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her back to her
prison.
    I stand up and state with head
bowed, “I humbly offer my testimony up to the Pharaoh.”
    Bastet looks worried, obviously
fearful that I’ll confess. She opens her mouth to speak, but I
bring a bent finger up to my lips subtly in message. She quiets and
smiles with her eyes as the guards take her away.
    “Certainly, priest, you may
speak.”
    “I have information that I cannot
withhold that may shed light on this daughter’s
corruption.”
    “Continue.”
    “About forty days past, my slave,
Nun, from house of Sokaris, requested a dream be interpreted by me.
As that is my priestly profession, I obliged, as any benevolent
master would. He dreamt of grabbing the wooden staff out of
Serapis’s hand and taking it for himself. I interpreted this to
mean my slave coveted something of Serapis’s. He continued on,
saying he took the staff and sailed downstream with it, a strong
portent of violence, as even laymen know. I told my slave a
different interpretation for fear of feeding his desires, but I
worried that an event such as this would take place as his dream
foretold. I have it documented in the scry book if the court so
wishes proof.”
    The vizier nods respectfully and
commands a guard to hasten to the temple to fetch the
journal.
    “On more than five occasions, I
have had my priestly linen loincloths taken from my dwellings when
only Nun had access to them. Of course, I flogged him for it, but
he confessed nothing. I have since dreamt that Serapis himself has
come to me, seeking vengeance for my slave’s violent and forceful
actions upon his Royal Daughter. After hearing today how she has
been disgraced, I know who is undoubtedly to blame.”
    “Where is this slave, Nun, from the
house of Sokaris?”
    “He is right outside this
court.”
    “Seize him! Sokaris, take the
guards to collect him and bring him to me!”
    As I walk out with the guards
behind me, I comfort myself.
    He’s a slave, of little use to the
world. I’m a learned and destined priest in the esteemed House of
Life. The gods would surely rather have my homage and service than
this lowly slave. Bastet committed no wrong. We simply made a
mistake and Nun would help us rectify it: a sacrifice for our
repentance.
    In the commotion, the crowds step
aside as the armed court guards march behind me. I see Nun sitting
cross-legged by the side of the building. He stirs and rises to bow
as if we’ll pass him. When we stop before him, he looks up,
shocked.
    “There is the accused.” I stare
down into his green eyes.
    They seize his thin, frail frame
and drag him into the court screaming.
    “Silence the prisoner!” the vizier
demands.
    One of the guards grabs a wool rag
and stuffs it into the slave’s mouth.
    “Are you Nun, slave of the house of
Sokaris?”
    Nun tries to spit the cloth out to
answer.
    The vizier shouts, “Nod or
shake!”
    Nun quickly nods with his eyes wide
in fear.
    “Have you entered the Temple of
Serapis, even though it is forbidden by the Pharaoh?”
    He again tries to spit the cloth
out.
    The vizier screams, “Nod or shake,
slave!”
    The vizier’s slaves fan him
furiously to cool his reddened face.
    Nun pauses here, hangs his
shoulders, and looks around at me, eyes narrowed.
    “Do you understand the question?”
the vizier shouts.
    Nun turns back and nods.
    “Answer, then! Have you entered the
Temple of Serapis, even though it is forbidden by the Pharaoh?” he
shouts louder as though Nun is deaf.
    Nun looks again at me, this time
defeated, and nods his head. The court is buzzing.
    The vizier then asks, after the
noise dies down a bit, “Have you wronged Serapis, committing a
crime against him, violating his Royal Daughter?”
    Nun seems torn by this statement,
and I smile inside, knowing that the wording is auspicious. He
shrinks further in defeat and nods. The room explodes with
noise.
    “Silence, or I will have the court
closed!” The vizier turns to his guards. “Bring out the
girl!”
    As