Abducted

Day 19 of month Ka-her-ka in Peret, season of the emergence

Three times, Hori waited for Nakhtmin in vain. He didn’t even find a message under the rock. With nights getting colder, he had to restrict his nocturnal forays. Tonight he fell asleep with a sense of bitter disappointment.

The walls of the weryt moved closer. They bound him and threatened to suffocate him like mummy bandages. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe…

With a jolt he flung open his eyes. This wasn’t a dream! His whole body was wrapped in linen. Strong hands slung bonds around him. He wanted to scream, but a gag stuck in his mouth. Only a gurgling noise escaped his mouth. He was lifted and carried down the ladder.

They found out! I’m busted, and now I’ll die. Need to escape! He twisted and turned in despair. His captors lost their hold, dropped him. He fell. His head hit the floor hard. He groaned, then blacked out.

The nightmare didn’t end. When he came too, his head throbbed and the ground beneath him swayed. He heard the splashing of water. Where was he? On a boat? He was still wrapped from head to toes. The ties cut painfully into Hori’s limbs. He tried sitting up—in vain. Once more, he lost consciousness.

Voices. A singsong filtered through the linen. The sounds echoed. Hori felt like he was lying in a burial cave.

“Osiris! Firstborn!

Oldest of the divine Ennead,

Founder of Maat on both shores.”

No! They mean to bury me alive, immure me in a vault! Hori tried to scream.

“Your mother conceived you

From your father Atum,

When no sky existed yet,

When no earth existed yet,

When no gods existed yet,

Nor humans,

When death did not exist yet.”

These verses sounded somewhat familiar. He gave up trying to free himself and listened to the voices in silence. Maybe they held a clue? The singsong was from the great myth of Osiris and Seth, but there was more. The men continued the story beyond anything he’d ever heard. Although he’d been robbed of his sight, images appeared before his eyes. He completely immersed himself in the tale, became one with Osiris, the King of the Two Lands. Oh! Glorious times for the country at the Nile. The fields bore many times more crop, people suffered no austerity, and he enjoyed happiness with his wife Isis.

He loved his brother, although Seth begrudged him his luck. Seth wanted to be king himself, so he killed Osiris. Thus death entered the world. However, his death was not enough for his brother. Hori suffered with Osiris the agony of dismemberment at the hand of his envious brother. In every limb, he felt the pain, as Seth took each piece and threw it away—spread out over the Black Country. He heard the lament of his sister wife Isis. Her lovely voice was like balm. She found his limbs, every single one of them, and reassembled his body. His lover turned into a female sparrow hawk. And oh, how beautiful she was. Life returned to his body, lust made his phallus swell. Gentle as a breath, Isis settled on him. With bliss, he poured his semen into her and knew he’d overcome death.

“I give birth to you a second time,

So you may wander among the everlasting stars,

Elevated, alive and rejuvenated,

Like Ra himself every morning.”

This wasn’t the voice of Isis, but that of his mother Nut. It was the promise of eternal life. Together with the sun god Ra, he climbed onto the golden bark, night after night, and passed through the underworld. He was elevated to King of the Duat, the realm of the dead, while his son Horus ruled over the living.

Gentle hands removed the fabric from his face. Hori opened his eyes. The blackest darkness surrounded him. Was he blind? He felt strangely weightless as if he floated in an endless dark ocean. Now he became aware of the gag in his mouth again. How thirsty he was! The cloth sucked up the saliva in his mouth and seemed to grow bigger and bigger. He gurgled.

“Shshsh.”

A deep voice intoned a ritual in an ancient language. A piece of metal touched his lips. The gag was removed, and someone trickled water into his mouth. Grateful, he swallowed.

“Shshsh,” the voice repeated.

Again, he felt metal on his lips, and the singer’s bass roared. Brightness spread around him, first a small flame, then he was bathed in glaring light.

“Shshsh,” the voice said for the third time.

With a jolt Hori recognized the god of the dead, Anubis. He bent over him, holding an adze in his hand. Then he knew. They are performing the ritual of mouth opening on me! He truly must have been sentenced to death. Gratitude flooded him, because he was granted this ritual anyway. He’d be able to use his senses in the underworld.

The deep voice came from the snout of the jackal god. The ancient magic of his words coursed through Hori. Once again, his lips were touched to return his hearing. Strange thoughts occupied him. Although he hadn’t been able to see or talk, he had heard everything. Was that because the voices of the gods were always audible? Or had he not heard, but experienced, the words? A shudder ran through his body. He was witnessing an incredible mystery.

Had hours or days passed? All of a sudden, Hori realized he was naked. Could all this have been a dream and he’d been lying in his bed the whole time? The lightness he’d thought to have experienced was gone now. Heaviness of the flesh burdened his limbs again, and his head throbbed as before. Blinding brightness had been replaced by impenetrable darkness. He was alone. The gods had left.

