by Jay Penner
We looked plain, without our military regalia, emblems, or adornments. To the enemy, I hoped we looked like an untrained cohort of rough men drawn from the farmlands.
They outnumbered us more than two-to-one, but we had the advantage of nine days. I had learned something precious during Alexander’s campaigns.
Do what the enemy cannot guess you will.
Nekh-Aser sat straight on his horse. Ptolemy’s flags fluttered—Alexander with ram’s horns and elephant scalp headdress. The Egyptian squinted, eyeing Deon and his ragtag mercenaries far up ahead in the narrow path. Polymedes had never returned from his mission, but the other ship that docked in Thera and returned had reported that Polymedes had left Thera with two extra passengers—a man and a woman. As luck would have it, he had learned about their new destination through Ptolemy’s spies.
And he had caught up to them, finally.
Nekh-Aser did not like tight spaces. There was something about them that distressed him since he was a child. His father had once locked him in a crypt as punishment—the terror of that moment had never left him. And that harlot with Deon had reminded him of all that again. The troops waited for an order, and Nekh-Aser knew in his gut that an ambush lay ahead, but he was unsure how. His lookouts had not spotted anyone on the rims. Besides, the cliffs were steep, and there was no way anyone could attack them from the top.
His spies had found no sign of large armies in the vicinity—it was all very puzzling to Nekh-Aser.
What was Deon doing here? Why this suicidal attempt?
The restless hoofs of the cavalry clicked on the rocks. Nekh-Aser's lieutenant controlled his impatient horse. “May we attack, sir?”
The subordinate’s question irritated Nekh-Aser.
“Ambush,” he said, straining against his painful jaw cage. He signaled the lieutenant to come closer. “Send thirty, wait for whistles.”
The lieutenant picked thirty men and a leader and had them move forward as a line six deep with five horses in each. “Blow the whistles when you want us to join,” he said, and the leader bowed.
Nekh-Aser hoped that this affair would be over by noon. He pulled by the forward party leader’s side and growled. “Capture leader and woman. They die, you die.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nekh-Aser nodded to the lieutenant who raised his sword in the air.
“Move!”
The thirty rode towards the entrance of the canyon. Their measured progress on the uneven, rocky ground was to avoid injuring the horses. The leader of the cohort eyed the sides for an ambush.
They soon entered the passageway a few horses-wide, but the enemy had retreated. "Halt!" the leader shouted. “I do not like this,” he said, as he adjusted his helmet and stroked his beard.
“Sir, look,” a soldier said, pointing to several items at the entrance of the next passage. The retreaters had strewn about bags, crude spears, and camping paraphernalia.
“Looks like they ran in a hurry,” said the soldier, grinning.
The leader considered the possibilities. It might be true that the enemy saw their strength and ran, or it was a pathetic attempt of a ruse. Could this clever man Deon have sanctioned this childish attempt? They surveyed the area and looked at the cliff walls but found nothing. Finally, the leader signaled them to move forward. Three horses in each line entered the narrow passage.
The canyon closed in and towered over the riders. The steep walls bore deep cracks. It was cool, and on the sand ahead were many footprints of men running. The leader signaled his men to trot forward faster.
Finally, the entire group was well within the empty canyon. The nervousness eased. A few riders amused themselves by shouting and hearing the echoes.
“It all makes sense,” said the leader, addressing the men behind him. “They chose a place from which they could decide to fight or flee. Let us proceed to the end of the passageway, ensure it is clear, and then return to the captain for his orders.”
They continued several steps. A low whistle floated in the quiet air. The leader turned to admonish the idiot—
“Ambush!” he screamed.
Ahead of them, and behind, men appeared from the walls. They wore military helmets, held sarissas and swords. Many carried large bales of grass. The messengers blew their whistles.
The leader yelled, "Half with me, other half behind!"
The enemy on both ends set fire to the bales and rolled them forward. The horses panicked and refused charge ahead. Then the first volley of missiles came hurtling from either end.
