by D. N. Carter
Port of La Rochelle, France, Melissae Inn, spring 1191
“What had happened to the port then…to be so damaged and in need of such major repair…did Reynald attack that far?” Peter asked.
“I wish to know why Taqi was so interested in Conrad,” the Templar remarked as his brother shook his head in agreement. “Was he the real reason Taqi visited… as perfect cover?”
“I feel for poor little Arri. He obviously has a soft spot for Tenno,” Sarah commented.
“Taqi was indeed keeping a close eye on Conrad just as he had been instructed to do by Al Rashid himself. He did not trust him one bit. And yes Arri remained silent for several days after Tenno had left. They certainly had a strong bond…but Alisha managed to get him interested in his coming new brother or sister,” the old man explained.
“And why was Husam rebuilding Fustat? Is it because Saladin aims to increase his fleet?” the Templar asked.
“Partly…but also to restore Fustat to its former glory just as Saladin had promised after it had been destroyed.”
“Who destroyed it then…did I miss that part?” Simon asked.
“No Simon you did not miss that part. It was years previously. Prior to its destruction Fustat had been known for its prosperity, with shaded streets, gardens and markets. It contained high-rise residential buildings, some seven storeys tall, which could accommodate hundreds of people. Some even rose up to fourteen storeys, with roof gardens on the top storey complete with ox-drawn water wheels for irrigation. ’Twas a beautiful city. In the markets there they often had exotic and beautiful wares ranging from iridescent pottery, crystal, and many fruits and flowers, even during the winter months. Fustat was also a major production centre for Islamic art and ceramics and one of the wealthiest cities in the world. Fustat was laid out with intricate house and street plans and Husam wished to rebuild it and return it to its former glory…and Alisha and Nyla certainly sold many of their dresses there,” the old man explained.
“So what was it…an earthquake?” the Genoese sailor asked.
“No…’twas down to the then young caliph of Egypt…just a mere teenager named Athid, but his position was mainly a ceremonial one. The true power in Egypt was that of the vizier, Shawar, who as I have already explained was involved in extensive political intrigue for years, working to repel the advances of both the Christian Crusaders and the forces of Nur al-Din from Syria. Shawar managed this by constantly shifting alliances between the two, playing them against each other, and in effect keeping them in a stalemate where neither army could successfully attack Egypt without being blocked by the other….However, in 1168, our King Amalric the First of Jerusalem, having tried unsuccessfully for years, attacked Egypt again in order to expand the Crusader territories, and finally achieved a certain amount of success. He and his army entered Egypt, sacked the city of Bilbeis, slaughtered nearly all of its inhabitants, and then continued on towards Fustat. Amalric and his troops camped just south of the city, then sent a message to the young Egyptian caliph, Athid, to surrender the city or suffer the same fate as Bilbeis.”
7 - 50
“Our Christian knights massacred all the inhabitants?” Ayleth asked, looking shocked.
“Yes…as I said at the start of this tale, there have been great deeds and great wrongs committed by both sides, and others in the Holy Lands,” the old man replied as Ayleth shook her head almost disbelievingly.
“’Tis all too true I am afraid to confess,” the Templar remarked and nodded at Ayleth.
“So what happened?” the Genoese sailor asked.
“Well, seeing Amalric’s forces massing, Shawar ordered Fustat city burned, to keep it out of Amalric’s hands. No one questioned his orders and Fustat was evacuated. He forced everyone to leave their money and property behind and flee for their lives with their children. In the panic and chaos of the exodus, the fleeing crowd looked like a massive army of ghosts….it was said. Some took refuge in the mosques and bath houses…awaiting a Christian onslaught similar to the one in Bilbeis. Shawar sent twenty thousand naphtha pots and ten thousand lighting bombs known as mish’al and distributed them throughout the city. Flames and smoke engulfed the city and rose to the sky in a terrifying scene. The blaze raged for fifty-four days….”
“That is awful,” Ayleth remarked.
