Sobek
[Note--this was the first story from COTS to be rewritten. It's now entitled "Sobek & Hathor," though a strong subtitle, which may take the current title's place someday, is "Heart Of Clay." Compare this to the current version.]
HOW DARE HE do this!" Hathor shouted furiously, her beautiful face, as usual, contorted with anger. [Note--I would omit the beginning quotes in the first sentence of stories back then.]
Khnum shrugged at his potter's wheel. "It's his command. No one can disobey."
Hathor whirled about to face the sculptor god. "Ra told you to make me a husband without even asking me? He very well knows I'm never going to marry! I vowed so myself! I'll never be the slave of any man!"
"It's his command" Khnum replied lamely, not knowing what else to say. Then, trying a different approach to calm her down, "You wouldn't be a slave. Your sister Sakhmet is married, and she's not a slave, is she?"
"Any woman who's married is," Hathor shot back. "I'm the one who should know. I have them fall in love and they marry. But why they want to is a mystery to me."
Khnum made no reply.
"Anyway, he knows I'm not going to marry so he should just never mind about the whole thing!" Hathor finished.
"It's his command," the ram-headed god said a third time. He was beginning to feel very low. "No one can disobey."
"You sound like a parrot!" the goddess fumed, and left the cave.
They were, of course, in Khnum's cave near the First Cataract of the Nile River. That was where Khnum, or Khnemu, as Hathor sometimes called him, often stayed, using his potter's wheel to sculpt his creations--namely, gods, men, and beasts. He would collect clay from the river and shape it on his wheel, leaving a tiny hollow in the chest for the heart, which could be made of gold, stone, clay, or glass. As soon as the heart was placed in and the chest cavity sealed, he would put the statuette in an oven and fire it until it hardened. [Note--I had originally written "and bake it until..." but during the writing of this I believe I learned in art class that the proper term is "fire."] Then, when it was done, he would place a hollow reed in its mouth and give it the breath of life. The statuettes were not the living creatures themselves; they were merely blueprints of how they would look. The sculptures Khnum kept himself, locked away in a safe place so no one could tamper with them.
This was what Hathor knew about Khnum's work. She also knew that her father, Ra, had told him to sculpt a new god as a possible mate for his daughter. But Hathor, seeing how foolishly love made many people act, had made a vow not to marry anyone, ever. Somehow it seemed Ra just wasn't willing to accept that fact, and was always trying to think of a way to pair her up. Well, she wouldn't let him. There had to be a way to foil this plan. It would only take a little while to think of something. Yet that had to be done fast!
Unwittingly her sister Bastet helped her out. Hathor was walking near a pool which the cat goddess often frequented, and while she passed by, lost in thought, Bastet spoke.
"It's a lovely day, isn't it?" she asked. "Enough to take someone's breath away. The water's so cool and the birds are putting all their heart into singing. It's a golden opportunity to do some daydreaming, don't you think?"
Hathor merely nodded, only half-listening. But as soon as she was out of sight she stopped, and a diabolical smile crept up her lovely face. She now had a plan of her own, and Bastet, simple Bastet, Ra's favorite child, had given it to her.
Khenti Amenti, the wolf, was well-known as a trickster and one who was constantly getting into trouble. It was a good thing he had a tongue of silver, for otherwise he would have been greatly punished long ago. Hathor located him fast asleep in the sun. He was also quite lazy sometimes though he would deny it. He was always doing things for her, since he was the only one low enough to accomplish some of them, and so she stooped beside him and shook his shoulder.
Khenti mumbled, "Go 'way!" and swatted at her.
"Get up, you lazy pile of hair and bones," Hathor threatened, "or I'll put wasps up your nose and make you!"
"Alright [sic], alright [sic]," grumbled the wolf, sitting up and stretching. "What do you want, anyway?"
"Don't talk to me like that, Khenti Amentet," the goddess replied, using his other name. It was a thing she did sometimes to make a point. "You have to do something for me. It involves cunning."
"Ooo!" Khenti said. "I'm all ears."
"You must go to Khnum's cave on the river," Hathor said in a low voice. "On his potter's wheel should be a sculpture. I don't know what it looks like, but it's a god, and he's probably ready to be fired. Khnum will have sealed up his chest. This is where you come in. Distract Khnum--tell him he's needed someplace. When you're certain he's gone, reopen the statuette's chest and replace his heart of gold with a heart of clay. Afterwards seal it back up and leave everything there as if nothing happened."
"Sure thing," Khenti said. He got up and started away but Hathor grabbed his tail and he yelped.
"You understand perfectly?" she said. "A heart of clay."
"I hear you! Let go of my tail!"
"Make no mistake," she warned, and let his tail go. The wolf, muttering a little in annoyance at his sore hind end, padded off to the caves.
When he got there Khnum was just warming up the oven. Khenti peered over at his wheel. Just as Hathor had said, there was a small statue there. He could barely make it out but he was certain that must be it. Puffing out his chest, he sallied inside importantly.
Khnum looked at him. "Khenti Amenti? What brings you here?"
"A most important matter," the wolf replied. He really had no idea whatsoever, but that didn't worry him since his mind was racing even as he spoke. What might Khnum respond to quickly? A call from Ra? No, too risky; he wouldn't want to arouse Ra's suspicions. How about a problem somewhere along the river? Ah, that sounded just perfect. A drowning child? Definitely! Go for it!
"Well?" Khnum asked.
"I thought you'd like--not really like, but want--well, maybe not--oh, who cares? I thought you should know of some trouble downriver a ways; a little boy, probably barely five, splashing around and calling for help. Maybe it's a prank, but it looks like a very good one--"
He found himself speaking to an empty room. Khnum had long since left.
