by Lazlo Ferran
I pushed open the door marked with the chimera and found myself inside another stone chamber!
Great! I can’t see even the outside, let alone the sky!
I peered around me and saw that the walls were of solid granite blocks. Moreover, I recognised the chamber from engravings in books; the King’s Chamber in the Great Pyramid of Cheops.
But how can I see. It must be pitch black in here!
Putting this down to the fact that the door had been marked with a ghost and that this would be the test of my soul, a faculty, if it existed, which might alleviate the need for any other senses, I began to explore.
The granite felt cool to the touch as I headed for the long sloping corridor that I knew should exist through the tiny portal at the floor of the chamber.
I found the corridor and noted that the huge granite plugging blocks had already descended into the slanting passage beyond.
If this is Hades, it does not represent a time before the pyramid was completed. There may be no way out!
The air smelled stuffy, supporting my theory. I stopped walking and heard the echoes of my own footsteps receding but they were accompanied by others; light taps, as of somebody lighter.
“Who goes there?” I called.
I struggled down the slanted chamber, called the Grand Gallery, until I reached its end and could step into the horizontal passageway leading to the Queen’s chamber. I remembered there being a Lower Chamber but there seemed to be no way to reach it.
My heart almost leaped out of my mouth when a young man accosted me:
“Have you seen Khufu? I was playing with him just now and he has gone!”
“I don’t know. Who are you?”
“Meritites! Who are you?”
“John Wilmot. I am lost! Where is this place?”
“I am not sure. I thought it was the riverbank but then I found this old tomb. I have been running for nearly a wnwt!”
“Oh I see!” Clearly I would have linguistic problems here!
“Come on, let’s find him!”
Meritites ran to the Queen’s Chamber and I followed.
When I reached the chamber, Meritites wasn’t there. I looked around but could not find him.
“Meritites!” I called, but got no reply.
Perhaps he is the chimera? I must be more wary.
But there seemed something familiar about the boy’s face. I couldn’t quite place it and considered this while I walked back to the other end of the corridor. I have met many faces in my life so it took a long time to search my memory for even a fraction of their number.
Then I saw it; a large clay pot. I knew what it contained but even so, when I lifted the lid, I gasped at the gold coins within.
“Lilith!” I yelled. “You want me to give up?”
She didn’t reply.
***
“Do you have children?” a voice behind me said, more than an hour later when I had finished exploring the pyramid’s corridors and found no way out. I turned round and saw Meritites again.
“Yes. Four. Why?”
“I thought so. You look like a man who has lost something most precious. I see a sadness in you.”
“But I haven’t lost my children!” I protested. Even though I felt sure of my facts, a fear colder and sharper than any I have ever known or imagined leaked into my soul.
“You will soon!” Meritites said, laughing and skipping off.
Once again I followed and again I lost him.
I returned to the King’s Chamber and pondered the empty sarcophagus.
For centuries, scholars have wondered whether Cheops was ever entombed here at all for it is said that when Arabs finally entered the pyramid, the sarcophagus already lay empty.
Now I could see for myself that this was so.
Perhaps there is still a great treasure in here!
The thought galvanised me. I began searching the walls for a clue; a hieroglyph, anything.
I still searched when I noticed a pretty woman, to my side.
“I found him!” she said, when I faced her. I could see she wept.
“Who?”
“Khufu. He is dead!”
“Then you are Meritites? A woman?”
She nodded.
Her dark hair had been cut short before, or else tucked into her tunic. Now, her lacquered tresses formed a thick mantle around her kohled and rouged face. Her eyes, of deepest green, were framed darkly but gave her a hypnotic beauty.
“How could I ever have thought you a boy?” I exclaimed loudly.
But then I looked more closely and recognised her green eyes. They were those of my mistress, Elizabeth and the face, a younger version of her own. Another shiver ran through me.
“He built this!” she said, indicating the walls with a sweep of her sweet arms.
I quite lost my senses at this point. The thought of Elizabeth trapped in this Hell seemed too much to bear. I love my wife with a quietude that will last as long as my soul but I love my mistress with a love that makes life bearable. My wife makes death bearable but no prize will you get from me for guessing which, life or death, I crave the most.
“Did you hear me?” Meritites, or Elizabeth, asked.
“No, sorry!”
“I said Khufu built this tomb and I can’t escape!”
“Oh, then Khufu is Cheops. Our historians are useless. But I cannot escape either. Let us try together!”
As we walked away from the chamber, stooping under the low lintel of its exit, I couldn’t help reaching out and touching Elizabeth’s legs.
“Oh!” she said softly. “I haven’t had a man yet. It feels nice but I can’t!”
“I only wanted to touch you, for I feel I know you. I apologize.”
She faced me squarely and her eyes seemed to dance with joy.
