Reflections in the Nile

by J. Suzanne Frank

  CHLOE'S EYES OPENED TO TOTAL DARKNESS. She felt pressure in her head and chest. The room was so stuffy! The very air was palpitating. Slowly she sat up, trying to control her slight nausea. She still had not adjusted to the total darkness. She shuffled to the garden door and leaned against it, listening. The peaceful crooning of the cicadas was gone. Some other noise had drowned it out, a sound she could not place.

  She looked up, her mind clearing a little. The clerestory windows that made the room comfortable were blocked off. Strange. After she'd opened the garden door, she rubbed her eyes, trying to reconcile what she saw with what she thought she saw.

  Before she could, a cold, clammy something brushed her naked leg, then another something. Chloe squealed and ran for the couch, squashing something yielding and damp under her foot.

  Her cries brought Meneptah, who flooded the room with light. Chloe's eyes adjusted, and she saw the floor was alive with amphibians. They created a path for Meneptah.

  “My lady,” he said, “take my arm and I will lead you out.”

  Chloe stood on the couch, kicking off the frogs who dared jump up. Disgusting! Meneptah offered his hand, and she stepped down gingerly. They walked slowly toward the door, and Chloe noticed the frogs did not come close to Meneptah but crowded in on her. There must be a hundred of them!

  She saw the open garden door and more frogs hopping into the room. Chloe and Meneptah joined Ehuru in the frog-cluttered passageway, progressing slowly to Cheftu's frog-free apartments. She tried not to step on them in her bare feet, but they were everywhere. The gushy feeling of crushed amphibian flesh made her shriek every time. Chloe blamed her reaction on the shock of the situation. At least that was what she rationalized to herself. In reality it was the frogs’ size, coupled with their defiant stares daring her to step on them, that she found so disconcerting. She wasn't up to a staring match with anyone, particularly a frog. She ground her teeth and stepped carefully, cringing to Meneptah.

  They reached Cheftu's door and Meneptah stood before it, barring it with his body. The frogs did not jump past him. Chloe ducked under his arm and slipped into the room.

  Not a frog in sight. Meneptah closed the door behind them.

  She looked around Cheftu's apartments. “Where is Lord Cheftu?”

  “He is in the audience chamber with the Apiru and the prince,” Ehuru said. ‘Thutmosis is asking the Apiru to intercede with their god and take away the frogs. My lord,” he said, “claims that this god will take them away at the prince's request.”

  Chloe nodded.

  “Now, my lady,” he said, “please rest in the adjoining room and I will wake you when he returns.”

  Chloe yawned and followed him into the next room. After days of no activity, the gauntlet of a froggy hall had been wearing. She was so tired that even the headrest felt good.

  CHEFTU ENTERED THE SMALL TORCHLIT CHAMBER. The walls were painted with the traditional scenes of Pharaoh smiting his enemies, with Thut's substitution of his dead father as pharaoh instead of Hatshepsut, living forever! A small but notable defiance, Cheftu thought. He bowed slightly to the other nobles milling around the room. After accepting a cup of date wine from one of the beaded servants, her eyes downcast as she moved among the men, he joined the others waiting for Thutmosis. The seven days of frogs had been awful. Thankfully no one had died from any poisons they might carry. It had just been inconvenient.

  Never in his life had so many frogs left the Nile, though it was not uncommon for them to reproduce and overrun small areas from time to time. It happened infrequently and thus held no true significance. These frogs had been bigger and more aggressive than any he could remember a deliberate snub to HenHeqet, the Egyptian goddess of conception and procreation, who was often depicted as a frog.

  They stood as Thut entered the room, his titles intoned by a young soldier who also served as chamberlain. Cheftu found it interesting that Thut was dressed in his nightclothes—yet another way to scorn the Apiru—even if he did have to beg their mercy.

  “Prince Thutmosis,” said Balhazzar, “what shall happen?”

  Thut seated himself and motioned for wine. “I have the Apiru's word that, as of tomorrow, there will be frogs only in the Nile.”

  The magi's faces broke into grins. One of Thut's confidants said, “They were not pleased that you would not let them leave to worship their god. How do you intend to avoid further curses?”

  Thut drank deeply of his cup and then wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “I shall refuse to see them.”