"Worked like a charm," Khenti said to himself, and waltzed over to inspect the statuette.
"Why, you're a funny-looking fellow!" he remarked to the statue. And indeed it was. It was dressed in battle gear, with a long spear in one hand, and had a crocodile head. On his breast was engraved the word SOBEK.
"So your name's Sobek, is it?" Khenti said with a sly grin. For some unknown reason he was beginning to feel a little enmity. Perhaps it was because, if this one became Hathor's husband, she'd have no time to give him these odd little chores to do. How would he spend his time then? This god just didn't seem right. She'd have to marry someone else.
"Well, I'd better get started on you, silly-looking Suchos," he sneered, finding himself doing the same thing Hathor did--using alternative names. At the moment he didn't notice. Any other time it would have frightened him. "By the time I'm through you'll have had a complete change of heart!"
So saying, he carefully traced a circle around Sobek's name. The clay neatly came out, exposing the god's heart. Khenti peered in.
"So that's what a heart looks like?" he murmured. Very carefully, and very slowly, he reached in two toes--that was all the little hole would allow--and plucked it from its cord. He studied it in the dim light and watched its golden surface sparkle. The heart mesmerized him. He remembered being told, long ago, how he himself had been made--not by Khnum but by Ra--out of Nile mud. He had a heart of gold too but it was different. It's your soul, Thoth had explained. The heart is a house, and the soul is its occupant. When properly made a heart of gold is a heart that's true. But if done incorrectly the soul is marred. That's what happened to you.
The thought still hurt him a little. His soul was marred. He was imperfect. That explained why he lied and cheated so much, the way some people breathe. But none of that was his fault! He sighed wistfully, wondering what it would be like if he could have a second chance. However he knew very well that that could be too dangerous--Khnum's past attempts to implant a different heart after the subject had already been brought to life showed that too often the soul was damaged further or even destroyed, for even with a different heart, one must always have the same soul. That could not be changed.
Khenti shook his head. He'd gotten off track! He rarely did that. Khnum must have found out there was no drowning boy by now. The wolf dropped the heart in its proper box with its companions, and selected from another box a heart of clay. He understood why Hathor had wanted it so. A heart of gold could feel love--exactly what Hathor didn't want. A heart of stone usually felt nothing but hate--a dangerous possibility--and one of glass broke too easily, causing unendurable anguish--something particularly dreadful for a god, who could not end it all by dying. But a heart of clay was the perfect solution--it did not break easily and felt all emotions--including camaraderie--except love. If Sobek couldn't love Hathor he wouldn't marry her, and Ra would be forced to just let the whole thing drop or else have two squabbling deities on his hands--a definitely unpleasant situation.
"In you go," he whispered, cautiously placing the heart inside. He cared little for the soul. He'd handled the heart so carefully it was almost certainly intact, and since the statuette hadn't been fired yet it didn't matter what soul it had. He picked up the clay circle so that it didn't break or crumble, and, wetting the edges a little like he'd watched Khnum do to make the clay soft, put it back in place. He rubbed it a bit to hide the opening, then redid Sobek's name, which was slightly blurred, and stepped back to view his work.
"Magnifique!" he said softly and proudly. "Nary a scratch. Nary a wrinkle." The sound of footsteps came up behind him. "Uh-oh."
Now came the hard part--confronting Khnum. The wolf turned around, crossing his forelegs so his clayey paws couldn't be seen. Khnum stooped slightly to enter, casting a long shadow upon the floor.
"I saw no boy!" he said. "Not even a strip of clothing."
Khenti said, "Not even a hair?"
"Not even a hair! What are you up to anyway, old dog? Why are you standing so funny?"
"Me? 'Up to'? Khnemu, you wound me! To think that you of all people have now turned upon me. It's enough to break one's heart." He turned his head away, pretending to cry, but in reality was laughing at his own joke. Such an obvious hint, and the numbskull didn't even catch it!
"I--I'm sorry, Khenti," Khnum stammered, mildly bewildered. "I didn't mean to upset you so, I just thought maybe--"
"Say no more!" Khenti cried. "I hear...and I understand." He skulked from the cave, leaving the perplexed potter behind and mentally congratulating himself on his acting.
Next stop, Hathor's! Maybe she would congratulate him with a good scratch behind the old ears.
"You placed in a heart of clay?"
"Mm-hm," Khenti murmured. He was too busy enjoying having his ears scratched to bother with words.
"And you made certain to leave no trace," Hathor said.
"Mm-hm. A little bit to the left, would you please? Aaaahh! Right there!"
Hathor, finding that pleased him, stopped and tugged his ear hard enough to make him wince. "I know you can hear me but I want you to listen to me. You made absolutely certain that no trace of your presence was left behind?"
"I told you, Khnum knew I was there. But he doesn't know about what I did. I cleaned everything up. Maybe he saw my paws, but he won't suspect anything. Everyone knows how curious I am--he'll just think I was messing around with his clay."
The goddess let go of his ear, and the disgruntled wolf rubbed it. "You'd better hope he does," she said, "or both of us will be in trouble--one of us more than the other!" wagging her finger at him.
Khenti snorted. "Well!" he said. "If you don't want to scratch my ears anymore, I'll just go find Bastet. She ought to be in a better mood!"