“You may touch me, but only in here. If my family find out, I will no longer be eligible to marry Pharaoh.”
I couldn’t help myself. I lifted her tunic hem and saw that she wore no underclothes. Her naked buttocks moved with a rhythm and sway that entranced me.
“Do you like what you see?” she asked.
“Yes,” I breathed.
As she walked, I unfastened her belt and let it drop to the floor. When I lifted her hem higher, she raised her arms and I pulled the tunic up to her neck. She turned slightly and I saw that her breasts were ripe, though not yet as full as they would be when I met her in my own century. Her nipples looked ready to suckle. I pulled the tunic completely from her and cast it aside.
She walked naked before me and I too began to remove my attire.
By the time we reached the flat passage to the Queen’s Chamber again, we walked hand in hand, naked, but my privy member had never been less private and wanted to imitate the blocks in the chamber behind us.
“Do you see how those blocks above have slid down to block our exit?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“May I show you what that event must have looked like?”
“Of course!”
When we had almost reached the Queen’s Chamber, I dropped behind her and she stopped. Parting her buttocks, I slid my member to block her exit completely and made sure that the fit was exact and complete.
A little blood coursed down her leg and she groaned as the block slid home.
“Oh!” she said. “I can see that I have much to learn about architecture. I wanted Khufu to teach me but I see that it will be you!”
Suddenly she turned to face me and I found myself in the clasp of the chimera! Its lion lips parted in a hideous grin, exposing giant fangs and its coiled goat prongs pointed to my eyes. Below these features, the long serpent tail coiled to trap my legs.
I am caught! How could something so beautiful become so hideous!
“Your children or your life!” the beast growled. Behind the growl, I could hear the triumphant voice of Lilith and knew that she had won at last.
“Give me one last chance; an hour to think it over!” I whimpered.
&nbs
p; The beast slowly released me and I backed away. There seemed no point thinking of the fighting anymore, even bare-fisted; I just wanted to escape. I no longer trusted myself or Lilith and felt quite prepared to die in Egypt, if only it saved my soul and my children. But in truth, I had lost my mind and wondered in a nightmare of half-forgotten thoughts and ideas. I had heard a rumour of a secret tunnel and in my madness, I sought it.
Left alone, I walked back to the small open area where both corridors to royal chambers met and peered at a flag stone in the corner. It looked just like the rest.
Beautiful work!
I found a loose shard of granite and began to etch the edge of the flag stone, digging into what I could now see to be tightly packed dirt and not stone.
After half an hour of frenzied effort, I had the flag stone loose and lifted it away. Sure enough, below it, a vertical shaft fell away. I clambered into it and inched my way down.
I guessed my hour had elapsed when I found myself in a grotto.
“Your time is up!” Lilith’s voice bellowed. “I am coming for you!”
I found a small niche and sat down to await her. I really had reached the end of my endurance. I leaned back, dislodging a stone. Behind it, I saw a tiny niche, holding a statuette in red onyx and jade, no bigger than my hand.
I lifted it up and found that it to actually be a lever. I pulled it and stones moved in the wall behind me. With Lilith only moments away, I peered into a vast chamber and saw a sight that I doubt any other man has ever seen; piles of gold ornaments and coins stacked as high as the ceiling and one hundred feet deep or more. I had found the treasure but too late!
“Ha! Ha!”
I laughed until Lilith found me and carried me back to the place where I had arrived. She opened a secret door and pushed me through.
“I will miss you John!” she whispered. “Don’t forget this!” She shoved a clay pot through the door and placed it beside me.
***
Chapter Five
I sat beside the pot of gold for a few minutes to regain my composure before beginning to smash through the door with the earlier discarded axe.
Henry must have heard me and thought his chances of survival were better if he made a pretence of helping me. He and his steward opened the door from the other side and I glowered at him.
“You tricked me!” I declared. “Somebody removed the hammer; the final and most vital weapon!”
“It wasn’t I!” Henry declared, casting a glance at his steward, whose agitation told me it couldn’t have been him.
“I am leaving with my gold!” I said “Bring a barrow. Where is Zosimyache? Is he still here?”
“It is but half past the fourth hour!” Henry declared. “He is still abed with a blonde wench.”
“Raise him, if you want to keep your head, and tell bring a closed carriage to the main steps. Tell Zosimyache to meet me there!”
“Get a wagon … and a barrow!” Henry ordered his steward.
My gaze must have been so fierce that it struck fear for his very soul into Henry for he never attempted to thwart me. Only when we had loaded the wagon did he protest:
“Will you not write down what you saw before you leave? My father would have wanted it so!”
“Bugger your father!” I yelled as the carriage departed.
It had occurred to me that Henry’s father had probably abandoned his quest for the very same reason as I; to save his children. I didn’t mean what I said to Henry but I no longer had any time for him.