  Affirmative murmuring greeted his comment.

  “The times when this god has confounded us, he did it in the form of Ramoses and Aharon. So I shall simply refuse to see them.” It was quiet. “The real problem,” Thut said, “will be the dying frogs. We must organize means to dispose of them.”

  He motioned for a scribe and a map of the area. The rest of the night they created shifts and wrote directives to all the lords in the neighboring nomes, with strong suggestions of how to get rid of the millions of dead frogs on the morrow.

  WASET

  HATSHEPSUT TURNED IN SENMUT'S ARMS. Ra's rays were journeying across the golden floor, and she could hear Hapuseneb and his priests chanting at the door as they had every morning since she had crowned herself pharaoh.

  “Awake in peace, thou Cleansed One, in peace!

  Awake in peace, thou Reborn Horus, in peace!

  Awake in peace, thou Eastern Soul, in peace!

  Awake in peace, Harakhti, in peace!

  Thou sleepest in the barque of the evening,

  Thou awakest in the barque of the morning,

  For thou art he who soareth over the gods.

  There is no other god who soareth over thee!”

  Senmut's dark eyes opened.

  “The god's greetings to you, precious brother,” she said softly. His lips twisted into a slow smile as he brought her face to his, slowly exploring her lips. Hat kissed back for a moment, distracted. She sat up abruptly. “Brother! What do you hear?”

  He concentrated for a moment and said, “Nothing, save the passion flowing through my veins. Come to the couch”

  She sprang away and walked to the garden door. Cautiously she opened it. Silence. “The frogs are silent!” After calling for servant girls, she rapped on the door and notified the soldiers standing guard that she and Senmut would go for a chariot ride this morning.

  He was gone when she returned.

  Senmut joined Hatshepsut at the stables, where her horses stamped with impatience. He took in her abbreviated kilt and the red leather collar that just brushed the tips of her gold-painted breasts. She wore matching sandals, gloves, and a close-fitted crown with Egypt's cobra and vulture embossed in gold. He leapt nimbly into the gold chariot beside her, and they were away, Hatshepsut at the reins.

  They raced away from Waset, up the Nile. It was glorious to feel Ra on their backs, to have the freedom of this moment. Hatshepsut turned wide of Waset and headed into the desert, the tiny chariot kicking up sand and careening wildly in the uncertain medium. Senmut leaned forward and kissed the straining muscle in her left arm, then settled back for a long, hot ride. The desert terrain flashed past, pale gold sand in undulating mounds, canopied by the turquoise blue of the endless sky. Hours later she let the horses slow as they came to the enormous rock face.

  She turned to him, a smile on her wide lips. “Show me the progress, architect!” He stepped down and walked to the far side of the face, kicking back a pile of rocks until Hat could see the dark opening beyond. She followed as Senmut crawled down the ladder carved into the wall, and they were in darkness. Only the rhythmic chanting of workers in some other room indicated this was anything other than a cave. Hat's lips met his in a sweet and passionate kiss as they clung together in the dark.

  In their tomb.

  Senmut took the reins on their return, and Hat leaned against the side. “What is it, love?” he asked. Her eyes were filled with tears.

  “I
was thinking of the painting.”

  He had done it, a vision of their joined afterlife, as a gift to her. Afterward she had made love to him in the darkened dust, slowly and patiently, still as treasured as their first time together, when he had come to her, after the death of her husband and half-brother, Thutmosis II.

  The stench met them before they saw the water. The frogs. It was as if Amun-Ra's hand had touched them in one moment and they had all died—all the different kinds, at different stages of growth. Already their bodies were alive with other life, spewing forth the maggots and flies that could quickly become a deadly epidemic. Senmut swatted away the clustering flies from his eyes with the leather flail of his office.

  The rekkit had swept together the carcasses and left them to further rot in the sun. The smell was overpowering. Senmut looked to Hat, offering her his sop cloth.

  She looked at him coldly. “The rest of Egypt must suffer; why should I bury my nose in a perfumed cloth? Drive slowly.”

  They passed through many small villages on the bank of the Nile, each with piles of rotting frogs. By the time they reached the palace gates, they were accustomed to it.

