Read The Chronicles of Amon book 2 The Sea of Marmara Page 25

  Chapter 3.

  Once inside the darkened interior, the bearers placed the ‘gift’ on the altar in the center of the room, then stepped back to await instructions.

  “You may now depart. Close the doors as you leave.” Dismissing the bearers, the High Priest followed as they turned and walked back toward the light. As the doors closed, he slid the massive bolt into place and turned to face the pharaoh.

  Several feet behind the altar large curtains hung, ceiling to floor, wall to wall. The space beyond was the ‘holy of holies.’ No one but the pharaoh and the high priest were allowed within. In the gloomy darkness two divans sat separated by a low wooden table, upon which sat an incense bowl and an unlit oil lamp.

  The pharaoh stepped around the altar and walked toward the curtain, motioning for the high priest to follow. The priest hurried forward and held the curtains open for his king. Stepping carefully into the semi-darkness, Pharaoh went to the table and lit the oil lamp. The light it provided cast faint shadows on the dark sandstone walls.

  “And so, King Khufu, it is done.” The high priest said as he closed the curtain and moved to sit on the other divan.

  “And so it is!” Khufu spoke in a smug voice. “You have woven this web well. Careful that it does not ensnare you. Many there are in my kingdom who would sooner slash your throat than risk the threat your presence represents.”

  “I care nothing about them.” the High Priest was quick with his response. “They are but vipers dressed in cloaks of respectability. Should you deem it expedient, you would crush their heads under your heel.”

  “So I would, should I see fit. But do not forget our last conversation. Even a pharaoh must sometimes be a slave. His power is as mud upon a river bank. Hold it gently and it remains. Squeeze it with your might, and it seeps between your fingers.”

  “I do not forget, King Khufu.” the priest stood his ground. “I have watched as a fly upon a wall for generation upon generation. Many of your progenitors were wise beyond their years. Many great things did they accomplish. Yet in their time greed overcame them all. For that reason among others I withheld my gifts from them.”

  “Why then do you deem me ‘worthy’ of your generosity? Know you not that you may also be crushed under foot?” Khufu had engaged in this verbal sparing match many times before with this man. He sensed that the priest enjoyed such confrontations.

  “It is as you say; but may I remind you. . . .”

  “True, I am of a beneficent nature.” Khufu stopped the priest with a glance. “But I am not always free to do as I please. And you, with all your years and wisdom . . . you, with all your promised gifts . . . may per chance one day tread upon a serpent’s tail.”

  “It is just such wisdom which draws me to you, my Pharaoh.” The priest knew it was time to end this sparing match. The pharaoh was certainly in awe of what he had learned from him; but he was still the supreme ruler of the land. It wouldn’t do to provoke him too much and chance ruining all that he had thus far accomplished.

  “And thus it is, High Priest.” Khufu rose from his seat and gestured toward the curtain. “Remain here for now if you wish. I must return to my people . . . and once again put on my yoke. Come to me when you are ready. Together we have taken this first step. Soon we must map the path we have chosen.”

  The priest held the curtain for his king and then moved ahead to open the bolt and push open the massive doors. He squinted as the light momentarily stung his eyes. He bowed deeply as the pharaoh walked majestically past him toward his waiting liter-bearers.

  The priest arose and watched for many minutes as the entourage left the courtyard and proceeded back down the long street. The crowd quickly dissipated, leaving the courtyard once again empty.

  The priest turned to face the room.

  “I will remain here for a time,” he said tersely to the two remaining guards. “See that I am not disturbed.”

  The guards bowed shallowly as he walked passed them, hands clasped in front of him, head held erect.

  As the doors closed behind him, the room fell once again into a dreary semi-darkness. Torch light reflected off the smooth stone floor, cast strange erratic shapes on the ceiling high above. The priest turned and slid the bolt back into place. The sound of the huge wooden beam thudding into place reflected upward into the stone ceiling, and crescendoed back down into the darkened chamber.