12
Tekurah kept me running for days, nerves raw, preparing for Shefu’s return. I scoured her rooms from top to bottom, laundered every linen, scrubbed every inch, and beat the dust out of every tapestry and floor mat while imagining Shira wasting away in the storeroom.
On the sixth day of the week, Latikah and I slathered Tekurah’s entire body with a fragrant mixture of coconut oil and myrrh—one of the only duties I enjoyed. The delicious smell lingered on my own hands and arms, which remained supple for hours. I shaved her entire body, scalp to toe. I stained her fingernails and toenails with orange henna, adorned her eyes with malachite and galena, and tinted her lips and cheeks with red ochre.
When Tekurah was satisfied with her face, Latikah placed a wig on her head, one of braided curls, with tiny silver beads interspersed every couple of inches. Whenever Tekurah moved her head, the beads plinked together, giving the illusion of a hundred little bells. I wondered if she would tire of the jangling noise, but she seemed pleased with her latest purchase and admired it again and again from different angles in the mirror.
All afternoon Tekurah startled every time someone came through the door or she heard a voice in the hallway. She barked orders at us, demanding we tidy her spotless room, reapply her makeup, and fetch any number of odds and ends.
Tekurah ran out of redundant tasks for Latikah and me, so she took to shrilling orders at the kitchen staff, the gardeners, and anyone else unfortunate enough to cross her path.
Liat and Sefora waited in the gardens, avoiding their mother’s tongue and playing in the shade of the date palms. Their joyful cries alerted us to their father’s arrival. Tekurah ordered Latikah to tell Hashma that the master would need supper and then rushed to the door to welcome him home, anxious, I assumed, to press him for news from Pharaoh’s palace in Avaris.
The Pharaoh passed much of his time there among the lush green and the cool breezes of the Delta. All the important trade routes from the Mediterranean came through Avaris. I doubted Shefu had time, while negotiating trades, to pay attention to what the First Wife wore, but Tekurah seemed certain he would have all manner of information at hand.
Manit and Lefar, Shefu’s Kushite servants, entered first with his traveling baskets. When Shefu came into the house, both his children tagged along, begging for the treats and presents they knew would be tucked among his clothing.
“Give me a few minutes, children. I have just returned.” Shefu removed his sandals and dipped his feet in the laver by the door without waiting for the servants to wash his feet.
Shefu never used a sharp tongue with his children. They stood blinking teary eyes and even inched closer to Tekurah.
“Husband, I am anxious for news of our son and his wife. Did you find them well?” She was unfazed by his mood.
Shefu threw down his sandals. “I said, I need some time. I will give you your fill of gossip later.” He stalked out of the entry hall toward his quarters.
Tekurah, never one to be patient, followed Shefu. As was my duty, I followed her. She entered his quarters without knocking, and I stood next to the doorway to wait—perhaps a bit closer than necessary. Their voices drifted through the gaps in the door.
“Husband, what is wrong? What has you in such a state?”
“I knew you would harass me until I gave you an answer.” Shefu breathed a ragged sigh. “Manit, Lefar, please leave the unpacking until later. I would speak with my wife a moment.”
The door swung open, and I shrank back. The two tall slaves saw me standing there, and I raised my brows. Lefar shrugged with a smirk and walked down the hallway toward the kitchen. Manit walked the opposite way, shaking his head. I slid closer to the doorway with my back pressed to the wall.
“What is wrong? Has something happened to Talet?” Concern for her firstborn pinched her voice.
“No, Talet and Lathia are fine. Their baby is due any day now.”
“Then what is troubling you so much? Is it the business?”
“Yes and no. The business will be affected. But even more troubling is that Egypt is under attack.”
Tekurah gasped. “Who? The Amalekites? Not the Canaanites. Pharaoh has kept a firm hand over them for these past few years.”
“No, no, it’s not an outside nation threatening us.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Are you blind? Are you deaf? You’ve heard the rumors, the stories about the Hebrew Moses and his god. Were you sleeping when we were under siege by biting flies? Have you forgotten the blood in the Nile? The frogs? The lice?”
Tekurah barked a laugh. “Shefu. Pharaoh is more powerful than some slave-god.”
“I was there. I heard Moses with my own ears.” Shefu’s voice softened.
Eager for gossip, she pressed him. “You did? What was he like? Does he seem like a powerful sorcerer? What did he say?”
“He didn’t speak. At least not much. Another Hebrew speaks for him. I do not know the man’s name, but he certainly projects great authority. Moses only said one thing. That all our livestock would die.”
“How is that possible?”
“How does the Nile turn entirely to blood on the command of such a man?”
A tremble weakened her voice. “What did Pharaoh say?”
