Then they were surrounded by the verdant solitude of the banks. All the land was used, but Chloe knew from the “other” that most of it belonged to Hatshepsut, living forever! or the priesthood of Amun. Night fell quickly, drawing a sheet of silvery stars across the sky. They tied up along the bank, for no Egyptian sailed at night. Chloe pulled back the cloth ceiling, staring into the heart of the universe until, slowly, her eyes closed.
CHAPTER 5
The days passed quickly. Cheftu avoided her, and she spent her time watching the Nile drift slowly by. Occasionally she saw groups of children clustered by the bank, waving and shouting to the boat, responding to the proud royal standard. Egypt loved her pharaoh. Chloe had taken some of the papyrus she'd had cut for conversing with people, and she started sketching. The inks the Egyptians used were cumbersome, so one night she had crept across the sleeping bodies before the fire and took some charcoal. Sharpening it into a decent point took hours.
She spent the nights by torchlight drawing on her notepad the children's faceless bodies, the boats and trees and flowers. As Ra's light tinged the world pink and gold she would hide the pad and fall into a brief but rejuvenating sleep.
Days later Chloe strolled around the ship, observing the workers and the slaves, feeling strangely out of place and yet quite familiar. They were on a straighter stretch of river now, the view from the prow nothing but water, water, water. Chloe's mind had begun to blur with the fields of emmer, flax, spelt, and wheat.
Little huts stood on the embankments above the river, and the “other” told her it was where the rekkit and the Apiru lived in corvée, keeping the irrigation channels clear and the walls strong. The huts were easy to build, a necessity because during the Inundation everyone moved to higher ground. As the Nile overflowed its banks and flooded the entire plain, only stone structures remained untouched: the houses of the gods. When the rivers receded, the lower priests were responsible for cleaning and repairing the temples.
Chloe was amazed that the Egyptians simply accepted the annual flood. In fact, they looked forward to it. Once a year their lands would be flooded out. Once a year they would start from scratch. When the waters settled, they returned to the same place and rebuilt their mud-brick homes, everyone working together. The only places exempt from the rising waters were in the desert, like the City of the Dead, opposite Waset.
The City of the Dead, where the tomb goldsmiths, sculptors, and artisans lived, was far enough away and high enough up that some of the inhabitants had lived in the same houses for generations. To the Egyptian mind that permanence was amazing. Only temples and tombs lasted forever. All else was a pattern of destruction and creation, life and death. Inundation and summer. This consistent repetition bestowed power and meaning, for only the known cycle was considered worthwhile and of Ma'at.
After two Egyptian weeks on the water, Chloe had no idea where they were. They had not passed a large city in days. The blue sky hung above them, dwarfing the tiny craft on the massive river pushing toward the Great Green. Sometimes at atmu Cheftu joined her. He didn't speak much, but then again, to have a conversation with someone who was basically mute was difficult. The notepad was helpful, but a tedious chore for making meaningless, strained conversation.
She spent a lot of time watching him. On board he had not bothered with all the gold and jewels she had seen him wear in Waset, though he still wore elaborate eye makeup and a headdress. Chloe wondered idly if he had male pattern baldness. As far as she could tell, he lazed around. Maybe he was like a lion in more ways than one.
He kept trying new spells and potions to make her voice work. The last one had been truly horrible. She suspected it was some kind of animal urine mixed with a green herb paste, kind of like a rancid pesto. She gritted her teeth remembering Cheftu's insistence that she take it. Being unable to verbalize intensified her frustration. Cheftu said whatever he wanted and walked away, not waiting for her scribbled retort.
The sun was setting when she heard him behind her. “Lady RaEm.”
Chloe turned. His kilt and headcloth glowed in the fading light. She inclined her head in acknowledgment.
“We will arrive in Noph by tomorrow evening. I apologize for not keeping you better company this past decan, but perhaps you will allow me to remedy that tonight?”
Her quickly indrawn breath made him laugh, but without humor.
