KHAMSIN, The Devil Wind of The Nile

KHAMSIN, The Devil Wind of The Nile, a historical novel, is an engrossing saga of intrigue, warfare and forbidden love in the colorful setting of the court of Egypt's First Dynasty King Aha – ca. 3080 BC. Complex main and subordinate characters come alive and are well delineated, as the briskly paced action evokes a violent, tumultuous epoch with attention to detail and cinematic presentation. The literate narrative of the book is divided into five major parts, with forty-three chapters, a poignant prologue, and a thought-provoking epilogue.

Meticulous research of ancient sites and the way of life of the early Nile dwellers lends authenticity to this pre-Pyramid, pre-Pharaoh era of the Two Lands. Select Egyptian words and the usage of ancient city names are made comprehensible within context as well as through appendices and a glossary.

Many compelling characters enliven KHAMSIN. At the center is Ramose, the powerful High Priest of Ptah, practically ruling his weakling King Aha. We cannot but dislike his insecure second consort, the whining Queen Hent as she treats her willful step-daughter Nefret with disdain. Just as much as we have to adore the forever scolding Royal Nurse Amma who despairs at the clumsiness of the dark slave Dokki, but is rendered helpless by the impish pranks of her royal charge.

From the scheming Vizier Ebu al-Saqqara to Hanni, the bent Ostrich-Egg Gatherer, to Aha's military genius, Grand General Makari with his four powerful generals, we meet Ramose’s priests as well as Yadate (Yah-dah-tey), the spy from the Land of Punt (Ethiopia) who provides his beautiful supposed relative for General Barum's relaxation in the Kharga Oasis. Equally important to the action are Pase, a young Royal Archer, who loves Nefret’s companion-slave Safaga, but is unjustly killed by Nefret’s secret lover Tasar as "the messenger bearing bad news."

In the end, it is the Golden Tablets' disappearance during the raging Khamsin that left the door open for the modern-day sequel, SIROCCO, Storm over Land and Sea.

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Historical Novel Society -- Editor's Choice

Historical Novels Review, Quarterly Issue, August 2012

Reviewed by Steve Donoghue

Khamsin: The Devil Wind of the Nile - By Inge H. Borg

Borg’s exceptional novel Khamsin takes its name from the “devil wind” that ravages ancient Egypt for fifty days during the reign of King Aha, the second ruler of the First Dynasty (roughly 3080 B.C.). The Egypt of this setting is primordial even by Egyptian standards: this is a time before the Great Pyramids were built, and before the Sphinx.

But even in such an exotic setting, Borg adeptly demonstrates that some human passions never change – As the freak windstorm continues to rage, its turbulence is mirrored in the intrigues and battle scenes, the plight of queens and princesses, and the hopes of dozens of lesser (but still fully realized) characters.

Borg’s narrative structure is as supple as it is strong; this is a big book in every way (except in your luggage: it’s a well-designed e-book), sprawling, ambitious, and marvelously executed. It’s enthusiastically recommended.

 http://historicalnovelsociety.org/reviews/khamsin-the-devil-wind-of-the-nile/

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Also, check out my fellow-writer Diana Wilder's review of Khamsin on her own blog:
http://dianawilder.blogspot.com/2012/11/khamsin-devil-wind-of-nile-by-inge-h.html

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Excerpt from KHAMSIN, The Devil Wind of The Nile

... (Queen) Hent naturally aspired that (Prince) Dubar, the first of her issue, inherit the Two Land’s double crown despite (Princess) Nefret’s prior claim. When her time came to bear her child, Aha’s second queen made elaborate arrangements to have its royal afterbirth preserved. As soon as she issued forth her son, the bustling midwife scooped the bloody membrane into thick natron solution curing in a clay jar. Under the well-established Cult of the Royal Placenta, a protective birth sack was invested with exceptional powers as the royal placenta was placed in a special shrine. Upon ascension to the throne, the new ruler’s placenta was depicted on its own standard, to be carried aloft on ceremonial occasions. After death, this alter-ego was buried with the deceased.

Should the placenta, however, be damaged or destroyed, great disaster was foretold. Because of this belief, Hent entrusted no one with this twin-god of her royal son and decided that his urn should not stand unprotected in a temple. She would watch over it herself. She kept the delicate jar with its pickled membrane in her bedchamber. Sealed with beeswax, the jar was topped by an exquisitely wrought lid of yellow nub. Its own small stepped alcove became Hent’s premier place of worship. Dubar’s royal placenta had assumed the status of a god and each day, the mother implored another deity to bring her son good fortune and longevity.

One day, while the Khamsin raged and the two small royal children could not be taken into the courtyard to play, Hent again kneeled before this shrine. Dubar was crawling about behind her and Nefret, barely three, annoyed the queen by pinching her fleshy arm in an attempt to lend her unsteady legs support.

Dubar’s screams suddenly filled the hollow of the recess. The infant prince had stubbed his nose against a jutting corner of the alcove wall. In motherly haste, Hent jumped up to aid her howling son, shoving the clinging girl aside. Nefret tottered toward the low-stepped platform.

The tiny princess felt rejected. She was about to cry to regain the queen’s sympathies when a glitter caught her eye. Curious about everything, the child reached for the glowing top of the amphora and pulled it toward her.

The crash almost caused Hent to jettison her son from her comforting arms.

Aghast, she stared at the overturned amphora. Though it did not shatter, the beeswax seal split open. The lid clattered along the steps playing hop-scotch with itself. Like a lazy slug, a jellied mass escaped over the vessel’s delicate rim to slither down the steps, onto the reed-covered floor. Before the horror-stricken Queen could react, a yellow flash streaked past her legs. As it seeped into the woven mats, her own pampered hound slurped up her first-born’s quivering alter-ego.

“I never want to see that little monster again! Do you hear me!” The queen’s horse whisper turned a rushing Amma pale with concern for her beloved charge.

Hent’s face was as white as her wrapper and her pendulous breasts heaved. “Do you hear me,” she screamed at the mortified nurse. “And have that hound destroyed!”

No dog was ever seen again within the palace walls. Even the King was forced to leave his cherished hunting dogs in a kennel outside the royal compound. Hent insisted further that no dog would be buried in the royal tombs. Not with her, nor anyone connected with the royal family.

From that day on, Nefret was no longer allowed in the Queen’s wing.

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