“What is awful is that after the almost total destruction of Fustat, Syrian forces arrived and successfully repelled Amalric’s forces. With the Christians gone, the Syrians were able to conquer Egypt themselves. The untrustworthy Shawar was put to death, and the reign of the Fatimids was thus effectively over. The Syrian general Shirkuh was placed in power, but died due to ill health just a few months later, after which his nephew Saladin became vizier of Egypt on March 2nd, 1169, launching the Ayyubid dynasty. The rest you now know.”
“Is that why Saladin moved his capital to nearby Cairo?” Gabirol asked.
“In part yes…though he has since tried to reunite Cairo and Fustat into one city by ordering the building of massive defensive walls to enclose both as one…but Husam saw Fustat as being the port whereby he would build a whole new range of seagoing vessels…with which to expand Muslim territories,” the old man sighed.
“And that is why Paul’s father said he must not build another ship…yes?” Gabirol asked.
“Yes…yes indeed. ’Tis one of the reasons Paul delayed much when redesigning his vessel for Husam whilst at the same time befriending a respected physician. Paul’s interest in medicine had been started by Roger des Moulins back here in La Rochelle. If he was to change his career, then becoming a physician was one he would consider seriously,” the old man explained.
“And who was this respected physician?” the Hospitaller asked.
“’Twas none other than Maimonides,” the old man answered.
“Who?” Sarah asked, looking painfully puzzled.
“Maimonides, the renowned physician, who even practised in the family of Saladin… and in that of his vizier Ḳaḍi al-Faḍil al-Baisami. The title Ra’is al-Umma or al-Millah, meaning ‘Head of the Nation or of the Faith’, is already being used to refer to him. He arrived in Fustat in 1160 where he wrote his Mishneh Torah in 1180 and ‘The Guide for the Perplexed’.”
“Yes, yes I know of these books. And Paul studied under him?” Gabirol asked excitedly.
“He did. Or at least he started to, telling Husam that he was learning all he could in order to compile a medical journal for all sea captains. I am not sure Husam ever believed him totally. He could see the passion for ship designing had left Paul… but as it happened, Husam spent more time away supporting Saladin, so Paul was pretty much left to his own devices.”
“So what happened next?” Simon asked in his now familiar blunt manner.
“Next…” The old man paused and took a deep breath. “We shall eat what Stephan has prepared for us first, for what I speak of next may put you off your meal…but I will tell you that Paul felt ever more pulled to enter the pyramids and the passages beneath them to seek guidance and answers as to what he should do next. Remember he been told a long time before that he should seeks answers there.”
Giza Plateau, Egypt, June 3rd 1183
It was early morning and the sun was only just beginning to make its presence felt with the dim pale blue sky only just cresting the horizon, but the sky above Paul was still a dark black. He adjusted the sack slung over his shoulders and pulled his padded jacket tight around his collar, the air feeling cold. Alisha was against him travelling alone to the pyramids, especially if he was planning to enter any of the underground passages. Theodoric had offered to accompany him but he refused, wanting to be alone. Paul intended to put into practice all the many sessions of meditation both Attar and Tenno had taught him over the past few years. A dog barking echoed out in the distance as he began to walk toward the three large silhouettes of the main Giza pyramids that towered like huge mountains before him. Alisha had very reluctantly agreed to let him go alone but he swore he wou
ld take no unnecessary risks. He checked his sword. He walked past an old man sat in the middle of the main pathway leading to the pyramids. He had his head down and was asleep. Paul sensed someone following behind him but he could not see them. After a short distance he spun around quickly just catching a glimpse of someone’s cloak being pulled in fast as the person ducked behind a wall. Quickly Paul set off again and turned around a corner. As soon as he had, he sprinted for the next turning beyond several buildings and ran down the pathway that ran between them only stopping when he exited onto the steep track that led up to the pyramids. A dead donkey lay half in the filthy canal that ran parallel to the main track. If anyone was following him, they would expose themselves now as the land was open. A small fire was being tended by some people off to his right under an old shack cover. As Paul walked toward the main pyramid, known as Khufu’s pyramid, the apex suddenly lit up in a bright orange glow as the sun finally fell upon it. The light seemed to crawl down the side like honey being poured over one of Sister Lucy’s puddings, he thought.
