In the aftermath of nine devastating plagues that ravaged ancient Egypt, a high priestess desperately seeks to prevent the impending tenth plague. Still, her efforts fail, leaving her at the mercy of an enraged pharaoh. Meanwhile, the pharaoh's son...
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As Re'hotpe guided the horse among the tall reeds of the Nile, he gagged. The stench from the river was strong enough to be scooped. Though the bloody water had since washed away, the smell was a lot slower to leave. He used his mouth to breathe the thick air and prayed no firefly found its way in.
Re'hotpe had dismounted when he realized his horse was finding it hard to move in the swampy bank. The howl of the hounds had since faded; he was certain they had lost his scent as his mother predicted. The search dogs had pursued him relentlessly, and it was only when he came close to the bank of the Nile that they stopped.
A stroke of luck was what his escape was.
The memory of his encounter at the palace gate made his heart thump. He had been so close to getting caught. His slow ride to the gate had not drawn attention; in fact, the palace was uncharacteristically deserted. When he rode past two dozing guards near the gate, they shook awake and yelled for him to stop. He was sensible enough not to obey. They had scampered to action, pulling at their swords and running in his direction with lit torches.
Re'hotpe's salvation had come in the form of donkeys laden with huge baskets of bread. At the exact moment, his horse reached the gate, a servant was leading the donkeys through with a wooden wagon lazily rolling behind. His bright idea of running into the beasts of burden had made his horse rare up and give off a loud neigh. Had Re'hotpe not been holding the rein in a death grip, the frightened horse would have thrown him off. Thankfully, the confusion had allowed him to speed past the abandoned gate.
"I pray you are safe, mama," Re'hotpe mumbled.
All the way, he had wondered what she was doing. Father was very cold to her and any time she spoke of him, there was fear in her eyes. Why had he agreed to her plan? Maybe he should turn back and save her.
And how would going back help her? Re'hotpe sighed. If he returned, his mother would be in bigger trouble, and her effort to save him would be in vain.
The low murky water pulled at his cloak and made trudging along the muddy bank difficult indeed. He had no clue what the time was but he was guessing it was close to midnight or was it? Hearing a low splash, Re'hotpe gulped and gripped the reins tighter. Crocodiles lurked in the banks and depths of the Nile, but he had taken the route Japheth swore had none. When he heard another splash, he shut his eyes and let out a long slow breath.
Keep moving, Re'hotpe. Just keep moving. He chanted the words in his mind, hoping to calm his erratic heart. Gulping again, he turned and forced his eyes to adjust to the darkness around the water. What had made the splash?
As he slogged on with eyes still fixed behind him, he caught sight of ripples in the middle of the river. Re'hotpe concluded a crocodile must be near when his horse huffed in distress. Unwilling to waste a moment, he swiftly mounted the stallion and snapped its rein. If he was to make it out alive, he had to get to dry land fast. Surely, the hounds were gone by now.
