Vampire

by Kevin Ashman

‘I don’t know such things, Sekhmet,’ he said, ‘but I was born of a long line of kings. Majesty is in my bloodline and it is incumbent on me to ensure my people serve the gods to the best of their ability. Those who ruled before me were but tributaries to the Nile of my ambition. My name will be remembered until the stars fade in the sky, for I am the greatest Pharaoh that this land has ever seen, or will ever see. My name will be eternal and I am truly a living god to my people. Yet in the darkest hours, at times such as this, devils of doubt pierce my soul and I question my mortality.’

  ‘Then you are condemned by your own words, Ramesses,’ said Sekhmet. ‘No god doubts their mortality. I would not see this as a weakness, but an acceptance of reality. I watch from the side-lines as your people spend time and wealth in preparing tombs, only for their bodies to rot, as does the poorest slave. Gold or prayers to meaningless gods will not buy your immortality, Ramesses. You are man born of man, and that burden alone will carry you to your death in a blink of an eye.’

  ‘Then answer the question I posed in your temple, Sekhmet. If you alone can see life to the end of time, then provide substance to your claim, if only to open my eyes to the futility of my quest. What is your story, Sekhmet? Share your tale with one who seeks the truth.’

  ‘And if I do, Ramesses, what can me ‘I’ and my kind expect in return?’

  ‘Whatever you desire,’ said Ramesses, ‘land, gold, jewels. You name your price and it will be supplied tenfold with joy in my heart. I will give you my kingdom, if that is what you require. All I ask in return is the truth.’

  ‘I seek no gold, Ramesses. I have enjoyed riches you can’t imagine and had loves that women only dream of. I have walked this world from ocean to ocean and I have seen things that are beyond imagination. Yet, your offer stirs a desire within me. There is something I require, Ramesses, something simple that it is within your power to deliver.’

  ‘Name it and it will be yours,’ said Ramesses.

  ‘All in good time, Ramesses, the dawn approaches and I need to leave this place to return to my sisters. This night, they have fed well and are restless to return to the place where they feel safe.’

  ‘Where are they now?’ asked Ramesses.

  ‘Everywhere,’ said Sekhmet and walked to the door.

  ‘When will you return?’ asked Ramesses.

  ‘I will not,’ said Sekhmet. ‘Present yourself to me at the next full moon. Come alone and all will be revealed.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Ramesses, ‘I will have to arrange your safe exit. If you are seen leaving my chambers, you will be killed without question.’

  ‘There is no need,’ said Sekhmet, ‘it has already been arranged.’ With that she left the room and walked slowly down the corridor to the far doors.

  When she had gone, Ramesses got of his bed and called to his bedroom servant in the next room.

  ‘Garai,’ come quickly.

  When there was no response, he stormed into the servant’s chambers, furious that he had not been attended to immediately.

  ‘Garai,’ he shouted, ‘I want to know who commanded the guard tonight and how that woman got into my palace.’ He stopped short in disbelief.

  Garai’s naked body was dangling backwards from the bed, his blood still dripping from the huge tear where his throat should have been. All around the room, blood splattered the white marble walls and Ramesses stared in horror at all the other bodies scattered around the quarters, each mutilated in a similar fashion. The king walked into the other rooms, in search of anyone still alive, but found only similar scenes, with each servant revealing equally grotesque fates.

  ‘By the gods, Sekhmet,’ whispered Ramesses to himself, ‘I swear you will pay for this.’

  ----

  The following morning saw the entire king’s entourage lined up in the grounds of the temple. Lines of chariots and infantry stood ready to escort the royal wagons east to the Nile where the royal party would board the boats to take them back to the capital. Rows of palace servants crouched in terror along one wall, tied together with ropes that wrapped around their wrists and fed between their legs to be repeated on the man, woman or child behind them. A murmur of fear rippled amongst them, and many already bore bleeding welts across their backs, evidence of the priests’ whips as retribution for failing the king.

  Across the other side of the courtyard, over fifty soldiers knelt on the stone courtyard. Each was stripped naked and had their hands tied behind their backs. All had their heads bowed in shame and fear, knowing exactly what fate awaited them.

  Up above, in the king’s chambers, Atmar was adjusting Ramesses’ headdress, ensuring he looked every part the king before leaving the building.

  ‘You are clear about my instructions?’ Asked Ramesses when his aide had finished.

  ‘Yes, Sire,’ said Atmar. ‘All will be ready before we see the Nile’s next inundation.’

  ‘Good, let nothing prevent you from completing this task. If the gods are willing, there will be a reckoning across this land that, will not only release my people from that monster’s fearful grip, but will show once and for all who really holds the power.’

  ‘We will be ready, Sire,’ said Atmar. ‘At the time, all you will have to do is raise an eyebrow and a wall of manpower will descend upon this place like the sands of a storm.’

  ‘Good. Now, before I go, have you made the arrangements for today?’

  ‘I have, Sire. The people will feel the wrath of your justice and everyone will know what fate awaits those who fail you.’

  ‘Then let it be done,’ said Ramesses, and walked out onto the balcony accompanied by Atmar.

  Below them, the gathered crowd fell to their knees in subjugation. The two men waited for the noise to die down before Atmar took a deep breath and addressed the gathering.

