Menkaraa

The great Edifice was a wonder on earth, nowhere on the continent or of this time was a building so imposing and beautiful. Its tall pillars exploded into lotus flowers at the height of the ceiling. The murals of battles, my fathers’ forbearers had engaged and won painted in rich colors of blue and red and green, so lovely as to distract one from the proceedings in the chamber. The skill and art work unseen in our new world, and when you walked between the path of God; statues of the twenty five successive kings, names not uttered from the lips of foreigners or enemies your breath was taken. These limestone forms carved in the quarries of ancient Kemet stood imposing along the walk to the throne seat. Your sandal clacking along the carefully smooth stone floor, its echo returning to you two, three fold. As these men frozen in the time of their glory listened to each small step you took. My father took his place on the seat of gold, which was carved in the shape of a huge smooth U with curling outward arms; he rested his arms on the throne chair. Menkaure looked out from the seat in front of him, closes to him on his left was the great wife and goddess of Kemet Nefertari, to her left the sires of Kemet my brothers and I. He looked to the right his most personal royal guards, and to their right, the advisors of the court, except Bak the chief vizier stood to my father’s right shoulder. The people were allowed in now that all were present. As they gathered to the front of the edge of my father’s entourage, the guards stepped forward to buffer the pressing crowd. Menkaure began to speak, “People of Kemet children of Ra, there is much I must tell you, and much you want to know or have already surmised. First I am well as you can see.” The people murmured in unison “Yes, yes.” The advisors raised their hands for the people to be still. My father continued, “The old priest Apep is dead, a victim of his own demise. The news caused a flurry of questions amongst the people in attendance, none of which the King sought to acknowledge or answer. The Royal Guards admonished the crowd to return to silence, and they quickly responded. Upon returning the people to silence, the sound of protest came from the back in the assemblage. “How does a man cut asunder himself?” The crowd stirred and began chattering and repeating the question to one another. An old man, who seemed to gain the respect of the crowd, paraphrased the question, “Yes, how did Apep meet his end?” Menkaure was not bothered by the crowd’s insistence on the question being answered. He was however bothered by the tone of the original questioner. He commanded that Userkaf have the guards bring the questioner forward to stand before Ra (sun) and question him face to face. The guards quickly snatched the man and brought him forward. The people parted and gave up the man in the back who had asked the question. A familiar face, Asret, the acting priest of the Apep clan, now stood exposed to the throne. His head was clean-shaven as is the custom of learning priest and neophytes. His clothing somewhat ruffled by the thronging crowd and handling of the guards were finely made. He bowed his head and said nothing. Rameses my brother asked, “Have the crocodiles swallowed your tongue now that you stand before God?” Asret still did not raise his head to my father or answer Rameses.