Khnum, meanwhile, after inspecting his creation to make sure that everything was perfect, picked it up and placed it in the oven to let it harden. While it did so he milled around rather anxiously, several times trying to work on another sculpture but unable to finish. He was too nervous. He always got this way when it came to deities. If a mortal creature caused trouble it could easily be put to rest. But gods were another thing altogether. When he checked on the statuette and found it done, he took a deep breath. Now was the moment of truth! Khnum took it out and set it on a wooden pedestal. He pulled out his reed and a covered cup. Uncapping the latter, he extracted a tiny amount of sparkling, crystalline powder and placed it in the reed, then put the reed to the clay mouth. With his hand he made a sign in the air like a cross with a loop on the top--an ankh, meaning life--and blew. Several seconds passed while the potter waited tensely. Then a faint shimmering appeared in the dimness nearby. It took shape gradually, and when the light grew to blinding brilliancy it suddenly was shed like a blanket. There stood the crocodile-headed god.
Slowly, almost tentatively he opened his eyes.
"Hello, Sobek," Khnum said. "Crocodile God, you will power the destructive heat of the sun and be known as Lord of All Fierce Creatures of the Nile." He paused, then added, meekly, "Your bride-to-be Hathor waits for you."
Sobek merely stared at him.
Khnum hastened to say, "Not that I'm prodding you or anything, but--oh well, I suppose you barely understand me. I'll take you to Thoth. He can help."
Evening fell. The gay hues of the daytime were replaced by those subtler shades of early night, and the night animals were just beginning to stir. Khenti Amenti was among them. He'd spent part of the day asleep in the sun, and now wandered into the palace, searching. Word had gotten around that Sobek was there with Thoth, being taught all of the rules of everyday life. The wolf wanted to see him for himself.
"He should be out soon," he muttered, looking around. "Thoth's lessons never take very long with gods. I wonder what's keeping them? They've been at it forever."
He knew that wasn't exactly true--it had only been about three hours. Still, he was tired of waiting, and had very little patience with such things. A faint noise interrupted his train of thought, and he turned his head to see, down the dim hall, a door opening. Sobek--Khenti recognized his long crocodile snout--came out, followed by Thoth. The latter said a few words in parting, and put an ankh around Sobek's neck saying an incantation over it. Khenti could then hear him say, "May you have eternal happiness, and life, strength, and health be with you." He paused and waited.
Sobek looked slightly disconcerted, searching for the correct reply. Thoth stood in his doorway, patiently awaiting it. The crocodile god finally said, falteringly, "May you likewise be blessed with eternal health and happiness."
Thoth smiled at him kindly. "You're learning already, but you still have much to learn. Go now, and come back any time you have questions." So saying, he bowed slightly and went back into his room, softly closing the door behind him, leaving Sobek in the hall.
"Here's where I come in," Khenti said to himself, and started off down the hall, head held high, pretending that he hadn't seen anything that had transpired. In so doing he very nearly ran into the new god, and gasped with feigned surprise.
"Why, hello!" he greeted. "You must be Sobek. I've heard so much about you."
Sobek didn't know what to say. He was still puzzled over where he'd come from and why he was here.
"I'm Khenti Amenti," the wolf said with a polite little bow. "Ah! I suppose you haven't met Hathor yet?"
"Hathor?" Sobek nearly whispered. He remembered hearing that name before.
"Of course. She's probably waiting."
"But--for what?"
"Why, for you! Don't you know? You're to be married!"
"Is that why I'm here?"
"You bet it is. Now, why don't--"
Sobek interrupted him, confused. "How do you marry? What do you do?"
"Of course," Khenti said to himself again, snorting. "Knowing Thoth, he probably used words like 'betrothal' or 'matrimony' or some other junk." He spoke up. "Do you, hmm, recall Thoth saying anything about--oh, say, husbands and wives?"
Sobek thought hard for several minutes, then said, "I think he did. He said they're two people who are joined in a special ceremony, and afterwards share their lives together in mutual understanding."
"Figures!" Khenti muttered.
"Is that what I'm supposed to do with Hathor?"
"You're right on the mark. Now--"
"But I don't mutually understand her."
"Well, you have to meet her first! Let's go. She's probably waiting outside."
Khenti had been timing this for Hathor's approach to the palace. He knew she wasn't really dying to meet Sobek, but had to act the part so Ra wouldn't become suspicious. The two met her as she was just about to enter. All three stopped, and six eyes stared at each other. Sobek was looking at Hathor. Hathor was looking back. And Khenti was looking at both.
"Sobek, this is Hathor," he said, to break the ice. "Hathor, Sobek."
"Hello," Hathor said, bowing and with a sly smile.
Sobek was silent as he sorted out his thoughts. Then, "Greetings, Great Daughter of the Sun."
Impressive!, thought Khenti. Keep that up and you could have something going. But then Sobek turned to him.
"Khenti, I still don't mutually understand her."
Hathor put on a sudden puzzled look and aimed it in Khenti's direction.
"Ha ha!" Khenti laughed hurriedly. "He has such a good sense of humor, too. Hathor, Sobek and I were talking about Thoth's concept of marriage."
"Ohhh," Hathor said.
"Do we marry tonight?" Sobek asked. "I don't know if you can marry someone if you don't mu--"
"No, no, no!" Hathor interjected, trying to laugh pleasantly. "It takes time, doesn't it, Khenti?"
"Certainly it does. That's why I think I'll be leaving now."
"Khenti!" the goddess smiled through clenched teeth, tugging his ear again. "Not so fast. Stay awhile."
"But I don't--ow!--have anything to--yoww!--do here! OW!! Would you let go already?!"
"But you seem so interested in this matter! What's the hurry? Let's all get to mutually understand one another!"
