Never does one imagine that the very soul one trusts above all others would become the hand that delivers betrayal.
"It was not I who did it! Believe me it is false! My mother lies! Please, I beg you!" cried A-in, as the temple guards seized him by the arms. He struggled against their grasp, but the more he fought, the tighter their hands became.They dragged him from his master's estate, his cries echoing faintly through the courtyard.
"For the love of Ra, be silent!" one guard snapped, striking him sharply with the back of his hand. "The lady has already spoken as witness. Keep your tongue for the trial before the court!"
"Ha! You dare call upon Ra's name while you arrest an innocent man? Have you no shame left?" A-in retorted, his voice quivering between fury and despair.
"Shame?" sneered another. "This one talks too much. Drag him faster!"
As they pulled him along the dusted road, A-in cast one last look behind him. His mother stood where he had left her, her eyes fixed upon the ground. Not once did she lift her gaze to meet his. Whether her silence was born of guilt, fear, or indifference, he could not tell.
"Mother…" he whispered, but she gave no answer.
Temples of Ma'at were scattered throughout the Two Lands, from the delta of Lower Egypt to the far reaches of Upper Egypt. The temple of their own city stood at its very heart, neither grand nor humble, but solemn, noble, and ever watchful. Like all others, it bore at its center the statue of the goddess herself, welcoming all who entered beneath her gaze.
For the first time in his life, A-in beheld the face of Ma'at. Never before had he set foot beyond his master's property, no slave did so without leave. Thus had he lived and labored all his years without once offering worship to any god or goddess.
The statue was wondrous to behold. A feather covered the eyes of the divine woman, and in her hands she held a great scale. Upon one side lay a heart, upon the other, a feather.
A-in remembered the tale his father had once whispered to him in secret, the tale of judgment after death. When a soul departs the mortal world, it journeys across the Duat until it reaches the Hall of Two Truths. There stands the scale of Ma'at. On one side rests her sacred feather, light as purity itself, upon the other, the soul must place its heart.
If the heart weighed lighter than the feather, the soul was judged pure and granted another life, to be reborn upon the earth. But if the heart proved heavy, laden with sin and falsehood, then the feather would rise, and the monstrous hound, Ammit, would devour the heart whole. The soul would vanish utterly, condemned to nothingness, forgotten even by memory.
As the guards dragged A-in past the towering statue, he lifted his eyes to her calm, unseeing face. A thought struck him like light from the sun. If this goddess truly holds the scales of truth, might she yet deliver him from this cruel injustice?
Then silently, fervently, he prayed…
Glory to Ma'at, keeper of order and guardian of the cosmic law. Look upon this lowly slave, falsely accused of a sin he did not commit. Hear his plea, let his heart be weighed, that truth may stand revealed. Grant him the freedom of the innocent.
He did not look away. His gaze clung to the statue as though his very soul depended upon it, eyes burning with despair, yet bright with fragile hope. He stared until they had passed beyond her sight, and only the echo of his prayer lingered in the still air.