CHAPTER IIII
‘Hail to you, who brought Himself forth as one who created millions in their abundance. The one whose body is millions. Amun.’
Vespasian knelt before the surprisingly small statue of the god set upon an altar in a chamber, lit by two flaming sconces, at the heart of the temple; the three priests surrounded him chanting their hymn. The statue represented Amun seated; in his right hand he held a sceptre, in his left, an ankh; his face was that of a man, the mouth was open and hollow. Across his legs was laid a sword in a richly decorated scabbard of great antiquity. The smoke of pungent incense wafted through the room making Vespasian feel very light-headed and euphoric.
‘No god came into being prior to Him. No other god was with Him who could say what He looked like. He had no mother who created His name. He had no father to beget Him or to say: “This belongs to me.” Amun.’
Vespasian felt himself being lifted to his feet; oil was poured on his forehead and left to trickle down his face. He felt at ease and smiled.
‘You who protect all travellers, when I call to You in my distress You come to rescue me. Give breath to him who is wretched and rescue me from bondage. For You are He who is merciful when one appeals to You; You are He who comes from afar. Come now at Your children’s calling and speak. Amun.’
‘Amun,’ Vespasian found himself repeating.
The word echoed around the room.
Then silence.
Vespasian stood staring at the god; around him the priests were motionless.
The room became chill. The smoke hung, still, in the air. The flames in the sconces died down.
Vespasian felt his heartbeat slow.
He heard a soft breath emanate from the statue’s mouth and in the dim light he could see the smoke begin to swirl around the god’s face.
Another breath, more rasping this time, moved the smoke faster; the low flames flickered.
‘You come too soon,’ a voice whispered, billowing the smoke around the statue’s mouth.
Vespasian’s eyes widened in surprise; he leant forward slightly to assure himself that the voice came from the mouth.
‘Too soon for what?’ he asked, wondering if some elaborate trick was being played on him.
‘Too soon to know your question.’
If the smoke had not moved again Vespasian would have sworn that the voice was in his head.
‘When will I know?’
‘When you can match this gift.’
‘That gift?’ He looked down at the sword placed across the statue’s knees.
‘Equal it.’
‘With what?’
‘A brother will understand.’
‘When?’
‘When you need him to.’
‘How will I…’ he began.
A whistling drawing of breath sucked the smoke into the statue’s mouth in one continuous funnelling gulp; the flames sprang back to full strength.
The spell was broken.
Vespasian looked around; the three priests suddenly convulsed as if coming out of a trance. As one they recommenced their incantation.
‘Everything that comes from His mouth the gods are bound by, according to what has been decreed. When a message is sent it is for the giving or taking of life; for life and death depend on Him for everyone. Nothing exists which He is not. Everything is Him. Amun.’
‘Amun,’ Vespasian repeated as the priests turned and walked away from the altar; with a brief, quizzical look at the statue, he followed.
‘What did that mean?’ Vespasian asked as they re-entered the forest of columns.
‘We cannot tell you,’ the first priest replied, ‘we heard nothing. What He said was for you alone. All we know is that you were spoken to by the God and that you are blessed by Him. No one can harm you now in His sacred land of Siwa; you and those who travel with you are under His protection.’
‘It’s too late for that; this man has sold my travelling companions into slavery.’
‘Then to atone he will have to buy them back,’ the younger priest stated.
‘Good, and while you’re about it, Ahmose, you can buy back the man we came to rescue, a Roman by the name of Capella.’
‘I will,’ Ahmose said with a touch of nervousness. ‘You should thank me for bringing you here.’
‘I’ll do no such thing,’ Vespasian snapped, finding himself hating the man almost as much as his now dead enemy, the Thracian chief-priest Rhoteces, ‘you said it was your duty.’
‘And so it was,’ the older priest confirmed, ‘he would have been cursed by the God if he’d failed to bring one touched by the Bennu before Him.’
‘He will take you back safely, Roman, and reunite you with your friends; he will also return your sword.’
‘Who gave the god that sword?’
‘That was a gift from the great Alexander, he left his sword in thanks for the counsel that he received here.’
Vespasian walked out of the temple wondering how he could ever match such a gift and, even if he could, what question would possibly make him want to make the arduous journey across so much sand to Siwa again to deliver it. Sand? He recalled the prophecy of Amphiaraos:
Bearing a gift across sand in the lion’s steps; a gift suggested by a brother to match that of Alexander, Alexander, the lion of Macedon. But if he was to be the bearer of that gift he would be the King of the East; how could that ever be?
Vespasian did not say a word on the journey back to Ahmose’s town; his mind was at first busy with contemplating the prophecy and what he had just heard from the mouth of the god: tyrants, kings, brothers and gifts to gain the West; where did he fit in to all that and why would a question drive him to return to this place?
After rolling these thoughts around his head and getting nowhere he turned his mind to the rescue of his comrades and Capella and whether the duplicitous priest who walked ahead of him would keep his word. Ahmose had indeed given him his sword back with fawning apologies to a favoured one of Amun and had promised to purchase Capella’s freedom as well as buying back his men for what he had been paid for them. Vespasian doubted that the Marmaridae would go for such a deal.
The following afternoon, as they approached Ahmose’s town, a familiar voice shouting cheered Vespasian’s heart.
‘Hold it there, priest, or by Pluto’s dark realm I’ll skewer you and send you down to him.’ Magnus appeared through the palms with Ziri, both with raised spears.
Ahmose’s men drew their swords and turned to face the threat.
‘It’s all right, Magnus,’ Vespasian called back, ‘things have changed; it would seem that I’m blessed by Amun; none of us are in any danger here.’
‘We just watched Corvinus and the lads being sold to the Marmaridae yesterday; I call that fucking dangerous.’
‘And this little shit is going to get them back for us, aren’t you?’ Vespasian glared at Ahmose who nodded
