Lady of the Two Lands Page 16

  Realization suddenly dawned that home was no longer Chicago…it was Egypt. She belonged here, as she had never belonged in Chicago.

  “Because you are a meddler. Because you are a woman, and have no place on the throne of Egypt.” Hapuseneb sneered. “And because the boy will be more easily controlled than you. Egypt will founder under your rule. We need a warrior king on the throne. And I intend to fashion that warrior king.”

  The scent of incense burned strong in Hattie’s nostrils and her vision blurred. “So, it was you all along?” she whispered, struggling to hold onto consciousness.

  “Aye, it was me,” he hissed. “Snefru dispatched your precious Senemut, but I claim credit for finally ridding Egypt of you. My name will live forever!”

  Hattie’s vision grew black around the edges before all sight disappeared. Hapuseneb’s evil grin was the final thing she saw. She was falling, falling into a deep, dark pit with no one to catch her, no one to help her. She was all alone.

  Suddenly, she felt the same cooling sense of comfort she’d experienced when she passed out in the museum after touching the necklace. Turning, she saw the lovely, slender woman she knew at last was the real Hatshepsut, not just a figment of her imagination. “You!” she breathed.

  “Aye. You have performed the task I set you, and I am most grateful. Tuthmosis is safe and will live to rule Egypt. I know now who the traitors are, and do not fear, they will be punished.” The queen frowned. “When I was poisoned by Hapuseneb, my powers were not sufficiently strong, in my illness, to allow me to purge my body of the venom and also keep my ka intact. All I could do was search down through the millennia, bodiless, for one who could perform my task and make my body habitable again. My blood runs true in your veins. You were the perfect choice.”

  “I am glad I could help you. You say we are kin and I believe you now, for Egypt seems as much a part of me as my own flesh.”

  “That is as it should be,” Hatshepsut said. “Yet you have gone further than I asked. You have also loved and protected my beloved daughter Neferure. I thank you for that with all my heart. Now you can take up the threads of your own life again and be happy.”

  Hattie sighed. “But it is too late for me to be happy…too late. Senemut is gone.”

  Hatshepsut smiled enigmatically. “Possibly.”

  Hattie opened her eyes wide. “What do you mean, possibly?”

  Hatshepsut shrugged. “I must return to my body now, else my ka will be lost in the void forever. You will understand soon…this I promise.” She held up her hand in blessing. “In a moment, you will return to your own life. But know that my immeasurable gratitude goes with you.” She faded away, leaving Hattie alone in the darkness.

  But not for long. Glowing in the dark, like an image on a distant movie screen, Hattie saw Hatshepsut lying lifeless on her bed in the palace at Thebes. Hapuseneb leaned over her, holding a small mirror under her nostrils to check for the breath of life.

  Hatshepsut’s gown suddenly shivered as if stirred by a violent wind. Her chest rose sharply and she sprang upright, knocking the mirror from Hapuseneb’s hand. He stumbled backward and fell to the floor. “Majesty!” he stammered. “Majesty, I thought you were…”

  “Guards!” Hatshepsut cried. “Come to me at once!”

  The curtain flew aside and two burly guards rushed in.

  “Arrest him,” she ordered, pointing. “Arrest Hapuseneb! He has tried to murder me.”

  “But I thought you had…” Hapuseneb sputtered. “I did nothing, I swear…”

  “Be silent, traitor,” Hatshepsut ordered. “Take him out of my sight, and see that he does not escape. Send a message to the army and have General Snefru arrested, too. He is a member of this conspiracy and is behind the murder of Lord Senemut. Bind the assassins and cast them off the peak of the Temple of Amun, and feed their bodies to the crocodiles so that all may see how Egypt deals with treason and treachery. Go!”

  The guards saluted her, then dragged the still-protesting Hapuseneb away.

  The scene dimmed and Hattie found herself alone again in the dark. The dizziness returned. She fell to the ground and knew no more.