“He was livid. He vowed to never let the Hebrews set one foot outside Egypt. Said he would not be bullied by some unknown slave-god who—”
She talked over him. “As he should not.”
“Perhaps.”
“Do you doubt Pharaoh?” Her voice dropped so low I almost missed her words.
“I don’t know, Wife, I don’t know. But I fear this may only be the beginning.”
They must have walked into another chamber, for I heard no more of their conversation. When Tekurah exited a few minutes later, she did not see me. Soft-footed, I followed and slipped into her room behind her, hoping she would think I had been waiting there all the time.
To my surprise, she was so deep in thought that when she turned and saw me she startled.
“What are you doing skulking there?” she snapped.
“Just waiting for your direction, mistress.” I dipped my head.
“Direction. You want my direction?” Her voice smoothed as she stared across the room at the paradise-decorated wall.
She blinked, slowly, but did not look at me. “Fine. Go get my meal; I will be eating in my quarters. Then go sit in the hall until I’m ready to give you more . . . direction.”
I fled the room. Tekurah’s many personalities were well known to me. But this one—calm, deep in thought—I had not yet met. This one could be the most dangerous of all.
Tekurah did not beckon me into her room all evening, so I sat in the hall, studying the intricate blue-and-red mosaic patterns on the floor around me, considering the fruits of my eavesdropping.
Something truly unprecedented was happening to our country. Shefu had said Pharaoh was angry at Mosheh, but could there be fear underneath the bluster?
Perhaps Pharaoh feared this Hebrew god.
Perhaps we all should fear this god.
I rose well before the dawn. Tekurah had tossed and turned far into the night; she would sleep late. I had thought all the gods were against me, but some divinity must be my ally.
A hush enveloped the entire city. Usually as I walked to the canal before the sun rose, the sounds of the morning greeted me—the hum of insects in the brush, the racket of birds and animals stirring to life before the first touch of light exploded into the eastern sky.
But this day there was nothing, only eerie silence. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
I quickened my pace, heading to my rock by the head of the path, hoping I would not have to wait long for Shira’s brother.
But he waited there for me today. He must have received the message I sent through Hashma.
Back turned, he stood as still as the morning, only his disheveled hair ruffling in the cool breeze. He was not tall, but slight did not define him. He built fine instruments, his shoulders solid from hewing wood, and his bare arms, though lean, were well formed.
“Thank you for coming.” I shrank at the sound of my voice, too loud for this lifeless day.
He looked over his shoulder. “Why are you doing this?”
This man refused to return pleasantries. My reticence at raising my voice vanished. “I told you why. She is my friend. I can’t stand to see her imprisoned. Our mistress is hateful. I’m afraid she will hurt Shira.”
He turned. The haze of predawn light obscured his face, but during the long pause, he seemed to be searching mine. “What is your plan?”
“Be ready to meet her in the front garden at sunset.”
“How will I get past the guard at the gate?”
“Here”—I pulled a parcel out of my empty water jar and handed it to him—“Tekurah is expecting this wig to be delivered today. I did not tell her it arrived yesterday, a fortunate mix-up. Tell the guard you are from the wigmaker and your master insists you deliver it to Tekurah’s maid.”
“And how will you get her out of the house? Your message said she is being held captive.” Eben raked his dark hair back with one hand.
“She is. But the guard wants . . .” I stopped.
“I don’t have any silver, if that’s what you are planning.”
“No. He wants . . . me.” I looked away. The sky blushed pink as dawn pushed the last of the night away.
Why was he so silent?
When I finally gathered the courage to look at him, he shook his head, rubbing a hand down his bearded cheek with a groan. “This is dangerous.”
“She’s worth it.”
He stepped closer, looking straight into my eyes. I drew in a sharp breath but forced myself not to step back and to return his gaze. He pressed his lips together and glanced at mine. My pulse rushed in my ears, and my chest squeezed like a vice.
“Yes . . . yes, she is.” His voice was tender, almost sweet. Then his intense gaze tore away from me suddenly, flicking behind me toward the rushes. Was Latikah spying again? “Don’t. Move.” The urgency in the order froze me.
He whispered. “There is a cobra on the path behind you.”
My arms and legs went numb as I imagined the hooded black-and-yellow-banded serpent sinking its fangs into my heel. The deadly creature was aggressive and quick. I had learned early in my servitude to be aware at all times when passing through the fields, especially on unseasonably warm days like today.
Eben’s hand went to his belt, and he pulled an ivory-handled dagger from a leather sheath. With one deft motion, the knife hissed through the air and past my shoulder, taking my breath with it.
“There.” He blew out a sigh.
I peeked over my shoulder and then whirled, stunned and panting at the release of my fear. The snake lay dead, the dagger protruding from its twisted body, ten paces from where I stood.