Several men fell screaming, and the remaining riders struggled to control the horses. The enemy changed tactic again. They formed two tight lines that trapped Nekh-Aser's party in-between. The leader realized that these were not a ragtag bunch. The battle became one-sided in no time. The advancing enemy impaled, stabbed, and hacked away at the disorganized invading party. Some men caught fire and ran like human torches, screaming and flailing. The air soon filled with the smell of charred flesh, burnt skin, flaming hair, and screams of desperation. The leader dismounted and tried to bring order. Amidst the madness, he thought he saw a woman disembowel one of his men.
Who were these people?
A well-built, almost bald man rushed towards him, appearing like a monster from the smoke.
This must be Deon, the leader thought.
Their swords clanged, but Deon was far more skilled. After a short struggle, Deon grabbed the leader's throat and kicked the legs under him. The leader stumbled and fell, and his helmet flew. He felt someone grip his hair and pull him away.
The leader gagged due to smoke; his eyes burned, and he struggled to see. He saw Deon over him, and he raised his hands to thwart a final blow. Deon stopped short and brought his face close to the fallen man.
“I have a question for you. Tell me the truth or say your prayers.”
The leader nodded fervently. He was not going to die for a captain who had sent them unprepared.
Nekh-Aser watched as a waft of smoke rose in the distance. Expanding shrubbery fire, he thought, and paid no heed to it. He and his men waited for the whistles, or for someone to appear at the entrance of the canyon. Finally, Nekh-Aser saw a rider at the entrance. The man waved and then blew the shrill whistle several times.
Nekh-Aser raised his sword in the air and nodded to his men.
“Move forward,” yelled the man. Ptolemy’s banner rose high, and the column began a slow march towards the canyon entrance. Nekh-Aser felt his loins stir at the prospect of bloody vengeance.
Whether Alkimachus did his job was yet to be seen.
KNIFE’S TIP
❖
I prayed to the gods that Alkimachus would prevail against Nekh-Aser. I had left the force under his command as Eurydice, and I slipped away from them and made our way along a rocky incline. The path led us to the area where we believed there was a passageway into the hidden city.
The walk up the incline, skirting the face of a rocky mountain, was strenuous. We had little respite after a brutal, intense battle, and there was no time to lose. Our bloodied attire blended with the red rock all around us. After what felt like an eternity, chest burning and calves hurting, we arrived at a narrow ledge. The farther corner ended in a shallow cleave of the mountain. There was no path forward. We had to gain a foothold on indentations on the vertical wall and move higher up to the ledge near the door. Eurydice looked scared, and I was no fan of great heights either. But we had come all this way, and I was not going to return. We made our way taking our time to find the right support. After several heart-stopping moments, we finally made way to the ledge. The huge stone slab was ahead of us, and it was at an angle to the mountain. The corner of the slab was raised outwards with a slit hidden behind, invisible to anyone except those that were on the ledge. A single person could squeeze in. It was ingenious.
My heart thundered as I gripped a stone overhang and swung inside the opening. It was narrow and short, so I balanced myself and helped Eurydice through. We rested and laug
hed with relief. So far, today, no one had stabbed us, hacked us, set us on fire, and we had not fallen down a cliff.
The narrow passageway went a distance, and we moved cautiously holding our hands over our mouth and nose to protect from the fine dust. The walls were cut from rock, and I scraped myself twice. After about two hundred steps, before it became completely dark, the passage opened into a chamber that was dimly lit through an opening that channeled sunlight inside.
We had stepped into another world.
The small, musty room was empty except decorative patterns on the roof. I felt the presence of ancient gods in the darkness. No one had been here since the founders had sealed it. Eurydice sensed my trepidation—she gripped my forearm and then knelt; I followed. We prayed that no harm comes to us, for we were here on orders of our superiors, in love for family, and desired greater good of the peoples.
