The Scribe and the Lotus

Thut-nefer steps into the mud hut and pauses for a moment, allowing his eyes to acclimate. Standing in the rudimentary workspace he’d spent countless hours in before, he takes in the familiar surroundings: the sweet scent of the myrrh and frankincense resin, a stone slab, three large jars, and a number of reed baskets of different size and shape. Four birds lay on the stone slab, ready to be embalmed. The linen had been cut into strips of one cubit in length, and lay in a basket on the ground. Everything’s ready, now, for the final step in the embalming process, Thut-nefer affirms to himself. He checks the jars filled with frankincense and myrrh, and then the one full of natron salt, while waiting for Nar to bring the clay incense burner he was loading with hot coals. Nar steps into the doorway, temporarily blocking the sunlight from outside and casting a shadow over the stone slab. He reaches over and hands the burner to Thut-nefer, who carefully places it next to the stone. ‘’Get the incense balls from the small basket, put some on the coals, and sprinkle the ground with water and natron,” he orders. Nar solemnly obeys. Thut-nefer sits down cross-legged in front of the stone slab, and fishes out a rolled up papyrus scroll from amongst his things. He slowly unrolls the papyrus, waiting for Nar to finish sprinkling the ground with water. The incense smoke begins to unfurl itself in wispy plumes in the rays of light coming through the door. Soon, the room is enveloped in a thick, aromatic cloud. Thut-nefer takes a deep breath of the sweet scent and begins to read aloud, steady and rhythmic, almost melodious. ‘’A voice is raised in the northern sky, and wailing is heard in the marsh land, because of the voice summoning the blessed one. I am raised up to the place where Ma 'at is. I have flown up to them as a swallow, like Thoth; I cackle to them as a goose. ’’ He repeats, again and again, the same verse, until he breaks into a chant. Nar stands behind Thut-nefer, mesmerized by the words, unable to move. His eyes shine with excitement, mirroring the incredible love in his heart for this young scribe's chanting. Suddenly, Thut-nefer falls silent. Nothing moves, but the incense smoke dancing in the rays of the sun. Slowly, it winds its way down and out, being sucked through the opening at the base of the door -- liberated at last, it vanishes and becomes one with the outside world. The hut begins to clear of the smoky incense, and Thut-nefer begins to read again: ‘’I am he who rises and lights up wall after wall, each thing in succession. There will not be a day that lacks its owed illumination. Pass on, o’ creatures, pass on, o’ world! Listen! I have ordered you to! I am the cosmic blue lotus that rose shining from Nun's black primordial waters, and my mother is Nut, the night sky! O, you who made me, I have arrived! I am the great ruler of yesterday! The power of command is in my hand! ” Thut-nefer ties the final knot on the last ibis. He closes his eyes for a moment to relieve the strain, slowly reopens them, and lovingly looks at his work. He slowly nods in satisfaction. Nar, catching the cue, hands him two small pots of ready mixed pigments, each with its own reed pen. With a steady hand, Thut-nefer paints in eyes, beak and some feathers. ‘’How’s that?” he half murmurs to himself. Now, don’t move them until they’re dry, Nar.” ‘’You have improved greatly, o’ Sesh! You are a real master! Your hand is straight and your heart pure.” He pauses and turns his head toward the door.