  CHAPTER 26

  Consciousness returned slowly to Hattie. Her head ached abominably. She was lying on a cold, hard floor. She opened her eyes a slit. The worktable and file cabinets of the storage room at the museum swam into view. Was her sojourn in ancient Egypt merely a dream, then? Had she hallucinated it all during a period of oblivion brought on by the blow to her head when she fell?

  No, it couldn’t be a dream, she thought, as she squeezed her eyes shut. She recalled every detail of her time in Egypt—the battle with the Nubians, her coronation, the assassination attempts against her. She could smell the incense and lotus blossoms, taste the honey cakes and date wine. Surely, she couldn’t dream such richness and detail, could she? She saw Senemut’s handsome features before her; she felt his warm lips on hers, his gentle hands caressing her. Her heart ached fiercely at the loss of him. Could she imagine such pain, such profound sorrow?

  “Hattie? Can you hear me? Are you all right?”

  The voice sounded familiar. Hattie opened her eyes again and saw Tom bending over her.

  “Thank goodness,” he exclaimed. “What happened? Oh, I never should’ve left you alone.”

  “It’s…it’s all right,” she whispered. “It was my fault. I touched the necklace and then something happened. I got dizzy…I’m not sure why…and I fell.” She touched the back of her head gingerly and winced. “I hit my head on the table. I must’ve passed out.”

  “You may have a concussion. Don’t move,” Tom urged. “Just lie back. I’ve called the paramedics and they should be here any minute.”

  “I don’t need the paramedics. I’m fine.” She tried to rise, but lightheadedness assailed her and she lay back.

  “Now, you see? I told you not to move.” He patted her shoulder comfortingly.

  “What…what time is it?” she whispered. “How long have I been here?”

  “I left you here two hours ago. I should’ve stayed with you! I hope you’ll forgive—” Tom turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. “That must be them. Stay still, will you? I’ll be right back.”

  Only two hours? She had lived a lifetime in that short period. Hattie groaned, but made no further attempt to sit up. I have no reason to hurry home, she thought. No one waits for me. I’ve lost Senemut and all that I hold dear.

  “Can you speak to me? Do you know your name?”

  The voice was male, but it wasn’t Tom. A paramedic in a white uniform leaned over her. The sound of another voice drifted back to her…Are you all right, Majesty? Do you know your name? A tear ran down her cheek. “My…my name is Hattie,” she whispered, a knife cleaving her heart in two. “Hattie Williams, from Chicago.”

  “Very good,” the man said brusquely. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “Three.”

  “Can you tell me what happened?” he asked, taking her pulse as he spoke.

  She shrugged. “I had some kind of a dizzy spell and I fell. I must’ve hit my head on the table. That’s all I remember.” That’s all I’m going to tell you, anyway, she added silently. I don’t want to be carted off to the funny farm.

  After endless questions and tests, the paramedic announced she should spend the night in the hospital “for observation”.

  “Oh no,” Hattie protested, taking an interest in the proceedings for the first time. “I’m not going to the hospital. I want to go home.”

  “You’ve had a head injury. Twenty-four hours of observation is the usual procedure in these cases,” the paramedic said stiffly.

  “Well, call me unusual then,” Hattie snapped. “I’m going home.”

  The man frowned. “Of course, I can’t force you to check into the hospital. I can only urge you to do so. Do you have someone to stay with you? Someone should wake you every two hours to make sure you’re not unconscious.”

  She sh
ook her head.

  “Do you at least have someone to drive you home?” he persisted. “You can’t drive yourself. It isn’t safe.”

  “I’ll take a taxi,” she murmured. I have no one. I have no one, thrummed through her head.

  “I’ll drive you home,” Tom said. “And I’ll stay the night. You need someone to look after you.”

  “No, you don’t have to—”

  Tom held up his hand to cut short her protest. “I insist. It’s the least I can do! I feel guilty enough about this whole thing.”