"Now wait a minute! I'm not mar--"
But Hathor wasn't listening. She started along, followed, somewhat reluctantly, by Sobek. Khenti had no choice but to do the same, as his ear was still attached to his head, and he didn't want to change that fact. He just prayed to the Nine Great Gods that he'd be able to keep up.
The next day Khnum entered the palace. Where were Hathor and Sobek? He hadn't seen them since yesterday. Finding Khenti stretched out in the hallway, he went to him.
"Where's Hathor? And Sobek?" he asked.
"Sobek's out with Bastet," the wolf replied. "She's showing him the wildlife. As for Hathor, she's in her room, but she could be with the demons of the Duat for all I care." And he rubbed his ear, which lopped slightly.
Khnum ignored his final remark. He made a beeline to Hathor's door and knocked. A moment later the goddess answered, and beamed at him as if he were the best person in the world.
"Khnoumis!" she exclaimed.
"Where's Sobek?" the ram-headed god asked, confused. "Khenti said he's with Bastet."
"That's right."
"But he's supposed to be with you. I mean, didn't you hit him with an arrow, or what?"
"Come inside and I'll explain everything," Hathor replied.
Khnum did as he was told, thinking. Hathor, being the goddess of love, had the very important task of shooting arrows. The thing was, these arrows weren't the everyday kind. One sort had tips of pure gold and were adorned with the soft white feathers of a dove. This kind, when its aim was true, inflicted its receivers with a feeling of the deepest love toward the first thing that caught their undivided attention, be it deity, mortal, beast, plant, or anything unliving [sic]. Those arrows were the ones Hathor was most accustomed to shooting. The other kind, however, was quite different. Their heads were leaden, with dull brown owl feathers affixed to the shaft. Instead of love they inspired a feeling of great indifference. One hit with such an arrow would turn his or her head from the affections of others. [Note--yes, I borrowed Hathor's talents from Greco-Roman mythology. The Egyptians used bows and arrows, and the Greeks and Romans borrowed from their mythology all the time, so it just seemed logical to me.] Hathor should have hit Sobek with the former. If so, why wasn't he here, with her? Why would he rather be out with wild animals and the slightly flighty Bastet when there was Hathor, the most beautiful goddess, to be his wife?
"You see, I think there's something wrong with Sobek," Hathor explained as she seated the potter and started roaming about, pretending to be occupied with trivial things, straightening something here, moving another thing there. "I'm not saying this to delay any wedding. It's just that he's acting strangely. I shot him, if you're wondering, but he didn't seem to notice me. That's what's so odd. What do you think?"
Khnum snorted, still puzzled. "That shouldn't have happened. You two should be inseperable [sic]." He glared at her. "You shot yourself, didn't you?"
Hathor glared back. "I most certainly did no--" She abrubtly [sic] cut herself off. "I mean, not yet! I decided to see how he'd react first. Then this happens. It's a good thing I didn't, because now I'd be pining away!"
Khnum sighed. "I suppose you're right. Still it bothers me."
"Maybe you did something wrong."
"Such as?"
"Such as when you made him. Maybe you did something wrong?"
The ram god's nostrils flared. "Maybe I did! I have to leave now, Hathor. I'll see if I can find out what's going on."
Khnum told one of Amon's sunvultures to leave a message for Ra when he returned. He wished to hold audience with the sun god, meaning to tell him of Sobek's behavior.
"What do you wish me to say?" the sunvulture asked.
"Ask him if he'll stay behind and have someone else sail Millions of Years," Khnum replied. "Tell him it's very important--it's about Hathor and Sobek. And see if you can find them and ask them to come to Ra's palace as well."
The vulture nodded its golden head and flew away.
The next morning, while it was still dark, the sunvulture returned and summoned Khnum to the sunpalace. Ra had accepted his request to stay. Khnum thought this mildly unusual since Ra usually didn't do such things, but it must have been because Hathor was involved. The vulture informed him that Sobek and Hathor were to come in a little while so they could talk alone. By the time Khnum got there the sunbarque was gone, but he could tell by the relative desertedness of the place--even no sunhawks were about--that Ra must be inside. However, he wished that at least one hawk was around; he didn't know which way to go. As if in answer to his wish, the sunvulture, which had followed, called out, "Just keep going straight and ignore the side passages. I know it's a big place. Don't let it overwhelm you and you won't become lost."
"Thank you," Khnum replied as the large bird flew away. He did as he had been instructed, and in several minutes found himself in Ra's throne hall. He went a few steps, then bowed on his knees.
"Rise," Ra said.
Khnum did so a little bit meekly. He didn't like being in the presence of such powerful people. It made him feel awkward.
"You said you had something to tell me about Sobek and Hathor," Ra said. "Is something wrong?"
"Well...I'm not certain, God Ra. I went to see Hathor, and Sobek wasn't with her, so I asked why he wasn't there. She told me he was acting funny--even when she hit him with an arrow he didn't pay her much attention."
"Are you certain it was a gold arrow?"
Khnum snorted again. "Come to think of it I never asked her that!"
"We'll find that out now. Here she comes."
Khnum turned his head. Sure enough, Hathor was entering into the hall. Sobek was not with her but Khnum noticed Ra didn't appear upset. He must have told him to come last. The potter god bowed a little, also noticing that Hathor had brought her quiver, with arrows, and bow. She obviously knew what Ra wanted. However, she acted as if she had just been called in from outside and knew nothing of the sort. She simply bowed and said, "Greetings, God Ra," all too pleasantly.
