Edward Whittemore - Nile Shadows

Escape. . the exodus. .

It was as if events had finally overpowered him and he had shrunk into himself, retreating to some private world. For the first time both sisters realized how small he was.

But Joe, what happened to Stern? asked Belle. What happened to Stern?

Gone. . everyone's leaving. .

He moved quickly away to the corner and stood there staring down at the harpsichord and the tiny bassoon resting on the polished wood. A bewildered expression crossed his face and he backed away, abruptly fixing his gaze on the portrait of Cleopatra. He went up to it and pushed his face close, examining the portrait.

The panorama's moved. .

What did you say? asked Alice.

But Joe was moving again, hurrying away, retreating to the other side of the room. He bumped into furniture and knocked over a porcelain figure, shattering it, coming to a sudden halt in front of the portrait of Catherine the Great. He shook his head, his mouth working all the while, biting and chewing, his tongue licking his lips.

But what happened to Stern? repeated Belle.

Gone and gone, even him. . and by day a pillar of smoke, by night a pillar of fire.

Joe swung around, his face harried and pale, puzzled. A spasm twitched in the taut muscles of his neck.

His hand went to his throat and he gasped, fought for breath.

Joe?

He reached out desperately for support, caught himself, lurched into the back of a chair. He whirled and knocked another porcelain to the floor, shattering it.

Joe, Belle called out. Stop, for the love of heaven. Sit down, rest for a moment.

But he couldn't stop, he couldn't rest. He groped through the air in a frenzy and stared wildly around the room, recognizing none of it, muttering to himself.

A ransom of souls. . a crypt and a mirror. I and Thou. .

His mouth fell open, his head slipped to the side. He gaped as images tumbled through his tortured mind, obscuring the room. . Wounded animals in the desert and flames shooting high in the sky, trails of wreckage and twisted bodies, ripped tanks and abandoned cannons, sirens and echoes and screaming men lying blind on the sands. . And elsewhere to the east, endless columns of trucks winding away into the Sinai, fleeing headlong into the wilderness on the ancient paths that had always led to Palestine and the promised land of Canaan.

Joe raised his hand, as if preaching to some invisible congregation. He whispered.

Their lives have been bitter with hard bondage. .

Whose lives? asked Belle.

Joe staggered, fell to one knee, pulled himself to his feet again with an enormous effort.

They're leaving. .

Who's leaving? asked Alice. Where are they going?

To the land of their pilgrimage. . a good land and large, flowing with milk and honey. .

He uttered a cry and spun around, stumbling toward the tall French doors that opened onto the small veranda beside the river. Alice rose to her feet in alarm but Belle shook her head, stopping her. Joe stood in the open doors gazing down at the Nile.

And all the waters that were in the river were turned to blood. . and there was blood throughout all the land of Egypt. .

Alice tried to plead with him.

Joe? Rest for a moment. Sit down and rest, please?

But he was moving again away from the veranda. He stopped in the middle of the room and raised his hand once more as if addressing an invisible congregation, his obsessed eyes staring into the distance, glittering and fixed.

Don't you see them? Can't you see them?. . They're beautiful jewels, they're precious stones. .

Belle watched Joe's eyes, her face filled with sorrow.

What jewels, Joe? What do you mean?

Look at his eyes, whispered Alice, terrified.

What jewels? repeated Belle, loudly.

Joe murmured, his hand raised, his voice gathering strength.

Precious stones, settings of stones. . A sardius and a topaz and a carbuncle, an emerald and a sapphire and a diamond, a ligure and an agate and an amethyst, a beryl and an onyx and a jasper. . These precious stones, beautiful and ancient. And the stones shall be with the names of the children of Israel, twelve, according to their names. Every one with his name shall they be, according to the twelve tribes. .

Joe dropped his hand and turned away, his eyes shining. In despair, Belle shook her head. Alice was ready to break into tears. Belle made a gesture and immediately Alice rose and fled to her sister, holding her tightly.

I'm frightened, whispered Alice. He looks ghastly and it frightens me the way he moves his hands, the way his mouth keeps working. What's the matter with him?

He's ill, whispered Belle. He's not himself.

But his eyes, Belle, the way they shine and the way they stare, it frightens me. What does he see? What does he think he sees? Why are his eyes so strange? Whom is he speaking to?

He may have a concussion, whispered Belle. He may have been struck on the head or been near some kind of explosion.

Shouldn't we call a doctor, Belle?

In a moment. We can't leave him alone now.

Belle tried to comfort her sister, but she was just as disturbed by Joe's strange appearance and his even stranger behavior. Much more than mere physical exhaustion had to be involved, she knew that. It was his jerky movements that disturbed her, the spasms that seemed to seize him every few moments and spin him around, sending his disconnected thoughts careening off in some new direction. And above all there were his eyes, as Alice had said. There was a wholly unnatural luster to Joe's eyes, a feverish glow that was much too bright and seemed to devour everything his gaze fell upon.

Suddenly Belle raised her head. What's that? she whispered.

It was the sound of an automobile stopping nearby. In front of the houseboat perhaps. On the road beside the river.

Belle stiffened.

It's no use. There's no time to try to hide him and he wouldn't go with us anyway.

Joe wandered among the pale white wicker shapes, the ghostly furniture that crowded the room with wispy shadows of other lives and other eras. Again he raised his hand, whispering.

For I know their sorrows, and I am come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land. .

A car door closed, another. Whoever was out on the road in front of the houseboat seemed to be making as much noise as possible, although Joe's wounded mind was too far away to hear it. He stopped again, turned again, moving more slowly now. He looked out at the river, taking a step toward it.

Behold, I send an angel before thee to keep thee in the way, and to bring thee into the place which I have prepared. .

The front door to the houseboat banged open. Another door banged and a sharp voice barked an indistinct order. Footfalls could be heard in the corridor, hurried footsteps growing louder. Alice buried her head in Belle's shoulder. Belle stared straight ahead at Joe.

He was smiling now, smiling for the first time, wandering among the ghostly wicker shapes and talking to himself. And the jerky movements seemed to have passed for the moment, the spasms to have subsided.

Once more he was moving toward the open French doors but calmly now, gracefully now, the Joe they remembered, calmly drawn to the edge of the water.

He smiled as he gazed out over the river, his voice strong, the words spoken as if to someone he loved.

A golden bell and a pomegranate, upon the hem of the robe round about. .

He uttered a cry of joy, his hand raised to the river. . then everything happened very quickly. The door to the room burst open and men were shouting and rushing forward. Joe turned in the open doors to the veranda and looked back, smiling, a mysterious joy lighting his face.