It took Paul nearly an hour before he found the entrance, climbed up the imposing large stones and gave one of the two guards sat beside it a permissions strip from Husam to enter. One of the guards shivered with the morning cold as they were sat in the shade still, the sun’s rays slowly but surely edging their way down the side of the pyramid. The guards wore simple full length black robes with just a blanket wrapped around them. They had a belt and a small scimitar sword each but that was it. Paul suddenly heard laughter of several women echo out from inside the pyramid. One of the guards coughed and shook his head not looking Paul in the eye. Just as Paul went to step inside the forced entry hole that Al Mammon’s men had made back in the ninth century, three women, scantily dressed in just short waistband type skirts, half cut tops and thin see through silk coveralls, stepped out still giggling and leading a half drunk expensively dressed man out, his robes a combination of the finest white cotton and gold coloured silks. The women were the same women Paul had seen back in Alexandria brought in to entertain Turansha and Conrad. The man looked at Paul, puzzled, then at the guards, who shrugged their shoulders. The man laughed and followed the women down the stones, nearly falling at one point on one of the remaining lower courses of intact white casing stones. One of the women looked back up at Paul and smiled. She put her hand to her chest then outstretched her hand, her palm upwards to him intimating the question did he want her to follow him. Paul immediately shook his head no and mouthed ‘no thank you’. The women smiled, shrugged her shoulders and indicated toward her thigh as she stroked her hand down herself. Paul shook his head no again but returned a smile. She was dark haired, her skin smooth and clear and her alluring and seductive presence almost intimidated Paul. She laughed at his obvious embarrassment, blew him a kiss and rapidly turned away to follow the man and other two women. The two guards just shrugged their shoulders feigning ignorance.
Paul took out his lanthorn from his sack and lit it from the small ceramic oil burner set just inside the rock hewn passage. He had wanted to enter this pyramid for so long and now as he was about to, apprehension grew inside him. As he started to make his way through to the main internal passages, he felt nervous. He recalled the dream-like visions he had already experienced where he had seen, or dreamt, he still could not confirm in his mind which, how the pyramids had been constructed. He could smell incense the women and man had obviously been burning. It was common for wealthy men to hire the pyramid for the night for all manner of activities and rituals. He looked back and checked where the forced entry cut into the passageway was. As Attar had told him, careful study showed that it was not cut from the outside in, but the other way. He tried to remember the details as he had studied pictures of the interior layout. His father, Theodoric and Attar had all been adamant that the pyramids on the Giza plateau had not been built by the Egyptians, but by a long since vanished civilisation many thousands of years before the earliest Ancient Egyptian dynasties.
Paul made his way down the steep descending passageway that led to the subterranean lower chamber. After a short distance he came to a small wooden set of steps and a rope that gave access to the ascending passage that led upwards toward the Grand Gallery as it had been named. Quickly he clambered up the wooden steps careful not to let go of the rope in one hand and the lanthorn in the other. He then made a steep climb upwards on wooden boards that had smaller wooden strips set across them. After an awkward climb, he reached the junction where a horizontal passage led away toward the Queen’s Chamber. Paul used the small rope ladder placed against a wooden support and climbed up it into the massive ascending Grand Gallery passage above this passage entrance. At 153 feet high, the vaulted ceiling was barely visible in the light cast from his lanthorn that seemed to get swallowed up in its vastness. Slowly he made his way up the steep angled passageway heading for the King’s Chamber, though his father, Theodoric and Attar had laughed at it being named so. He could hear his father’s words echo in his mind…“King’s Chamber…’tis no such thing”. The idea that the Egyptians had made the first chamber below ground then changed their minds and built the Queen’s Chamber only to change their minds again and then build the upper King’s Chamber always made his father laugh. Paul smiled to himself. He had still not heard any word from his father since he had left, so prayed every night that he was safe and well. When he reached the top of the Grand Gallery, he had to pull himself up over the main step and into the small passageway that led into a