Reflections in the Nile (46 page)

Chloe looked at him, setting aside her dish. “Do you think we changed history?” She watched the chattering Apiru.

“I do not know what else to think. Thut is a broken man. I do not believe he would change his mind. He realized this was no stone god, but a living and breathing deity. He desperately wanted us to leave, though of course he threatened Moshe to save face.”

“That is why he let us go?”

“He did not care. Meneptah said his boy, Turankh, was in the chariot, the pink of life still in his cheeks, his youthlock braided for playing teams the next day. Nothing was on Thut's mind except his destroyed family and country. I can understand his preoccupation with his family; I cannot imagine his grief.”

The sun was dizzyingly bright, and people were gathering their cloaks to sleep. Chloe shielded her eyes until the heavy cloud that covered daily came to darken and cool the day as a fresh breeze blew in from the sea.

She rose, carrying the pottery plates to the sand. There she crouched and scrubbed them with sand, cleaning the porous surface, then packed them again. She was sleepy and lay down in the shelter of her cloak, her cheek against Cheftu's steady heartbeat. “I am so glad you are here with me,” he said sleepily. “We belong together. Even time could not separate us.”

“If you had to pick a time to return to, Cheftu, when would it be?” she asked, eyes half-open in the shadow.

He sat up a little and reached for the waterskin. “Where do you get these questions,
haii?
” He chuckled. “From Egypt? If it were my choice?” He thought for a moment, drinking sparingly, the mingled sounds of the thousands of people lost in the still daytime. “The time of Solomon. To see the Temple in Jerusalem …
aii,
that would be a marvelous, wondrous thing. Where for you,
chérie?
”

Chloe looked across the sands to the rocky cliffs that edged them in. Mountains on one side, the sea on the other. “To go back in time?” She shook her head. “Given a choice, I would have never done it. History was not an interest to me. Progress and change … things moving faster, more technology. I would have gone into the future.” She grinned. “I bet they even discover more ice-cream flavors.”

“So where would you go?”

Chloe chewed her lip. Nowhere without you, she wanted to say. “I do not know.”

They laughed together, their tired bodies entwined. Cheftu spoke after a moment. “I am surprised you are such a woman of the future,” he said. “You have adapted to this world so well.”

“Offending Pharaoh, murdering a girl—”

“Chloe.
Non,
that was not your fault. You did not know.”

She shrugged. “I have made a mess of things.” Except my art, she thought. My skills have quadrupled. My memory has sharpened. I am a far better artist than ever before. Somehow Cammy finds my work. I must glue the Exodus panels together and hide them.

“Le bon Dieu
will bring it about.”

“Bring what?”

“Everything.”

A piercing horn jolted them awake, and Chloe, once her heart started beating again, realized it was
atmu
… time to move on. She rose to her feet. Cheftu helped her pack their belongings, dispersing the bread and dried fruit they ate daily. As she turned around he pulled her into his arms, standing in the purple smoke of twilight. “We will have a new life, Chloe. Together.” His gaze dropped. “Not in the future, not in the past, but living in the present.” He kissed her nose. “Remember that when days are rough,
chéerie.
”

GOSHEN

H
ATSHEPSUT, LIVING FOREVER
! stormed into the room. “This must cease!” she barked at Thut “You cannot sit there like a corpse before the Opening of the Mouth! You are Horus-in-the-Nest! You must avenge us!”

He raised blank eyes to her.

“We shall beg Amun-Ra for his guidance! We must bring those slaves back in bondage!”

“I will not go after them, aunt,” Thut said in a monotone. “They have a powerful protector. I will not have more Egyptians’ blood on my hands. He will surely destroy us all.”

“How can you say this?” she cried. “Have you no concern for the effect on our people?”

“I have every concern. However, this god, he is … a, an … an individual. I will not cross him again.”

She paced the room, fists clenched. “I never thought you to be a coward, Thutmosis the Third. We are the Great House! We must prevail! To do otherwise is to disturb Ma'at.” She turned and knelt before him, covering his dirty and unkempt hands with her own capable and gloved ones. “We cannot unbalance the forces of the universe. It is unthinkable.”

His weary brown stare met her worried gaze. “I will not go.”

