“He is?” I gave my father a skeptical look. I couldn’t imagine the almighty sun-god Ra making room in his Boat of Eternity for such a monster.
“Do you doubt me?” Father smiled and chucked my chin. “Someday, my princess, I will take you sailing down the river and show you the place where you were born, the place where the pyramid tombs guard the kings and queens of our past. That’s where the Great Sphinx crouches on the sand and rock, greeting the sunrise. You were born in one of the rest houses that stand near the temple where our own Pharaoh worshipped his divine ancestor. Before you were one day old, I brought you out into the light of your first dawn, held you up before the god’s eyes, and asked him to watch over you. He heard my prayer, and now he is your special guardian. I should have asked him to help you long ago, when your nightmares first began, but I wasn’t thinking. Will you forgive me?”
I touched my forehead to his. “It’s not your fault, Father,” I said. “He’s my guardian. I’ll ask him myself.” Then I yawned widely, making Father laugh before he carried me back to my bed.
The following night, before I went to sleep, I made Mery take me outside to the riverbank. There I stood, gazing downstream to where my unseen guardian kept watch over the splendid tombs of ancient rulers, until I found the right words in my heart to offer up to him: “O Great Sphinx, come into my dreams and don’t let the bad sphinxes hurt me!” It wasn’t much of a prayer, but the Great Sphinx must have made allowances for a four-year-old child.
It worked: That night, when the same old dream came back to trouble me, when the lions surged out of the sand that swallowed our house, when they chased me and caught me, when their faces became the faces of men and their fanged mouths opened to devour me, I didn’t scream. Instead, I stood my ground, stooped to pick up a rock, and threw it right at the biggest, fiercest one of all. The rock struck him squarely between the eyes and he broke into pieces like a clay jug dropped on stone. I grabbed more rocks and threw them as well, smashing sphinx after sphinx until my arms ached and I was panting like a dog at midday, but I was the only being left standing.
I did a little victory dance in the middle of that ring of shattered sphinxes until a shadow fell over me. I looked up and saw a sphinx so huge that he could have made a single mouthful of all the others. His human face was grave and severe, but somehow I knew that he wasn’t angry at me for what I’d done to the other sphinxes. I raised my right hand to my chest the way Mery taught me to do when we prayed to the gods and he … he smiled at me. It was a smile of approval as beautiful, comforting, and good as when Father smiled at me. Then a whirlwind out of the Red Land swept over the two of us, he vanished behind a curtain of swirling sand, and I awoke.
After that night, whenever I dreamed of lions, I was the one who ruled them. I dreamed of riding them through the streets of Akhmin, or across the desert, or even from the earth to the heavens. They became as tame to me as the cats who blessed our house, and they never hunted me again.
But no matter how far I rode them—to the ends of the world or the pathways of the stars—there was always a protective shadow over me. If the road grew too rough, or I became afraid that I had lost my way, I only had to glance up and he would be there, the Great Sphinx who had seen me born, the shadow of strength that was always near me.
Almost a year after I tamed my dream-lions, during the Festival of the Inundation, my life began to change as surely as the rising river changes the deepest heart of the Black Land.
The Inundation is always a season of wild rejoicing. It’s the time when the god Hapy, fat and generous, makes the river overflow its banks to bring new life to the farmlands. A good flood means a good harvest, a good harvest means we’ll have more than enough to eat, that our Pharaoh’s reign is blessed, and that the gods love us.
That year, when I was five, the priests of every temple in the city observed the rising of the Nile and declared that their prayers had given us a good flood and a fine harvest to come. All Akhmin filled the streets to celebrate the event with music, dance, song, feasting, and gladness. Sunlight flashed from the brilliantly painted walls of the temples and the enameled gold necklaces, bracelets, and earrings of the highborn men and women. The air was filled with a wonderful jumble of delicious scents from many food vendors. Everyone seemed to be laughing. Father carried me on his shoulders so that I could have a clear view of the festivities. I was pleased to be able to see everything from up so high, but when I caught sight of the older girls dancing, singing, and playing their harps, rattles, and tambourines, I squirmed like a fresh-caught fish.
“What’s the matter with you, my little bird?” Father asked, grabbing my ankles when I wriggled so hard that I nearly fell off his shoulders.
“I want to get down!” I cried. “I want to dance, too!”