Burnt Spring

v. the singing spring

The whole palace was in a gala mood of celebration. It was a day of colours, fragrances and melody. Laughter ringed in Seti's ears, the chiming anklets of Isis teasing him about his soon-to-be arriving bride.

Seti still couldn't see her. He had waited for so many days to behold her, but they wouldn't allow! It pained him. Was it wrong to request an audience with his to-be bride before the union took place?

"The surprise element would dwindle," Isis said. Seti, like a good brother-in-law that he always tried to be, listened to the queen. So now he sat in his room, being adorned by the servants and waiting in silence for time to pass swiftly.

He had drunk her beauty through words. The love he had for desserts proved to be devoid of moisture; he needed to be satiated by the rain of a marriage. So thirsty he felt now, like a bird flying endlessly in the infinite azure. He needed a nest, a place the warrior's heart could call home. Seti's culture had always placed superiority of love higher than anything else, and now he was going to embark on that journey.

Innumerable trumpets blew outside. The divine language of the flute spoke the words of passion itself. Harps struck by nimble fingers sent a rippling wave of joy through the air. Seti so wished to see her arrival, but here he was, sitting in a corner of his room, all ready and bejeweled.

He closed his eyes. Her perfume, the one which he used to sniff from the letters, hypnotised his being. It overpowered his senses, as if he could almost touch her skin and she was so, so close!

But with the sweet smell the news of a fire wafted to his nose. The air around him burnt, choking his voice and reddening his deadly eyes. He opened them to find himself standing in front of the room of Isis, all up in flames.

"The queen, somebody save her!"

He called out to everyone, but none spared his words some attention. The people, with eyes black as coal and body frigid as a statue, stared at him like possessed puppets of the wicked. From the crowd walked forward Isis– her face soaked in tears, lips puckered like that of a baby. Seti ran towards her, she too opened her arms to welcome him, but between them came the King– Seti's brother, Ausar. He sliced the breeze with his sword. His eyeballs had been painted white and he looked out of his senses. He attacked Seti in uncontrollable fury which even Isis' pleading could not hold at bay.

"You killed Neferneferure. You killed her."

The crowd chanted accusations. Seti blocked his ears and fell to his knees, screaming like an eagle struck to death. What followed was the song of a gong, then a lasting deafening silence. Out of the foggy darkness came the figure of Rahotep, his uncle.

"They blame you for attempting to kill Isis. They blame you for the death of your bride, who was in the queen's room. They blame you for everything."

Rahotep's figure enlarged like a demon's. Ausar appeared in front of him. The king's hands were tied to a rope, whose rein was in the grip of Rahotep.

"Run," Rahotep said. "Run Seti, before they can get you."

"I am not a coward!"

"You are going to die, Seti. They will send you to Neferneferure. Run Seti, run!"

"I will not–"

Seti woke up. Black spots were splattered throughout his smudged vision. He could ascertain the outlines of the cottage he was now, the pain in his feet was prominent, and a soft palm caressed his head.

"Oh my boy of the sun and sands, where do thee go?"

Seti froze. That song, it reminded him of the queen. She used to sing this to him when he would be sick. A pair of hands gently guided him back on the pillow.

"Oh my boy of the sun and sands, where do thee go?

The moon rises above thy head, the night falls

So late, so cold, where shall thee go?

In the hunt of a bride or a magical sword?

Neither shall you get so late at night

For the the bride sleeps in her mother's lap

And the sword rests in the demon's hilt

So my boy of the sun and sands, sleep, for it's now dark

The moon rises above thy head, and the night falls."

Before closing his eyes, Seti saw the face of Inanna, the same fragrance as that of Neferneferure's letters engulfing his subconscious.

"You were waiting for spring to arrive but it never came," she whispered.

Seti tried to raise his fingers and wipe Inanna's tears. Alas, her song pushed him to slumber.

"Sleep well, Seti."