His long fingers tapped at his side as he crossed the dark room again and again and again.
CHLOE WOKE WITH A START and a horrible crick in her neck. She was sitting against the wall, arms across her knees, providing a pillow of sorts for her head. She longed to stretch out but could feel the soft, warm body of AnkhemNesrt curled around her feet, like a kitten cuddling its mother. Then her leg cramped and Chloe stood up, painfully, clasping the wall in support. It was a few seconds before the charley horse subsided. AnkhemNesrt was sitting up, whimpering into the darkness.
The spells and prayers and chants had not worked. It was still darker than night, and Chloe fought the desire to scream at her blind ineffectiveness. Instead she drew AnkhemNesrt to her feet, her arm around the naked girl, guiding her to the main chamber. Another aerobic workout, Chloe thought. She had no idea how long they had been asleep, but she heard the others stirring.
She picked up the sistrum, fumbling for a few minutes as she found it, mixed in with her clothes. The jangling woke the others, and soon they were dancing in a circle, their prayers now unspoken pleading, heartrending, and hopeless.
The clatter of armor, swords, and sandals brought them to an abrupt stop. Footsteps drew nearer. A booming voice rang through the chamber, and Chloe recognized Ameni.
“Mighty Pharaoh, perfect in Ma'at, Child of the Sunrise, Daughter of HatHor, Hatshepsut Makepre Ra, living forever! commands all the Ladies of Silver to her audience chamber this morning.” He waited a moment. “We are here to escort you.”
Chloe could feel the women looking at her. Where was ReShera? “We shall join you, Commander,” she said. “Allow us to complete our ablutions and dress.”
“As you wish, Lady RaEmhetepet.” Footsteps retreated to the hallway.
“Is it morning, RaEm?”
“Why does Pharaoh, living forever! want us, lady?”
“How are we to dress, lady?”
The questions converged on her, and Chloe used her best commander voice to still their fears, get most of the ash washed off, then everyone dressed with no mirrors, servants, or even the eyes of a stranger to aid them. Chloe called roll. ReShera was still missing. No one wanted to search the dark temple for her, and RaEm had no memory of the place. Very well, Chloe thought. She can just stay here. The women's hands linked as they walked out to meet their escort.
THE ROOM'S DARKNESS WAS HEAVY with the mingled presence of several hundred people. Cheftu couldn't see them, but he heard their frightened whispers, the rustle of linen, and, overall, the stench of fear-filled sweat He stepped toward what had always been his position, apologizing to those people he walked on and into.
Neither Hatshepsut nor Thutmosis had yet entered the room, and he tried to keep his thoughts away from where Chloe could be and why she wasn't here. How did he know she wasn't? Would he be able to sense her presence in this great darkness? Had it been three days? Was light once more going to shine?
The chamberlain hit the floor with his heavy staff. His voice was full strength again, though Cheftu thought he heard a quaver of fear in it. “Hail, Horus-in-the-Nest,” he called out “Inheritor to the throne! Prince of Upper and Lower Egypt, Beloved of Thoth, Seeker of Ma'at, commander in chief of the armies of Pharaoh, living forever!” Cheftu heard the solitary steps proceed through the throng and ascend the steps and then a creak of wood as Thut sat down.
Again the chamberlain banged his staff. “Hail! Hail! Hail! Pharaoh Hatshepsut, living forever! King of the Red and Black lands! Defender of Ma'at! Beloved of the goddess! Daughter of the sun! …” The rest of the litany was lost in the rising noise of everyone falling on their faces. Even the chamberlain was quiet as the click of Hat's sandals traversed the length of the room. As soon as she mounted the dais and seated herself, Cheftu heard the synchronized pace of her private Kushite guards taking, their positions around her throne.
“All may rise!” the chamberlain bellowed, and Cheftu joined the rest as they rose to their feet.
“Nobles of Egypt!” Pharaoh's voice throbbed through the room, heavily sensual and commanding. “Those who have given your blood to defend the integrity of our gods and our land! My Majesty gives you thanks. My Majesty gives you honor, and My Majesty commends your faithfulness!” What should have garnered a round of applause instead met a chilling silence. Hat continued, “The plagues that have tried to steal our soul are not from another god!” Her proclamation was drowned in mumbled responses. “My Majesty has brought from the Temple of Amun-Ra in Waset the greatest magus in Egypt!”
