Cascadia

4. Queen of Heaven

The glow of the torches from the approaching skiff alerted the great Queen of the men's arrival. They had finally reached the island. And they were late. Sopdet was nearing its zenith and the prestigious woman required her husband's seed if she were to have any hope of conceiving an heir.

The queen turned to the young maiden beside her, nubile and starry-eyed and eager to serve. "Go down and help our guests. Find out if they bring me what I require. If they have failed in their search, cut their boat adrift let the eddies and rapids claim them as punishment for their failures."

"Yes, my queen." The maiden gave a bow and hurried away into the shadows of the western colonnade, her bare footsteps slapping against the cold limestone.

Clutching the lapis amulet around her neck, the queen watched through a clerestory in the mudbrick as the skiff made land. The distant shapes of the crew looked like tiny figurines leaping into the water, each clutching a line of hemp rope as they anchored their boat to a small dock jutting out from the rocks. Their shouts rang through the crisp evening; their vulgar speech could be forgiven so long as they'd accomplished the task set out for them.

A burning torch cutting through the night gave away the location of her handmaiden. The queen watched as the energetic young woman quickly moved down the winding path toward the water. A tall man climbed up the rocky shore to meet her. Words were exchanged, as was a small package that passed between the sailor and the maiden.

The young maiden's return was marked by loud footsteps growing in volume as she darted the entire length of the colonnade to reach the queen. Impatiently, the queen waited for the maiden to catch her breath. Without speaking, she handed the queen a small golden cube with the symbol of an ankh inscribed on each of its six sides. The queen took the cube into her possession and turned it over in her hands, inspecting each angle carefully. There appeared no way to open it.

"Fetch the high priestess and bring her to me at once," commanded the queen as she traced her finger along each edge of the cube.

"Yes, my queen." With a short bow, the maiden once again scurried off to fulfill the royal request.

The queen continued to inspect the cube, examining each of the immaculately engraved ankhs for a clue. Time was of the essence. She didn't have the patience for these little puzzles. The kingdom verged on the brink of destruction, leaving this one chance to prevent it. She didn't care to think of what might happen if she missed her opportunity to conceive an heir to the throne. She refused to allow her brother – as evil and as contemptuous a man as had ever lived – to claim victory. But this wasn't about the kingdom or its people. It wasn't about good versus evil. This was about vengeance. Her husband had been brutally murdered. For that, his killer would have to pay.

When the handmaiden returned, she was accompanied by a bald woman wearing robes of fine, white linen and a sash draped over her shoulder made of leopard skin and inlaid with brightly shining gems.

"How may I be of service?" The high priestess gave a respectful bow.

The queen presented the priestess with the golden cube. "I seem to be having some trouble opening this box."

The high priestess appeared perplexed as she examined it closely. At last, she proclaimed, "Forgive me, oh holy queen, I am flattered that you seek my counsel on such a matter, though I do not know what power you believe I possess that I would be capable of solving this riddle when you yourself cannot."

"Useless mortals," the queen muttered under her breath as she snatched the cube back from the priestess.

"I offer apologies, my queen." The shamed priestess cast her eyes downward. "I did not mean to offend."

"Ready my barque and await me at the shoreline," the queen instructed. "I'll be there soon to accompany my husband to Abydos. I require a few moments of preparation."

The handmaiden and the priestess bowed in unison before rushing off to perform their duties.

Beyond the beautifully painted pylons, the queen stepped into a great hall made of granite and limestone; enormous columns supported the high ceilings, each one etched with an impressive array of hieroglyphs and the cartouches of her kin. The pleasant aroma of frankincense, myrrh, and kyphi filled her nose. She passed through the vestibule at the far side of the room and into a candlelit sanctum. She stopped at the bottom of a great stairway and took a moment to collect herself. She climbed each step leading up to a giant slab of rock where the poorly reconstructed body of her husband had been laid to rest.

She held the cube in her hands, glad to have finally found the missing piece she needed. Now if only she could figure out how to open it. First, she tried smashing the cube with a large rock, hammering at it until the rock began to chip and shatter into several tiny fragments. Infuriated, the queen held the golden cube over the flame of one of the many torches surrounding the altar, but regardless of how long she held it over the heat, the cube never seemed to grow hot. She spoke to it using spells, incantations, and petitions, but these also proved unsuccessful. Overcome with frustration, she let out an exasperated scream that shook the very foundation of the temple. Clutching the golden cube to her chest, she began to weep, pleading for it to grant her access to its contents.

A single tear crept from the corner of her eye, gliding silently down her cheek and around the curve of her frown to dangle precariously from her narrow chin. It hung there momentarily as if contemplating a final leap into nothingness. At last, it plunged downward and splashed against one of the inscribed ankhs and was immediately absorbed into the precious metal. With a click, the lid of the cube sprung open to reveal the decayed shape of her husband's phallus wrapped in silk.

Overcome with joy, the queen unwrapped the precious item and held it up in the light to admire it. She cleansed it with the smoke billowing from the incense holders surrounding her husband's body before anointing it with a special oil she'd prepared just for this occasion.

She removed her sheath dress and stood naked before her dead husband, rubbing herself into an aroused frenzy before climbing onto his corpse. Delicately, she straddled his body as she leaned back and inserted his limp fallow between her legs, engulfing all of him within her womanhood. She then leaned forward and pressed her warm forehead against her husband's cold brow. Her hips glided back and forth, quickly gaining momentum. She could feel him inside of her, could feel his yearning and need for release. When her mouth was placed against his, she quietly spoke the secret words, forcing her breath into his lungs. In that fleeting moment, as a final act of love for his wife, her reanimated husband spilled his seed into her womb.

When she touched her palms to her belly, she was sure that her husband had blessed her with the heir required to reclaim the throne from her wicked brother. He would pay for the terrible things he had done to her beloved, on this the queen was more than adamant. Her heir would have the power to set things right. The queen knew her brother was a powerful man with great reach and unlimited resources, and she knew he would never stop trying to regain control of the two kingdoms; his influence was all-consuming and would not be satiated until it had devoured everything in its path. But the queen also knew it would pain him deeply to lose against her – how severely it might wound both his pride and his reputation with the mortals. The failure of her brother was the only acceptable outcome, and the queen had no qualms about playing dirty to strengthen her odds against him.