Reflections in the Nile (41 page)

These plagues, this crisis, would be forgotten; after all, it happened only once.

They walked on toward the others, the air heavy on Chloe's naked body. The priestesses were rubbing ashes on each other, mourning the loss of the fulcrum of their existence, Amun-Ra.

ReShera had been silent since Chloe entered; she handed the silver sistrum to Chloe with rather more force than necessary. Allowing RaEm slight control of her mind, Chloe began to move the sistrum and dance, the slow movements straining her muscles and the words of the other priestesses ringing in her ears.

“Oh! HatHor! Save us from eternal night!

Ok! Lady! Retrieve the sun for us!

Bring back the equilibrium of Ma'at!

Fill us with your glory!

Let not the darkness win!

But restore to us thy life!

Oh! Ra! Come back to us!

Oh! Amun! Leave us not!

Oh! Gods! Save us from the darkness!

Keep us in your eternal light!
”

Chloe's voice was rough with tears as she heard the pleading of the women around her. What had begun as singing became wailing—lost, pitiful, hopeless. For hours they danced and sang, heaping ashes on their heads and tearing at their hair to invoke the goddess's pity, so she, in turn, would persuade Ra to shine again.

The night did not lift, did not lighten. Finally, all her limbs trembling, Chloe sank to the floor. Sweat ran in rivulets down her naked body, mixing with the ash and forming a thick paste. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing the short strands away from her face. Her mind was blank, numb with RaEm's rising terror and her own pity for those around her.

AnkhemNesrt sank to the ground beside her. “We will rest now, great lady. Perhaps it is night and the god will rise in the morning?” She laid a warm hand on Chloe's naked leg. “Do you wish to sleep in the White Chamber, lady?”

Chloe didn't want to move, even for a room at the Hilton. “Nay, sister. You may if you wish”

“The prince will come tonight, lady. Are you certain? It is your responsibility.”

Something in AnkhemNesrt's voice made Chloe drag her weary mind to the “other.” After a few seconds she said decisively, “Nay. You must serve the goddess, AnkhemNesrt. Unless you wish for someone else to go?”

AnkhemNesrt almost collapsed with relief. “Perhaps ReShera, lady?”

“Very well Summon her and tell her, please,” Chloe said as she drifted to sleep.

C
HEFTU TRIED TO KEEP A REIN ON HIS PANIC.
Just because Chloe was gone did not mean anything was wrong. He paced the room for the third time in as many minutes. Ehuru was there, silently fearful in the darkness. They had lit several torches; at least they thought they had. It made no difference.

The sound of running feet in the corridor stopped him. The high, panicked voice of a child announced that the prophets would be with Thut and Hat (though he was much more respectful) in six decans, and a runner would announce when the court would convene.

Ehuru stirred. “Should I prepare a bath, my lord?”

Cheftu chuckled despite himself. “Aye, Ehuru. I could use a wash if you can find the water.”

Ehuru's laugh joined his own. “If that is what my lord needs, that is what he shall be provided.” Cheftu heard the retainer's shuffling steps leave the room. He sat on a stool, drained. Hands clenched, he leaned forward. What could he do? Soon things would be beyond his control.

First he must provide for those who had served him so faithfully, Ehuru among them. Second he must find Chloe and explain all that had happened—warn her of probable danger. He must liquidate what he could of his holdings and get gold. They must make arrangements to leave. By ship? Could they go to Kallistae? No, it was gone in the eruption. Retenu? Hatti? Where was safe? What had survived this disaster? Where would the approaching famine be the least? He ran a hand over his blind, bloodshot eyes and the scruff on his face. They must pack.

His long fingers tapped at his side as he crossed the dark room again and again and again.

C
HLOE 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.

T
HE 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 inheritor 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.”