Cheftu felt his guts twist. It was true, then: he was no longer an Egyptian in the eyes of the throne. He was startled to discover that after the initial shock, he felt no sadness.
“I present to you Iri, my magus!”
A faint spattering of applause broke out. Cheftu heard muttering in the back of the chamber and the scrape of a moving chair at the front.
“My Majesty, my nobles,” Iri began.
Cheftu racked his brain, trying to associate a face with the voice, and came up blank. The comments of the audience had become a low roar, and Hat inquired coldly what the problem was.
“It is the priestesses you have requested,” the chamberlain answered. “The Israelite prophets have also arrived.”
“Send them both in, chamberlain,” Hat said, her voice ringing throughout the room. Cheftu heard the scrape of metal doors and then the faint pattering of footsteps walk up and past him. Cheftu smelted the faint odor of ashes.
“Apiru!” Hat's voice was loud.
“Aye, Hatshepset.” The court sat in dumbfounded silence at the familiarity of the address: Hatshepset was Pharaoh's name when she was only second daughter with no hopes of the throne. Hat was silent, and Cheftu could almost hear the pounding of the hearts around him.
“Ramoses?” Her voice was incredulous.
“Aye, sister. Though I am called Moshe now.” The gasp of shock was as tangible as a wave, buffeting the room Hat's footsteps were audible as she walked down the steps to the floor.
“Sister?” Her voice was shaking. “First you betray my father, who loved you above all sons, and you were not even his spawn! Then you side with a slave against the growth of Egypt, by murdering our cousin, my betrothed! Now you devastate our land with plagues and you dare call me sister!” Her voice had risen in livid fury. “Go and worship your ‘el,’ your god! Take your families and your children! But you will leave your flocks and herds!”
Hat's fury was like another presence, and Cheftu felt the people around him shrinking from her anger. So this was how the pieces fit together, he thought. Not only did Moses murder an Egyptian in defense of an Israelite, not only had he killed one whose blood was royal. A cousin. He had killed Hatshepset's betrothed!
Moshe had stood quietly listening to her demands. “Nay, we cannot. You must allow us to have sacrifices and burnt offerings to present to Elohim. Our livestock too must go with us; not a hoof is to be left behind. We have to use some of them in our worship of Elohim, and until we get there, we will not know what our God requires of us.”
Hat's labored breath was audible. “You walk on sinking sand, traitor. When will this darkness leave?”
Silence enveloped the room, as complete as the darkness.
Moshe said, “Now.”
Like a cloak being drawn away from the window, the room was once more alight. Sun glinted off the gold of the nobles’ garments and warmed the alabaster of wall and floor. The huge painting of a vanquishing pharaoh glowed with returned life. A gasp of awe rose as the day grew brighter and brighter, the turquoise sky visible through the clerestory windows and the sound of birdsong filling the air with a prayer of thanksgiving.
Cheftu recoiled at the sudden brightness until his eyes adjusted. Pharaoh stood three cubits from Moshe, the gold of her costume warming in the sun, glinting off the jeweled eyes of the cobra and vulture in the tall double crown gracing her head.
Her eyes widened as she saw her half-brother Ramoses, once the inher
itor to the throne. His mother had so desperately wanted a child that when, despite prayers and building a temple to HatHor, her babe was stillborn, she had taken a child from the Nile and passed him off as her own. Ramoses was twice Hat's age, yet he glowed with health, belying the white-streaked hair and sun lines around his eyes and mouth.
Black gaze met black, and held.
Cheftu saw Hat's hands tremble as she doubled them into fists, having left the crook and flail on her throne. She turned on her heel and remounted the steps, seating herself on the gold-and-enameled chair, her hands grasping the symbols of her power.
“Stay, slave, while my magus reveals you as the charlatan you are! First you played at being a prince, now you play at being a savior?” Skepticism and disgust mingled in her voice. “Speak, Iri!”
