Reflections in the Nile (59 page)

Cheftu would not let Thief go with them. They had argued for days. Cheftu said Thief was not afraid of humans, and that would get him killed. Chloe suggested a zoo. Cheftu said the nearby pride had no male lions; he could have a family. Chloe said he was a kitten and wasn't interested in females yet. Cheftu said they couldn't protect him.

Chloe burst into tears. “He saved our lives! We cannot just leave him here, alone and forsaken!”

“So we take him into Waset? What then, Chloe?”

“Nay …” She rubbed her eyes, sore from her tears. Deep inside she knew Cheftu spoke the truth. She also knew what he wasn't saying.
They wouldn't be here.
He would be in nineteenth-century France, and she would be in twentieth-century America, and Thief would be a memory. Would they become only memories for each other? Was she also mourning Cheftu?

“I just cannot bear to watch.”

“Chloe …” Cheftu pulled her close. “Thief has guided us, rescued us, and helped us.”

“He has saved our lives,” she repeated, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Aye. It is time to do the same for him.”

She bit her lip and nodded. “I know. It just hurts so bad. I do not want him to feel unloved.” She looked at the cat, sitting a few feet away, engrossed in the process of his hourly bath. As though he felt her gaze, he trotted over and butted his head against her leg. “Do you understand, boy?” she whispered brokenly. “We would not leave you, but we cannot take you with us.”

He settled on the ground, his heavy head lying on her thigh. His eyes were closing, and he purred as she stroked his fur. Cheftu, in the process of petting Thief's neck, slipped a flax rope around it, then staked him to the stone. Thief would be able to get free, but only after they were long gone. Then the smell of people and towns would mask them.

“Why do we have to do this?” Chloe said. “It is horrible!”

“He's followed us from the Sinai,
chérie.
Do you think telling him ‘no’ would make him stay? If he gets any closer, he will be hunted. This is the only safe place, which is why the pride is here.”

“He will be lonely.”

Cheftu petted the lion, who was rolling on the earth, delighted with the attention, seemingly unaware of his fate. “He will mate from the pride. He is a lion, not an overgrown house cat.”

Chloe cried harder, and they sat in the dirt, playing with Thief until he fell asleep, warm in the sun. Then Chloe rose, unable to bear any more. Thief didn't move. She put her hand on Cheftu's arm, pulling him up quietly. They stepped away, but Chloe halted after a few steps and looked back. The cat was free and alert, the end of the rope in his mouth, his furry bottom planted on the cartouche. He watched her with tawny eyes, and Chloe knew that he understood he was loved. She knew that he forgave her and he understood. A frisson ran up her back.
Generations of lions,
she remembered. He won't be alone. “Cheftu?”

Her husband turned, his golden eyes filled with tears. “He knows to stay, beloved. He knows to stay.”

So the lion, guardian angel of them and the scrolls since the beginning, now heeded a higher call to stay and continue protecting: a golden sentinel to the secrets of God. The noble fuzzy knight of a hidden crusade. The first of many….

After three days of walking, they reached the outskirts of Waset. Choosing a poorer section of town, they rented a small room. Only Cheftu went out, seeking information on a ride downriver. They ate what he bought on the street. One night after dinner, when the waterfront taverns were filling with customers, Cheftu decided to contact Ehuru.

“You cannot! Are you insane? Thut has probably had your house under surveillance for weeks!” Chloe said.

He put on his cloak. “Do you think they will notice a man with a beard, and hair like a woman, to be a prince of Egypt? I cannot stay here—inactivity is driving me mad!”

“What if you get caught?”

He froze, then turned to her slowly, his amber gaze devoid of emotion. “It is no matter. From here you just wait three more days, take up passage on the
Flying Oryx,
and sail to Noph. Imhotep helped us piece together most of the formula, so you can return to your own life. And leave me.”

She got up and walked across the small room to him. “Do you think I want to go?”

Quiet breathing filled the room. “Nay. You vowed to stay with me. I know only God could make you break your vow.”

Chloe bit her lip. “It is not my fault!”

“Nay, I know. I do not understand, but I know you would have stayed if you could have.” He held her close. “I just cannot imagine life without you, Chloe,” he said, touching his finger to her chin. “It is too much to ask for me to take you to Noph, to send you away. That is a love too pure for my soul. Do not make me take you there, please….” His voice trailed off, a plea for mercy.

