Heretic of the Nile

009

Mereneith stood in the middle of a dusty courtyard, sand and dirt swirling at her ankles, kicked up by the passing winds. In the near distance, beyond the limestone pillars, an impressive structure towered towards the heavens in a series of steps—like a stairway to the gods.

After disembarking the ship, they had left the lush, fertile banks of the Nile behind for the barren desert lands upon which the kingdom's most sacred site sat.

Saqqara. The necropolis.

Final resting place of kings and nobles of Egypt's glorious and bloody past.

Someone rapped her on the top of her head.

"You're concocting something blasphemous inside that head of yours again," a voice whispered into her ear.

"Never you mind," Mereneith answered, shooting a glare at the prince standing beside her.

"Remember you're supposed to be a servant. Start acting like one, else you'll get us both in trouble."

Much to Mereneith's chagrin, Kha gave her another thwack on the head before he moved along to catch up with the rest of the king's entourage. But she knew better than to pick a fight with him now, when there already a few pairs of curious eyes looking their way. Bowing her head, she quickly picked up the pace and followed behind.

Kha was right. She was cooking ideas in her mind, ideas that would undoubtedly earn her much criticism from the straight-laced, conservative community she had grown up in.

She had learnt all about the Saqqara necropolis from the priests, but nothing could have prepared her for what she had just witnessed with her own two eyes. Pyramids and mastabas sat atop large underground crypts, guarded by statues of the gods. Papyrus drawings and dramatic retellings were poor substitutes for the magnificence of sand and stone that surrounded her in this moment.

But the king's entourage did not stop at any of the majestic structures that littered the vicinity, most of which were vestiges of the old dynasty. There was no need to bow to the souls of the defeated. Instead, they only came to a halt in front of a building site that housed a half-constructed behemoth.

A jarring contrast to the sacrosanct surroundings they had passed through to get here, architects and foremen were barking out orders to the hundreds of labourers that bustled to and fro. Massive white limestone bricks were being carted in and lifted by sturdy ramps and thick ropes, each one a crucial part of an incomplete puzzle.

"Your Majesty!"

The first foreman who spotted the entourage's arrival immediately fell to his knees, prostrating in front of his king. Work at the site stopped abruptly as the hordes of labourers followed suit.

King Sneferu waved his hand, and his chief steward bade everyone rise.

"How is the progress?" the king asked.

A group of men hurried forwards, led by a stout fellow with reddened cheeks, sweat dribbling off his forehead and down the sides of his cheeks.

"Everything is on schedule, Your Majesty," the man replied, flashing a deferential smile. He signalled towards his cronies, who promptly unfurled a large papyrus and held it up in front of the king. A map of the final structure. "The construction has been going smoothly. We've figured out the problem with the previous pyramid and there will be no such error this time."

Mereneith craned her neck, trying to sneak a glimpse at the papyrus. Unfortunately, she was not blessed with sufficient height and the distance between her and the front of the entourage made it impossible to make out a single scribble on the scroll.