Ra could tell something was up. "Greetings, Hathor." He glanced at her quiver and bow. "I hope we haven't interrupted anything."
"By all means, no."
"However, it's about your arrows that we've called you here. Have you met Sobek, the new god, yet?"
"I have. He's very polite. He acts a little bit strangely, though, like he's reciting everything he says. I suppose that's because he's still learning how to act."
"I suppose," Ra mused, looking thoughtful. "Hathor, have you ever hit him with a golden arrow?"
"Why, of course, Father!" Hathor said, almost with reproach. "It was your order that he be my husband, so I shot him."
"You seem quite willing after your vows of chastity."
So you remember that, do you?, Hathor felt like sneering. But instead, "I know that, but it was your command. Besides, life alone is becoming dull."
At that moment Sobek entered. He was trying not to gaze at all of the tall pillars and ornate statues, to look straight ahead, but his eyes kept wandering. He knelt mechanically before Ra's throne, and Ra looked him over a moment before telling him to rise.
"You remember Hathor and Khnum, and God Thoth has obviously told you about me," the sun god said. "Hathor is my daughter. Have you heard of the wedding arrangements, between her and yourself?"
Sobek nodded, and said, "I have, Great Ra. Believe me when I say that the Lady Hathor is very beautiful, I will not deny thinking that."
"But?"
"But I don't mutually understand her, and I don't think I ever will. To be married Thoth says you must mutually understand one another."
At that remark the two gods looked at each other, puzzled, as Hathor had been. The goddess, meanwhile, merely smiled demurely, stroking one of her thin arrows. Ra glanced back at her, greatly surprised.
"Hathor, did you--are you positively certain that you--"
"Sobek, close your eyes," Hathor ordered, and Sobek did. Quick as lightning she fitted an arrow to her bow, aimed, and hit him directly in the chest, the arrow vanishing as it struck, melting into thin air.
"Sobek, open your eyes and look right at me!"
The god did, and his eyes fell upon the goddess. He blinked once, twice, while the others held their breath. An odd look came over his face and he sighed, then turned to Ra and spoke.
"No matter what spell anyone might be using, I just don't understand her."
Khnum looked pleadingly at Ra, as if to cry, "You see?" Ra gaped with shock and said, "You don't--you don't feel anything? You don't see anything special in her?"
Sobek shook his head. "Nothing. Am I supposed to?"
"You should be madly in love with her by now!" Khnum wailed.
"In love?" Sobek said, starting to panic. "I thought I was supposed to understand her first!"
"Khnum, you still have Sobek's life figurine on your shelf?" Ra asked.
"Yes, I keep them all."
Ra raised his staff. A beam of light shot from the ankh. Sobek started to speak but his words were cut off as he suddenly went rigid. His eyes shut and his head drooped, and the spear slid from his hand, clattering upon the polished floor.
Hathor gasped and dashed to him. She listened for a heartbeat, checked for breath, and finally placed her hand to his head, concentrating. Even that drew no response. She whirled to her father and exclaimed, "What have you done?"
Ra stood, his eyes dark. "I put him in suspended animation. Khnum, go back to your cave and break open the statuette's chest."
The potter god quavered, "But--but surely you don't mean--"
"You can't do that!" Hathor cried. "That could ruin his soul!"
"I don't want his heart taken out!" Ra said. "I want to know what it is he has in there. Whatever it is, it isn't a heart of gold!"
Hathor glanced back at the unmoving, still living and yet lifeless Sobek. Her glance was helpless and full of guilt. She hadn't planned on this happening!
Ra followed Khnum to his cave in the form of a falcon. Khnum went inside and directly to the shelves, searching through the myriad sculptures. He found the one inscribed SOBEK and, taking it down, showed it to Ra.
"This is the one," he said. He shuddered. "Well, I suppose I should--do it now." He took the statue to his wheel and sat down, then picked up a little wooden mallet. With this he rapped upon the clay. It cracked and finally broke into little pieces. Ra parched overhead and Khnum shone a candle in. [Note--I don't believe it qualifies as a typo, but nowadays I would say, "Khnum shined a candle in." The margin notes take notice of my indecision here by saying, "X--shone?"] He gasped, and exclaimed, "It's impossible!"
"What is?" Ra asked.
Khnum held the figurine up. "I'm absolutely positive I gave it a heart of gold! I swear it by the Feather of Maat! But this statue--this has a heart of clay!"
The hawk's eyes narrowed. "I thought it would."
"What will we do?"
"Nothing. There's nothing we can do. Once the heart is sealed inside, there's no switching it." He sighed. "I don't know how Hathor did it, or if she even did, but whoever it was did the perfect job of keeping Hathor unmarried. Redo the chest and seal it back up, and when you're finished I'll bring him back to us."
Khnum nodded, and, dejected at his obvious inattention to details, set back to work. Hathor had won, for the time being.
"So that's the way things went," Duamutef said.
Khenti nodded. "Can you imagine what it would be like if Sobek and Hathor had married? Why, Qebusenuef, you might have a crocodile's snout instead of a falcon beak."
The boy laughed brightly.
"But that isn't the point," Khenti said. "There's a postscript to this story."
"There must be," Duamutef stated. "You have yet to tell us about why Hathor married our father, Horus. If she said she was never going to marry, and to forever remain chaste, then why did she do so?"
"It was quite on accident," the wolf god replied. "A long time later, after Horus had come, Hathor accidentally stuck her finger with an arrow. Of course she panicked. At that Horus looked in and asked if she was alright [sic]. He was the first thing that caught her attention--and it was love at first sight. Literally." [Note--this tale, which went unwritten in the original City Of The Sun (I believe I had planned a sequel set of stories), is now told in the short story "'Tis Better To Have Loved."]
