Daughter of Isis - Lilian Nirupa (best ereader for pdf and epub .TXT) 📗

her up. Quietly she rose and went outside, walking dreamingly by the man-made lake that flanked the palace on the westerly garden. Lizla had spent many an afternoon listening to Ra-Ta’s lectures and following him in the chanting dancing exercises that celebrated the Sun’s departure in glorious colors in the Western horizon.
This time she was alone, or so she thought. Absentmindedly she sat by a marble bench beneath a palm tree whose melodic palm leaves offered a soothing rhythm for her stressed nerves. The shade of the palm tree and its quiet reflection on the water made her almost forget all the strange visions, when she overheard two familiar voices and a strange one, reaching her ears almost against her will.
Unaware of her quiet presence, sitting quietly facing the lake, the voices were commenting on the events of the week. The first voice she recognized was the one of Diogenes, the second was Aunt Lillie. There was another one that fascinated her. It had a melodious Persian accent and spoke in passionate tones. Lizla decided not to reveal her presence and quietly listened.
“The Sea peoples are formidable sailors, but have no chariots or land. Even their horses do not compare with ours,” Diogenes was saying.
“What do they want with us?” Lillie inquired.
Lizla was surprised to hear a tone of fear in her admired beautiful aunt. She had always seen her becoming the leading royal figure in many parties, full of confident smiles, exquisite perfumed aura and blinding golden jewelry.
“They are nomads,” the Persian was saying. “They envy the grandeur, riches, power and stability of your Egyptian kingdom.”
“But you cannot grow Kingdoms on boats,” Diogenes’s mind was as clear as his Greek accent, Lizla thought, remembering her own friend Mikos, Diogenes brother.
“No, but you can steal its riches and run – if you have that kind of tradition,” the Persian added gravely. “It is not easy to be nomads. They do not have our solid habits and possessions. They worship freedom and would feel suffocated in a city, palace or temple.”
The Persian voice had an almost poetic tone that Lizla found most intriguing. Still, the argument irritated her.
“Too free to build and harvest, but no qualms about stealing the fruits of others’ labor and stability?” There was no ma’at in that argument. She hoped Aunt Lillie would defend the same ideals. But she was disappointed that Aunt Lillie was no philosopher. “What can we do to stop them?” Lillie inquired anxiously.
“We need to find strong allies, like the Libyans,” suggested the Persian voice.
“But they are our traditional enemies,” ventured Lillie. She did not want to hear more. She missed her late husband. He had been a strong warrior and had lost his life defending Lizla’s father, the late Ramses IX, whom both princesses still adored.
Lillie ran to the palace, saying she had official duties to attend to. The Persian, whom Lizla learned was called Ramee, continued.
“I hope I did not offend the Princess. I assure you, it was never my intention.”
Diogenes answered, “It was not you; it was her memories. Her husband died in a furious fight with the Libyan who also killed the last Pharaoh.”
Ramee was very sorry after this explanation. “Now she probably hates me, how insensitive of me,” he mused sadly.
“Don’t worry,” her friend advised. “She is a mature although still young woman and trained in the way of court and politics. Actually, I find her rather intelligent for a woman. Her early widowhood and the tragedies on her family have made her more aware than other women. She keeps informed and is objective. She also loves the poetry of your countrymen and the beauty of the Persian tapestries. You should see her palace–” He held himself, as he was about to be indiscreet about their closed relationship. Ramee smiled softly and changed the subject.
“So what do you actually know about the Sea Peoples’ movement?” Ramee inquired. “I heard they were spies in the Thebes temples.”
Diogenes put his hand abruptly over the young Persian’s mouth.
“Be careful my friend. This garden has ears sometimes. Do you like hunting? Meet me tomorrow at sunrise by the Eastern Portal.” The friends parted.
Lizla got up and went to her room. She found a note from Mikos. He apologized for being sharp with her early in the morning. He was startled by the events but appreciated her friendliness and her company very much. He asked for forgiveness.
“There is nothing to forgive,” Lizla answered mentally. Mikos’ outburst was the least of her problems. She also wanted to meet him. She had a million questions on her mind and his refined logical and sharp mind was always a welcome relief to her psychic sensitivity and fiery imagination.
She sent an answer back, that she would like to meet him after dinner by the main fountain. Lizla changed clothes, put a new wax cone with lotus perfume on her long hair, and after washing her feet, she put on a new pair of silk sandals. They were from Persia, she remembered the merchant had told her on the last caravan fair where she had purchased them. She wondered what Persia looked like. The sandals were white with golden cords and were embroidered with pearls. She imagined a pair of hands with pearly rings and a soft voice with moon tones of pearl rings like the young man she had heard but not seen that strange afternoon. Obviously, Ketu was overcome by the Sun, but left behind his trail of mysteries. And those mysteries had been so consistent in the last three months. Lizla could hardly remember her “normal” life at the palace in Tanis with her younger brothers and sisters. She wondered how Mother was. Perhaps it was time to visit home. She hoped her family would not feel affected by the political intrigues she was hearing and envisioning.
