Judgement in the Balance

Mery-Ptah gripped her sistrum a little tighter, and made sure her voice blended well with the other singers.

She was scared.

They all were.

The Great Pharaoh was dead.

That was bad, but what was worse, he was murdered!

By his own son!

The balance was uprighted, and all manner of evils could befall their little kingdom.

Well. Not little. The land of Kemet was great, and the Pharaoh was greater than the land. Another Pharaoh had been anointed, and sat on the golden throne, overseeing the trials of the guilty.

This was devastating. This could mean the end of their land.

Balance - Ma'at - must be maintained at all costs. It is what the gods demanded of mortals, because without it, the land would fall. The tiny strip of black soil on either side of the Great Mother Nile was given to them by great sacrifice of the gods, life and living carved out of the sand and hard rock of the desert. In return, they were stewards of that land, taking care of the plants and animals that sustained them. Also, they were to return to the gods the fruits of their labor, in incense and song and ritual and shared food. By doing so, Ma'at was kept.

For a direct descendent of those very gods to defy their mandates, and take a throne not given to him, he had to be involved with the evil god.

The scent of fear wafted through the temple, even though every other wig within sight carried a sacred cone of lotus incense. Mery-Ptah's own was dripping through the braids, leaving little sticky trickles on her skin. It was getting hot even in the cool stone chamber, as Ra climbed to the highest point. Soon, his rays would limn the bowl altar.

The beam of light was traveling down the wall. She saw it light the sacred scarab, the glyph for beautiful, and the symbol for life itself. The words formed in her head:

Khepri-nefer-ankh-

It was time for the High Priest to enter the shrine and care for the god Amun. The scent of his offering - Antiu, or Myrrh - wreathed him like a living cloak. He sprinkled holy water everywhere, to sanctify as much as possible in these dark times. A drop touched her lip, and she sucked it in gratefully. He throat was dry from singing, but she would not stop. Neither would the others. Their sole job was to take care of the god they were chosen to support, and Amun was hers. She was a chantress, and her voice was used to generate haka, the mystic magic force that underpinned all things. Giving of this force, blending it with the others, and sending it to Amun with the ritual of song and sistrum would keep the balance of Ma'at, and prevent destruction.

As soon as the high priest returned from the inner chamber, they performed the noontime song, and were dismissed. She gratefully paced out of the sanctuary with the others, in her rightful place, thinking of the blessed sanctifying bath she would have before having to attend to her next duty, watching the water-clock for the next ceremony.

But everyone halted outside the doors leading to the colonnade. She joined them - and gasped.

A man stood there. He wore the leopard skin of a high priest, but carried the blue war helmet. His headdress was strips of woven gold. A golden flail and crook rested in a hip holster. He looked every inch as dangerous as the animal he represented.

She prostrated herself with the others, who had come to the same conclusion.

Usermaatre Heqamaatre Setepenamun Ramesses, fourth of that name. The Great Pharaoh.

Oh, he looked so much like his father.

Behind him, bearers carried a plain wooden coffin.

The high priest left the doors to the temple open, and prostrated himself at his lord's feet. Mery-Ptah peeked, and she was not the only one. Which would the Pharaoh extend, the crook of favor, or the flail of punishment?

Ramses IV reached, and extended - the crook. Sighs and shivers traveled through the priests.

The High Priest sat up, and so did the watchers.

Ramses IV gestured to the coffin.

"Here lies my former brother, whose name has been erased from the record of life. I shall call what lies there - Pentawer."

They shuddered.

"He sought to take what was not his, with his mother's urging. She drinks poison now, and will soon join her son in the barest of afterlifes. This one did not even have the courage to take his own life, so I strangled him myself in front of the judges that condemned him. May Osiris, my true ancestor, deny him any reward. May my father, who is one with Osiris now, at this one's hand, deny him any mercy. He has broken many sacred covenants."

Some of the priests and priestesses were crying. A few swayed with grief.

"Those who joined Pentawer in this conspiracy have been put to death. They will be cremated, and their ashes strewn in the streets. A fitting punishment for what they have done. And the judges who accepted bribes from the guilty, they have had their ears and noses cut off. May they have luck in the afterlife, without a whole body to present to Anubis for judgement. May he judge them harshly."

There were whimpers of horror from many, Mery-Ptah included. To be cremated was complete death! Destruction of the body meant destruction of the soul, so there was nothing left to hope for. No redemption, no forgiveness, no afterlife. And Pentawer, with no mummification and buried in a ritually defiling goat skin, stood very little chance of any afterlife, much less a blessed one.

She hoped it was not un-sacred to think this, but she fervently wished that she weren't a priestess. She did not wish to see this. Why couldn't she be a normal woman, born to a commoner? She could be making beer, baking bread from the dregs of it, and feeding her family with their shared goodness. She could be spinning the linen she was wearing, or weaving it, or learning how to pleat it properly to wrap around her body. Her pleats were now limp with drenched sweat, and she could smell the fear-stink rising off her own body again. She knew this was not the way to honor to new Pharaoh, who stood before her, but she felt so faint-

A thread of Hat-en-Tjhenu scent wafted past her nose. Of the seven sacred perfumes, this was the one that spoke to the Akh, the part inside her that was like a magical body of light and life. As they were taught, this meant that a god was right there with them! None of the priests would wear it, nor the Pharaoh, it was meant to be an offering to the gods only, but none of the specially-shaped jars were in sight.

Was Amun here? With them?

The sun was well past its zenith now. The scent grew stronger, and she felt very much revived. Others were murmuring and straightening up, and some smiles appeared. So she was not the only one who felt a presence.

Even their Pharaoh gave a trace of a smile, and gestured for the coffin to be removed from such a display of sacredness. The high priest and the Pharaoh left with guards, most likely to go to the palace to discuss the political fallout from these events.

And the priests were herding the rest out of the courtyard. Mery-Ptah strained for a last glimpse of gold as their Pharaoh took on the heavy mantle of duty. Ma'at must be restored, one way or another. The judges cut the rot from among the royals, the priesthoods must continue to sustain the gods so that order, and peace, could be restored for all.

She welcomed the water of her bath as a return to routine. The scent of the sacred perfume stayed, and she was comforted. Afternoon rituals awaited, and they would consult with their astrologers to ensure the proper ones would be performed. And as a chantress, she would perform them right and well. And the High Priest would come with the spicy Kyphi perfume at dusk, to send the god into sweet, rich dreams. And she would be there, with her voice and her sistrum, to help. And they would take some nourishment while the greater priests consulted the night sky for omens of what was to come. Maybe, then, with the sacred scents around her, maybe she would be able to rest.