“Nay, my lady. I was thinking of a game of senet. There is a board in my room, and we can play here, under the sky of Nuit.” He stood waiting. “My lady used to quite enjoy the game,” he said, sounding slightly puzzled. “Has that changed in the intervening years?”
Chloe, fear of discovery welling up inside her, vehemently shook her head no. Cheftu sent a slave after the board, and they drew up stools at a low table by the bow. The crew were on the starboard side, eating and gambling, their normal evening's entertainment. Cheftu poured her a cup of beer and set up the board. Fortunately for Chloe, she had RaEm's memories of the game.
She won the first two rounds. The first was close, but Cheftu couldn't roll the exact number to get off the board and Chloe came from behind and beat him. Cheftu took a sip of wine, laughing quietly as they set up for another game.
He met Chloe's inquisitive glance. “I was remembering when I first learned how to play. It was my sixteenth summer, and some of us had escaped the palace tutor. Thut and Hat were still stuck in class, and one of the older half-brothers, Ramoses, was back from the field. He'd been on some campaign in Kush for Thutmosis.
“Anyway, we crept into the harem, courtesy of one of the royal cousins, Seti, and played a game of senet for… assst … not favors, but rather information. It was a titillating experience,” he said with a laugh. “The girls were a little younger than we were, but most had spent their whole lives preparing to bed Thutmosis the First. By the time we crept out, we were drunk with wine and half-insane with sensual knowledge. But we knew it would be death to be caught there, so we crept out of the palace garden and most of us went home.” He fell silent.
Cheftu sent her a quick glance and then devoted himself to the board. Chloe sensed his withdrawal but didn't know why. She reached out and laid a hand on his forearm, imploring him to continue his story.
He jerked away.
Chloe sat, fuming and embarrassed, before he spoke. His voice was cold “It is convenient you have no memory, is it not? At this point in life I imagine there are a lot of things and people you would rather forget. Unfortunately, I have to live with my memories.” He turned away, his profile etched in the torchlight. He spoke contemptuously.
“Everything and everyone are just pawns for you. Just another way for you to climb to the apex of power that you so deeply desire. Was it all a plot, RaEm?” He turned to her. “From the beginning, just a way to take my body and my soul to add to your collection? I confess I find the company distasteful.”
Chloe seethed… whether at Cheftu or RaEm, she couldn't decide. Whoever said that men were silent? Didn't discuss their feelings? What she wouldn't give for a little male repressiveness now!
Cheftu chuckled. “I believe Hatshepsut, living forever! should put you in the army, RaEm. You have more manipulative strategies than General Nehesi. The inconvenience of honor certainly does not hamper your methods.” His glittering gaze met hers, and Chloe felt his bitterness to her bones. “Will Nesbek meet with your schemes? Or does he even know?” Abruptly he turned his back to her, saying stiltedly, “Will your ladyship please retire? I find I am weary of your company.”
Chloe, with anger and tears mixed, stood up stiffly, gathered her cloak around her, and walked rapidly back to her makeshift room. She glared at the canopied couch as she wrapped herself in a robe. What could he possibly be talking about? What had RaEm done to this proud man that he could neither forgive nor forget?
At some point she had rejected him, that much Chloe knew. Why, though? She paced the tiny room until the crew's sounds died away. Feeling cooped up and stuffy, she put on her sandals a
nd crept out of her room. They had docked, so she crept down the gangplank and onto the sandy soil. She headed in the direction of an abandoned temple to her right. Remembering the last time she had entered a run-down temple, she paused and leaned against the wall, wishing desperately for a cigarette.
And a voice. Someone to hear her cries of frustration, anger, and loneliness. This was so different from being alone. In every city, on any flight, there was always someone she knew was like her. Maybe not the same nationality or religion, but with the same concerns and fears and joys. Oh, God, why was she here? No one knew her. No one saw beyond what they expected to see. RaEmhetepet, the hotshot, sleazy priestess.
The stars were huge in the night sky. As she walked, tears began to fall. Finally her sight was so blinded that she sank into the rushes, drew her robe close around her, and sobbed. Cried for the loss of family and friends. Cried for the hopelessness of her situation. Cried out for some guidance, some help, some direction.