She couldn't yield. “I will not miss these days with you, beloved,” she said softly. “They are all I will live with. Give me golden days, Cheftu, please.”

Chloe felt him trembling as he hugged her. “You ask for life, but to give you my death would be easier,” he whispered. Chloe stiffened, and he felt it and held her more fiercely. “You know I would never deny you anything. If it is in my power to make you happy”—he looked at her—“I will do it. However, you must allow me the peace of mind to check my home here, those I have loved who deserved better than my forgetfulness.” He was determined.

She sat on the flea-ridden couch, listening to his steps retreat. “Oh, Cheftu!” she whispered before the tears came, drowning her halved heart.

T
HE WATCHER STOOD IN THE DARKNESS
of this street of sycamores. The beauty that had once belonged to it was gone. The trees had been eaten by the locusts, though several were striving to bring forth new leaves. The gardens that were hidden behind mud-brick walls were dried and dusty, the water having been used in the fields. Egypt was destroyed. Famine was certain this year and probably for years to come.

The watcher ran a hand over his face, trying to blot out the picture of his young son, stricken, despite the amulets and entreaties to the gods his father served so well. He took a drink from the flagon at his side.

It was wine. He would never have drunk wine while on duty before, but his job was pointless. As was his life. He thought of the grieving woman he lived with, her outbursts of manic energy, her despairing wails that lifted from the courtyard up to his room. He'd offered to make another child, and she had thrown a bottle at him. He touched the still-healing cut on his brow. Glowering, he took another drink.

The sliver of a moon was setting; it was only an hour or so until morning. The wind sang through the bare branches, cooling his nervous sweat. The watcher saw the old man Ehuru take his light and go into the small quarters adjoining the main house. It had been like this for weeks. Ehuru shopped the sparse market stalls and prepared every day as if he expected the return of the
hemu neter,
Cheftu. The watcher rubbed his face, feeling the warmth of the wine lick at his senses. His eyes were almost closed.

Then he heard a sound and was alert, his black stare searching the darkness. Down the street came an Apiru. He was wearing the brief kilt of a slave and had long hair and a skimpy beard. He walked like a young man, and his body was fit, but his beard and hair were gray, his skin dry like papyrus. The watcher clung to the shadows, observing with interest The slave carried two jugs of beer, and although the watcher did not recognize his face as that of a slave in this area, the weary, plodding steps were something he did recognize.

No doubt one of the fine young lords had sent him out to fetch beer for guests to have with the Perfuming. The watcher was just turning, until he saw the man look into the light.

Eyes like a cat. Gold.

Thutmosis’ words seared into his mind. This was Cheftu! He was returning under the guise of an Apiru! Praise Amun! The watcher waited until Cheftu had passed and then ran on fleet feet to the palace, the wine diluted with his enthusiasm. Thank the gods he had not looked away!

T
HE DISTURBANCE WAS SLIGHT
, but Cheftu felt it. No doubt the many soldiers camped out around his home had also. Hefting the jars onto his shoulder, he looked around, as though he were reluctant to go back to his duties inside. His eyes focused on the tree shadow, and he saw a flask beneath it. So that was where the spy had hidden.

Cheftu walked around the gates, back to the slave quarters of his own estate. He climbed over the crumbling fence, taking in the ruined gardens. It was worse than the destruction at Gebtu. Silently he crept across the dusty path and up to Ehuru's door. The sounds of the old man's snoring came back, loud and clear.

Cheftu lowered the jugs and listened carefully. He had not seen the soldiers, but he was almost positive they were there. He stepped inside and crossed the small rooms quickly. Laying a hand on Ehuru's mouth, he called in a loud whisper for the man. Ehuru struggled briefly before he recognized the hand covering his mouth.

“My lord!” the old man harumphed. “Why are you here? Soldiers ask for you daily!”

Cheftu held up a hand for silence; then, barely breathing the words, he spoke of the last few months. The old man sat, absorbed, and listened to his lord tell of the actions of the desert god and of the soldiers. “I wanted to be certain you were taken care of. There is gold there.” He handed the old man a scroll. “Hidden beneath the altar in my parents’ mortuary temple is a large urn. It is filled with gold. Take that which you need, Ehuru. I have also taken some. When you have memorized this map, destroy it. I bid you the gods’ blessings.”

