Chloe was exhausted and energized, more alive and more real than she had ever felt. The intimate smells of sweat and sex mingled around her until she was drunk on sensation. The world consisted only of the heat and sweet vibrations building like a fever inside her. Then he pulled up, fixed his hands on her waist, and thrust so deeply that she was sure he'd touched her womb. She fell into a hundred, thousand pieces, sobbing Cheftu's name, and he collapsed over her, wiping away sweaty hair and salty tears.
When Chloe woke up she felt like an earthquake victim the morning after. The boundaries, the walls and floor, had shifted. Nothing was what she thought it was. She was glad to be alone, to ponder the changes. Cheftu was French. Francois. A shudder rushed through her … pleasure and fear. What would happen now? Wincing with an assortment of strained muscles and already developing bruises, she limped to the chamber pot.
He was not there.
She hobbled to the window, taking care not to be seen naked. Just the normal courtyard scene, people rushing to and fro … no graceful, strong, misplaced Frenchman. Surely he wouldn't have left her? No, she might not know five things about him, but she knew he was honorable and that he wanted her. He would return. Was he sad that she wasn't RaEm? Chloe wandered back to the couch and fell onto it, luxuriating in the cool linen against her skin.
The quiet opening of the door woke her. Cheftu came in, solemn as a funeral. He knelt and took her hand. Without looking at her, he spoke in his heavily accented English. “My behavior last night was unforgivable. To use you as a whipping post for my anger is horrible. I don't even know who you are, yet I treated you like a whore.” He raised his amber gaze to hers. “Worse than a whore.” He swallowed. “All I have done since I have met you is berate you for the past, a past you do not even know.”
Chloe sat stunned. He was far removed from the remote but beautiful man she had come to know. He focused on some point beyond her. “This is not the way I would have behaved normally.” He licked his lips, which were swollen. “Last night was a series of shocks.” She was silent. “Although that is no excuse for my behavior.” He looked up into her face, his breath catching as she trailed her fingers through his hair.
“What shocks?” she asked, then flushed as he arched an eyebrow. “Besides the obvious.”
He bit his lips. “There is nothing that matters anymore about my former life. It is gone. My vocation, my dreams, my family—” His voice cracked. “Deceased, for hundreds of years.” He looked up at her. “Now is the only thing that matters. Keeping you safe, riding out this political storm.” He rose to his feet, his eyes blazing as he faced her.
“The most shocking thing last night was—I realized I love you.” He continued without missing a beat, “You were a maiden and I took you like an animal.” He groaned, rubbing his face with his hand. “I cannot believe I actually did that. I have never before lost control.”
Chloe pulled his hand away, staring into his golden eyes. “What did you say?”
“I love you. Those vows I made came from my heart.”
“For me, or RaEmhetepet?”
“You. From the twentieth century. Who asks ‘what if’ questions and paints in the night.” He paled as he spoke. “I still cannot believe this,” he muttered.
“For how long?”
“What?”
“How long have you loved me?”
Cheftu chuckled. “It began when I saw your enchanting derriere.”
“Enchanting?”
“Mmmmm, oui.”
“And then?”
“Your grace in handling Hatshepsut, living forever!”
“I fell apart later. Dealing with history has never been my forte.” Sorry, Mom, she apologized mentally.
He twined a finger in her hair. “I desired your body when you almost shot me.” She frowned in confusion. “With the arrow,” he explained.
“I have excellent aim,” she said. “Right over the prow and into the water.”
“Mmm,” he said. “Although I was lost forever when you asked me ‘why.’”
“Why?”
He slid his hands down her arms, then gripped her low around the waist and pulled her to him. “Why this, why that. What would I do if … those many questions seduced me, word by word. I saw your soul. A person who questions and creates. I knew I loved you then … and only you, chérie.”
“You hid your feelings well,” Chloe murmured, breathless.