"If she didn't want to fall in love, she could easily have used an arrow of lead to reverse it," Qebusenuef said.
"I know, but once someone feels love, even if they originally didn't wish to, doesn't want the feeling to go." [Note--I've just now noticed the bad grammar/phrasing of this sentence.]
"What did Ra say about this, Khenti?" Imseti asked.
"Not much. He was too relieved. Hathor went to Osiris and Isis, Horus's parents, and asked if they could marry. Not wanting it to seem too easy, they said yes--one, if he would fall in love with her, and two, if Ra agreed. Hathor was worried about that second condition but Ra gladly gave her away!"
"I should think so!" Imseti smirked.
"Watch your tongue," Khenti warned. "We don't know where Hathor is."
"Anyway, that's how she married Horus," Duamutef said. "Now what's the postscript?"
"Settle down. You're all riled up. Comfortable yet? Where was I? Oh, yes--Hathor. As I was about to say, Hathor had married Horus, and as time passed she began to regret what she'd done to poor Sobek..."
There was a light rap on the door. Horus, enjoying one of his rare moments of solitude, looked up, then went to answer it. Immediately Bastet danced in, twirling about. She took his head in her hands and said, "Greetings, sweet Horus!"
"Greetings, Bastet," the god said to his sister-in-law. "What brings you here today?"
"It's Hathor," the cat goddess replied, her voice sympathetic but her dancing unhindered. She stepped lightfootedly around the room. "Have you, as her new husband--congratulations!--noticed how she acts now?"
Horus paused thoughtfully before nodding. It was a thing he did often. [Note--even back then, this line bugged me. It sounds like I'm saying, "He nodded often" or even "He thought often"...duh! I should hope so! What I REALLY meant was, "He PAUSED IN THOUGHT often."] "She seems to go off by herself often, and she's being secretive. Have I angered her somehow? I was afraid to ask because I thought it might upset her more."
"I don't think you could possibly upset her, Golden Horus. Just several days ago, before she started acting like this, she would talk and talk about you. She would speak of no one else. And when Set, tired of the talk, glared at her, she easily outstared him. [Note--I can't remember how I rewrote this part in the new version of the story--but it seems terribly out of continuity. I don't think Set was even among the company of the gods at this point, but was likely still in banishment. In my newest storyline, Horus and Hathor already have their children before Set returns to Egypt.] No, I don't think it's you. But maybe you could get her to talk to you?"
"I don't know if that would be the right thing," Horus replied. "I'll see if I can help her, though."
Horus found his wife outside, sitting near a big pool with Khenti Amenti reclining at her feet. She was absently stroking his back while he slept. Horus approached her silently, not knowing what to say. He had been that way before they were married, after she'd shot him. Only after talking with his parents and aunt, Nephthys, was he able to work up the courage to propose. Of course she had accepted. The wedding night, however, had proved to be even more stressful. Hathor had been filled with anxiety, not ready for what was usually expected of newlywed wives, and Horus, inexperienced himself, had had to assuage her fears, promising to not hurry her into anything. It was that action that secured the final bond, and the two of them had been almost inseparable--until now. She was acting so tense again. Afraid that he'd done something to upset her, Horus went up to her, and asked, timidly, "Hathor?"
She turned her head, a little startled, then smiled when she recognized him.
"I was wondering if anything is wrong?" Horus asked. "My promise still stands. I won't make you do anything you don't want to."
Hathor moved so he could sit next to her, and he placed his hand on hers, looking at her anxiously.
"It's not you, Horus," she said. "I know you'd never break your promise, and believe me, I'm trying hard to work up my courage."
"You have no need to hurry," her husband said.
Hathor smiled again, half thankfully and half sad. "Don't discourage me. I'll give you children yet!"
Horus clasped her hand. "Then if that isn't it, what's wrong? Why have you been so quiet?"
She turned her head back to the pool, cool blue and shimmering in the twilight. "It's too confusing to tell."
"I'm willing to wait for you to gain courage," he said, "so I'm willing to listen."
She gave a small, unconvincing laugh. "You're very patient! It seems some--though they are few--will do anything for those whom they love." Her smile vanished. "That's what's bothering me so much."
"What is?"
Hathor drew a deep breath. "I did something--to someone--and now I'm ashamed for doing it. It was a long time ago but I still remember it clearly. I was upset, and wanted things my way, so I took something very precious away from that person and now he can't have what I do." She sighed, and tears welled up in her eyes. "I don't know what I should do."
Horus, still anxious to make her feel better, put his arm around her shoulders and asked, "Does this person know--?"
His wife shook her head, the tears streaming down. Khenti sneezed twice.
"Maybe you should tell him all. If he doesn't know, the news might hurt him somewhat, but--you know Anubis?"
Hathor nodded.
"He is my half-brother," Horus explained, "and he did not know it. We both thought Osiris was our father, and Isis our mother. When Isis told him that Nephthys, and not she, was his mother, he was crushed. He was jealous and refused to speak to me for a time." [Note--this story was written in "Anubis 3: Brothers" of the second version of COTS (not included with this set), but was later tossed out in favor of a shorter version included in the novel Horus. In that, Anubis does not refuse to speak to Horus for "a time"--though a definite conflict arises. You can see the "new" version in Horus, Chapters 13 and 16.]
"I remember."
