Separate Destinies

Chapter One

Every morning, just before dawn, Onuris woke with one purpose. With one destination in mind.  He slipped from his hut and made his way to the bank of the river Nile. He had made several of these trips over the last two weeks, so much so, that he now knew the path by heart. It didn’t matter that the skies were still black. He knew every turn, every stone, and every break in the path. He knew his way to her. And go to her, he would. 

Onuris didn’t know the name of the ebony beauty that had captured his heart. But he was sure he knew everything about her; from the imagined softness of her hair to the delicate curve of her lips and the gentle slope of her body. From the way she winced when she stood up, he knew her knees bothered her. The inexpensive trinket she wore proudly on her arm – a bone bracelet with a red Deshret – told him she worked in the Pharaoh’s household. 

As the last of the stars tucked themselves away and the first rays of the sun swathed the sky in hues of pink and gold, Onuris settled behind the reeds. His eyes glinted with anticipation. Any minute now she would emerge on the East bank and begin her chores. She would sing, every day, that beautiful yet forlorn melody that had first drawn him to her. There had been such sadness in her song, yet there was something else also. A hint of hope that tugged at his soul. It drew him to her. 

As the sun pranced across the sky, gleefully climbing higher and higher, Onuris’ heart dipped lower and lower. He sighed as he finally accepted that she wouldn’t come today. Head bowed and shoulders slumped, he trudged back to his hut. Today would be a long and miserable day. 

As he turned the corner to his settlement, Ahmose came running, waving his hands wildly in the air as he struggled to get Onuris’ attention. Ahmose was a short and fat fellow, several years younger to Onuris. While Onuris had worked his way to the rank of Hery Sesheta (Overseer of the Mysteries), the highest priest in their settlement, Ahmose was still a Wetyw, the junior most priest. Well technically at least. He wasn’t a priest per se, just training to be one. Being a Hery Sesheta had appealed to Onuris. After all, not only did he get to wear the elegantly carved and beautifully polished Mask of Anubis, he was in charge of watching over souls as they crossed over into the afterlife.   

Onuris shuddered at the idea of still being a Wetyw. But Ahmose seemed content with his station. The boy had no ambitions. Onuris however, desired performing a funeral ritual on a Pharaoh. He hadn’t yet you see, for the decrepit man lived. He had hung on to life, despite being sick for years. And it didn’t seem like he was going to let go anytime soon. Perhaps the Pharaoh was afraid, afraid of being judged. He hadn’t led an ideal life and it was too late to earn his redemption. 

Onuris mumbled something incomprehensible as Ahmose dropped to his knees. Waving his hand at the lad he reminded him that such formalities were not needed. Ahmose was after all, Onuris’ younger brother. He didn’t add that he hadn’t the patience for theatrics today. All he wanted to do, was shut himself within his four mud walls and crawl into bed. Perhaps he would find solace in his tiny library. The idea of running his fingers over sacred text scribbled neatly on old papyrus had Onuris smiling. He loved feeling closer to his ancestors. Perhaps that was another reason he chose his profession. His proximity, figuratively of course, to their numerous Gods. 

“The Pharaoh, oh priest, he calls for you!” Ahmose said bowing till his chin touched the sand. 

Onuris’ ears dragged him back towards Ahmose. “The Pharaoh… hmmm now what did he want? Did the slave convey a message?” he asked rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 

“No great priest. The slave simply said you were needed at the palace urgently.” 

For the briefest second, Onuris contemplated keeping the Pharaoh waiting. And then he thought of her.