Hanit the Enchantress

by Garrett Chatfield Pier

Rendered fairly dumb at once with amazement and joy, Sesen sat at Enana’s knees as if fascinated, her cheeks aglow, her eyes dancing with excitement, her lips parted as if she would drink in his every word.

This, then, was the reason of Enana’s feverish restlessness of late. Queen Thi herself, whom nothing escaped, had remarked it, had even commented upon it to Sesen.

Naturally, Sesen at the time could give no adequate explanation of the unusual behavior, the ill-restrained excitement, which seemed to agitate the wizened body of the old magician. And Queen Thi finally set it down as being due to loss of favor at court.

In fact, Enana had suddenly withdrawn entirely from all court functions. A faithful adherent of the great god, Amen of Thebes, and a brother of Huy, late High Priest of Amen, Enana could not but see in Thi and Pharaoh the murderers of Huy, his brother, and the implacable foes of Amen whom he loved and served.

So the shriveled body which Kathi had sworn was that of Hanit had been another’s. Sesen recalled that Enana had often remarked the striking resemblance which existed between the ex-Queen Hanit and the Lady Meryt.

It was Meryt’s body then which lay in its rock-hewn tomb back yonder swathed in yards of milk-white linens, encased in a triple cedar coffin glowing with gold and gem-incrustations! It was Meryt’s body which now rested in its huge granite sarcophagus, deep beneath the crumbling Western Hills! It was Meryt’s mummified form upon which she herself had placed that last sad offering, a chaplet of flowers, berries and leaves! Hanit, her beloved mistress, still lived!

Sesen could hardly follow Enana through the astounding threads of his story. She gathered that the ruse by which her mistress had been saved from certain death at Queen Thi’s hands had been Enana’s own, though its successful accomplishment had been due to the faithful Kathi.

Sesen begged to be allowed to visit Hanit, but Enana restrained her. He spoke of the terrible change in the demeanor of the once gentle and studious Queen. He spoke of her vindictive hatred of Pharaoh, of Thi and, more than these perhaps, of Menna, son of Menna, whom she considered the murderer of the prince, her son.

Since her escape from the Temple all her time had been spent in study, and that with but one end in view. Vengeance upon the trio whom she had such cause to hate had become with her an obsession.

It appeared that in the realms of black art Hanit had become the equal of Enana himself. Day and night had she pored over the lector’s rolls of papyrus, until each and every one of their incantations had become hers. She knew all the hidden spells of the Conjurers of Amen. She could part the waters at a word. Her ebony wand could cause grass to grow where no vegetation had lived before. Behead a bird or animal and, at a word from Hanit, it would spring to its feet alive and whole. Even the secrets of the masons and royal architects were hers. She knew the secret blocks of stone which, touched by even the weakest hand, opened or closed many a ponderous granite door of tomb or shrine.