He embraced the old man, not mentioning that the deed to the house was made out to him and that Makab's steward had his emancipation papers. The letter in the tomb would explain all. He kissed the worn, leathery cheeks. “You must begin to snore again, my friend,” he said with a smile as he crawled out the high window.

Cheftu landed on the ground and rolled into the bedraggled bushes. For moments he lay, listening for the shout of soldiers and the sound of running feet. Nothing. Getting to his feet but still keeping to the shadows, he crept down the street, jogging lightly when he reached the main road. Dawn was just breaking. He ran to the waterfront and awakened the old man who'd rowed him across the Nile twice tonight. With a toothless smile the old man picked up one oar and Cheftu the other as they cast off into the chilly light of morning.

One more stop.

T
HUTMOSIS WALKED ALONG THE DOCK,
watching the ships load. He was dressed like any other soldier, his eyes peeled for the former magus and his heartless priestess-wife. He knew they were in Waset. He'd not bothered pulling Ehuru out of his couch; Thut knew he would never say a word. At this point he had no desire to kill more Egyptians. But he knew Ehuru knew.

He wished he knew where the priestess and magus were going. They had come back, probably for some more funds and a chance for… what?

Thirteen ships were leaving for Noph today, six of those going on to Zarub and Avaris, one to the Great Green. The tales he had heard verified that Kallistae and Keftiu had been swallowed by the sea overnight. So even there would be no escape; they would have to return. Thut smiled to himself. He had stationed five soldiers at each ship. They were to check eye color and pull aside any who matched the description his watcher had given.

C
HEFTU AND
C
HLOE STOOD IN THE SHADOWS
, watching the soldiers swarm on the docks. They were checking every man and woman. How many more days was Thut going to do this? He'd also assigned soldiers to those caravans that went west. Even the little skiffs that commuted from east to west banks were searched every trip. He had drawn a net tightly, and Cheftu had no idea how they could escape. Not honorably.

The days were running out… it was more than a two-week trip to Noph in the best of conditions. Cheftu couldn't promise they would have them. He pulled Chloe away, and they began to walk back to their boarding house. The landlady was becoming suspicious, and Cheftu knew they would have to leave her soon… or start bribing her with jewelry, which bore his name and nome.

“Go back to the room,” he whispered. “I am going to ask around the docks for someone who would do a short jaunt to Gesy or Nubt, the next towns on the river.”

She raised her green eyes to him. “You are not going to do anything stupid, are you, Cheftu?”

He smiled, his eyes hidden by the drape of his headcloth.
“Assst,
Chloe. Be safe and I will bring you a treat tonight.”

“You do not have to bribe me, I am not a child. But if you are volunteering could you get me some more paint? I am out of red for my painting.”

Cheftu stood silently for a moment, watching the soldiers over her shoulder. “Of course. Go now.”

Chloe slipped away from the dock and stepped into a shaded street, the sun blazing overhead. Though taller than most everyone, she blended in with her brown skin, black hair, and rough white clothing. As she felt an iron grasp around her rib cage and over her mouth, she realized she must not have blended in enough. She struggled briefly before her oxygen supply faded and the black spots before her eyes engulfed her.

T
HUT LOOKED UP FROM HIS NOON MEAL
, his soldier's senses warning him of danger. Dismissing the fan boy, he reached for his dagger, then walked toward the balcony of his room.

An Apiru slave knelt on it. The man raised his eyes, and Thut had to bite back the startled comment that rose in his throat. Cheftu's eyes glittered, and Thut saw he had a blade positioned over his chest—ready to plunge it in. “You challenge a lot to come here, Cheftu,” Thut said. “Do not bother to kill yourself. I will see that it is done for you.”

“If you do, my secrets will die with me.”

“Which secrets, Cheftu? The ones about Alemelek? Or the languages in which you write? Or how you can disappear into a desert wasteland and reappear in Waset?”

Cheftu watched him, body tensed like a cat. “Nay, Prince. Or should I call you ‘Pharaoh, living forever!’ now? I know what happened at the Red Sea. I also know with no body and no witness that Hatshepsut, living forever's position as pharaoh is solid as the Pyramids. It will be five Inundations before you can wear the double crown you have coveted for so long.”