She flinched when she felt a hand on her shoulder, but it seemed gentle. The bare chest it turned her to was wide, hard, and very comforting. A man's hand caressed her head, his fingers smoothing her hair as her tears poured silently, racking her body with emotion. He held her gently, and as her tears subsided, Chloe became more aware of the smooth warm skin beneath her cheek, the resonating heartbeat beside her mouth.
She turned her lips to it and felt the arms around her tense. Dazed by the adrenaline rush through her body, she kissed his chest experimentally.
The man drew in a deep breath. Goose bumps rose on her skin. Recklessly Chloe began to kiss, assuaging the loneliness inside. Slowly, her mouth round and warm on her comforter's silken skin, her arms tight around his muscled back, she poured fire and passion through her mouth. He groaned. She felt the pulse quicken in his neck and followed the buried stream across his shoulder and down his arm to the crook of his elbow. Chloe licked delicately.
“Sweet Isis,” he said in a ragged voice.
Chloe froze, the raging fire in her veins turning to ice. What the hell was she doing, necking with some stranger—make that ancient stranger—in the bulrushes just because he had an impressive set of pecs? Damn! She wasn't that desperate! The stranger sensed her mood, and she felt strong fingers try to lift her chin.
She pulled away. Then he kissed her, not abrasively, not commandingly, but the brush of a feather, and Chloe felt blood rush to her brain. Eyes shut tightly, she squirmed away, and the arms released her. Keeping her back to him, she raced back to the ship. She threw herself onto the couch to catch her breath and try to cool off before attempting to sleep. Emotionally exhausted, but physically frustrated, she tossed and turned on the Egyptian sleeping coach, finally throwing the headrest to the floor, and fell into sensual dreams of strong arms, ragged breathing … and a pair of golden eyes?
When she woke around noon they were approaching a metropolis on the west bank. Boats were tied for henti down the river, and the fields were the greenest she'd seen so far. As she watched she heard Cheftu's discreet cough behind her. She turned around. He was in court regalia: heavy gold earrings, a gold-and-white headcloth and kilt, and a huge, jeweled collar.
“We arrive at Noph,” he said, his topaz gaze on her face. “We will go to the temple there and see if the Thrower cannot heal that which he created. Please ready yourself. We will disembark after eating.” He inclined his head and strolled away, golden, glittering, and remote. Chloe immediately consulted the “other” about what to take.
Noph was the home of the god Ptah, who with Khonsu had created man on a potter's wheel, hence the name “Thrower.” It was also one of the holiest sites in Egypt and the former capital. RaEm's memory could not supply any details about what would be expected of her, so Chloe took her notepad, the notebook of her sketches, and a kitchen knife. Why, she didn't know. She just felt safer knowing it was there.
The boat drew up to the dock, or at least as close to the dock as they could get. Just like cruise ships from Chloe's time, the boats were tied parallel and those passengers farthest out had to traipse over and through those boats closer in. One of the slaves from the ship took Chloe's basket, and she followed Cheftu until they stood on the dock.
It was the first time that she had been among the rekkit. She knew it was something the real RaEm would hate, but she was intrigued. All the bits and pieces of information she had heard from Cammy over the years made sense now. She finally understood her sister's fascination with these people who treasured life so completely that they wanted it to continue in the exact same fashion for all eternity.
Last night's catharsis had definitely helped her attitude, she thought.
Cheftu's hand on her back burned through the linen of her gown as he guided her toward the litters awaiting them. Although she would have preferred to stand beside him in the chariot, led by the two prancing browns, she understood that would not be appropriate. However, her curtain was partially open.
They passed through the ornamental city gates. The stone lintel was high above them, but the surrounding wall was very low. Noph had never been invaded, and the gate was not so much a defense as it was a frame for the magnificent temple in the center of town.
They passed through a marketplace. Hawkers were selling everything from Canaanite oranges to small dirt figures of Ptah planted with grain and now growing. They were supposed to forecast one's harvest. Chia gods, Chloe thought to herself with a chuckle.