Iri paled. “For many years a devastating eruption has been predicted in the Great Green. There have been two such disasters since Chaos. Along with each catastrophic explosion are omens I think you will find very interesting. Listen to how they have affected Egypt” As he warmed to his topic, the nervousness faded from his voice. “A red plant was brought in with the current that stained the water and killed the fish. As the water became more deadly, the frogs left it and wandered up onto our land. The more poisoned the water, the more frogs. They have short lives, and there was not enough food for them, so they died in masses, both generating insects and adding to the many flies, fleas, and gnats in our country.”
Cheftu looked at Thut's darkened face and saw a growing anger there. Iri continued, “The bugs infected the cattle, which died. The winds shifted far out at sea and brought some uncommon weather. In this case, a cloud of locusts who wrought a very natural damage on the land. Then hail came, as a precursor of the disaster to strike in the Great Green. The volcano belched up black smoke, ash, fire, and hot earth. This mixed with hail, and when it fell here, it caused rashes, illness, and even some deaths.”
The chamber was silent, each soldier, priest, noble, and servant listening to the analysis of the past few months. It could all happen that way, it was true. For a people whose lives were as integrated with religion as a sailor's with the sea, however, the explanation lacked the divine spark to make it believable. The heavens did not alter without a sacred presence to make it happen. One by one the people listened, weighed, and rejected the theory.
Since the gods were in control, this could not have happened without their consent or interference. Cheftu stood, watching Hat's face. The religiosity of her people would be her downfall. Life did not happen without a purpose and a hand behind it. They would believe nothing else. That's the difference between the Greek and the Oriental minds, the scholar in Cheftu thought. That is the key.
Iri bowed to Hat and backed toward his seat.
“Magus!” someone hailed him from the crowd. “If indeed all these things have happened as you said, which god commanded that they happen now? Their god or ours?” Twenty voices joined in, searching for a comprehensible answer in the confusion.
Iri held up his hands. “It is not the hand of any god, but just the reactions of nature,” he said, and was drowned out in the disbelief of the Egyptians.
One of the soldiers, at Hat's command, banged his shield with his sword. The sound reverberated throughout the room, bringing silence. Hat sat on the throne, glittering and angry, her black eyes focused on Moshe. Without dropping her gaze, she called for the priestesses. They had been huddled together, their graying robes hidden in the brilliance of the first light.
They walked forward, and Cheftu watched in horror as Pharaoh recognized Chloe the same moment he did. Hat sent a questioning look Thutmosis’ way, and Cheftu remembered she thought Thut had wed Chloe. She stood in the front of the group, tall and proud, despite the ash in her black hair and the smudges and creases of her clothing.
“What does the goddess say, Lady RaEmhetepet?” Hat asked. “Since you are still before me, I assume that the darkness was broken before this”—she motioned with her flail to Moshe—“this slave pulled his great illusion and revealed Ra.” She turned to Thutmosis. “What say you, nephew; did your bride bring aid?”
Thut looked at Hat steadily. “When I left the temple this morning, I took the life of the priestess, as I am commanded to. This lady was not that priestess, and is not my bride.”
Hat whirled on Chloe. “My lady …” Her tone was lethal. “Did you send another to die in your place? The right and responsibility were yours! You sacrificed someone before you? Who is dead?”
Cheftu felt cold sweat run down his back. Chloe had been in the temple. In these direst of times it was her duty to dance and plead before the goddess, then meet either Pharaoh or Horus-in-the-Nest, who were the physical manifestations of Ra. She was to please them, in a parody of seeking the god's pleasure. If the spell was not broken, it was the royal male's job to sacrifice the priestess in order to save Egypt. Instead Thut spent the night with someone else and plunged the sacred dagger into her breast while she was still warm from their union.
Chloe was responsible for the dead priestess! He closed his eyes in a brief and heartfelt prayer. She stood like a statue. Cheftu had the hideous fear that she didn't have the memory to know what she was supposed to do. She'd said she had no emotional memory. That was where this information would have been.
“ReShera. I sent ReShera,” Chloe said, her voice void of emotion.
