Coincidence Theory Page 18

Samali struggled to keep pace, as J’tan ran between the houses toward the edge of city. The route was difficult, yet his movements were liquid and easy. It was clear he had traversed this route many times, the detail etched into his mind. Eventually, the houses cleared and they entered a large, open plaza.

  To her right, Samali could see an elegant temple. Its front was made of granite and the large, gold encrusted, ibis-headed statues lining the entrance displayed the god Ra-Horakhti. In the centre of the opening, a large well with rope-tied buckets strewn at its edges was surrounded by playing children.

  “We are here.” said J’tan, returning to a walk. “The temple over there is the house of the priests of Midian. They are a tribe from our eastern provinces, whose daughters are said to be the most beautiful a man can lay his eyes upon. The men serve in our temples and are well recompensed for their efforts. In return, they supply their daughters, every last one of them, into the service of our kings.”

  “I take it Akhenaten murdered one of them?”

  The question troubled J’tan, and Samali did not know why. He hung his head, a memory surfacing that his grimace showed was difficult for him to relive.

  “These women are not to have known a man.” said J’tan, looking skyward. “It is the covenant we hold with the priests. The first woman given to Akhenaten was a daughter of the current priest. Unfortunately, she had decided to give herself unto another man. Akhenaten found out upon consummation of their bonding and went into a fury. He came here and made the poor woman point out her beloved. He killed the man in cold blood and threw his body into that well.”

  “How do you know all this?” asked Samali, trying not to discomfort J’tan further.

  “Because I was here.” J’tan said, sighing deeply and rubbing his forehead. “At the time, I was apprentice to Pharaoh’s chief bodyguard, a man called Yashu. As a test of my allegiance, they instructed me to kill the priest’s daughter who had betrayed him with the other man.”

  “And did you?” said Samali, suddenly worried she knew little about the man J’tan had once been.

  “At that time I would have done anything to bring honour to my family name. They left me to my duty and took themselves back to the palace. I dragged the woman to the well, to do as I was commanded.” J’tan’s eyes glazed over as he recounted the tale, a slight trembling encroaching into his usually firm voice. “The woman told me she was with child. She begged me, in the name of Horus, to have compassion for her firstborn.”

  Samali desperately wanted J’tan to tell her that he did not go through with the slaughter, her eyes searching his face for signs of humanity.

  “You need not look so. There was no honour to be gained from such an action. Killing an innocent is not an act of the brave or the good. I let the woman live, as long as she and her father promised never to tell of what happened.”

  “And that woman’s child...” said Samali, understanding the final part of the story.

  “Is Malachi; yes.” said J’tan, the calm authority of his voice returned. “That is why I knew he would help me, no matter what they say I have done.”

  J’tan motioned for Samali to follow, setting off toward the doorway of one of the larger houses surrounding the plaza, lifting the brightly coloured drape from the entranceway.

  “It will take a while for your eyes to adjust to the dimness in here. The Midianites like the insides of their houses to be shaded.” said J’tan, ushering Samali inside.

  “J’tan? Is that you, my son?” a voice called out from a room beyond.

  “It is, father.” he said, catching the look of surprise on Samali’s face and offering an explanation. “My father treats me as his son because of what I did for his family, and I honour his wishes in this matter. His name is Jethro.”

  A cloth separating the two rooms of the abode opened and Jethro entered. He was a short, but stout man, whose grey mane of hair trailed down to his waist. He wore a tired looking priestly robe of Ra-Horakhti and his skin was rich with age.

  “Give your father a hug, boy!” Jethro said, clutching J’tan to his breast. “I am pleased to see you here. To what do I owe the pleasure, so close to the start of the day?”

  “I need to wait here for Malachi to finish his training, father. We have things to discuss that are not for the ears of others.”

  “You only call me father if something is amiss.” Jethro said, as he appraised J’tan cautiously. “Please do not be getting yourself into any further trouble for Malachi. You have done enough for us.”

  “It is Malachi that comes to aid me, father. He aids all of us this day.”

  Jethro caught the concern that washed over J’tan’s face and shuddered. “You must act with your heart child. All I can do is pray for you and hope the gods find your journey favourable. Now, you must excuse my hurry, my legs are no longer strong enough to carry me quickly to my daily work. I will send one of your sisters to tend to your needs. You look like you need a good meal and something sweet to drink. I think we have a jar of the good Mycenae wine left, so I will send it. And it is a pleasure to finally meet a daughter from the far eastern lands.” he said, as he lifted the simple shade to his house and made his way outside.

  Samali bowed in respect of Jethro’s knowledge. She knew his people well. Jethro was from Ur.

  “Far eastern lands?” asked J’tan, turning to Samali.

  “A wise man, your father is. I have met his kind before. They are skilled mapmakers of the sky. My people say that they can chart more time than man has witnessed.”

  “Egyptians taught them everything, and it was the gods who mapped the sky on the ground. We built our temples and monuments on the sacred mounds they left behind.”

  Samali let out a growl of frustration. J’tan was a good man, of that she was sure. However, the entrenched dogma he kept spouting, no doubt a leftover of his upbringing, was a constant irritation she could no longer tolerate.

  “The world does not revolve around these lands and its kings!” said Samali, curtly. “Your civilisation’s short-sightedness is why we are chasing your Pharaoh across the desert. Or have you already forgotten why we are here?”