With care he touched what was under him. A wooden stretcher, not the sack of straw he usually slept on. He felt his head and grimaced when his fingers touched a large bump. So he hadn’t been dreaming. He had been brought somewhere else. Fear gripped his heart. Buried alive after all? He sat up and let his legs dangle from the stretcher. His feet touched bare rock, rough and uneven. He stood and thought he was falling, found no holds. Where was the stretcher? It had disappeared. His knees hit the floor hard. Wincing with pain, he crawled on all fours. There had to be an exit!

“Hello?” he called. “I’m here.” His voice bounced off the walls he couldn’t see or feel. He sobbed. Never would he have imagined his punishment for leaving the weryt so terrible, so cruel! If only he hadn’t done it.

“Hori, why do you harbor doubts?” The woman’s voice sounded warm and gentle.

He thought to see the goddess Maat. “Where are you? What shall I do?”

“You have to be reborn. Follow the way I showed you.”

He crawled toward the voice. His hand found no ground anymore. What was that? A water basin? No, a canal. Numb, he shook his head and immediately regretted it. Colorful sparks hurled before his eyes. Was this the weryt?

“He emerges from the birth canal.

Reborn is he who was dead.

Awakened to new life

By his mother Nut.”

Where did the voice come from? It wasn’t Maat who spoke. He strained his ears but couldn’t hear other people breathe. Was he in his mother’s womb? The water wasn’t cold but pleasantly warm. Hori had nothing to lose. Maat showed him the way once again. He sank into the stream, immersed himself completely and dove under. Gasping for air, he surfaced. The canal narrowed more and more. Hori followed it to a wall. The water flowed through a small opening barely large enough for a sack of corn to fit through. He reached inside the tube. Not made of rock, it felt soft and yielding—like flesh. This truly had to be the birth channel of the goddess!

Fear choked him the same way as when he’d dived under the wall of the weryt for the first time. This was narrower, more dangerous though. If he got stuck, he couldn’t be saved. He’d drown. But did he have a choice? He took a deep breath, then squeezed head and shoulders into the opening. His legs kicked at the ground to propel him forward, farther into the unknown. Arms stretched out, he groped the soft casing, but found no grip. With a last kick he slid completely inside. His ears swooshed, he thought his chest would burst. Someone took his hand, pulled him forward. He struggled on. A second hand grabbed him.

In a gush of water he slid into the arms of—whom? His eyes were closed, he didn’t care. Inhaling deeply he cherished precious air. Linen was wrapped around him. He sobbed, then he lost consciousness.

Hori saw the light before he opened his eyes. He blinked. Where was he? His left upper arm hurt, but at least the pounding in his head had eased to slight pulsing. Hunger and thirst plagued him so he had to still be alive. Or not? His breath caught. Lined up against one wall stood some of the most important gods of the Two Lands: Anubis, Amun, Geb, Horus, Seth. A swishing noise from the other side of the room made him turn his head. There stood the goddesses. Besides Isis and Maat, he recognized Mut, Nephthys and Nut. He lay in the middle of the room on a cot. Looking down his body, he saw he’d been painted green—the color of Osiris symbolizing fertility. Hori understood nothing. Geb and Nut stepped up to him and took his hands. He jumped up and walked with them. They brought him face to face with Anubis.

“Behold, Anubis, judge of the dead, this is our son Osiris, who was dead. At your court, you declared him as one whose voice is justified. Now he is one who lives and is fertile in the Two Lands.”

Anubis lowered his snout to demonstrate his agreement. “It is Osiris. He was dead. Now he lives and rules over the Duat.”

They led Hori to Amun, the highest of gods, also called the hidden one. “Behold, Amun, king of the gods. This is our son Osiris, who rules over the underworld like you rule over the world of the divine. He has been reborn although he was dead.”

Amun nodded his head with the heavy feather crown. “Welcome, Osiris, ruler of the Duat. May your fertility vegetate the Two Lands. The Nile is your semen. It fertilizes the fields of people.”

One after the other, the gods bowed to Hori. The most ludicrous thoughts popped up in his mind. Was this the court of the dead? Had he turned into Osiris? If he had died, though, why did he feel pain? Why did he crave food?

At last, the goddesses and gods led him through a gate. Glaring light blinded him. He had to narrow his eyes and shade them with his hand to see he was in a temple yard. No reliefs revealed which god was worshiped here. This sacred site was completely unfamiliar to him. He wasn’t in Itj-tawy anymore.

They took him to a water basin in one corner of the courtyard. There they washed the green paint off his body and rubbed ointment on his skin before they dressed him in a shendyt of finest linen. A man stepped from the temple building and walked toward him. The king!

Hori sank onto his knees, but Senusret gestured for him to stand. The pharaoh bowed his head to him. “Hail, adept. You experienced the greatest mystery of the Two Lands. From today on, you are a dead man, who lives, and a living man, who is dead. As a symbol of your level of consecration, you received the ankh cross.” Senusret pointed at Hori’s left arm.

