Siwa is a small desert oasis that, when I was mortal, was controlled by the Pharaoh Nectanebo the second, who is sometimes called Nakhthoreb. He was the third king of the Thirtieth Dynasty and—at least in the eyes of modern historians—the last native ruler of Egypt.
Now it was Nectanebo was the one who had ordered the construction of the Temple of Amun, who was the God of Air who was much favored at the time. It was because of this Temple that I was born in Siwa. My parents were named Ebo and Harere. They had been born in Saqqâra, which is now called Alexandria. They had moved to Siwa two years before I was born so that my father could become a hem-netjer— a priest— in the Temple.

I was five years old when the savages of the desert attacked. These men were nomads, who roamed the desert for the whole of their lives, never settling down. I do not know the name that history has given them. They attacked Siwa because it was alone in the sands, an oasis that Egypt held control over. They attacked in the morning, as my father attended to his duties in the Temple and my mother returned from the market. She had come home early that day and, while my father was killed on the temple’s steps, she hid me in a disused portion of the temple. I never saw her again, for she ran to look for my father. However I heard several rumors which said she was taken as a slave by the salvages. No one knows for sure, for most of the victims of the savage attack were placed in a large mass grave, the damage to their bodies was so great that slave could not be told from nobleman.
When the savages had enough of destruction they departed, the survivors who could see them from their hiding places reported that they carried off a good amount of stolen goods and perhaps fifty slaves. A number of the elder members of Siwa had fled when the savages approached and they had started off towards the Nile. As it happened they met the army of the Pharaoh Nectanebo the Second not far from the city walls. The army had been sent to guard the oasis against an attack, but they had come to late to fight the savages. Because of this their leader, Prince Khenti, nephew to the Pharaoh, lead them to Amun’s temple, so as to take stock of what remained of the town.
Upon the temple steps Prince Khenti found me. I was sitting next to my father’s body and crying out for my mother and father, not understanding why my mother did not come and my father did not get up. Prince Khenti took pity on me and, upon finding out that I was the hem-netjer’s son, he took me under his wing. Dividing his army in half, he left one portion in Siwa and led the other portion back to Memphis. I rode in his chariot with him and, upon reaching the Pharaoh’s city, Khenti decided to take me in as an adopted son.
In Memphis I met the rest of Khenti’s family. His wife, who would become a second mother to me, his many children and, most important to my tale, his son Heru. I have told you that Pharaoh Nectanebo was Khenti’s uncle, but Heru was even more important then his father. The story went that, since Khenti lived inside the Pharaoh’s palace, Heru had one day wandered off from his mother or nurse and had stumbled upon the Pharaoh. Nectanebo had taken a liking to the little boy and Heru was given the title of Prince and became the heir apparent to the throne. Nectanebo had children of his own, but he favored Heru more then them.
When I met Heru he yelled out that I was some sort of spirit from the north, from the cold lands, for my coloring — blond hair and blue eyes, was rarely seen in Egypt at that time. Heru looked the part of an Egyptian Prince, his only variation from normalcy being his emerald green eyes, gotten from his mother who had come across the sea to Egypt. His hair was a shiny black, like most of the nobility and common folk. I was the only child in the Palace that did not have black hair.
Heru was two years older then me—seven to my five. He soon learned that I was no sprit and we became childhood friends. Our lives were typical for noble children of the time and we were totally unremarkable until Heru reached his twenty-fifth year.
Nectanebo had died the year before, and I had witnessed Heru take the throne, yet you shall not find his name in any history books or records. Like so many Pharaohs Heru was erased from history. When Heru became Pharaoh he made me one of his highest advisors, although this move drew harsh criticism from many important nobles. I would often accompany him on his trips to various towns and villages and it was on one of these trips that our lives changed.
It was the hottest time of summer, when all sensible men and women stay in their homes as much as possible. We traveled with a great many people, all servants, slaves or advisors to Heru, however I alone had the honor of ridding beside Heru at the front of the procession. We were going north, to my parent’s hometown of Saqqâra, to meet with several noblemen from the Nile delta. However we never made it. For as we crossed the one stretch of true desert between Memphis and our destination, our entire party was swallowed by a sandstorm the likes of which I had never before witnessed.
We struggled on, hoping to find someplace to shelter ourselves, but suddenly Heru and I found ourselves quite alone in the swirling sand. We decided that there was nothing to do but sit down and hope for the best. We draped a length of cloth over ourselves and our horses, creating a little cave in which we lay. Neither one of us slept that night.
It was early the next morning when the storm stopped and we dug ourselves and our mounts out of the sand. The desert all around us was clear and quite, with no sign of our party. Not too worried we took our directions form the rising sun and set off towards the Nile, thinking we could easily find it. However, several hours later we were forced to believe that we had gone very far off track during the sand storm. It was early evening when we finally spotted and oasis, which contained a small town.
