Inconsolable

Keening like nothing the land had ever known pierced Nefertari's heart as she leaned her forehead against a column standing in a hallway of the colossal palace. The stone soothed her fevered forehead, cooling her aching heart. Twilight shifted around the columns and crept across the floor as Nefertari tried not to think of all the innocents who had died tonight—including her son. She and Rameses had been so proud to have an heir to the throne, only to be snatched away without apology by Moses' foreign god.

How I loathe you, slave, Nefertari thought bitterly, you have allowed your god to take away our only child. You should have stayed a slave, and never have been my husband's so-called 'brother'.

It would have been so much easier for her beloved, had Moses never lived in the palace. Oh, still have been adopted, saved by someone—but not by the palace. For all she cared, he should've been adopted by a scribe, a physician, an architect, anyone but the now deceased King Seti and Queen Tuya. Then he would be unknown to Pharaoh, who even now wept over the shrouded physical of their son. Nefertari could not bear to be present when Rameses allowed Moses to let the Hebrew slaves go. She knew she would not have borne to keep silent; her maternal anger would have burst forth like an angry sunrise at dawn.

I hate what you have done to us, to Egypt. Wasn't this your home once? Wasn't my husband your brother once? You, a slave, have destroyed my land! Upset Ma'at!

The thoughts roiled through her heart, travelling up to her hand, which she slammed against the column beside her, wishing it was the slave she struck and not a stone pillar.

I would have ordered your execution long ago, if I had my way!

Alas, though tenderly beloved, Nefertari was still a Great Royal Wife. Only Pharaoh had the power to take and give life.

You only held back because he was your brother, Rameses!

Her forehead hot with indignation, Nefertari strode out of the palace, feeling refreshed by the touch of a cool breeze on her skin. A chill still needled into the night, but Nefertari didn't care. Her son was dead, as well as all of Egypt's first-borns, thanks to that Hebrew.

Pulling her woollen cloak tighter about her shoulders, Nefertari stepped with light feet on the stairs that led out of the palace. In front of her, far in the distance, the slanted shadows of the Hebrews' slums inked the lightening horizon.

I would not be surprised if their first-borns had been spared!

Amidst the horrible mess of wailing, Nefertari heard sobbing a few metres away from where she now strolled.

It's just another poor soul who lost their child, she told herself, best go console them as a queen of Egypt ought.

Then, her blood ran cold, and any iota of sympathy drained from her heart. Even though she had seen him only a few times, the queen recognised that red robe and bearded figure anywhere. The stick that lay near him confirmed the man as that hated Hebrew. She dug her nails into her palms.

How dare he sit on the steps of my palace.

"You!" her imperative voice rang into the night, "Hebrew!"

He didn't seem to hear her, still huddled against the wall, shoulders shaking with his tears. Tears for whom? Himself?

What does he have to be upset about? Nefertari wondered, shouldn't he be happy his people are free?

"Get away from my palace!" she ordered, now striding down toward him with purpose, "You do not belong here, you are unwelcome in the home of Pharaoh."

He did not say a word, but nor did he move from his place.

"If I had it my way, Hebrew, I would have ordered your execution a long time ago," Nefertari continued, "he only held back because you were his brother."

The Hebrew mumbled something through his tears, wiping at his eyes. A pang of indignation struck the queen's heart.

"Dare you to mumble in the King's Wife's presence?" she demanded, now grabbing the shoulder of his robe with one hand, "I have ordered you to leave."

"I know."

His voice was barely a whisper, but Nefertari heard it all the same.

"Then why don't you leave, if you know to do so?" Nefertari hissed, grasping his robe tighter, "I may not be pharaoh, but I am still the Great Royal Wife."

"I know," he said again, voice creaking with his misery.

Nefertari let go of his robes, now standing as straight as her back allowed. She was already starting to get stiff with age.

"How dare you weep on my palace steps," she said, "when I know you are happy your people are now free, at such great cost."

"The loss," his words fluttered, "I didn't want it…"

"Then why didn't you stop it?" Nefertari demanded, "my husband weeps for the loss of his son."

The Hebrew covered his eyes with a shaking hand. Nefertari was sure more tears were spilling from his eyes.

"If I could have stopped it…" he began, "I would have. Now all of Egypt's sons are…"

"Dead?" Nefetari supplied.

The Hebrew's shoulders shook with more sobs. Nefertari's impatience began to fray.

"Why do you weep for us? Or do you weep for yourself?" she interrogated.

The Hebrew drew in a ragged breath. "For all."

"You have no children of your own as far as I have observed. Why do you think you can feel our pain, Hebrew?"

Now the Hebrew turned his head as though to look at her, but Nefertari turned aside, so he wouldn't see her face.

"Remorse, Your Majesty."

"You bring this on us with your own hand, and you feel remorse?"

She sneaked a peek to see the Hebrew wiping at his eyes with his hands. "I do," he said, "this was my home. I…I didn't ask God to be responsible." Another ragged inhalation. "I didn't know that…that Rameses would be pharaoh."

