Author's note:
Just what is wrong with her? Why is she mucking around with the server and posting so much? Is her muse overworked and dizzy? I hope you like this chapter as much as I loved writing it.

Chapter 4

"And it came to pass at midnight that the Lord struck all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, from the firstborn of Pharaoh who sat on his throne to the firstborn of the captive who was in the dungeon, and all the firstborn of livestock. So Pharaoh rose in the night, he, all his servants, and all the Egyptians; and there was a great cry in Egypt, for there was not a house where there was not one dead."
-Exodus 12: 29-30

The 19th Dynasty of Egypt, ca.1279 B.C

The hard strides of the messenger had echoed down her bedchamber slightly over an hour ago; the harem Ramses kept was filled with less than content women, whose elaborate dressing did no justice to their lack of activities that were needed for a busy mind. Peshet turned her lips up and rejoined the women of the harem; honoured that the King had sent a messenger to tell her that she was to make time for him that night.

Oh ladies, tonight I join myself to a god of Egypt, she tittered elatedly. My son, Yuya, his firstborn son, his successor!

Enheduana-Rai looked up briefly and kept her own counsel. Her exalted position as a 'wife' of the pharaoh was not something she gloried in; others boasted in it, some believed that a little more of immortality flowed through their veins after a night with Ramses.

Ra never gave one more than the sun what rose from the east and set in the west. Immortality would be better thought about when one was nearing the Afterlife.

They were merely ignorant women, she observed.

Ramses was no more than a man of flesh and blood, whose luck with the gods was to run out soon. His decision to take a concubine to bed was solely executed out of nonchalance; did not the Hebrew God warn him that the greatest of all catastrophes was to come? Could she believe the Hebrews and their plagues? She did not know, for Egypt's turmoil was felt very badly all over the land.

Rai, they had added that name after her own given name, the highest of all names after Ra himself, they said, unable to perfect the sounds of her native language to call her Enheduana. Ramses was a shrewd fool; she knew his desire to rally Egypt under his great name; relics of old were simply taken over by him when he added his cartouche over the builder's signature.

There was no one truly honourable in the royal court, she thought bitterly.

People usually danced after a war, did they not, Nefertiri asked herself. Men, survivors from harsh campaigns, free from the burden of being frightened and frayed, dance with abandon; women and children who welcomed these men home, dance with rejoicing.

Will Egypt dance again after the skirmishes with the Hebrews and their God?

Nefertiri stood at her balcony that overlooked the precious ponds of water; precious fountains of life that the awed Egyptians revered. The greenery of the palace and its abundance of waters she had grown up with was a sight she was so accustomed to; a life as a commoner was unimaginable.

There was no time to amuse herself with the zigzag shadows that the firelight produced; the embellished richness of her chamber was accentuated by the black of the night and the strange chill in the air. Her ankles were swollen; it seemed that nothing that night would triumph over her fatigue; Djosyn had unwillingly admitted that he would have to leave her bedside for the first time since he was stationed there. So she retreated from her balcony to walk slowly to her bed. He spoke gravely to her last night and she feared she was going to lose him.

Pharaoh has called a council -he thinks of releasing the Hebrews to their leader but altered his course once more.

Does this mean anything to you? To us?, she had questioned him urgently.

I am a scribe, in addition to being a warrior, my beloved Queen, it is my duty to protect the history of the Medjai too -there are only half of the warriors versed in the ancient tongue of the Hittites, the Sumers, the Hebrew, who are also scribes to the Pharaoh; we also serve another purpose, to record for our own history. Do you understand me, Nefertiri? I - Aretas as my second, hold the secret of the Medjai - we must not - we cannot fail. Do not underestimate my duty.

He held her at arm's length, eyes diligently trained on hers and for a wilful moment, she wanted to bolt from him. It seemed that she suddenly knew so little about him.

She did not know what he was asking of her then. To not fail? At what?

Do you not care then, that something may happen tonight? Nefertiri had implored in desperation.

I do, Nefertiri, you know I do. But do not ask of me- please do not tear me away from my duty. He had left then, not looking back, praying to the gods that his breaking heart was concealed from his external appearance.

Thus for a long time, she mused over her future, vacillating between alarm and resignation. The loss of a daughter merely twelve moon cycles before, torment that seemed to pile layer after layer in front of her very eyes now threatened to return. It was only too easy to lament the loss of lips and hands when they have grown familiar.

The air was definitely chilly, the breath of the night whispering the ominous. It inhaled the remnants of Ra's essence and returned it with the exhalation of unbearable coldness.