  Hattie sighed. “All right. I don’t have the energy to fight you about it. Thanks, Tom.”

  He grinned. “My pleasure. Ready to go home, lady? Your taxi’s here.” He helped her to her feet and ushered her and the ambulance crew out the door, closing and locking it behind him.

  Hattie followed him to his car, steeling herself to avoid backward glances. Her life with Senemut was over. She had to accept that and move on. Somehow.

  * * *

  The phone rang and jolted Hattie out of a daydream of gliding down the Nile on the Avenging Falcon with Senemut, the sun glinting on his bronzed body, his face lit up with a smile as he told her tales of pharaohs and slaves, priests and courtiers. Great Amun, she thought irritably, when will I get over this?

  She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Hattie, it’s Tom. How are you feeling today?”

  “Swell,” she replied wearily.

  “Are you up to a visitor?”

  “A visitor?” She shook her head. “Tom, you’ve been over here every day for the past week since I fell and hit my head in the storage room. My refrigerator is full of chicken soup, and my apartment is so clean, it glows. You don’t need to visit me every day. I’m fine, really.”

  He laughed. “All right, I admit I’ve been a bit of a mother hen. But in addition to being your friend, I’m also your employer—and I want my most valuable employee back on the job! The deadline for the Hatshepsut book is breathing down my neck, and I need those drawings from you.”

  Hattie’s eyes watered and she squeezed them shut, trying hard not to cry. “I’m sorry, Tom. I just haven’t felt up to doing any work since my accident. But I’ll try to get back to them today and finish them for you.” She sighed. “I know you could’ve hired another artist to complete them, and I appreciate your patience.”

  “I don’t want another artist. I want you,” Tom insisted. “I have an idea for something that might help you get back in the swing of the project.”

  “Not another necklace. Please,” she said, massaging her temples. She couldn’t endure another reminder of all she’d lost.

  “Oh no, it’s nothing like that,” he protested. “I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

  “Who?”

  “His name is Sam Steward. He’s an architect, and has been living and working in Egypt for many years. He’s very familiar with Hatshepsut’s temple and her other monuments. I think he can help you get a handle on her. What do you say? Shall I send him over?”

  Hattie shrugged. “I don’t care. You can if you like.”

  Tom was silent for a moment. “I wish you’d get your old enthusiasm back,” he said at last. “Something’s changed about you ever since your accident. You’re like a ghost of yourself. Frankly, I miss the old Hattie.”

  “I do, too,” she murmured. Then she shook herself. It wasn’t fair to let Tom down. It wasn’t his fault her life was meaningless now. “I’ll try. Send him over. What was his name again…Sam?”

  “Yes. I’ll send him right over. He should be there within the hour. Thanks, Hattie!”

  “You’re welcome, Tom. ’Bye.” She hung up and dropped back onto the sofa. This architect could come if he wished—it made no difference. She would finish the drawings as a favor to Tom. And then she’d never write, read, or speak the name of Hatshepsut again.

  * * *

  An hour later, her doorbell sounded. “Yes?” she called through the door without opening it.

  “I am here to see Hattie Williams. My name is Sam Steward,” came a warm male voice. He had a subtle, exotic accent, and though the language was English, she thought she recognized the voice. Her heart thudded to a stop. Could it be? Did she dare risk heartbreak again to find out?

  Slowly, reluctantly, she opened the door with trembling hands. Her jaw dropped and she lifted her hand to her throat, staggering back a pace.

  His long, dark hair didn’t obscure his handsome face, and the jeans, t-shirt and denim jacket he wore only accentuated his well-muscled form. “Hattie?” he whispered, reaching out to her and smiling a familiar smile.

  “No—no, it can’t be,” she whimpered, backing into the living room. “Senemut is dead! I can’t endure this pain again. Please, go and leave me alone with my grief.” She bumped into the couch and sat down abruptly.