Zosimyache and I had left the castle grounds before the sun rose and sped our way toward London. I had specifically instructed my friend to leave the women behind and he drove the carriage. I did not want any witnesses to my dishevelled and distraught state.
“What in Hell happened to you?” my friend asked at a halt.
“I cannot tell you all that I saw but I will record it as a memoir. Right now, I have to get back to Elizabeth and my family as soon as possible. This gold is all I won from the very hands of Beelzebub. Zosimyache, never let Henry tempt you into that challenge, not if you value your soul and that of your loved ones. I fear I may have forfeit mine and narrowly avoided forfeiting those of my children and wife. At least I hope that is so. I must find out if they still live!”
My friend simply shook his head so I asked another question:
“Is Elizabeth alright?”
“I saw her as I rose to come to you. She looked very concerned but had no sign of illness or injury about her.”
“Good. That is good. I feared for her too. Let’s continue the journey! Drive as if the hounds of hell are behind us, as they probably are!”
“But what did you see?”
“It’s not what I saw, but what I felt; the cold hand of Hell creeping into my soul. I hope you never feel it!”
***
A week passed before I felt able to tell myself life could go on. I felt no different apart from the cold memories that filled my hours when I tried to sleep. Elizabeth and the children were fine and my wife seemed very glad of the sack of gold I handed over. I didn’t give her more than one quarter of the pot’s contents for I felt that might be tempting her own fate.
However, I felt very restless and took to wandering in England’s lush countryside. Even in winter, its colours took my mind from thoughts of Hell. Its blue sky especially comforted me.
I decided to bury the pot with its remaining gold. Where, I will not say but since I cannot take it with me and by the time you read this, I will have escaped this life, I have left clues for the resourceful to find, that they might make some good use of it. I would prefer it to be my friend Zosimyache and yet I fear that giving it to him would endanger his soul.
In 1680, I could no longer bear to live as John Wilmot. Since my misadventure, I never drank spirit or beer, never touched laudanum or snuff again and never wenched once. Nevertheless, I felt as if somebody were following me each hour of the day and watching me at night. I caught a journeyman carpenter unawares in Wiltshire and bled him dry before taking his name, Nathanial Cross. I lived in that form for until 1720, when I drained another body, that of Thomas.
Thomas will be my last victim. I have decided to depart life forever. In that way, I hope to have a slim chance of gaining Heaven on Judgement Day. Zosimyache is the only friend I have from my life as John Wilmot and I leave him this memoir.
***
It is October. I find it harder each week to walk in this aged body and will attempt it no more. Today was a fine day so I walked nearly two miles before returning and setting down this poem. I know not what to call it so I will name it The Poem. It will be the last clue as to the location of the buried gold.
The poem
Another walk, angry walk,
- made a mistake,
My mother’s warnin’.
Smells of first autumn,
My nostrils intake.
Sweet honeysuckle wafts,
From Ivy flowers,
Fresh paint shimmers,
Under by a boatman’s fingers,
Pickling fresh onions into jars,
Konics shuffle, shift away grass.
The distant regretful knell of two bells;-
“That, which a being was … ,”
The yard lifts another hull aloft,
White smoke belches from megalithic Hell.
And so I leave.
Autumn’s ground,
Like grinded coffee,
Breathes in pungent, soily,
Fullsome, round.
***
The End
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Biography of Lazlo Ferran
During Lazlo Ferran's extraordinary life, he has been an aeronautical enginee
ring student, dispatch rider, graphic designer full-time busker guitarist and singer (recording two albums, one of Arabic music featuring the rhythms of Hossam Ramzy). He has traveled widely and had a long and successful career within the science industry but now left employment in the public sector to concentrate on writing. He has lived and worked in London since 1985 and grew up in the home counties of England.
Brought up as a Buddhist, in recent years he has moved towards an informal Christian belief and has had close contact with Islam and Hinduism. He has a deep and lasting interest in theology and philosophy. His ideas and observations form the core of his novels. Here, evil, good, luck and faith battle for control of the souls who inhabit his worlds.
He has traveled widely, living for a while in Cairo during 1982. Later, he spent some time in Central Asia having various adventures, one of which was getting married in the traditional Kyrgyz style. He has a keen interest in the Far East, Middle East, Asia and Eastern Europe - the latter informing his series of books about vampires and werewolves. He keeps very busy writing in his spare time and pursuing his other interests of history, genealogy and history of the movies.
From the author:
Thank you for reading my story and I hope you liked it. I value very much feedback from people and need this if each book is to be better than the last, so if you could take the time to either post a comment on my amazon page or my blog or simply email me, I would appreciate it.
Where to find Lazlo Ferran
Blog: https://www.lazloferran.com
Email: [email protected]