“I had hoped my actions would speak for themselves. I tried to care for you, protect you, give you the time you needed to become accustomed to me again.” He smiled grimly. “I had to keep from entrancing the assorted lords and soldiers you collect like flies!” He kissed her tenderly, barely brushing her lips with his. Speaking against her mouth, he said, “When I followed you off the boat that night, you were weeping so, I thought my heart would break. Then, when I touched you, you melted into me, needing me, wanting me.” He kissed her again, hungry. “I had already lost myself with RaEm once. I could not understand why I did not recognize your flesh. Indeed you warmed me more than fire.”
Chloe held him close and felt the steady thrumming of his pulse underneath her hands. “I liked it, Cheftu,” she whispered. “I liked everything then, and,” she gasped with remembered pleasure, “everything last night.”
He pulled back her head to look into her eyes. “Everything?” Passion flared in his look as her hands lifted the edge of his kilt.
“I think lovemaking is probably like ice cream, glace,” she mused. “Lots of different flavors for a lot of different occasions.”
Cheftu pulled her back with him, toward the couch. “Flavors? Haii?” He smiled. “Like mint and orange and honey?”
She smiled, unbelting his kilt. “Let me tell you about an institution in my country … it is called Baskin-Robbins….”
Chloe turned in his arms, much later. “Haii … coffee with cream is a nice flavor.”
Cheftu laughed, his chest shaking her. “Thirty-one flavors is an intimidating number, chérie. Do not tell me I create them on my own?”
“No … I will be some assistance. However, my sweet tooth has been satisfied….” She waited a beat. “For a while.”
“Praise Isis!”
She punched him on the arm gently. “Talk to me. I miss hearing English, or French, or whatever you want to use.”
“Bien. What shall I tell you?”
She sat up, suddenly energized. “Everything! Your story, how you came through, what it was like for you. Your family, your job, how it felt to go from being French to Egyptian.”
Cheftu was quiet for a long time as the room became darker. “I was sixteen. My brother was a member of Napoleon's army of scientists and surveyors. I tagged along to help. Nothing was too lowly a task: carrying, digging. I was learning all I could about Egypt, though I was already a linguist in my own right.” He chuckled. “I even turned down a university position to travel with them. I was in passionate love with ancient Egypt, her mysteries, her secrets. I wanted to know her completely.” He shifted his hand to Chloe's breast, holding her in the darkness, her heartbeat against his hand.
“I made a habit of creeping out after dark when we were close to great monuments. I would walk through them, picture them as I thought they had been. One night I wandered into Karnak. I stepped into HatHor's chamber and found myself in a maelstrom of senses. There was someone else there, another boy my age. I grabbed him, though it was too”—he searched for the word—“too clouded to see anything. When I woke up it was in the clothes of a w'rer -priest in the Silver Chamber of HatHor.
“For days I could not see, and the physicians said I mumbled unintelligibly. When Cheftu the boy awoke, it was to another family, another world. A world in which I was perceived as a man. The head of the household. Because of my ‘experience’ they said I was chosen of the great god and so I was indentured to serve the neter -priests, and I learned their secrets.”
She sat in silence. She would not ask.
“For
two years I did not leave the House of Life. Humors, herbs, spells, and surgery were my life. Then I was free to leave, to work as a healer.” He sighed. “I was a foolish youth.” He twined his fingers through Chloe's hair. “My family are aristocrats. Nobles of Egypt. It was time to seek a wife. Actually, it was quite past time. I had kissed RaEm once in a garden, though I did not know who she was at the time. Later, I met her at a feast of Pharaoh's.” He glanced down. “They, or rather you, have always been close. One of Hat's few female friends.
“RaEm thought me attractive, and since she was unmarried and not serving in the temple that season, she invited me to visit her country house in the delta. She had been a priestess since childhood, so she had grown up much faster with no supervision, no stringent rules. Though younger, she was very skilled. I was hot-blooded and ruled by my, well … Before I knew what I had done, I had bedded her.” He stopped for a moment, and Chloe felt the tension in his body. “Or, rather, she had bedded me.”
He sat quietly for a few minutes, staring into the night beyond the window. “I rushed home, ashamed, scared wanting to offer for her. I felt it was my duty. To the Frenchman in me there was no other choice, but I knew marriage to be very serious. Unlike my own country, adultery is not accepted here. So I went to my father, who approached her father, and the contract was written.