There was an ornate stone lever on the wall next to a wide stone door. We gripped the handle of the lever and pulled, but nothing happened. It was rigid—thousands of years had degraded the structure, and I worried if we were stuck after coming so close. But I examined the lever and noticed fine sand in the hinges. I cleaned the hinge by blowing on it. The fine craftsmanship was visible; smooth circular patterns hid bronze hinges underneath.
We tried again—but nothing moved. I sensed the ancients laughing at us.
“There may be another way to unlock the lever,” said Eurydice. We began to inspect the stone walls. We started at each end, feeling the surface for anything unusual.
“Here!” Eurydice whispered, and I raced over to her. The engineers had carved a smooth dial with notches, into the wall. Once again, we blew into the ridges of the dial to clear the passage. I placed my fingers and turned it to my right—it did not move.
O’ Poseidon, may your power move the dial!
I directed all my strength to my wrists and twisted it. The dial clicked and turned. Then I heard something release inside the walls. I sprinted towards the lever like a young athlete from the famed games of Athens. We both gripped the handle again and pulled it hard towards us. This time the lever moved like palms on butter. The stone door slid to one side—to half its width, and then ground to a halt.
I stepped into the darkness. The air was stale but caused no distress. I guessed that the ancients had created air ducts to keep circulation. Eurydice stepped in behind me—we held our hands and moved cautiously. I removed a torch from my bag and prepared to light it. At that moment I felt the vibration of a mechanical contraption beneath my feet. I gasped—terrified that this was a trap and we would die a sudden, inglorious death, but that was not to be. In front of us, the dark passageway lit up with the gentle glow of lamps encased in translucent material. They came to life one after the other as if by divine magic. My mouth dropped in astonishment. We stood immobile, mesmerized at what unfolded in front of us. Elegant stone statues of ancient gods and kings, finely sculpted to human likeness and coated with fine dust, watched over cold cobbled floors.
Was this an abode built by men and gods together? I took the lights that showed us the path as an omen that the powers sought to encourage us forward. We walked about a hundred steps, and the passageway ended in darkness. I stood at the edge, wondering if we would plunge to death. Instead, once again, lamps lit up in a far distance. Soon, hundreds came to life, above us, and to our sides. And then a great fire lit up right ahead of us.
We had stepped into a magnificent dome surpassing anything I had ever seen—and I had been to Persepolis, Babylon, and Memphis. Those were mute monuments of stone and sand, but this felt alive—it felt our presence and reacted to it.
The dome was a large amphitheater with stepped stone benches all around. The fire at the center burned from a stone podium. On four corners stood statues of a man whose expressive eyes focused on the fire podium. He wore a large, intricately carved crown and a decorative cuirass with carvings of bulls and lions. One hand reached out to the heavens, and the other held a representation of fire.
Vibrant paintings in hues of blue, red, and yellow decorated the walls, depicting the lives of their empire.
A multi-level palace perched on a cliff overlooking the sea, with throngs of adoring people looking up to a King standing on an extended balcony.
A lilies, mandrake, and yellow rose garden alongside a long circular canal.
A giant central circular courtyard with the statue of a god—a bearded man, with majestic wings, holding fire in one hand and a stack of tablets in the other.
Rows of ships anchored near a curved harbor.
Women bedecked in jewelry and dancing to a man with a harp.
Warriors hunting a herd.
A dancer pirouetting in front of a bull.
A slender, royal woman standing before a crowd that bowed to her.
An old King and a beautiful young woman—his wife or daughter—beside him.
A giant man, naked and wearing a bull’s mask, standing in what appeared to be a labyrinth.
A council of several men and women listening to the old King.
It was a glorious tapestry of an ancient era. In one section, men and women watched us in silent contempt as we walked by.
And then we noticed something on the floor—skeletons. Hundreds of them, with their degraded garments and jewelry still in place. Some headless and others simply splayed on the floor. I was horrified, and Eurydice closed her mouth with her palm. It was as if the freezing finger of death reached up from under us and touched my neck, gently caressing. My hair stood with terror—were the dead reaching to us? I uttered a prayer under my breath.