Nefertari would have shot back a snappish reply if it were not for the note of bitterness in his voice. She hesitated, feeling her heart soften a smidgeon. Not much, perhaps, but enough for pause.

"You didn't know?" she asked.

No reply except for the Hebrew bowing his head, his tears now silent. Nefertari tried to recover her former burning hatred, but now in the face of such sorrow, the hot coals of anger had begun to cool.

"I didn't…wish for any of this," the Hebrew admitted, "I didn't want death…and loss."

There was such a deep note of regret and sadness in his words that Nefertari felt compelled to pity. Perhaps not empathy, she reminded herself, for he had been responsible for the death of the first born. At least he was not so selfish as to deny it.

"There has been death and loss," Nefertari reminded him, "you are fortunate that Pharaoh has not exacted your execution."

She cut her sentence short. Perhaps it was the Hebrew's all-too-sincere grief that stopped her. She turned so now she made full eye contact. As though realising he had just made forbidden eye contact with the King's Wife, he looked away. But it was long enough to see the sorrow that weighed in his expression, and his red-rimmed eyes. The Great Royal Wife could see no hints of a façade—and now she saw how he sat up against the wall—it looked quite uncomfortable.

Just as though he had collapsed here from grief, not just wanted to sit down, Nefertari speculated, No one is comfortable sitting the way he is.

A deep exhalation from the Hebrew.

Moses, Nefertari reminded herself, his name is Moses.

"I cannot foresee any forgiveness from this," Moses said, voice still choked, "after…"

Despite herself, Nefertari sat down on a step. "After what?"

"I did not come here just to seek permission," he admitted, voice quiet, "I wished to be there for him in…in this time of loss."

"I gather he refused comfort," Nefertari guessed, "I find myself unsurprised. Not to sound harsh or anything, Hebrew, but it is quite impossible for anyone to understand the grief of a parent who has lost a child, unless you are a parent."

His shoulders sagged, eyes staring at his open palms in his lap.

Well, it is quite true, Nefertari thought, if he becomes a father someday, then he'll understand. He will recall my words and comprehend.

"You are right, Your Majesty," Moses' voice was now so quiet Nefertari had to lean toward him to hear what he said, "I will not understand. Yet, I…I am…was…his brother."

Still…he comes to comfort a grieving parent, when he is not one himself.

"You were never his true brother," Nefertari reminded him, trying to be firm yet gentle, "You were adopted."

Moses looked away, "I know. But it did not matter, did it? Now I have lost a brother also."

Confused, Nefertari asked, "What, your blood brother?"

A long silence as Moses eased himself to his feet. Even his back seemed bowed by the invisible weight of terrible thoughts and regret.

"No." was all Moses said as he reached down to pick up his staff. Nefertari noted he held the staff in a very loose hold, as though he didn't wish to carry it. "I speak of your husband, the Pharaoh."

Nefertari stood up, a hand to her bosom, realising the full impact of Moses' words.

"Did…did Rameses say something to you?"

Moses looked out to the Hebrew village, not speaking for some time. "Pharaoh gave permission for my people to leave." Then, another long pause filled with unspoken words. "That is all."

Nefertari knew he wasn't speaking the truth. Something else had happened.

"That is all?" she repeated.

He didn't look her in the eyes. "Just tell him…I left as he commanded me to."

"Not that you felt remorse?"

He shook his head sadly, "I don't know him anymore, Your Majesty. He is too far gone. I do not believe it would make a difference what you say."

Nefertari's heart ached to hear the regretful acceptance in his words. He had, in short moments, accepted that Rameses, from this night on, would hate him for the loss of Egypt's first-born.

"Moses," she blurted out, the name strange on her lips, "I can only try."

"I wish you well, good queen," Moses said, "be strong in your sorrow. Farewell."

Nefertari watched as he strolled away, his footsteps shuffling into the distance. The twilight soon swallowed his form into the shadows of the Hebrew village. She wanted to run after him, to bring him back to the palace, to tell Rameses that he grieved, felt remorse.

You can do nothing, she told herself, he has accepted the fate of his lost friendship with Rameses. Best to say nothing.

She stayed outside, watching the sky lightening above the Hebrews' village. Moses would be telling them the news, that they were now liberated, freed from Egypt's chains.

Can I bear to say nothing to Rameses?

As though her thoughts had summoned him, Rameses appeared at her side, an arm slipping around her waist. She inhaled a shaky breath; Rameses would surely assume that was from her grief.

"He has left," she said measuredly, almost monotonous, "just as you wished."

Rameses' other arm wrapped around her shoulders. He leaned his head on her own.

"You haven't seen him have you?"

Should I lie? Should I tell him the truth? Will Rameses believe me? Was Moses right about him?

"Nefertari?" Rameses said, voice full of concern, "Did you hear me?"

Nefertari's eyes burned, hating to have to lie to her husband. But perhaps Moses was right. Rameses' voice had sounded so harsh when he had asked whether she'd seen Moses.

Perhaps no difference would come of it. Moses may as well be dead to Rameses.

"No," Nefertari said, "No I haven't seen him at all."

She burst into tears.