Hat's steely gaze fixed on Chloe, filled with revulsion and disappointment “So you have broken your vows, betrayed a holy sister, and ignored my edict that you marry!” Chloe stood silent. Hat took a deep breath, her next words stiff: “Very well, priestess. In honor to your family, Count Makab, and the position you have held in my heart and in my court, you will marry Thut, conceive a new RaEmhetep priest, give birth, and then be turned over to the Sisterhood for execution as befits a soiled priestess. Remove her authority and take her from my sight!”
Cheftu stepped forward in protest, but Thutmosis gained Hat's attention. “Nay, Pharaoh. She is wed. I cannot take another man's wife.”
Hat asked in a voice throbbing with hatred, “Whose wife?”
Thut indicated Cheftu, who stepped forward, approaching the throne. “You!” she screeched. “A traitor and a traitor!” Thut looked from Cheftu to Hat, obviously bewildered. “You will not miss your wife! You are banished! May you meet again on the Shores of Night!” Her voice was shrill, and Cheftu looked at Chloe. She was already in the grasp of two soldiers, her broken ankh necklace, symbol of her position, lying in pieces at her feet.
Her green eyes were frightened in her ash-smudged face. He ran toward her, then screamed in pain as one of the Kushite guards lashed out. He fought, anger and fear giving him strength, paying no attention to his bloody back. Chloe was kicking and fighting as they half carried and half dragged her from the chamber. Then he saw nothing but ceiling as he was tripped and a spear pressed against his heaving chest.
He lay there, panting, terrified, replaying the fear in Chloe's look as she was taken from him.
Hat once again took her seat, and her voice was barely controlled as she spoke to Moshe. “Take your cattle. However, you will leave the eldest child of every family as a hostage. A credit on the family's return. Every family who does not return will have murdered their child. I will send scribes throughout the villages and we will have exacting records of every Israelite in Egypt.” She laughed, brittle but confident. “I see the fear on your face, Moshe. It is good to be afraid of the throne of Egypt”
“I am not afraid of you, Hatshepsut. I am afraid for you. You have just pronounced a death sentence on your own people.”
“Get out of my sight!” she hissed. “Make sure you do not appear before me again! The next day you see my face you will die.”
Moshe's voice was powerful as it washed over those present, imbedding itself forever into their consciousness. “Just as you say, I will never appear before you again.
“But hear what Elohim says. ‘About midnight I will go throu
ghout Egypt. Every firstborn son in Egypt will die, from the firstborn son of Pharaoh, who sits on the throne, to the firstborn son of the slave girl who is at her hand mill and the firstborn of all the cattle. There will be a loud wailing throughout Egypt—worse than there has ever been before or ever will be again. However, among the Israelites not a dog will bark at any man or animal.’ So you will know that our God makes a distinction between Egypt and Israel,” Moshe said, “all of your officials will come to me, bowing down before me and saying, ‘Go you and all the people who follow you!’ After that I will leave.”
He turned his back and walked the length of the room, awash in light yet still filled with darkness. Tears ran down Cheftu's face as he heard Moshe's steps fade.
The worst was yet to come.
CHLOE WAS THROWN INTO A DARK ROOM. It stank of urine, and she shivered at the scampering sounds of rodents. Once again she was in the dark, only now it was a dank darkness, all the more terrifying because she knew that somewhere above her the sun shone, bathing Egypt once more in its rays. Cheftu … She swallowed her tears and tightened the sash at her waist. The memory of the anguish in his amber eyes haunted her. Had he been hurt? She had thought he was a favorite of Hat's, so why was she so cruel? What had happened?
Now the Sisterhood would get her. She doubted Hat would make Thut marry her, so she'd just lost at least nine months of her life. She had also killed ReShera—unknowingly, but she was still dead.
Chloe wiped away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. She thought back to that fatal decision. When AnkhemNesrt had asked her to go to the White Chamber and Chloe had consulted the “other,” the only thought had been that to go to that chamber was state-sanctioned sex. Nothing about death or sacrifices. No doubt that knowledge was wherever the real RaEm was.
Had they changed places? Did RaEm have Chloe's cursory memory? Enough to get by in the twentieth century? Not that it mattered. Chloe had no idea how to return and wasn't even sure she wanted to. Oh, Cheftu! she cried. What had happened to him?
Reflections in the Nile Page 32