“Since we were both from the aristocracy, it was decided there would be a wedding feast. Her family came, her friends, my family and friends. Even Pharaoh sent a gift. However, RaEmhetepet never came.” He spoke matter-of-factly, with no trace of his former anger and rejection.
Chloe searched her second memory for a clue, a word a token to explain RaEm's actions to the man beside her. “And?”
Cheftu pressed his lips together in a tight line. “Of course, it only grew more embarrassing as the night passed on. I heard later that she had been on a hunting party with the viscount of the Anubis nome. She never explained or apologized It had simply slipped her mind”
“What about her parents?”
“They were humiliated of course. Such disrespect for elders was unthinkable. But she was truly little better than a stranger to them. She'd been taken to the temple before her second birthday. I knew her better than her parents did”
“Did you love her?” Chloe hated herself immediately for asking.
“I thought I did. If love meant accepting responsibility and fulfilling duty. Le vérité est she was imminently desirable. Wealthy, beautiful, wild. She enhanced my pride.” He chuckled “Until I was left alone at the feast. I learned about the deception of pride then. It is an ongoing lesson.”
He kissed her shoulder, watching his hands move on her skin. “I will love you, Chloe—‘young and verdant’—such a fitting name,” he murmured. “I look at you, and wonder how I ever thought she was beautiful. When we made love, Chloe, it was more than just a joining of flesh, it was making love, and in those moments I know I have never felt passion or excitement or true unity before.”
Chloe's eyes welled with tears as Cheftu bent to kiss her lips. His mouth caressed her with a tenderness that shook her to her soul. When he pulled away his eyes were glassy.
“Now to have someone who truly understands me … where I come from. For so long I have been unable to speak, to truly share my thoughts and feelings. Oh, ma chère.”
“Which flavor was that?” he asked, his voice slurred.
“I think we will make that strawberry,” Chloe whispered against his cooling skin.
“J'aime la saveur fraise!”
“If you had to do it again, would you, Cheftu?”
He chuckled. “Which part, chérie? The fraise or tire—”
“All of it. At any major turning point.”
“Aii, would I leave everything to take up a new life in this time?” His body had stiffened, and she opened her eyes.
“What is wrong?”
He shrugged, as French a gesture as if he'd been wearing a beret. How come she had not seen it before? She hadn't bear looking for it. Hadn't expected it. He was quiet for so long, she had drifted to sleep.
“I cannot say.” He heard her questioning grunt and spoke. ‘To stay here, to go there. To be a linguist or a physician … Egypt or France … I must believe that le bon Dieu knew what was happening and placed me here. To consider more would be to court madness and depression.”
A furtive scrabbling at the door jerked them off the couch, twisting on linen and patting down hair.
“My lord?”
“Meneptah?” Cheftu had the door open almost before Chloe was dressed. She drew her linen sheet closer. The Israelite was covered in powder and stank of smoke. Cheftu lit the torch. “Sit, tell us what brings you here.”
“Life, health, and prosperity, my lord,” Meneptah said hurriedly. “To begin, Thutmosis wants your skin, Lord Cheftu. He was outraged and humiliated that you stole away his bride. All the court cowers. If your gods had not been looking out for you, chances are he would have already found you and removed your head, regardless of the favored status you have in Waset.”
Cheftu grimaced, “I doubt that status is valid any longer, my friend. What kept him from looking?”
“Elohim struck with another plague.”
Cheftu and Chloe exchanged startled looks. “The murrain of cattle,” Cheftu said wonderingly under his breath.
Meneptah looked startled but agreed. “Our leader, Moshe—you call him Ramoses—warned the prince to move all cattle indoors. Prince Thutmosis did not listen, and thus almost all the cattle he owned are dead. This is reported true in most of the delta. Except for ours.”
“How long did this plague last, or is it still going on?” Cheftu asked.
“The prince sent immediately for Moshe and asked him to intercede with God for the safety of the Mizrayim.”
Chloe looked at Cheftu in confusion. He answered her with a smile, “It is Hebrew for Egypt Has anything else happened?”
