King Khufu had never seen a creature so daring or so beautiful.
She had been swimming between the island and the riverbank for nearly half the day. He’d watched her from behind one of the large boulders that littered the island’s shoreline. First she had swum the distance alone, her long limbs stroking comfortably against the current. Then she had begun to carry loads. A bag of grain upon her head. Then another. A saddlebag. A clutch of dates.
She’d worked quickly and efficiently, scanning the surface for crocodiles, though it appeared she had little fear of them. Before long she had all of her treasures safely transferred to the island but one.
The King had never seen such a large donkey. Or perhaps it was something sent from the Gods.
She’d tugged at the beast’s reins, but he had refused to venture into the water. Finally the clever woman had crossed back to the island and filled a bowl of grain. She had returned to the shore, given the beast one taste, then held the bowl above her head, just beyond his reach. The beast had not even known he was swimming, and when he’d reached the island he’d got his reward.
She, too, had got hers—rest. She had collapsed upon the shore, exhausted.
Now, no longer in danger of crocodiles, she moved slowly, savouring her accomplishment. She inspected the purple headdress she had twisted about her body, now completely wet. The garment clung to her curves like a second skin.
King Khufu felt a long-forgotten stirring deep in his stomach. He had come to the Isle of Abu in search of a god. Instead, it seemed that he had found a goddess. He stole closer, hiding himself behind a large boulder at the water’s edge.
The late-afternoon sunlight sketched her soft curves and he studied them, as if beholding a gloriously carved relief. Slowly she removed her wrap and stood naked upon the shore. Khufu had to catch his breath. She entered the water to her knees, then dunked the garment and wrung it out. She spread the large cloth upon the rocks to dry. Completely disrobed, she returned to the water and began to give herself a bath.
Her face was dirty—stained with perspiration and dust, as if she had endured a long journey. Now, every splash of water seemed to reveal a new layer of loveliness. Her breasts were round and ripe—her nipples becoming perfect peaks at the touch of the droplets. She bent over and dipped her short black hair, then lifted it in a spray of sparkling water. Her movements were so fluid and graceful it looked as if she were performing a holy dance.
Khufu could not believe what he was seeing. Two days before, when his entourage had first arrived at Abu, he had spat upon the ground in vexation. A month’s journey for this small piece of rock? There was no cavern, no temple, nowhere to seek communion with Khnum, the God who was supposed to be at his command.
He had begun to feel foolish. He had left the capital city without its King during a time of drought. Horus spoke to me, he had told Imhoter. And so the God had. He had told Khufu to come to Abu, but why?
Now he understood why. It was her. She was the answer. Horus had sent him the epitome of beauty and grace to rescue him and all of Khemet from despair. She seemed to have been born of the Great River itself. She was harmony, she was loveliness, she was beauty incarnate, she was...
‘Hathor...’ he uttered.
The woman turned. ‘Yes?’