"I didn't give up on him, though. He may not be my brother in blood but I finally won his friendship back, and now we are brothers in spirit." He looked at her. "You see? The truth may hurt, but once it's in the open, and conflicts are resolved peacefully, the friendship derived from it is made all the more stronger. [Note--ew! "More stronger"?? Ick ick bad bad Tehuti!!] You should tell this person the truth, and ask for forgiveness."
Hathor was silent for several moments. Then she turned to him, her eyes slightly aglow with hope. "You think he'll understand? And forgive me?"
"I can't say yes or no. Just remember Anubis, and the truth."
The goddess took another deep breath, and stood; now she clasped Horus's hand.
"Thank you, Horus. I think I know now what to do!"
Khenti Amenti trotted at Hathor's feet while she strode to Sobek's post. He had long since been set up to guard the palace, and was quite well-suited to the job. [Note--I just realized that Sobek's storyline has changed since this version of the story, and possibly since the rewrite, too. Ra created him before the rule of Osiris in earthly Kemet (Egypt), apparently; for in the unfinished novel Osiris, Osiris and his band of gods locate him in the Faiyum, and he then joins their party--by then he's overcome his behavior described earlier in this story. THEN he goes to guard the palace of the gods...and later, along come Horus and the other younger deities. So he was "absent" from palace life for quite a long time.] He had changed very much since Ra had had Hathor hit him with her arrow, many years ago, and now wasn't timid or confused anymore. Instead he usually seemed quite aloof to everyone, even Osiris and Isis, who let him guard. He took orders quite well, and anyone who tried to deter him from his duties would soon be left with a lost cause. His acute ears heard Hathor coming, and he turned and bowed.
"Greetings, Goddess Hathor," he said.
"Hello, Sobek," she replied.
"It's late to be out."
"I know, I know. I came to tell you something."
"At this hour?"
"It's what you'd call important," Khenti Amenti muttered.
"Quiet, Khontamenti," the goddess warned, so the wolf shut up.
"I don't see what could be so important as to make someone come out so late," Sobek said, bluntly. He disliked late visitors.
"It is," Hathor said, "so please bear with me."
The god sighed but tapped his spear to the ground. "Alright [sic]. But try not to let it take all night."
Hathor said nothing. The other two waited, and could see that she didn't know how to begin, so Khenti said, "You remember when Ra--sort of--asked you to marry Hathor here, don't you?"
Sobek nodded.
"Well, she has something to say about that."
Sobek looked at her. "Something to say? What could there be? You're married now. Everything's said and done." [Note--Sobek is STILL acting out of character here. He may be blunt and sometimes uncaring, but he's certainly not rude, especially not to women or royalty! In fact I think the only god he gets pissy with is Upuat, as seen in Osiris.]
"I wish that were so!" Hathor cried. "Sobek, I have something to tell you about a thing we--both Khenti and I--did, and now I regret doing it so much. Sobek, do you remember when, at Ra's palace, everything just went blank, and when you awoke you felt oddly and they said the wedding was off?"
He nodded again.
"Ra and Khnum were checking your heart then. Before you came, when you were merely a statue on Khnum's potter's wheel, I--I sent Khenti to do something."
"Such as?"
"You had a heart of gold. Please don't take anything personally, but I didn't wish to marry anyone then, so I had Khenti--I had--I had him switch your heart, w-with a heart of clay so you--so you couldn't love me." She started to cry. "Or anyone else."
Khenti noticed that Sobek had put his hand to his chest, as if trying to tell for himself. He was very quiet for a long time, staring into space. He then said, "I don't--see..." He noticed Hathor's tears. "Why are you crying?"
"Aren't you angry with me?"
"I'm only a little surprised. I'm not angry. Why should I be?"
"I took away your capacity to love. Doesn't that upset you?"
Sobek confidingly put his hand on her shoulder. "I suppose it would, if I'd felt it before but since I'll never know what I'm missing it doesn't. Don't cry. You're tormenting yourself over something that happened years ago. If you didn't wish to marry you had every right to do something about it."
"I thought you'd be so angry, you remember, like Anubis."
"I'm not."
Hathor started forward to embrace him, but he put out his hand to stop her, shaking his head. "None of that!"
Hathor flushed. "I--I'm sorry. I nearly forgot!"
But Sobek took her hand. "I must thank you, though, for telling me all as it really happened. No one else would tell me but you."
"I thank you as well for listening and understanding," Hathor replied, faintly smiling.
Khenti had been silent all along, but now he took the hem of Hathor's dress in his teeth and tugged gently. "Come on, let's go now." To sound more gracious, he added, "Sobek has to guard his post."
Hathor started away slowly, as if semisomnambulent [sic]. "Thanks," she said again.
Sobek watched them until they disappeared from sight. Then he did a very unusual thing--he abandoned his post to go out into the forecourt, and looked around. Perched atop the bull statues were several resting moonibises, Thoth's flying servants, the starlight glinting off of their silver feathers. Sobek whistled, and the four of them opened their silvery eyes.
"Which of you is the fastest?" he called.
The smallest ibis swooped down and alighted on his outstretched arm, his eyes twinkling over his long beak. "You wish to send a message to my lord?" he asked in a high, piping voice.
Sobek shook his head. "To Ptah. You can find him?"
The bird nodded. "Ever since Khenti Amentet found him long ago we know where he lives. [Note--this is in reference to one of my Encyclopedia Of Things That Never Were-esque entries about Ptah; in that story, after Ptah wooed Sakhmet, Ra sent out all the gods to locate the mysterious moon god, and Khenti Amenti was the one who found him. Based on events in the since-written story "Something In The Moonlight," I don't think this tale still holds in the current storyline.] What do you wish me to tell him?"
