Queen of the Heavens by Kingsley Guy Read Free Book Online

from other lands say we Egyptians are obsessed with death. No, Tuya, we are obsessed with life, for death is but a transition to a greater life.”
    Neither my parents nor I asked for compensation for my healing work. We knew my powers were a gift from Isis and seeking payment might offend the Queen of the Heavens. Nevertheless, those whom I helped were generous with voluntary offerings of fine food and drink, farm animals, furniture and exquisite linen.
    I approached my calling with passion, and as time passed I sensed that Isis wished for me to expand my work to include Egyptians of every status.
    “You’ve allowed me to see noblemen and scribes, wealthy merchants and their wives and children but I also would like to heal the poor,” I said one day to my parents, who were surprised by my comment.
    “You must remember our station in life, Tuya,” Father replied. “It would not look good for you to mingle with the lower classes.”
    “They need more help than the wealthy, Father. Isis loves them as much as she loves the well-to-do.”
    “We have our reputation to think of, Tuya,” Mother said.
    “Isis doesn’t care about our reputation,” I responded.
    “Enough, Tuya,” Mother snapped. “Your father and I will determine who sees you, and you will not treat the poor.”
    I went to my room and sulked. I didn’t want to openly challenge my parents’ wishes, yet deep within me I kept hearing the message that I should not ignore those less privileged around me.
    One afternoon, after Pentu had tutored me in hieroglyphs, I found myself drawn to the city. I walked down the path that led to Memphis, then made my way through its dusty streets to the central market where people from all walks of life gathered to barter for food, clothing, adornments, and household items.
    “It’s Tuya the healer,” a merchant who dealt in fine jewelry shouted from the doorway of his shop as I passed by. “Because of her, I now walk without a cane.”
    A crowd began to gather around me as I continued down the street.
    “Will you help me?” a stooped man dressed in a fine kilt and wearing gold bracelets asked. “My back hurts terribly and the physicians have been unable to do anything about it.”
    “You must go first to my parents if you want me to assist you,” I told him. “I‘m here today to help the poor.”
    I spotted a sickly looking man in tattered garb sitting on a bench near a fish monger’s stall and walked up to him.
    “What’s wrong with you?” I asked.
    “I’m always tired,” he answered.
    “Do you work?”
    “I want to, but can do so for only a short time. I have no fields of my own to till, and people won’t hire a person who can’t toil from dawn to dusk.”
    “Lie down on the bench,” I commanded. “Find me a straw mat,” I said to no one in particular. Before long, a young woman from the crowd fulfilled my request.
    I placed the mat beside the bench and knelt on it carefully, so as not to soil my dress. I held my hands side by side, a finger length from the man’s skin, and ran them up and down his body. I could feel energy moving everywhere, except at his navel, where the flow was blocked.
    “For some reason, the food you eat gives you no strength,” I declared. I placed my hands on his abdomen and silently invoked Isis’ power as I directed the energy of the Cosmos into him.
    “What gods do you pray to?” I asked as I released my hands.
    “I pray mainly to Ptah,” he replied.
    “Gather coconuts and place one before a statue of Ptah each morning,” I said as the man sat up. “At dusk, lift the coconut above your head and ask Ptah for strength as you smash it on a rock before him. Then eat the meat all at one time. Do this for ten days without missing a day.”
    “This will heal me?” he asked.
    “If you truly are devoted to Ptah it will heal you.”
    “I will do as you say. I have no way to pay you now. Perhaps later, when I’m able to work I’ll be able to do