  GOSHEN

  THE FEAST WAS MANDATORY. Thut, in an attempt to raise a nervous morale, had planned a fantastic celebration. RaEm was still abed, recovering, but Cheftu's official presence was required. His glance flitted from one small table of nobles to another. He was certain one of them had placed Basha to kill RaEm, not to mention abort the child. Cheftu drank from his cup. Who was the father? Where could he be? Had he fled? Cursed cowardly swine, Cheftu thought. Impregnating her and leaving her alone to face the consequences.

  He saw a servant enter and present Thut with a beautiful glass vial. The room was full, perfumed cones melting, their sweet scent mingling with the hundreds of bouquets of fresh flowers. Amidst the laughter and feasting, Thut opened the jar, apparently a gift, and poured it out.

  Dust.

  Cheftu could still see the grains falling through the air when they came to life and dispersed from the table. Nobles and slaves alike began to swat and slap, trying to kill the tiny bugs.

  Thut looked over to the magi. “Do something!” he bellowed. Balhazzar, by far the most advanced magus, looked around the room. The food and wine were ignored as people fought the determined insects.

  “Prince Thutmosis,” Balhazzar said quietly, “I can do nothing. This is indeed the finger of a god.”

  Thutmosis stood, bringing the whole party to their feet, then threw his golden cup at Balhazzar. “Get out!” he yelled. “Begone from Egypt by dawn tomorrow or your life is forfeit!”

  Balhazzar bowed deeply and left the room. Thut sat heavily on his stool. “We celebrate, friends!” It was a command. Cheftu watched as the nobles sat down and began to eat and drink… and swat and scratch.

  THE GNATS MERGED INTO A PLAGUE OF FLIES as the week progressed. The heat was intense, but Chloe was improving. She thought she might actually survive. The fever after her miscarriage had drained her strength, but her bruises were faded and her wounds were scabbed over and healing. The “other” was livid about Basha's duplicity, and Chloe still had no answers as to who the father was. She now was healthy enough to resume her priestess duties. Cheftu kept his distance; the caring, gentle healer she had glimpsed had reverted to a coolly methodical physician who checked her body with emotionless scrutiny. But D'vorah was always there, gentle and pale, with a sweet smile, making up for his callousness.

  Chloe walked through the palace at Thut's request, noting that these flies were not just huge Egyptian flies that crowded the eyes, but Wring flies. She was wrapped in several swathes of linen, leaving visible only her eyes, surrounded by heavy kohl, and her feet, covered by lace-up sandals. The flies bit through the cloth, again and again, until Chloe wanted to scream from frustration. Bumps rose and swelled beneath her linen.

  She was admitted to a room inhabited by similarly clothed people. For a moment she grinned. They looked like a bunch of walking mummies. She recognized a few faces from her dancing debut. No Cheftu. Thut turned to her. He had not and did not know anything, it appeared. Nesbek had just used Thut's name as a prod she couldn't resist. May Sobek bite him on the backside! She should have known a man with the desire and sensitivity to paint pottery would shun the rank vulgarity of Nesbek's hobbies.

  Thut addressed them. “You are among the most powerful workers of the gods in Lower Egypt. You are some of the most landed nobles in Lower Egypt. I have called you because an evil deity seeks to destroy Egypt. The things that have happened here, my couriers report, have happened everywhere. Pharaoh's court in Upper Egypt is in turmoil, and the Great House spends whole days interceding for the people in Karnak. I need your wisdom. Egypt needs your wisdom.”

  A magus spoke. “You must let these Israelites go to worship. There is no other solution. They are, after all, only a part of the Apiru. They have never assimilated, and perhaps when they return they will be more willing to be Egyptians, to accept our ways.”

  A few murmurs greeted this suggestion. Thut paced the front of the room, looking for all the world like a caged beast.

  “Egypt will be ruined if they do not go!” a nobleman cried.

  He was interrupted by a wealthy landowner. “What will we do without the Apiru, or the Israelites, or whoever this pitiful band is? We will have to return to ancient times, where we can build only during the Inundation and only with our own rekkit. It will once again take decades for temples to be repaired, for tombs to be built.” His outburst was applauded.

