The Apprentice Scribe

Sais, Egypt, 525 BCE, Pharaoh's Palace Court

I warned him in my apprentice quarters, but he wouldn't listen. Fabian, my Mieu, was stricken by lust disguised as love from Abigail, his muse. She was of the Pharaoh's royal house, Fabian of the Temple Scribes. Abigail knew what she was doing when she sashayed by Fabian swaying her cute butt and jangling the gold jewelry hanging from her lithe neck. Her yellow cat eyes would cut to and fro observing what admirer she had snared in her trap.

"Fabian. Abigail is of the Royal House and aligned with Pharaoh Psamtik III's daughter. Stop this idiocy before you are exiled and I am impaled on the palace walls," I said.

Crossing the open court to my assigned library station, where Fabian always followed me, I stopped. A royal entourage passed, and I bowed my head as was our way. Nitocris, the Pharaoh's daughter, paraded past. Abigail paced a few steps behind her. Her fluid movements were more of a prance and like the dance of an enticer. Fabian's eyes were locked onto the exposed curves of her body, and I heard the lustful low-pitch rumble from his throat. She turned her head as they passed and winked at Fabian.

***

I am an apprentice scribe and follow in the steps of my father as he did his father. It is my divine lot to live the same. I know my place as it is the way of Egypt for all souls to be, whether of royalty or slave. This balance had sustained our place in the world for over three thousand years. Pharaoh is our mediator, our Menes with the Gods to maintain harmony.

By knowing my place, I contributed to this balance. Fabian's dalliance with Abigail threatened my peace and my entire family's if he didn't stop. Abigail knew this and she had made clear she didn't care. She loved the chase, the capture, no matter who was destroyed. My greatest fear was the Vizier, the Pharaoh's right hand, and his cronies would discover Fabian's crime. I would be held accountable just the same.

"For the last time, Fabian, stay away from her," I said in the library. He stared back at me in cold silence. Was he staring into my soul or still trapped in the dream of Abigail's wink?

***

I joined my parents at their house for dinner that evening. Barley bread was served hot from the stone oven with sides of roasted garlic and onions. My appetite waned as I knew my father wanted to communicate a stern message to me. I could see it in his eyes and hear the tension in his voice when I arrived. My mother cleared the remnants of our meal and exited the room.

"Fabian has to go my son," he said.

"I have him under control father," I said.

"Several courtiers have told of him lurking around the Pharaohs daughters royal apartment last night. This will not do! Is that the control you speak of?"

"He doesn't respond to discipline father. What can I do? I am forbidden by law to harm him in any way."

"Damn Cats, will be the end of us," my father said and bowed his head and whispered, "Forgive me Bastet, my goddess, of my emotional transgressions."

We sat in silence for a moment.

"Let me clear. I will not allow Fabian to bring the house of Wadec down in shame."

"What can I do father? He is protected. I cannot address Nitocris regarding Abigail's wiley ways. The accusation would guarantee retribution coming from a lower house. I just want to be a writer," I said.

"I have a solution, but you aren't going to like it. Fabian must be quietly exiled and removed a far distance from the court. A cloister of scribes will travel to Pelusium tomorrow to audit the grain stores. You and Fabian will travel with them. Once there, you will release Fabian at the wharfs setting us all free of him without harm. With luck he may become bound to a ship and lost forever."

"I cannot do this father. I love him. You are asking me to forfeit my divine connection to the goddess Bastet and my soul will be damned for eternity," I said, "All of this for my family's gain?"

"Not gain, son, survival. The courts will believe that Fabian has just wandered off alone and lost a battle with a viper. Male cats disappear all the time," my father said, "have you not heard the Pharaoh's baker was recently demoted to the Pyramids?"

"Was that Abigail?

"Yes," he said, "It is the third illicit tryst this year. She is a temptress who takes great pleasure in the scandal for the attention she receives. It is obvious she has her sights set on Fabian to be her fourth victim."

My mother entered the room with a wooden box.

"I am in agreement with your father. Take this crate to secure Fabian until you are far away from here," she said, "Nitocris has attempted to breed Abigail with her brothers feline but each time she was already impregnated before the match could be made. The baker's feline was blamed."

***

The following day I rode a temple mule behind the team of scribes with Fabian in the box toward Pelusium. At a distance from the palace, he meowed his angry discontent. When the journey was halfway, his fury diminished to an eerie cry that haunted me to my bones.

While the other scribes slept that night, I slipped from the Pelusium fortress and outside its walls with Fabian. The narrow alleys felt alive with evil as shadows moved about with the dance of the clouds under the moonlit sky. It matched the evil I felt within my own heart.

Concerned that Fabian had refused food and water since his exile began, I worried for his survival. We arrived at the unattended wharves as the river Nile slipped quietly past. Water slapped the sides of boats as I unlatched the crate and pulled Fabian to me, face to face.

"Fabian, this is for your own good. Harm will come to you, which I will not allow if you remain as we were. You are sacred and divine. I am a good Egyptian and cannot raise a hand against you, even in discipline. Not only is it the law of the land, but my heart. Farewell, my dear friend, and I pray Bastet will forgive me of this crime," I said, set him to the ground, turned, and ran away, as my eyes filled with tears.

