Isis Wept by Stephan Loy

Author:Stephan Loy [Loy, Stephan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 149044100X
Publisher: Mid-World Arts
Published: 2013-06-15T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight:

Hathor beamed with ecstasy. So excited was she that rain showered the river bend at her stronghold in Dendera. It was a light rain from thin clouds in a mostly clear sky, with bows of gauzy color glittering in angled sunlight. The humans it soaked wondered at the miracle, for the Denderan desert, like the rest of Middle Egypt, rarely saw rain. It derived its meager allotment of water from the river itself. Now the Denderans gaped at the sky and muttered prayers to their patron goddess, prayers of thanksgiving for a miracle of which she was barely aware.

The goddess sat enthroned aboard her personal barge. She was beautiful always, but more so in glittering jewelry and the whitest of nearly sheer linens. A canopy stretched above her to fend off the sun. It also kept her dry while those about her fidgeted in the rain.

And those about her were many. Her crew and attendants stood at their stations, the rowers and riggers sweaty, welcoming the shower after their hurried push from Abu Simbel. None of them looked at the goddess, afraid of the consequences. They knew that Hathor cared little for their worries; it amused her to destroy men simply by heaving her bosom.

Closer in to the goddess, a dozen of her priestesses kneeled in supplication. They had come from as far away as the rich, green delta, and from as near as tortured Abydos, a day’s sail to the north. They all kneeled in the steady shower, attending their goddess and awaiting her command. Hathor’s mood had been foul earlier, only recently lifted by the rain-bringing news.

“Where is she?” Hathor asked, her fingers squeezing the armrests of her throne. “You spotted her in Rosetta. Where did she go from there?”

The priestess kneeling at her feet cringed at a question she clearly preferred not to answer. "We were few and without her resources. We lost the goddess Isis at Buto.”

The sun shower faltered. It became a pensive drizzle. The priestesses and crewmen watched the sudden gathering of darker, lower clouds in the west.

“You lost her,” the goddess echoed, and frowned. She didn’t strike out at failure, this time. She glanced about at her human cattle, dismissing the priestess before her, the bearer of such promising -- but ultimately fruitless -- news. “Are there no other reports? Did I rush up here for rumors only? Isis has not been seen for years. There are those who believe she has fled this world, or joined her husband in the land of the dead. Her return can only mean a challenge to Set, to the new order in Abydos. Chaos follows her home. So, I ask again: is there no other news?”

No one offered any.

Hathor drummed her fingers. Dendera was her heart, but people worshipped her throughout Egypt, especially in the Delta, where Isis had appeared. She should know all that occurred there. Someone hid her prey. “I won’t trail Thoth in learning my niece’s plans,” she promised.

She waited. So often with humans, all one had to do was wait.

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