  Menkh, Proclaimer of the Truths at On, spoke; his high-pitched voice was calm, but his words were disturbing. “This must be a god we are dealing with, and he is ridiculing our gods. First he strikes at Hapi, the god of the Nile. The lifeblood of Egypt becomes blood that robs life. Fish, one of our most important resources, are killed by the thousands. That in itself is enough to start a famine. We are bartering with a proud god.” He reseated himself in silence. A few people squirmed in their seats, uncomfortable with the thought of an angry, powerful, unknown god.

  A Zarub businessman, Khabar, patting his enormous belly as he stood, endorsed killing all the troublemakers and then not worrying at all.

  A smattering of applause greeted his words, but Thut frowned. “I will not have the death of a prophet or priest however insignificant on my hands. I will not murder for convenience. How do we know that this god, if he exists and has power here, will not send a more powerful plague as punishment?”

  The group sat in silence, dividing into those who would keep the slaves and kill the leaders to avoid more plagues and those who would let them go in exchange for peace.

  A familiar voice broke the silence. Chloe turned to see Lord Cheftu, lounging against the far wall. “Majesty,” he said, “if indeed these plagues are allowed to continue, they will wreak destruction. Thus far the Nile turning to blood poisoned and killed the fish. The lethal content in the water forced the frogs onto dry land. They have died and been left to rot, their carcasses germinating these flies.” He walked forward, his face dark against the many layers of his linen wrapping. “These flies will poison our livestock, killing a main source of meat and labor. If Egypt does not die, she will surely take generations to heal.” He turned to face the group. “Each of these curses has been worse than the last. How long will we wait before this land is utterly destroyed?”

  Dead silence greeted him. Djer, a priest from Aiyut, spoke, a crafty expression on his long, weathered face. “Majesty, perhaps we can come to an agreement with these Israelites. Let us open our temples to them, throughout Egypt, for three days.”

  Thut grunted.

  “For three days they can offer sacrifices, dance, worship as they will,” Djer continued. “This way their request is met, yet we can keep our workforce. If need be, we can even gift them with stone utensils or some such.”

  Thut chewed the corner of his lip. “I approve.” He looked over the group. “Egypt thanks you for your efforts. Yo
u are dismissed, except those within the priesthood.”

  Chloe hid from Nesbek's speculative gaze by sliding onto a stool behind a large potted citrus. Cheftu was already gone. She sighed. He was as elusive as a fly swatter in this cursed land. As she pulled the linen closer around her face she felt the bites on her forehead and nose beginning to swell and itch.

  The prince faced them. “The Israelites are waiting for me in the adjoining room. Be prepared to send couriers to your temples in preparation for usage of their sacred rooms.” He left, escorted by two soldiers at each side.

  The second underpriest of Amun from Noph was spluttering with rancor as he sat next to Chloe. “My lady!” he erupted. “Will the Sisterhood allow such a sacrilege? It is unthinkable that some lowborn foreigner should be allowed in the presence of Amun! Ma'at will be ruined! This is unheard of! It is no wonder that Pharaoh does not allow her nephew the throne,” he whispered. “He has no decency, no respect. This is appalling.”

  Chloe ran a weary hand over her face, gaining two additional bites on her hand for her trouble. “It is surprising,” she said.

  “Will you allow this to transpire in HatHor's sacred complex?”

  She shrugged. “If we do not, there will be no one left to worship. The people will perish, either from poison, disease, or starvation. We must decide which is the worst of the two evils. We are between a hungry Sobek and Set himself.”

  He shook his head in reluctant agreement “We—”

  He was cut off by Thut stalking back in. “The flies will leave,” Thut said. “But they refused to worship in our temples. They claimed the people would stone them, a valid point” He sighed heavily. “I have given them permission to go into the desert, but only a certain distance.”

  One of the priests spoke up. “So Horus-in-the-Nest has been cowed by slaves?”

  Chloe looked to the speaker in shock. Was he stupid? How did he dare to speak that way? Thut's face had reddened, but his expression was contrite.

  The priest continued, “I am an old man and have seen many Inundations, so I can speak my mind freely. What if these other tribes within the Apiru seek to manipulate for their freedom this same way? Egypt could be left almost desolate! My Majesty Hatshepsut, living forever! will be displeased that you have negotiated with slaves.”