  “And what of your civilisation? I cannot even begin to try to tell you where you come from. I thought you may have been from the tribes of nomads that live out beyond the reach of the Hittites, but my father would know their name and he did not use it. So, tell me something of your civilisation Samali. Impress upon me why I should not have faith in my people.”

  Samali was born in Zhōngguó. Raised by the side of the mighty Tuótuó Hé river in the shadow cast by the immense Gèlādāndōng ice flow, she was trained from childhood to be an ambassador. She spent her early years amassing the knowledge of the hundreds of different cultures her mighty Dynasty, the Shāng cháo, held trade relations with. Nevertheless, for all her learning, she knew trying to explain that to J’tan would be futile. He would not know of her race, let alone be able to pronounce its localities.

  “I come from a land very few of your people are even aware of.” Samali said, trying to keep her voice soothing. “My people have seen civilisations come and go. We were taught by the same gods as you.” She took his hand and held it to her breast. “Our hearts beat with the same rhythm, because we are all the same. The great circle goes round and round. Your lands find themselves at the top of the circle for this moment. In times to come it will be another. The great serpent does not hold any one of us above any other.”

  “I do not know of this great serpent.” said J’tan, his breathing slowing.

  “The first great serpent was Zhang Dai, whom the followers of Abram call Shaddai. He was lord and protector of the great mountain, the first to be restored to the land after the flood.”

  “The Zep-Tepi is the true tale of the First Time. It is the tale of the start of the world, when Atum-Ra brought the land forth from the void and separated the waters of the heavens from those of the afterlife.”

  “You say this, but I know my heritage tells
me the same story. Are you telling me my story is not my truth?” said Samali, concentrating to recite a memory. “Of old in the beginning, there was great chaos, without form and dark. The five elements had not begun to revolve, nor the sun or moon to shine. In the midst there existed neither form nor sound. You, O spiritual Sovereign, came out in your presidency, and first did divide the grosser parts from the purer. This is the tale of Zhang Dai, the start of the world as my people see it. So, you see, we are not so different after all.”

  J’tan smiled, placing his palm on her cheek and feeling blood rush to it. “I am glad that we are not all alike.” he said, lowering his head toward hers.

  Samali could not stop herself responding in kind, and stood on her toes to meet his approaching embrace.

  “I have brought some wine and some food as father asked, my brother.” said a woman, as she came into the room, her vision concentrated on the reed tray in her hands. “I hope... excuse me!”

  J’tan let go of Samali as the woman looked up, a grin creeping across his blushing face.

  “If you had set the bed stones in the doorway I would have known not to enter, my brother. I am sorry for the intrusion.” said the woman, placing the tray on the floor and turning to leave.

  “It is fine, Aia.” said J’tan, moving toward his sister. “You startled us as much as we startled you, I am sure.”

  Aia turned and smiled at J’tan before bowing slightly to Samali. “Father is worried about you. He said you must eat everything I have brought. I am not to leave until it is done.”

  “There will be nothing saved this morning.” J’tan said, wrapping an arm round Aia. “I have not eaten well these past three days.”

  “You will save some for your... wife?” Aia asked.

  Aia was tall, and her light brown hair fell in perfect, smooth lines down her slim body. She was perhaps twenty years old, yet her skin was still flawless, and her crystal blue eyes radiated all the seductive intent of womanhood. Gazing at her striking countenance, Samali could see why the Pharaohs coveted these women.

  “Samali is my travelling companion. I will ensure she gets as much food as she requires.” said J’tan.

  “Companion? It appears your journey has taken you further than you wanted, I think.” said Aia, playfully.

  Samali smiled, as she crossed her legs on the floor near the food.

  “I will ensure everything is eaten, Aia. Now leave us.” J’tan said, waving his hand toward the doorway. “Or do I have to place the bed stones outside in order to have some privacy?”

  Aia giggled and nudged J’tan impishly with her hips, as she walked out of the doorway and back toward the temple.

  Samali and J’tan remained in silence, as they gratefully ate the food Jethro sent, neither wishing to comment on what almost happened.

  Once they finished eating, J’tan poured them both a quantity of the good wine, whose rich, intoxicating warmth filled their bellies and lightened their hearts.

  By the time the cloth moved again, J’tan was leaning against one of the walls of the abode, Samali cosily wrapped in his arms.

  Malachi walked into the room, his eyes not adjusting to the change in light and slung his wooden training sword and leather belt straps on the floor.

  “Be careful where you throw those things.” said J’tan, as the sword clattered to the ground.

  Malachi turned, trying to get his eyes to focus. “Father! I am so glad to see you!” he said, with joyous glee. “When they told me that you had turned against the Pharaoh and against your honour, I dared not believe it.”

  J’tan strode forward and hugged the boy, the strength of the grip belying the depth of feeling he held. “You know I am no murderer. My name is my honour.”

  “And mine yours, father.”

  “I knew you would not be misled.” J’tan said, beaming. “There is something I must ask from you, but if you help me there may be no going back.”

  “You saved me and my mother and became my father and my teacher. I have no honour if I do not help you now, no matter the cost.”

  J’tan grabbed his son once more and embraced him, a tear of pride rolling down his cheek. “Then come. We have much to do and the light of day is surely at our backs.”

 

  Chapter 19