The people of the town, who seemed to be of a darker complexion then typical Egyptians, looked at us with suspicion as we approached the center of town, where an old man, who wore the garments of a priest, stood. Heru was the first to speak. “Hem-netjer, would you kindly tell us the name of this town. We were traveling to the sea and were lost in the sandstorm, we seek to reach Saqqâra.”
“You are two days ride southwest of Saqqâra. This is Cyrus.” Heru and I looked at each other when we heard this. Neither of us knew that there was a village called Cyrus, we only knew the word as Cyprus, which as you know is an island in the Mediterranean Sea. But still, at least we now knew that we were two days ride from our destination. We were about to thank the man and attempt to buy some supplies when he looked up once more. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice sounding like a metal lock that was rusted.
Heru, of course, was amazed that someone did not know who he was, so I answered for him. “I am Lord Atum, for not knowing me you may be forgiven. But,” I gestured to Heru. “This is a man whom all should know, for he is Pharaoh Heru.”
The man seemed not to care that a Pharaoh was standing beside him, for he simply nodded, as if to merely show that he understood me. “You should meet with the Lady.” he said, getting up from his seat on the edge of the village well. “She has been with us for many years and has kept us away from the outside world.” he remarked as the rest of the people made a motion to their hearts and murmured ‘the lady’ under their voices.
At this Heru and I both thought that some noble woman—perhaps one versed in the illusion of magic—had found this little town and set herself up as a goddess or a servant of one of the Gods. It had happened often enough before. I looked over at Heru, who nodded, so as to show he agreed to meet this Lady. “We would like very much to meet the Lady, before we depart for Saqqâra.” I told the man, who chuckled softly at my sentence, though I did not find out why till a while afterwards. Silently he lead us through the village till we reached a grand house that looked very much like the Temple of Amun in front of which my father had lost his life so many years before. Our guide, whose name I never learned, led us into the home, which dropped into what must have once been a cavern under the sands that had been made into a living area. We were left in a lavish sitting room which rivaled my own home, while our guide, the hem-netjer, went further into the home. Several minutes later he returned and almost pushed us through a heavy stone door, which closed behind us.
The area we found ourselves in was very tomb like, with wall murals depicting the afterlife and rituals. However, as we proceeded along the hall, these Egyptian murals slowly became Greek murals and then their were murals in a style I have never seen before. At the end of the hall a large cloth of blood red covered the doorway. We walked through without thinking twice. In the room in front of us there was a large bed, covered in red and gold sheets. In front of this bed, on a typical Egyptian style chair, sat a woman.
She had long red hair, which was kept in a single large braid that fell down her back. The braid had several gold threads woven into it and was held in place by a gold band that could have easily wrapped around my wrist. The woman’s eyes were the same green of Heru’s but her skin was pale...such a pale white color of skin was impossible to keep in Egypt and for that alone she might have seemed to be a Goddess. Her body was draped in a pale blue dress, of the style that the Greek women wore, with a gold belt and ties. On her head she wore a gold crown with red rubies and on her wrists and ankles were gold bands with rubies in them. Her ears were pierced three times, twice at the base and once as the top curve, and each hole was adorned with a gold hoop earring. Her feet were bare.
As we stood staring at her, she slowly moved so that her position in the chair was less like a statue and more like a human woman. “Greetings, Pharaoh Heru and Lord Atum. It has been a long time since the desert winds has blown me two such men as yourselves. Usually we receive slaves traders and every now and then a trader, but a Pharaoh and Lord of Egypt? That has not happened...” she laughed, covering her mouth with her right hand, “in a long time. So long that even I do not remember. Now...” she paused to look down, closing her eyes for a second before opening them and looking back at us, “you must wonder what manner of village we are, to have not heard of you?” she asked and I found myself nodding, along with Heru. “Three hundred years ago a noblewoman, Lady Afrikaisi tired of living in the cities with her elder brothers, took her slaves, servants and many common people and set out into the desert. With her was her beloved, a lesser Prince from the east, who was called Lord Jabari. They were called crazy and the other nobles believed that they would die and never be heard from again. But they succeed in finding a nice little oasis and they founded this town, Cyrus. They have ruled, in spirit, ever since. I am Lady Afrikaisi and this is my town.”
“Your family is blessed, to have lived here for so long without trouble.” I remarked. “Perhaps, Lady Afrikaisi, you would be so kind as to give us supplies for our voyage? We shall send you repayment of course.” I watched as, once again, the Lady laughed, covering her mouth with her right hand.
“You misunderstand my story, Atum.” Slowly she rose and the effect was not unlike a large jungle cat getting to its feat, beautiful yet terrifying. “I am not the child of Lady Afrikaisi and Lord Jabari’s bloodline. I am the Lady Afrikaisi.” As we stood staring at her, she laughed long and loud, but did not cover her mouth, revealing two pointed fangs. “This town is mind because I am Osiris’s child and I shall not have strangers making them think otherwise.” And before I could move to stand in front of Heru my vision went dark and I fell to the ground.

To Be Continued