After dinner, the soft procession of lute and papyrus vines celebrated the triumph of the Sun over Ketu. And the sky also celebrated with passion, Lizla thought, as she contemplated the glorious tones of golden and crimson clouds on the Western horizon.
Mikos arrived and could not help admiring her fine features made even more beautiful by the golden glow of the sunset on her skin and on her bright white gown. He called her name softly: “Lizla.”
Lizla smiled dreamingly as she pointed to a seat next to herself on the border of the magnificent fountains.
“What an incredible day, wasn’t it?” Lizla started, and wondered aloud if the eclipse, with its influence of Ketu over the sun had anything to do with their experience underground earlier in the morning.
“Who knows? Perhaps,” mused Mikos. “It was surely a day full of mysteries and I am not sure I can get adjusted to all this heavy mysticism.”
“It is not so common for me either,” Lizla said, while she thought inwardly: “There is nothing “heavy” about mysticism.”
But Mikos interrupted, “Oh you Egyptians are surrounded by Gods and mysteries. This is what I came to learn, but sometimes it is too much.”
Lizla smiled. Mikos did have a need to keep things organized in his mind and resisted the ways of the imagination. She did not fully understand why.
“If this is what you came to find, you should be happy; it is not so common. It is a blessing. Truly, our traditions have many Gods and legends. But actual experience is a blessing. We should be grateful to the gifts of heaven.” Lizla frowned a bit, after she considered her own advice.
Mikos laughed softly. “Oh Lizla, this is not what I mean, but the way you seem to go in and out of it, like nothing happened.” Mikos looked at her quizzically.
“In and out of what? Life has many faces. I don’t think we are in and out of anything, just experiencing many things... Some of them are easier to explain, truly, but some things are easy to explain are not always blessings.” And a cloud of fear and irony accompanied her last words.
Mikos thought about his encounter with his younger sister and agreed seriously. Sitting close to her, he contemplated quietly the last rays of the sun sinking behind the horizon.
Mikos decided to confide in Lizla about his concerns about his younger sister. He quickly related the encounter in the morning. Lizla was quiet to the difficult sharing and tried to listen without looking at him directly as she averted his gaze by looking to the floor.
Then she added softly, “Well, the same thing happened to my friend Mizzia, but her aunt helped her. What did you say to your sister? How did she take it? Is she all right?”
“She was crying like a baby. I tried to scold her, but she finally melted me down,” he said with a sigh of shame, for having lost his adamant older brother posture. Lizla was puzzled at first and then grew increasingly angry at him.
“You tried to scold her, when she came running to you in tears? She is alone, in trouble, in a foreign country, stationed in a foreign court? How could you be so cruel? She needs you.”
“Well, she always gets into trouble, even as a little child. She is the youngest of ten brothers and sisters. Her older sister is twelve years her senior, is married to a Greek general, and has three children. Annouk-Aimee was always the baby of the family and she did what she pleased, always disobeying. I remember she got sick at the age of six by eating a whole bowl of green grapes, and the day she marched an entire group of chickens on our mother’s clothes when Mother was preparing for a big feast. I was hoping some day she would grow up....But even when she does, she gets into more trouble.”
Lizla smiled at the thought of the mischievous child. She did not look it now. Lizla knew Annouk-Aimee, as the preceptor of Princess Lillie’s growing children. She was teaching them to read and write the Greek language. She seemed as intelligent and dedicated as a teacher. Lizla loved languages and had wanted to ask her for lessons. So she answered Mikos, “Well, maybe she was used to all this attention at home and felt alone in an Egyptian palace. You know, we are different. Our modes and our beliefs in ma’at and decorum are often misunderstood as coldness.”
Lizla added, “Also, Mizzia is taking care of the palace children and she loves to tell elaborate romantic stories. She caught my imagination, for a while too.”
Then she had an idea: “I always loved to learn new languages and Greek is important for learning and traveling. Do you think she would teach me? Maybe this way she could find a quieter friend.”
Mikos looked at her again with surprise and admiration. “Annouk-Aimee and you? I just can’t picture it. You two are so different.” He laughed softly and shook his head.
Lizla was not easily deterred. “Well, women bond easier than men, so my mother used to say. Mizzia is very different from me, too, and we were good friends.”
“Yes, and Ra-Ta did not like it, you said,” Mikos retorted.
“Well, my master was preparing me for initiation. But I would like to get to know your sister better.”
Mikos reflected. “Maybe it could work. She may need the softest advice of a young intelligent woman and would be proud to befriend a royal princess.” He decided to agree, but he added pleasantly, “Yes, it could work, but I have a favor to ask you. Can you please teach her to meditate? That could help her to mature a little faster, perhaps.”
Lizla laughed softly. “Here you are, judging the poor girl again. Just leave it to me, I’ll see what I can do,” she