He gazed down and saw the sign of life cut into his upper arm and traced with ink. So that caused the pain. Involuntarily, his gaze wandered to the king’s arm. He too bore the mark. Hori still didn’t understand the meaning of all this. Senusret led him back into the temple. This time, they entered a room, in which a large table was richly laden in a festive manner. Behind them, some men and women followed. Only now did he recognize the first prophet of Amun. He rubbed his eyes. A moment ago, he stood face to face with this man wearing the feather crown of the god! He also had the sign on his arm, just like everyone else present. They were all adepts and—now Hori understood. Of course! These were the first prophets of the gods they had represented just now. And he, Hori, was now one of them, one of the few who knew the great secret of Osiris. Anubis entered the room last. He was the only one who didn’t take off his mask.

Then it struck him what the ritual meant for him. The king had sentenced him to life as a dead man. Now that he was reborn like Osiris, did that mean…?

The king asked them to take a seat, while he remained standing. He unrolled a papyrus scroll and read aloud, “On the thirteenth day of month Ka-her-ka in year one of Senusret of the Sedge and the Bee, Strong Bull…”

The many titles rushed past Hori’s ears. When he heard the word ‘judgment ’, he perked up.

“…against Hori, son of Sobekemhat is void. The plaintiff, Nebit, confessed to bribing witnesses to ensure aforementioned Hori was convicted of murdering his son Neferib. This judgment violated Maat and now stands corrected.”

Hori’s heart jumped in his chest with joy. The pharaoh settled next to him and gestured for him to eat. Hori needed no second invitation, but first he asked, “How long…I mean…have days or weeks passed since I’ve been brought here?”

Senusret laughed. “I remember very well when I was consecrated. You lose all sense of time and space. The ritual actually took three days and three nights.”

Hori gulped and greedily grabbed a piece of duck meat. It tasted delicious! The wine, too, caressed his tongue like nectar. The food filled the void inside him.

The king stopped him when he wanted to drain his mug. “Strict rules apply to the adepts. No word must ever slip from your mouth about what you experienced. Never ever. You can’t even talk about it with other adepts because this is the sacrifice you have to make as Osiris for the Two Lands.”

Mute, Hori nodded. The cold eyes of the god of the dead fixed him. Was he really Osiris now? At least he felt like he’d shared the god’s fate and pain.

Anubis leaned toward him. “As Osiris you are allowed to wander between the world of the dead and that of the living.”

Comprehension glowed inside Hori. Effervescent bliss coursed through him. Could it be true?

“Beware. Nobody is allowed to reveal the secrets of the weryt. The worst curse will rest on the traitor.”

Hori laughed and wept at the same time. Then dizziness enveloped him. He slipped from his seat.

When he opened his eyes, he gazed at the familiar cracks on the ceiling of his bedroom. He bolted upright. His head ached. Images flared up and faded again. Slowly his memory returned. What a dream! He turned his head left. Reality struck him. The mark! It was there.

Heavy pounding made him don his shendyt and slip into his sandals before he hurried downstairs and flung the door open.

“Hori, the mer-ut wants to see you,” Kheper blurted.

So it was true! Hori grinned.

His teacher gave him a puzzled look. “What trouble did you get into?”

“I’m free, Kheper. Free!” He wanted to sing out loud.

Kheper shook his head. “You speak in riddles. And you’ve got a nice bump there. Too bad that you’re our doctor.”

A short time later, Hori sat across from Hut-Nefer, who fixed him with a stare. “You have friends in the highest circles, I hear.”

He sounded reproachful, and Hori’s cheeks burned. The old man likely felt his authority trampled on. Hori had already disturbed the order of the weryt when he arrived. Would the mer-ut allow him to leave?

“As Osiris you are entitled to walk between the world of the dead and that of the living. But I warn you, nobody is allowed to reveal the secrets of the weryt. The worst curse rests on the traitor.”

He’d heard these words before. Surprised, he stared at the old man. His gaze slid to his left arm. The ankh sign had faded but was still recognizable. “Anubis,” he whispered and lowered his head in reverence.

“Since the beginning of time, the mer-ut is also the first prophet of Anubis.” A smile spread a web of fine wrinkles over the man’s face. “I know we can trust you.”

“Yes, you can. What happens in the weryt stays in the weryt.” Woefulness sank onto Hori’s heart. “Does that mean we have to part forever?” Despite everything, he’d miss the utu, particularly Kheper. Most of all, though, he’d miss gaining further insights into the human body.

“My boy, you don’t have to return, but you can. As Osiris you are permitted to move between the world of the dead and the world of the living. Yesterday you saw all the adepts of Osiris. A distinguished circle. So far, I was the only one allowed to enter and leave the weryt. For the first time since recordings started, there are two keepers of the secrets of death.”

Hori bowed reverentially. “I will prove myself worthy of the knowledge I’ve been entrusted with and use it for the welfare of the people in the Two Lands—and in the service of Maat.”

“So be it.” Hut-Nefer patted Hori’s hand. “So be it.”