The mighty Ra, swallowed by Nut
slips fiery red beneath the western horizon
for the perilous journey through the night.
The sun god, Ra, was in a bad mood when he settled into the solar barque that would transport him through the underworld toward the dawn and another day of sunlight. This was a cycle repeated over and over again, and the nightly journey was full of strife and anxiety as he and his companions battled to keep the malevolent demon Apep at bay. The drone of rhythmic chanting and magic spells helped to protect them, while the war god Set provided defense in the prow of the barque. If Apep succeeded in his mission to keep Ra and the souls of the deceased from traversing the underworld to reach the Field of Reeds, chaos, destruction and darkness would descend.
As if it wasn’t enough to battle this monster, Ra now had to worry about the humans who were plotting his overthrow.
“Who do they think they are?” grumped Ra, to the council of the gods. “They break the laws and make fun of me. Don’t they understand that it was I, the almighty Ra, who brought order to the waters of chaos creating everything they hold dear, the land, the river, the very gods they worship? What shall I do? What shall I do?” he shouted.
“Calm yourself, my lord,” said the gentle goddess Nephthys. “Soon it will be time for you to cast your glorious light on the land again. The humans will wake to your warm sunshine, the crops will grow, the cattle will feed, the land will prosper. They are smart. Surely, they will understand that without you they will starve, that they will live in perpetual darkness.”
“Smart! Humph. Why did we gift them with this glorious life? Such ungrateful creatures.”
“Agreed, my dear father,” said Shu and Tefnut in unison.
Set pounded his scepter and spoke up loudly. “There is only one thing to do. Smite them. Destroy them all. What use are they to us anyway?”
“Well, for one thing, they worship us. They also offer delicious treats, lovely incense and sing beautiful incantations in our temples,” said the goddess, Isis.
“Set is right,” said Horus, for once agreeing with his uncle. “Humans should be annihilated. And I know exactly how it can be done. Summon the Eye of Ra.” Horus looked fondly at his wife, the goddess Hathor, in whom, below the surface of her fun, sensual nature, lurked other incarnations, including the violent goddess Sekhmet.
Ra was convinced. “Dismissed, all of you except for you dear Hathor. Set, get back to the prow. The night is not yet done.”
Set was happy to get back to his role of defender. He was in the mood for a good fight. His fierce battle with Apep that night caused the underworld to tremble and the sky to boom with thunder and lightning.
“My dear Hathor I endow you, as the Eye of Ra, with my powers,” said Ra. “I bid you when my morning light wakens the land, go out and destroy humanity.”
As ordered, Hathor waited for daylight and transformed into her aspect of the goddess Sekhmet. Her cow horns and beaded dress disappeared as she assumed the form of a lion-headed woman. With a mighty roar, she flexed her sharpened nails and descended in blood-thirsty lust on the unsuspecting mortals. All day she rampaged through the land, smiting, biting, sucking blood. Shocked by the violence of the assault, Ra called her, begging her to stop, but she ignored him and continued the savagery. Eventually, exhausted and sated, she fell into a deep sleep.
Ra was devastated by the horrific destruction that he had witnessed. “What have I done?” he wailed. “Humans are our partners. We strive every day to bring them joy and prosperity, not to destroy them. Now that we have evoked the bloodthirsty nature of Sekhmet, how will we stop her? We need to save those that are left.”
The council of gods quickly assembled to form a plan. They sent emissaries with urgent haste to fetch large quantities of red ochre. This was pounded into beer mash until 7,000 jugs of beer were dyed deep red. Ra ordered the blood-red beer to be poured onto the fields near where Sekhmet was snoring. When she awoke in the morning, thinking that the fields were awash in blood, she greedily lapped up gallons of intoxicating red beer, licking her whiskers in delight. She slurped and drank until she was so drunk that she passed out, curled up like a kitten against a temple wall.
After a long, peaceful sleep, she woke with the gentle rays of Ra’s sunlight caressing her face and was magically transformed back into the form of Hathor. The memory of her onslaught haunted her like a dark shadow. “My father Ra, what have I done?” she called in distress.
Ra, on his journey through the sky, answered. “Don’t blame yourself my dear one. It was Sekhmet that wreaked havoc, not you, and it was done on the order of your fellow gods. We have rescinded the order – never to be repeated. Remember your true aspect. You are the beloved Hathor, goddess of beauty, music and dancing, motherhood and love.”
Hathor gratefully accepted Ra’s words and at that moment she pledged never again to cause harm to humanity, but only to bring joy. Her good works can be seen everywhere, even today. And just for fun, she instituted the annual Festival of Drunkenness, a once-a-year indulgence of drink and foolishness.
Ra continues to sail through the sky each day and brave the perilous journey through the underworld at night. He observes human behavior with a mixture of joy and despair but is no longer driven to interfere in human affairs.
There are plenty of other forces intent on playing that role.
Published in Quillkeepers Press Mythos and Lore: Anthology of Authors, April 2024