"Ask him to craft a necklace," Sobek replied. "Tell him to make it with gold, and the finest emeralds anywhere..."
It was several days later that Bastet was out at the pool, playing with several kittens--one of her favorite pastimes. She was tickling them and laughing as they rolled and tumbled all over each other when a thin shadow swept over. Bastet quickly gathered the little kittens together into her lap, for two reasons--one, a bird of prey could be flying over, ready to snatch one of the squirming cats up for an early dinner, or two, it could be some relative of hers who, seeing her playing so, might chide her for acting so unbecoming of a goddess and daughter of Ra. But it was only a moonibis, the same one sent out by Sobek earlier. Bastet let her kittens go, and the silver bird landed.
"Is the Goddess Hathor around?" he asked her.
"She's inside," Bastet answered. "I see you have a package tied to your leg. Is it for her?"
The ibis nodded. "It's a gift for her. There's a note attached."
"I could take it to her for you."
The moonibis paused, considering. "You won't look at it?"
"Of course I won't! You can trust me."
"Alright [sic] then," the ibis said, and allowed her to untie it. "Promise me you won't open it!" he said, knowing her curious nature.
"I promise. I promise by my sister Maat."
The ibis, hearing this, was reassured and flew away. The cat goddess was tempted, but decided to honor her promise, and took the little carefully-wrapped package and carried it to Hathor's room.
Hathor was at her mirror brushing her black, shiny hair. Horus was sitting nearby, looking at a scroll which Thoth had sent him. Hearing Bastet's knock, he started up, but Hathor shook her head and went to answer it herself.
"You have all your soul-snatching to worry about," she joked, "while I just sit around shooting arrows. I can answer it."
Horus smiled at her and continued his reading.
Hathor opened the door and Bastet very nearly sprung in, kissing her on the cheek. "Greetings, Sister Hathor!"
"Hello, Bastet," Hathor said. "You're happy today!"
"I have something for you," her sister sang. "It has a note on it. It's for you, it's for you, delivered from the blue--by a moonibis. Open it, open it. It must be important."
Hathor looked at it, puzzled, Bastet on her right, Horus on her left. She removed the note and opened the package. All three of them gasped in unison.
Inside lay a shimmering necklace of gold and glowing emeralds. Every seven emerald beads were interrupted by a gold bead, and the pendant was formed of gold and the biggest, brightest emerald they'd ever seen. [Note--this necklace idea was modeled after an actual necklace I owned--but mine was of course made of big tacky plastic beads.]
All Hathor could do was stare at it numbly.
"Read the note," Horus said softly.
It was all she could do to keep from dropping the note as her shaking hands opened it, while she gave the necklace to her husband and sister, who marveled over its beauty. The note read:
Goddess Hathor, Daughter of the Sun:
You have rendered me an invaluable service though I do not show it. You yourself know the reason why. It is beneath my dignity to do such a thing. However, I must repay you for telling me the truth, and also for the distress you must have felt for concealing it. Here is my thanks. God Ptah has fashioned it at my request. The series of seven emeralds symbolizes the group constituted of you and your sister-goddesses, the Seven Hathors. I hope that you find this necklace to your liking, and that it appeals to your high tastes. It is the least I can do to repay you, and if ever you or any of your family are in need of anything simply ask me.
Life, strength, and health,
Sobek
Tears welled up in the goddess's eyes as she read the final words of the letter. How much he'd done just for her! She would treasure the exquisite necklace. It was the least she could do. She thought of this as she folded the letter and pressed it to her heart.
"Who is it from?" Bastet asked.
"Oh, no one in particular," Hathor replied. "Just a friend."
She gazed into the large, facetted emerald, seeing her own reflection gazing back out at her, and the two of them smiled, whispering.
"Just a friend."
"No wonder Mother always told us that when we asked where she got her beautiful necklace," mused Imseti.
Khenti Amenti looked at him lazily in the darkening evening. Still the boat had not come. "Told you what?"
"Whenever we asked her where she'd gotten it, she would say, 'Oh, just from a friend.'"
"Well, now you know the truth," the wolf said in reply, and stuck out his tongue.
The sky grew brighter. The five of them--the ibis perched on the statue, Thoth, had since left--looked up and saw the golden sunboat approach. Horus was nearby. The whole forecourt was made bright as day again.
"Well, Ra's here," Khenti said. "It's time for Judgement. Go along, you four! You're needed inside."
"No we're not, not really," Hapi wheedled. "Come on, Khenti, tell us another story."
"Another?" Khenti exclaimed. "I've already told you a story for every one of you there is! How many more can you stand?"
Qebusenuef put his little hand on Khenti's paw and smiled at him sweetly. "Khenti, could you tell us another story about Ra? My favorite was the one about his name; are there any more? He's powerful and wise. If I could be like anyone besides my father, it would be like Ra."
Khenti smiled back. "You certainly aim high! Alright [sic], I'll tell you another one about Ra. He's not always as all-powerful as you picture him, Qebusenuef, as you saw with Isis's trick. In fact, there was another time, very, very long ago, when he took himself to be weak and worthless."
"How did that happen?" asked Hapi.
"Oddly, it was through the fault of his own mother, Neith," the wolf replied. The four children huddled around him again as the kau disappeared inside, the noise settled down, and the boat slowly turned to sail away. "Neith is the warrior goddess--your protector, Duamutef--and fiercely proud, with a temper as fiery as Horus's lance. Ra inherited both of these qualities. And sometimes unfortunate things may happen as a result of both mother and son being so..."
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