Every few moments a food vendor would pass, the aroma of his wares wafting to her on the warm air. Fowl was sold, both fresh and roasted; honey-baked rolls with nuts wrapped in their centers; the salted fish that was forbidden to Chloe and most of the priesthood; fruits and sesame candy. It was almost like any Middle Eastern souq, with a glaring exception: no coffee sellers and no radios.
They turned right before the temple, going down a large avenue lined on both sides with huge whitewashed mansions. Each was surrounded with a fence and gate, but a few gates were open, sharing with the outside world a glimpse of flowering gardens and refreshing pools. They jogged along, the heat and motion making Chloe remember her stomach in a most unpleasant way. Just before she lost her lunch, they stopped.
Was this another of Cheftu's houses? Chloe searched her “other” memory, but the details of Cheftu's life and family were not there. Apparently an emotional memory, Chloe thought.
Her third-floor room was decorated simply; a ceiling border and wainscoting of blue lotus were painted on the whitewashed walls. In the corners of the ceiling were ba -birds. Chloe stepped closer. According to Egyptian thought, the ba -bird was a part of the soul that could leave the tomb after the person was dead. It was represented as a bird's head and the deceased's face. She smiled softly when the “other” told her she was looking at Cheftu's mother and father in their ba -bird forms.
With a sigh she sat down. A pillow graced the plain and ungilded couch, covered in fresh bleached linens. Chloe grimaced at the headrest. She hated the damn things and was tired of wadding up clothes to pad them. Then she touched the pillow and it collapsed beneath her fingers. Goose down. Praise Isis!
There was a simple dressing table and stool, and a game board was set up in one corner. Fresh lotus scented the room, and the sun gave light through the slatted clerestory windows. Chloe saw treetops and heard the melodic calling of birds. Once again, Cheftu's home was a peaceful haven.
A slave entered and led Chloe up to the roof. Noph was to her right and the river before her, boats tied to the dock and all along the shoreline. She saw people toiling in the fields to her left—fields that stretched for miles. The slave erected a cloth screen around the tub, and Chloe immersed herself in the warm water, leaning back as the sun caressed her skin and the woman washed her hair.
When her fingers began wrinkling, Chloe got out of the tub and wrapped herself in one of the linen towels provided. She walked back down the stairs, her eyes taking a few minutes to adjust to the dim room. Another woman, older this time, was there, sharp
ening a blade. She crossed her ample breast and asked Chloe to seat herself. Chloe watched in shock as the woman brought out silver shears and began to cut RaEm's ebony tresses. Chloe would have bolted, but the merest thought sent a wave of paralyzing terror through the “other.” To refuse would be admitting she was a khaibit or kheft; kind of like a Salem witch refusing communion and thus sealing her fate. Chloe sat motionless as the woman shaved her head bald with a silver razor.
She rubbed a heady perfume into Chloe's skin—frankincense, Chloe thought as she was wrapped in a simple white gown. Fortunately there was a headcloth, so that she looked less like an egg. The woman outlined Chloe's eyes with red kohl. Not a good look; her green irises faded to gray by contrast.
The “other” told her that red was symbolic of flesh, and since she was going to the temple for a cure of the flesh, this was another depiction of her need. For a moment the thought of Cammy seared through her; what she wouldn't give for just ten minutes with the “other”! I've got to remember this stuff to tell her when I return! Chloe held on to that comforting thought as the alien processes took place around her.
They arrived at the Temple-of-the-Ka-of-Ptah at dusk. It was still late winter, and a chill breeze blew through the light cloak Chloe had been given. The temple appeared to be empty; yet Chloe heard echoes of voices beyond them. Built along the same plan as Karnak, it grew smaller and darker the farther into it they walked. Cheftu was several steps behind her as they passed through a towering cluster of columns, engraved with hieroglyphs so archaic that Chloe could scarcely read them. They came to a cross-passageway. Now it was almost totally dark. She looked over her shoulder and saw the white of Cheftu's kilt and headcloth. He motioned with his head to the left, and they continued walking.
Reflections in the Nile Page 11