Egypt was unusually silent and had been for the past months, ever since the pestilence hailed down from the sky. Crops that were made inedible, strange diseases that struck the smooth olive skin tones became a difficult sight to behold, and people milling around aimlessly with blood dripping out of their lips when water finally turned to blood. Egypt was bloodstained; she had never before seen the palaces streaked with dried blood; wails and moans covered every portion of the ground it seemed, as the commons rebelled against Ramses' ineffectiveness for failing to put a halt to the might of the Hebrew God. Priests invoked the name of Ptah, Isis, Orisis, gods' whose might seemed then too miniscule to return the blood to water or heal the skin diseases.

The skies had told her that dawn was to arrive in 4 hours, still she could not rest. But the sudden scream from Peshet sent her heart racing, and she sat up quickly from the position of repose, ignoring the wave of dizziness that grasp her head. It was pure dread that made her clutch the sides of her gossamer white gown as she made her way towards other woman's quarters; it was also intuition that told her that the whole of Egypt would be shaken that night.

Her nightgown was wet and it made her more prominent than usual- the white cotton was soaked through, clinging to her thighs and calves, yet she still hurried along the vast floor of her chambers, reaching the entrance with mutters of thanks to the gods.

But in her immense rush, she tripped over the steps that separated her chamber from the others. Incapable of stopping her fall until the first landing, her arms shielded her midsection as she struggled to regain her balance. The transformation from queen to spectre was almost complete, horrifying to sight, almost unrecognisable to anyone save for those who recognised her strength and determination unique to Nefertiri.

Timid souls would have expired, but Nefertiri's cheerlessness still exceeded the courage of brave men, the fabricated world of the Egyptian Empire crumbled before her eyes, and she become an anonymous woman, struggling to save only herself now that the life inside of her was choked out.

Instinct made her get up but not before she saw the lower half of her nightgown stained doubly with liquid and blood and the gripping pain that shot through her abdomen forced her to remain in a lying position.

Sukh'chet huy Mene'wa Het
Nu'uk Ka kat'ankh Ashet
[I will not tear myself away,
My heart is glad beyond all measure]

That was all of Djosyn's song that she remembered and it was strange that it should echo through her ears now as the pain became too much to bear -he was not around, not even a shadow of his presence that reassured her; was he lost somewhere in an important Medjai council, was he asleep somewhere apart from her?

The cries were increasing, pressing in from all sides of her ears, Nefertiri dimly heard. Or were they her own cries? It was her own painful moans, she realised and her hand of its own accord tried to curb the bleeding that now streamed freely from her thighs, fanning out in distributaries down the stairs.

Her vision was filled with red -in her haste to wipe her brow she had brought up her own bloodstained hands to her eyes and her face; Nefertiri wanted to heave both tears and screams, knowing the once capable woman who was herself now seemed immobile and paralysed to save her very own flesh.

Djosyn, I was right, her mind yelled as she fought for consciousness, and crawled her slow way over to a pillar, staying partially hidden by a billowing drape.

There were shouts heard in the background, guards of the imperial palace rushed past her with the Pharaoh's Medjai to rectify some emergent wrong as Nefertiri battled once more for consciousness, only to find a slight weight that was placed on her shoulder.

Enheduana-Rai.

It was compassion that she glimpsed in the eyes of her duelling partner, an emotion that was so alien to her after the loss of her daughter and now, the loss of another precious child.

This woman, with her strange eyes and strange hair, was more than a welcome sight.

Egypt is..? EnheRai? It was all she could manage.

My Queen, you are grievously hurt. I will gather my supplies and help you back to your chamber.

Djosyn, call him! Nefertiri could only manage those words before losing consciousness against the chill of the night.

The younger woman paused in her stride and wondered briefly about the connection between the chief warrior-scribe and this lovely queen, before hurrying to her own chambers.

What have you done to the Queen? A hand grabbed her roughly and spun her around.

Nothing, she retorted harshly, before glancing upwards to see the chief warrior-scribe and his second, Aretas. She is hurt, I only meant to help her, if you do not believe me, there is nothing that I can do to save your lover! If you do not let me go now, she will most certainly be lost to you!

There was something in her words that made Djosyn and Aretas believe her, for their countenances softened slightly as they released their iron grip on her shoulders. Djosyn's face showed worry; he needed to go to Nefertiri but was restrained gently but Aretas' hand this time.

We will go, my friend. Let us follow her first and help her with all the supplies that she needs.

Djosyn nodded with great difficulty;the queen of Egypt, the queen of his heart lay somewhere dying.

Enheduana-Rai had only time to grab a few yards of clean cotton before the men rushed her toward the spot where they last found Nefertiri. But she was gone; they stared numbly at the spot where she last lay, her shape carved out in blood.

It was unfortunate that such a time had made them unwilling allies as they instantly realised that Nefertiri was taken away by Ramses' loyal Viceroy and uncle, Sahure.