small anti-chamber that had strange portcullis type protrusions. His father and Theodoric were adamant these had once contained sliding blocks. After viewing them, he stooped down and crouching made his way through the final section of passageway toward the actual so-called King’s Chamber itself. He paused momentarily before entering, his mind racing. There should be no one inside now. It was so silent, his ears almost rang. He could sense the sheer antiquity exude from the very walls as he rested his hand upon one. Stooping low, he moved forwards and stepped slowly into the King’s Chamber and raised the lanthorn to reveal a rectangular shaped room with a high ceiling and a single empty granite sarcophagus at the far end of the room. The walls were totally devoid of any markings or hieroglyphs, a fact his father had pointed out he would note. This little fact was in direct contrast to all other pyramids and tombs built by the Ancient Egyptians that were covered from floor to ceiling, and including the ceiling, in hieroglyphs and stars. Pyramids that were conclusively attributed to having been built by the Ancient Egyptians, mainly in mud bricks, were now just massive piles of bricks looking more like desert hills than pyramids. This was because they had been built as copies of the Giza pyramids with far less precision and engineering. A backward step in technology, his father had repeatedly informed him. After a few minutes standing in silence, he knew he would have to lie in the sarcophagus, which had not had a pharaoh found inside it when it was first broken into by Al Mammon. No treasures either. Attar and Theodoric had both told him he must lie inside the sarcophagus, which had never had a lid either, and relax and push all thoughts from his mind…but that he must do so alone with no one else in the room. So with a great sense of trepidation and a million questions of what could happen or go wrong, he climbed inside the sarcophagus and knelt down. Theo had said he should extinguish all lights, but if he did that, how would he see afterwards to get out, he worried. He placed the lanthorn down beside the sarcophagus carefully, pulled the blackout slide cover around it and lowered the inward air vents so it would not burn out. Just a little ring of light shone down around its base hardly visible. The lanthorn had been a gift from Attar and was one of his favoured sailing safety and signalling lamps. Paul placed his sack down, adjusted his sword to lie flat by his side and lay down fully. Just the faintest of light from the lanthorn cast the smallest line of yellow along the edge of the sarcophagus. He lay still in total silence, his eyes making shapes out of nothing in the darkness. He closed his eyes and started to relax himself and put into practice all
the meditation techniques he had been taught… but even then he found it difficult to relax fully.
“You are in the wrong place if you seek answers to those questions you have in your mind,” a woman’s voice said softly. “Ask the one you know as Theodoric about Luke. That will help.”
Paul went to sit up but he could not move. It felt as if his heart was beating to a rhythm that seemed to vibrate with the actual stone of the sarcophagus. ‘It must be one of the dancing women returning,’ he thought for a moment.
“Then where should I be…and what is this place for then?” Paul asked quietly, expecting to see a woman peer over at any moment.
“This place is but like an altar in stone…to reveal facts, measurements and even prophecy if you choose to ask of it. It also helps energise this world…but more importantly it will help contribute to shield your world in the future when the dark twin returns. But that which you seek, you must find by descending to the Netherworld. It is accessed by an old passageway from the destroyed pyramid at Abu Rawash. Go there and it will be revealed to you,” the female voice explained.
“How will it help protect this world?” Paul asked as images appeared to flash before his eyes but were in his mind as vivid as if real.
“It generates a subtle energy…that is all you need know for now. But as for the many questions you seek answers too, they can only be retrieved from what your kind know as the sacred chambers of creation…the Halls of Amenti or Halls of Records…but this you already know of.”
“Then how do I find that?”
“Go to Abu Rawash, the pyramid known in your time as that of Pharaoh Djedefre, and you will be shown…but only so you may know it is real and to then safeguard the location and codes to its position…for mankind’s very survival in the future…and safeguard it you must as you so volunteered to do…long ago…Nothing, absolutely nothing else matters nor must come before that. Do you understand that fact?” the woman asked, her tone almost severe and clipped now. “Agree to those terms and you will be allowed admittance to the Chambers of Creation to ask of it what you will.”