Hundreds of feet distant, I stopped and turned. Fabian's yellow eyes of contempt glowed, illuminated by the freshly unobscured full moon. When I turned my back to make my final escape, I did not see the Persian spy that had lurked in a dark corner. Nor did I see him swoop Fabian into a linen bag.

***

Months passed, and I had finished the last mark required on the papyrus for the day. Horns of alarm blasted in the distance and disturbed my introversion. In the hallway, scribes, young and old, scrambled toward the outer courtyard. An old scribe limped the same pathway and dropped some scrolled documents. I kneeled, assisted him in their recovery, and asked him.

"What is happening?"

"Haven't you heard? The Persian Army is approaching the fortress at Pelusium. Pharaoh's Army is marching there as we speak," he said and walked away.

As I stood, I observed Abigail at the end of the hallway leering at me like I was a snake, ready to slice me into parts with her claws. She slinked toward me to attack, knowing I could do nothing. A long hiss blew past her exposed fangs, and I backed up to the wall. Smelling my fear, Abigail crouched for her final lunge when Nitocris appeared behind her.

"Abigail, for the love of Bastet, what are doing? This is no time to play. I have searched for you everywhere," she said. Without acknowledging my existence the Pharaoh's daughter carried her away. Looking over Nitocris's shoulder, Abigail cat grinned, raised a paw to me, and flexed her razor-sharp claws.

In the courtyard, an announcement was made that all apprentice scribes must depart at once to Pelusium to witness and record the events of the battle to come.

***

Two days later, positioned atop the fortress wall of Pelusium, I recorded the setting before me on papyrus.

Under the bright sun and horrid heat, thousands of Persians faced the Pharaoh's Army of thousands. Multicolored Banners waved in the river's breeze like an international festival. Each was ready to spill the other's blood.

Set behind the Persians lay the lifeblood of Egypt, the river Nile. To the rear of Pharaoh's Army and fortress lay the bread basket of Egypt. The clarity of light allowed me to observe individual details of the Persians, including markings on their shields and tattoos on their faces. The stench of thousands of soldiers, horses, and corrupted dust offended my nose. The Persian's long front line marched forward with the beat of drums to meet the equal sized Egyptian Army. One hundred yards away, they stopped.

Pharaoh's Army lowered their long spears into a defensive position, archers strung arrows into their bows, and stallions strained against the bridles of the charioteers on their flanks. An eerie silence permeated the air as the field of battle had been set, a calm before the storm.

In each warrior's mind, a last memorial was given to days gone by before the launch of sudden violence and bloody death. The silence soon to be broken by the impact of body against body and the agony of metal into flesh.

A single Persian horn broke the false reverie, and their front line parted for the second row to move forward in their stead. The new front presented their weapons, and I gasped. Thousands of live cats were tethered to their shields by rope. The Persian drummers beat a cadence, and in sync, they took two steps forward and stopped. The beats resounded for two more steps. I stood, horrified. Our sacred creatures were tied to their shields, and we could not harm them.

"Where did they come up with this horrific idea? Have they no decency? Bastet will be wrathful," I said.

The distance closed pace by pace. Pharaoh's front line lowered their spears, and archers tossed their arrows to the ground. Twenty yards separated the two forces, and a thousand angry cats meowed and screamed at their discontent and anger. Frenetic, they slashed the air with their claws.

Egyptian spears were dropped, swords abandoned, and Pharaoh's Army dropped to their knees in surrender, for they feared the goddess Bastet and an abandoned afterlife more than defeat and death. It had been written and enforced for centuries. Felines are vessels of the gods, therefore sacred, and are untouchable upon the penalty of death.

I scratched notes onto my papyrus that I witnessed, barely recognizing the artful hieroglyphics of my own hand. My eyes honed in on one tall, bulked-up Persian soldier with Fabian tied to his shield. From a short distance, I believe he saw into my soul as cats can do. He smiled with malcontent as I heard his voice in my head,

"Screw you, and Abigail too."

I knew that today, I would die. All I wanted to do was keep writing.

*** *** *** ***

Author’s Note:

In 525 BCE, The Persian King Cambyses II crossed the river Nile and attacked Pharaoh's Army. Tying cats and other animals to their shields, the Egyptian Army would not engage due to their reverence for cats. They surrendered to the Persians. Without mercy, the Persian Army slaughtered Pharaoh's Army and eventually took control of Egypt. Thousands died, and Pharaoh Psamtik III ultimately committed suicide. His daughters were enslaved. To this day, cats in Egypt are revered. Thousands upon thousands run wild throughout their cities.

Video: The semi-feral cats and kittens of Temple Philae Island, Nile River, Egypt.

Thank you, Cathy Holmes for sharing the idea.

***

Pharaoh - Divine King of Egypt.

Vizier - Prime Minister, ran all aspects of the government for the Pharaoh.

Bastet or Bast- The goddess of Cats.

Abigail - The ancient forerunner of a cat living in Canada. Beware.