Frustrated, she stood. “Very well, then, I must return to Waset. I shall bury my high priest, Hapuseneb; my commander of the guards, Nehesi; my grand vizier … and my heart—” Her voice broke. A moment passed as she inhaled deeply. “The moment they are safely entombed, I will go after those
khaibits
myself.”

He jerked back in surprise.

“You shall be regent until I return in my glory, the Great House leading her troops. Then I shall take back my throne and you shall have to answer for your willingness to hurt the land we are entrusted with! You shall answer to Amun himself!”

She strode from the room, and Thut knew she would not return from her vengeance. “O desert god of the Israelites,” he whispered. “Protect Egypt.”

THE SINAI

T
HE SOUND OF THUNDERING HORSE
hooves echoed through the hot sand, and Cheftu woke with a pounding headache and churning stomach. He scanned the horizon but could see no signs of anyone … yet. He kissed Chloe hurriedly. “Wake up, beloved. That for which we have awaited is upon us.”

Her eyes snapped open. “The Great House?”

“Aye. Approaching.”

She shook her head to, clear it and rose to pack away their belongings. “Shall I wake the others?”

Cheftu nodded. “I will seek out Moshe.” He pulled her hard against him. “Be safe,
chérie.
” He scanned the tent city until he saw the pennants denoting the leaders’ tent.

The prophet knelt in shadow, his lips moving in prayer. “So, Pharaoh's heart has hardened again?” he said without looking up.

Cheftu nodded, shaking. He was speaking to
Moses.
“I could not yet see the pursuers, but I heard their hoofbeats in the sand.”

Moshe's head wagged. “Elohim must rescue us again. We have reached a point where we must again have faith. Perhaps then Israel will truly recognize and turn from following false gods.”

“Where will you lead us? My knowledge of the land is great, and we have been walking parallel to the Inland Sea, so we must almost be to the Red Sea.”

Moshe's black eyes twinkled. “Elohim will protect us, Egyptian, but you must watch for stragglers. Alert people as you travel to your camp.” He turned away and spoke over his shoulder. “Y'shua, my boy, go wake Aharon and tell him to get the tribes up and walking. We shall push hard to the sea.”

Cheftu ran through the camp, shouting to wake up and break camp. He did not answer any of the questions thrown at him but raced along to catch Chloe.

The tribes had managed to put several more
henti
between them and the approaching army when Cheftu finally saw the sand cloud from chariots and horses. He could not find Chloe in this mob of white-clad, black-haired women. Though she was his heart, he did not recognize her. D'vorah, Meneptah, and Elishava were also mingled in, unidentifiable. Cheftu had finally reached the back of the camp, fear of the Great House encouraging the families to walk faster, leaving their belongings strewn behind them in their rush to the sea.

When the front of the lines reached the sea, the words of fear and terror at the imposing body of water washed back like the tide. Suddenly the uncertainty that had nipped at the heels of the tribes was a veritable controlling force.

Frantically Cheftu ran back and forth among the people, searching for Chloe.

Night had fallen. The tribes were captured between the funnel of fire before them and the Red Sea at their backs. Cheftu cringed away, fearing the fire's destructive power, even though it radiated only protection and safety.

They could no longer hear Pharaoh's approaching army, and Cheftu knew they were unseen to the army because of the fire. They were massed on the furthermost point of land. Across eight
henti
of water they could see another desert. The people were crying out, and he saw Moshe, standing high above them on a rock, hands raised in the air. The wind whipped the people, and the roaring rush of waters surrounded them. The howling power of the wind was so fierce, it immobilized Cheftu. He could move neither forward nor back. Crouching, he pulled his linen cloak closer, his eyes tearing as he searched the crowd. Eventually he slept.

When the wind died he raised his head and noted it was sunrise. Before them stood a bridge of land, dry land. It was roughly two miles wide and spanned the distance to the other side. Already the tribes were swarming across it, pulling along their animals and running for safety. Although he had always heard the story, he had never rationally believed it … any of it. Even the Bible writers claimed “yam suph,” translated into the Sea of Reeds, a marsh on Egypt's northern border, had been the dry land the Hebrews had crossed. Had they, like Cheftu, doubted it was the Red Sea? Cheftu fell to his knees.