  He hurried to her and, dropping down on one knee, seized her hand. “It is I, little warrior. I am Senemut!”

  Little warrior. Her breath caught in her throat. “You can’t be…how can this be…I don’t believe you!” She shook off his hand and stood, trying to work her way around him. She didn’t know what kind of trick he was playing, but she had to get away from him or she’d lose her mind. “What kind of an evil game are you playing? You get out or…or I’ll call the police!”

  “Hattie.” He shook his head sorrowfully as he rose and stood in front of her. “I understand your confusion. I, too, was confused when you told me you had traveled to Egypt from the future. But you must accept my story, as I accepted yours.” He stood and reached into his inner jacket pocket. “Here is the proof you gave me of your journey through time. Now I return it to you as my proof.”

  Trembling, her heart pounding furiously, Hattie removed the tissue paper folded carefully around a thin, fragile piece of papyrus, and saw an image of her own face staring up at her. It was the drawing she’d made for Senemut, to show him what she truly looked like.

  She raised her eyes to his as warm tears flooded down her cheeks. “Senemut, it is you!” she cried.

  He smiled and nodded, then winked at her. “Aye, it is,” he murmured, sweeping her into his arms. “I have been waiting an eternity for you, my love. What took you so long?”

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The principal Egyptian characters in Lady of the Two Lands—Hatshepsut, Senemut, Tuthmosis, Hapuseneb, Snefru, Neshi, Senimen—are historical figures. Secondary Egyptian characters and those of the twenty-first century are fictional, with names authentic to the period. Historical details of everyday life in ancient Egypt have been researched meticulously for accuracy. The time-travel aspect of the story is fictional (as far as I know), and I have taken artistic license in some details; for example, the length of time it took to build Hatshepsut’s temple. Spelling of ancient Egyptian words and names is problematic since the vowels were often left to be filled in by the reader, so I chose spellings that seemed easiest for the English-speaking reader to pronounce.

  Hatshepsut’s and Senemut’s bodies have never been found, and many of Hatshepsut’s monuments and inscriptions were erased or destroyed by her successor, Tuthmosis III, so there is little to tell us how her reign ended or what became of Senemut, who predeceased Hatshepsut by a number of years. We do know that her reign was extraordinarily peaceful and prosperous, and she ruled Egypt for about twenty years.

  For those who are interested, I consulted a number of sources:

  Egypt: Land of the Pharaohs, Time-Life Books, 1992.

  Gardiner, Alan H. The Coronation of King Haremhab. The Journal of Egyptian Archaeology, Vol. 39, 1953.

  Gore, Rick. Pharaohs of the Sun. National Geographic, Vol. 199. No. 4, April 2001.

  Shaw, Ian, ed., The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt, Oxford University Press, 2000.

  Tyldesley, Joyce. Hatchepsut: The Female Pharaoh, Viking, 1996.

  Tyldesley, Joyce. Daughters of Isis: Women of Ancient Egypt, Penguin Books, 1994.

  Weeks, Kent R. Valley of
the Kings. National Geographic, Vol, 194, No. 3, Sept. 1998.

  What Life Was Like on the Banks of the Nile: Egypt 3050-30 B.C., Time-Life Books, 1997.

  ABOUT ELIZABETH DELISI

  Elizabeth Delisi wanted to be a writer since she was in first grade, and probably would have written in the womb if she could have convinced her mother to swallow a pencil.

  Elizabeth is a multi-published, award-winning author of romance, mystery and suspense. She is also an instructor for Writer’s Digest University, has taught Creative Writing at the community college level, has worked as a copyeditor for several small publishers, and edits for individuals. She holds a B.A. in English with a Creative Writing major from St. Leo University.

  Elizabeth is currently at work on Deadly Destiny and Perilous Prediction, the sequels to Fatal Fortune.

  Elizabeth lives in New Hampshire with her husband and feisty parakeet. She enjoys hearing from her readers.

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