My pulse still raced as I turned on Eben in surprise. “How did you hit it from so far away?”
He shrugged, but his lips quirked. Pride? Or amusement at my disbelief? “Years of practice.”
“But . . . y-you are a musician,” I stammered.
The storm gathered in his eyes again. “I am also the son of a murdered father. Justice demands blood for blood, and I will not let my family go unprotected.”
The sun came up at his back as I studied his face. Why was he still standing so close? My heart fluttered a strange rhythm, and a temptation to close the gap between us pulled at me.
He swayed closer, his eyes dark, and then he hesitated, as though he had something more to say, but instead he brushed past me to retrieve his dagger and then walked away. I watched until he disappeared around a bend in the trail.
As I neared Tekurah’s chamber, the head steward flew around a corner. He knocked me against the wall, sloshing water out of my jug, and was gone before I could react. Where was he rushing off to?
I entered the room, dripping wet and equipped with excuses for arriving late and with only half of her bath water. Tekurah was pacing the floor.
“I don’t have time for a bath today. Dress me immediately.”
Setting the jar by the door and relieved that she seemed not to notice my late arrival, I chanced a question. “May I ask, what is the commotion with the steward?”
“The animals are dead.”
“Dead? Which animals?”
“All of them. Every single cow, pig, ram, and goat is lying in the fields, rotting.” Her tone was even and deadly.
Mosheh.
“The steward ran all the way in from Shefu’s fields south of town. All of our livestock is destroyed.” She spun her hand in the air, motioning for me to dress her quickly. “I have things I need to do. Get on with it.”
When I’d finished dressing her and applying her cosmetics, she ordered me to go to the marketplace alone to buy a handful of items.
Shefu’s house was not the only one in upheaval. Iunu boiled with chaos. Crowds pressed all around the temple. The courtyards overflowed again, everyone shouting at once.
“I’ve lost everything!”
“Why are the gods cursing us?”
“Where is Pharaoh? Why isn’t he protecting us?”
Jostled by the swarm at the temple gates, I pressed through the river of people rushing to join the chaotic scene.
A nearly deserted market greeted me. Only a few brave customers and vendors spoke in hushed tones around their stalls.
Liat and Sefora’s new sandals were ready, and I dropped off an usekh that needed mending with a Syrian craftsman known for his excellent handiwork. Next I had to find beeswax, almond oil, and kohl. Since the marketplace was so barren, I could visit my mother’s stall without being spotted by anyone who might report back to Tekurah. In spite of the strange and ominous cloud darkening this day, rays of hope broke through the gloom at the thought of seeing my mother and brother.
Wooden stalls shaded by linen canopies lined the streets, laden with a colorful array of fruits and vegetables, platters of spices that burned my eyes as I passed, and stacks of linen, wool, and flax.
When I found her, my mother was deep in conversation with an idol merchant in the adjacent stall.
“. . . and the Hebrews are to blame.” The man waved a tiny soapstone figure of Osiris in rhythm with his sharp words. “None of their animals died. Not an ox, a lamb, or a goat. Only our livestock decay in the fields today.”
The Hebrews’ fault. None of their animals died? How was it possible that our livestock would be singled out? And what would be the consequences of such a pointed and mystical distinction between Hebrews and Egyptians?
My stomach dropped like a stone. Shira. I have to get to Shira.
My mother called my name, but I was already running. I pushed through the crowd, screamed at people in my way. My toe jammed against a wayward stone, but I didn’t stop. No wonder Tekurah had sent me out on an errand alone. The memory of her strange behavior this morning urged me to move faster. What was she planning?
The guard at the entry gate beckoned me, holding up a parcel that looked like the undelivered wig I had given Eben the day before. I ignored him and ran into the house, the heavy reed basket bumping along, bruising my hip. I cut across the kitchen courtyard, turned the corner, and ran down the hallway to the cellar stairs.
No guard.
I was too late. What had Tekurah done? Had Shira flogged? Oh, please not that. She is so fragile. The door to the cellar stood open.
“Shira? Are you here?” I called into the blackness.
No answer.
“Shira?”
“Well, hello there. Come back to see me?” a voice said behind me.
Shocked, I nearly dropped the basket. The guard, key in hand, had returned to lock the door.
“I am looking for Shira. Where has she been taken?”
“She’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
He shrugged. “The mistress came and told her to go. Even gave her a written release from service.”
My head spun. I blinked my eyes and leaned against the wall. “Tekurah?”
“She told her to go back to her home and never come back.”
“But why?” None of this made sense. If Tekurah blamed the Hebrews, and therefore Shira, for the plagues, why would she tell her to go instead of punishing her?
“I do not know.” He lowered his voice. “But between the two of us, she sounded afraid. No . . . terrified. She wouldn’t even come close to the girl.”