had he not provided the greatest city for all to live in and prosper? Had he been a bad ruler? What had he done to deserve such punishment? Turning to his eldest children for support he found them wanting. His younger son Amenhotep IV was holding court with a few select few viziers, while his older son, the Crown Prince Thutmoses shouted angrily at those who approached Hapu. His new wife and elder daughter sat at his side with tears in their eyes. They could only weep and think of their brave maidens that were washed away while they played and bathed in the cool waters of the lake. It was only by the grace of Amun-Ra that she had not joined them this morning as she usually did. Pharaoh’s kingdom was no longer a gleaming one, but a dark, hideous nightmare to which he could see no end.