What had happened here?
Was this what the ancient writer meant when he said that the Lord had put people to the sword as they ate? We walked carefully avoiding stepping on the dead so disgracefully left behind. Three other passageways radiated from the dome—each next to a statue. On each entrance was a stone plaque with ancient writings; warnings or words of wisdom—we did not know.
We walked around—our breathing the only sounds apart from the hiss of the orange-blue flames that danced and burned.
“Where to next?” I whispered. She looked around unsure, and pointed to the passage straight ahead, opposite to the one we came from. As we walked into it, the lamps lit again. It opened to a chamber smaller than the central dome but still impressive in its size. On the floor were hundreds of stone beds and all around were shelves hewn into the rock. On some were more skeletons—it was as if they were murdered in their sleep.
“Living quarters?” I said. The beds at the far end were on higher ground, larger, and ornate, signifying the stature of the sleeper. Several small baths and pits were carved into the stone. There were also more sealed doors.
Eurydice placed her hands below a small conduit in the rock wall.
“I thought water would flow to my palms,” she said. We were beginning to expect wondrous magic at every turn. After a while, we realized there was nothing else here, and we returned to the dome to pick another passage. “This one is narrower and much longer,” I said, as we passed two unfinished doors on the way.
“Are those guard rooms?” Eurydice pointed to the two rooms on the side.
“Could be. This does not look like a passage for the commoners.”
The passage ended in steps that went down, and the floor of the chamber was several feet below us—we could see the entire level from where we stood. In the center was a large decorative stone vault. And radiating outwards, in concentric circles, were smaller stone vaults. We descended and walked up to one of the structures for closer examination.
These were not simple stone vaults.
These were containers with sarcophagi inside.
I heard Eurydice gasp behind me.
“Is that gold?” she said, placing her palm on the top of the lid of the vault in front of us.
I grinned. Every vault was inlaid with sheets of gold on the surface.
We walked around without touching anything. The
one in the middle was the grandest with elaborate paintings on all sides. “They carved these vaults here and placed the sarcophagi inside them. Look at the designs; they are all the same. The only difference is the grandeur.”
On each corner of the lid was a locking latch.
“Are we going to open one of them?” she whispered.
“Of course.”
We opened the latches.
Then we stood at an angle on the bottom right corner of a smaller vault and pushed on the lid to the side.
It did not budge.
My puzzlement changed to realization. This time we stood behind and pushed it with all our strength. That force was unnecessary, for the lid glided forward. Underneath were tiny wheels on the grooved rim of the stone vault. The design was brilliant. We peered inside in the dim light; the glinting hinted at what was inside, but I wanted to make sure. I removed the torch from my bag and lit it and held it over the open space.
We gasped in unison and paused to absorb the breathtaking display.
The vault was filled with elegant gold-plated swords and crowns, lapis-lazuli and ebony decorative vases, silver and ivory goblets, gold and quartz musical figurines with intricately carved harps, silver ingots, red wood-carved boxes with thick gold padlocks, scepters, shining silk woven through series of gold rings. Buried underneath was a solid gold sarcophagus.
Speechless, we went to the next, and then the next, and another. Each one was similar, filled with precious artifacts—some with a sarcophagus and most without. It was by far the most spectacular collection of wealth I had ever seen. The treasure was unquestionably from various regions—Egyptian, Persian, Phoenician, Atlantean—no tactician would question why Eumenes sought this place—this would help him raise his armies and forge an empire.
“Let us go to the center,” I said.
Could they be different?
We opened the vaults in the first concentric circle around the central vault. There were fifteen in all, of which thirteen were like the rest—filled to the brim. But two had nothing but a desiccated corpse with its mouth open. Eurydice screamed when a muscular rat jumped from within and scurried. For some reason, the builders had left these vaults empty in a hurry.