Here was the Red Sea, parted.

He panicked as he remembered Chloe. Scrambling down to the rocky shore, he searched for her among those crossing, but from this distance the figures were indistinguishable.

The sky was bright, and those standing close to Cheftu were running down the now dry shoreline toward the path to freedom. Cheftu looked behind him. The cloud was gone, as was the pillar of fire, and he knew Pharaoh's army would be up and following soon. Most of the tribes were in the sea by now, as Cheftu continued to look for Chloe.

Fearing she had fallen, was lying hurt somewhere, he searched the Sinai coastline for her. There was very little area where someone could go unnoticed, and Cheftu began to fear she had crossed the sea without him. Even now she could be on the other side.

Cheftu ran for the shore but halted when he heard the cries of Pharaoh's army behind him. Panicked, he turned and noticed a crevice in some rocks along the shoreline. He had barely reached it before Pharaoh's army thundered down the mountainous slope to rein in at the water's edge.

“We shall pursue!” he heard Hatshepsut's strident tones. “They shall repay in blood for the damage done to our beloved land! Behold! Even the gods of the Red Sea recognize our right of vengeance!”

Cheftu looked out. Hat stood alone in her chariot, the brilliant sun glinting off the gold spokes in its wheels and the gold breastplate she wore. She whipped her steeds and took off at a gallop, her chariot jouncing in the sand as she fought to hold on to both horses.

The soldiers were an elite contingency of Pharaoh's select troops. The
Wadjet
tattoo embraced every arm. He felt sick when he saw Ameni close behind Hat. With battle cries they swept into the sea. Cheftu watched, paralyzed. He
knew
what would happen. It was the reason he could not make it safely across to join Chloe on the other side.

The tribespeople were nearing the end of the pathway. Cheftu saw the army gaining on them, the small figures, jots of color, moving quickly but not fast enough to outrun the finest horses and chariots in the world. Cheftu noted with a twisting gut that the entire force—four thousand soldiers and six hundred chariots—was now in the sea.

The walls of water fell, crashing with such force that his ears rang. Cheftu ran to the edge of the sea, watching vainly as horses reared and screamed, their fear mingling with the terrified shouts of men who stabbed vainly into the water. For a fleeting second his gaze met Hat's; the wild blackness of her eyes embedded itself into his consciousness as he watched her go under the crashing waves.

Within seconds Cheftu was standing knee deep in water. He began to climb back up the rocks, frantically seeking higher ground. The fear in his stomach had become a live thing, twisting and turning, fomenting rebellion against this gracious God of the Hebrews—and of his own true faith. He sat in a crevice overlooking the sea.

The roiling waters were filled with heads and arms and hands, all reaching for salvation. Their cries were lost in the battering waves. He stood, searching for a glimpse of Hatshepsut's chariot—and found it. It was bobbing sideways in the white water, Hat's body thrown across one of the wheels, impaled on a gold-plated finial, her face a mask of hate. No longer living forever…

Egypt was dead.

The Egyptian warred with the Frenchman in Cheftu. He felt all the grief the real Cheftu did, but he felt it through a prism. The knowledge that God had indeed rescued the Israelites, just as the parish school books said, competed with the awareness that there was no way to retrieve Hatshepsut's body for a proper burial.

The gods would forget her, she who had brought such prosperity and peace to the two lands. For a moment he remembered the companion he had trusted, respected, and loved from afar for so many years. She'd drawn him: her strength, her commitment to peace, her desire to beautify the land and restore splendor to the gods. Cheftu remembered the banquets when they'd sat together, the songs they had sung while away from Waset, and always, the golden goddess who was merciful to everyone, until her paranoia destroyed her.

He felt empty; an anchor in his life was gone. She had controlled so much of who he was and what he did. He had loved her and followed her loyally, until this. Sand flew in his face as he contemplated his betrayal, necessary but vile. Could he have changed things? Could he have prevented this ignominious death? Guilt burned in his belly.

The path was gone, every trace hidden under
khetu
of water. Faintly he could make out dots on the other side. He stood at the tip of the Sinai, and they were in Arabia. Yet for all the
henti
between them, it could have been the distance of a hundred years.