Meneptah smiled broadly. “Oh, aye, my lord,” he said. “The whole court in both Waset and Avaris, have been struck with a pox. Even the magus Shebenet himself was unable to stay in the presence of Moshe. Everyone in Egypt except us, has been affected.”
Cheftu's interest sharpened. “A pox? What are the symptoms?”
“This dust,” Meneptah said, gesturing to the ashes all over his cloak and hair. “It came from a dust that Moshe threw into the sky. It stands more than a cubit deep in some areas. When it falls on Egyptians it makes boils and open sores on them. They begin to fester and seep with blood, pus, and a grayish fluid. What is it, my lord? I must know how to medicate people.”
Cheftu brushed some onto his hand and held it before the flame. A stripe of welts broke out on his palm. “Has your leader made any other predictions about the future?”
“A killing hail will fall soon. We have all been told to stay in our houses. Moshe told the prince that also, but we shall see if he listens. You must keep yourself safe, my lord. You must stay here.”
“What has fallen on you is volcanic ash,” Cheftu said. “Tell me, have there been loud noises from beneath your feet, or reports of great waves along the Great Green? Fire in the sky?”
Meneptah was pale beneath his tan. “Three fishing villages were swept out to sea at the mouth of the Nile. The priests of On proclaimed the fire a sign of Amun's wrath against Elohim … but this large noise, this I do not know, my lord.”
“Meneptah, if this dust is cubits deep on the ground, then the predicted island in the Great Green must have erupted. The hail your Moshe predicts will be mixed with the ash, and twice as deadly.”
After directing Meneptah on how to mix a poultice and prepare the tribes for the coming hailstorm, they bade him a good night and fell into bed, not realizing it was morning.
The clatter of horses and chariots jerked Chloe awake. Cheftu was already up, standing by the window, listening as the decree was announced in rekkit.
“The Regent, Thutmosis the Third, declares the threats of your pro
phet do you no good. No one shall leave Egypt with his wealth or his family. Those wishing to leave without flocks, wives, or children must report to the palace to be approved.”
Chloe rushed to the window and watched the soldiers in their blue-and-white helmets march by. “That's awfully harsh treatment.”
“Thut's pride is wounded. Your escape has shamed him, and he is taking it out on Egypt,” Cheftu said grimly.
Chloe stepped behind him. “This is my fault?”
“Not exactly … you are his excuse to behave like a schoolboy.”
“I feel so much better,” she replied sarcastically.
“This is a disaster. He will break Egypt on these terms. I should go back to Thut, beg forgiveness for marrying you, and try to dissuade him from this path of destruction.” Cheftu sounded less than enthusiastic.
Chloe whirled him around to face her. “That is not safe! It is not sane! To do so would bring death! Why would you do such a thing?”
Leaning against the walk his gaze distant Cheftu spoke. “Are you familiar with the history of the Jews?” He didn't wait for her reply. “These plagues are from the Bible.”
Chloe sat down on the couch, blinking. “The Exodus?”
“Oui. I believe so. Though I thought another pharaoh was on the throne.” He chuckled. “I even presented that paper on it …” He trailed off. “No matter. If I am remembering correctly, the next plague should be …” He ticked off on his fingers. “We've had blood, frogs, gnats, flies”—he turned to her—“it must have been the murrain of cattle that killed our horses on the way to the temple.” He crossed to her and held her close. “For that chance I thank God.”
“The volcanic ash must be another plague,” she said.
“Oui, it must be the plague of boils.” He got to his feet “I must go plead with Thutmosis. If things continue this way, Egypt will be destroyed.” He bent to pick up his crumpled kilt.
Chloe got to her feet. “If you do dissuade him, are you not playing God? This Exodus is the bedrock of Judaism for all time!”
Cheftu watched her with a grim smile. “I do not think my efforts are enough to change God's plan. I also think to do my duty as one of Egypt's advisers, I should try. Thut will not kill me. I am one of the favorites of the Great House. Even he would be cautious when dealing with one of the hereditary princes of Egypt.”
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