Nantucket #03 - On the Oceans of Eternity by S. M. Stirling

Author:S. M. Stirling [Stirling, S. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin USA, Inc.
Published: 2011-06-30T16:47:47+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

September, 10 A.E.—Pi-Ramses, Kingdom of Egypt

“The Horus,” the silver-voiced herald called, half chant and half song. “The God is among us!”

The Vizier of the North sank to his knees and then bent forward to symbolically kiss dirt. Beside him Mek-Andrus, Commander of Chariots, did likewise, pressing his face to the colorful glazed tile of the floor. It was cool and smooth beneath his lips, and a breath of greenery and flowers touched the skin of his back, wafting in from the pools and gardens outside into the hot gloom.

“He of the Two Goddesses: Protector of Egypt Who Subdues the Foreign Lands; The Golden Horus: Rich in Years, Great in Victories.”

Spearmen in kilts, banded linen cuirasses and beehive-shaped helmets marched through the doorway and faced outward, weapons grounded and big rectangular oval-topped shields braced.

“The King of Upper and Lower Egypt: Strong in Right is Ra—User-Ma’at-Ra.”

The herald’s voice grew to a shout: “Son of Ra, Ramses, beloved of Amun! The God is among us!”

Mek-Andrus—who had been George McAndrews in Memphis, Tennessee—saw the gilt sandals stride into view. More feet came in the background, mostly bare; fan-bearers with brightly dyed ostrich feathers on the ends of gilded poles, scribes, attendants, a couple of musicians ... just the minimal attendants for an ordinary day’s work. The hem of Pharaoh’s translucent-thin pleated robe rustled across his ankles, and the sandals settled on a footstool carved with bound, kneeling Asiatics and Nubians—literally being trampled underfoot by Pharaoh.

The fan-bearers began fanning and the scribes sank into their cross-legged posture, pens poised over the scrolls of papyrus that spanned their laps.

“Rise,” a clear tenor voice said.

He and the vizier came upright on their knees, raising their hands palm-forward in the gesture of worship common to most of this part of the ancient world.

“Hail to Setep-en-Ra, the Chosen of Ra!” McAndrews cried in unison with the official beside him.

His Egyptian was very good now. He’d been practicing hard all the years since Walker came to the Middle Sea, and he’d acquired an Egyptian servant to achieve full fluency years ago. He even had a Delta accent. His court etiquette was pretty good, too. You couldn’t go far wrong here if you kissed ass upward and kicked it down.

“Rise,” the Pharaoh said again. “Seat yourselves, my servants.”

He did.

And with a lot less puffing and grunting than our esteemed Vizier of Lower Egypt, he thought, as the pudgy bureaucrat settled on a stool beside his. At this range, even in midmorning, he got a whiff to remind him that while upper-class Egyptians bathed twice daily, they also rubbed themselves all over with perfumed hippopotamus fat to prevent wrinkles from the dry air.

McAndrews was a big man, two inches over six feet, and at thirty biological years still in the shape he’d had as a running back at the Coast Guard Academy before the Event; broad-shouldered, with thick muscular arms, flat stomach, and long legs. That showed to advantage, since he was wearing a simple knee-length linen military wraparound kilt, vividly white against his natural dark-brown skin and cinched by a heavy belt.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.