The Age of Ra

31. Influence

For the first time in memory, Mandet, the Night Barque, has carried an onboard complement of more than two. Ra and lion-headed Aker, its usual crewman and passenger, have been joined by the entire Pantheon for the nocturnal journey through the realm of the dead. Their main aspects ride the boat, confined there in accordance with Ra's will, and none of the gods has enjoyed the voyage, especially not Anubis. The others grumble about the darkness and the bitter cold, their voices echoing sibilantly off the stone walls of the caverns through which they are passing, and Anubis grumbles about their grumbling. This is part of his kingdom, after all. Who are they to criticise it so? He doesn't go to their realms and complain about the brightness and warmth, does he?

Arrival at the eastern gate of heaven and transfer to Mesektet, the Solar Barque, does little to lift anyone's mood. Suspicion and resentment continue to bristle among the gods. The traitor has not come forth. No one has made it known that he or she is the Lightbringer's divine ally. Ra expects the culprit to own up. It would be the proper thing to do. He cannot force a confession out of anyone, but he believes guilt must surely be preying on the conscience of the individual in question and will prick the truth out of him or her in due course. Everyone just needs to be patient.

Apophis rears out of the river, and Set duly leaps to grapple with him. As he does so, one of Horus's children, Hapi, can be heard to remark, ''There's your man, if you ask me. Great-Uncle Set. Who else could it be? A known deceiver. A prince of lies. With a track record like his — of course it's him.''

When Set returns to the boat, bloodied from battle, he heads straight over to Hapi. Grabbing the androgynous young godling by the throat, he hoists him off the deck. Hapi's long hair flaps around and his pendulous breasts quiver as Set holds him aloft.

''I have sharp ears, girly-man,'' he says. ''If you have an accusation to make, make it to my face, not behind my back.''

Hapi gargles, clutching his great-uncle's forearm, trying to claw his way out of Set's grasp.

''Reckon I'm the one, do you?'' Set goes on. ''Well, think about it. The Lightbringer's people hurt Wepwawet. My grandson. Right now they're fighting Nephthys. My wife. Why, then, would I be collaborating with him? Eh? Eh?'' He shakes Hapi about like a dog with a rabbit. ''Why? What do I gain? It makes no sense.''

In a paroxysm of fear, Hapi's bladder lets go. Urine sluices down the insides of his legs.

Set sneers. ''The God of Inundation. Bringer of the Flood. Pissing himself. How apt.''

Horus appears at Set's side and appeals to him to put Hapi down.

''I thought you couldn't abide your children,'' says Set.

''Can't control them,'' says Horus. ''Not quite the same thing. Besides, I am still their father. Hapi spoke foolishly. He meant nothing by it and regrets it now. Don't you, Hapi?''

Hapi nods as best he can with Set's hand locked around his neck.

''So, my dear Uncle, begging you kindly, would you let him go?''

Set glares at Hapi, then with an inclination of the head to Horus, a mark of his newfound esteem for his nephew, does as asked. Hapi tumbles to the deck and lies there in a heap, wheezing for breath. Set turns smartly on his heel and makes for the bows, where he keeps a basin of water so that he can wash off Apophis's blood.

Ra scowls. A disagreeable episode, and there will be more of its kind if matters continues as they are. Tempers are fraying. But he cannot back down. His path is set. He must stand firm. The guilty god will be identified. It is only a matter of time.

Meanwhile, Osiris has drawn Isis aside for a quiet word.

''I don't know about you, Isis,'' he says, ''but I'm not prepared to sit around on this boat for who knows how long, waiting for something that might not ever happen. I won't have it. Ra cannot treat us in this way. Keeping us here like a teacher holding the class back after school because someone placed a tack on his chair…''

''It's a little more serious than that, dear.''

''Even so, I find it insulting. Demeaning.''

''It's Ra's will,'' Isis counters. ''He is the All-Father. We must do as he asks — however misguided what he asks may seem.''

''If we were to just up and leave, though, how could he stop us?''

''He couldn't. But think about it. Anyone who left would immediately have suspicion fall on them. It would be seen as being tantamount to an admission of guilt.''

''A fair point,'' says Osiris. ''Then let me confess something to you.''

Isis's jaw drops. ''Osiris! It isn't you, is it? You're the one who's been helping the Lightbringer? It can't be. Why?''

''No. No! It isn't me. And keep your voice down, will you?'' Osiris glances around. Luckily no one appears to have overheard his sister-wife's outburst. ''Just listen for a moment. I did leave the boat last night. Only briefly. I sent out a tiny aspect of myself to the mortal realm. It was such a minuscule amount of my essence, nobody could have noticed.''

''I certainly didn't, and if I didn't, I doubt anyone else did. Where did you go?''

''To where the Lightbringer is battling with Nephthys's worshippers, at Megiddo.''

''Why?''

''One of ours is down there. Can you not feel him? An Englishman. He's embedded among the Freegyptians.''

Isis turns her gaze inward, searching. ''Yes. I feel him. There he is. His name is David Westwynter. I see… I see he has been such a troubled man. A conflict in him, between what he feels he ought to be and what he is. Given so much by birthright yet always wanting something else, something both more and less. Assured and accomplished on the outside, but like an unhappy boy within. A slave to his own sense of duty. What is he doing there, fighting alongside the Lightbringer?''

''That I can't work out. They seem to be related somehow, but everything connected with the Lightbringer is so imprecise. As Ra says, there is an opacity about him, and it extends to those around him. But when visiting the Westwynter man in his sleep, I detected within him a simmering dislike of the Lightbringer. There is bad blood between them, and it is something I thought I could exploit. And did.''

''Osiris, what have you done?''

''Not much,'' says Osiris. ''Merely planted the germ of an idea in his mind. He was once quite devout. Then he drifted from our influence. I have tried to anchor him once more, remind him of certain values.''

''How will that help us?''

''It may not help at all. Mortals have free will. They do not always do as we desire. But if everything works out as I hope, we shall soon be off this barge and able to return to our palaces.''

''The Westwynter man…''

''… has become a potential catalyst for change. If human nature takes its course, and I think it will, the Lightbringer will soon be out of the picture.''

''And with him gone, the stalemate that reigns here will be resolved,'' says Isis, understanding.

''Just so. No Lightbringer, no need to worry about which of us has secretly been helping him. The point will be rendered moot.''

''Ra will still want to know who it is. He won't just let the matter drop.''

''But it won't be of such urgency any more, and Ra will be hard pushed to continue to justify keeping everyone here. He'll have to let us go, and if he wants to pursue his detective work, he can do it in his own time.''

''It may be,'' says Isis, ''that once the Lightbringer dies, his godly benefactor will realise that the game is up and admit responsibility.''

''That may happen too. Either way, this will all be over.''

''Osiris.'' Isis clasps his face and kisses him hard. ''You're a cunning so-and-so. I love you.''

''And I you, sister-wife. Now, let us rejoin the others and wait to see how things play out.''