  ‘Citizens of Itjawi,’ he said, ‘last night, those whom you see tethered before you allowed assassins into this palace. Their incompetence placed the life of your Pharaoh at risk, and only the power of his sword saw him defeat the hordes single handedly. Despite this, those who were entrusted with his safety do not deserve to live.’ He turned to face the condemned guards. ‘You men are from the king’s most trusted ranks. You have enjoyed privilege and reward, second to no other man, yet you failed in your duty. Your sentence is this. You will be taken from this place to the black river and there you will be tethered until Sobek has feasted on your souls.’

  The crowd murmured in awe as they realised the men were being fed to the crocodiles. Atmar turned to the servants cowering against the wall.

  ‘You people are citizens of this city and it was your duty to provide comfort and safety to our king. Again, you failed in your task. Your fate is to dig a pit in the desert to a depth of three men, and when it is done, you will stand in this pit, whilst your own families fill it in with the king’s sands.’ A terrified groan rippled along the servants, before the crack of whips beat them into silence once more.

  ‘Finally, there is one more punishment to bestow,’ said Atmar, turning to one man being held separately from the rest. ‘You are captain of the guard and you alone hold ultimate responsibility. But due to your previous loyalty and courage on the field of battle, the king, in his infinite mercy will not cast sentence of death upon you. Instead, he sets you a task. In order to secure your life, you will be taken to the hills above Itjawi unto the temple of Sekhmet. There you will enter the lair as the sun sets, to be fed upon as the night walkers see fit.’

  At the last statement, the priests and overseers herded the condemned out of the palace grounds and through the town to meet their fates. Ramesses, who had remained silent throughout the ceremony, finally spoke up.

  ‘Make sure my will is carried out,’ he said. ‘In thirty days I will return and will expect service befitting a god.’

  ‘I will oversee it myself, Sire,’ said Atmar. ‘Travel well.’

  Within the hour, the royal entourage were travelling along the stone paved roadway toward the Nile where th
e luxurious royal barges awaited their arrival.

  ----

  Chapter Five

  The City of Faiyum

  Egypt 2012

  John Deacon paid the taxi driver and walked into the hotel in Faiyum, passing the usual assortment of clichéd tourists. Most of the men sported cream knee length shorts, crisp white polo shirts and had Ray-Ban sunglasses perched precariously on receding hairlines. The women, on the other hand, wore floral patterned dresses reaching down to the floor with Armani sunglasses carefully threaded through bleached blonde hair. The group were obviously a coach party on a trip from one of the many cruise ships on the Nile and had stopped off for a pre-arranged lunch at the hotel.

  John wore creased trousers and sweat-stained shirt with the rolled up sleeves bunched above his elbow, so when he navigated his way through the crowd, he received more than one look of disdain from disapproving tourists.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said to the receptionist, ‘I am meeting someone here.’

  ‘Hey, get to the back of the queue,’ said a clipped English accent, and John glanced briefly at the man waiting to be seen.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said John, addressing the receptionist, this time in Egyptian, ‘could you tell me where your restaurant is please?’

  Surprised at being spoken to in his own language, the male receptionist answered immediately and pointed the way.

  ‘Thank you,’ said John and leaving the crowd behind him, walked into the spacious restaurant overlooking a winding river that threaded its way through the city. A few moments later, he spotted his target and made his way over to join her at the window table.

  The woman wore a large floppy hat and had the largest sunglasses he had ever seen. Combined with the cold drink she was sipping, it had the effect of covering most of her face and he was not sure if she was actually who he thought she was.

  ‘Becky?’ he asked hesitantly.

  ‘John,’ she said with a smile, ‘nice to see you again.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure for a moment there,’ said John, ‘you look so different.’

  ‘You can talk,’ said Becky, ‘where’s the beard?’

  ‘Oh that,’ said John rubbing his chin. ‘Beards are not very practical in Egypt. What’s with the glasses?’

  ‘Thought they may help me to merge into the crowd,’ said Becky. ‘Too much?’

  ‘Just a little,’ said John with a smile. ‘A bit too much Elton John for my liking.’

  ‘Let me get you a drink,’ said Becky and poured him a glass of iced lemon water from the jug on the table.

  After emptying half of his glass, John sat back, removed his hat and placed it on the table.

  ‘Well,’ he said, looking around nervously, ‘This wasn’t something I was expecting to be doing today.’

  ‘I know,’ said Becky, ’but after I had your phone call last week, I had to come.’

  ‘But why?’ asked John. ‘You know how dangerous it is. If I am caught, you will be guilty by association. At least, back in London you were safe. Out here, who knows what can happen? I want you to get the next flight back home.’

  ‘I can’t do that, John,’ said Becky. ‘Now that I know you are so close to the tomb, there was no way I could stay in that pokey little office waiting for news. Don’t forget, I am also an Egyptologist and quite apart from the opportunity this holds to clear my father’s name, the chance to be part of a ground breaking discovery is a chance I couldn’t pass up.’

  ‘That may be the case, Becky, but we don’t know what we are dealing with here. For all we know, there is nothing in that tomb and all this could be a waste of time. Don’t forget, I walked across the border from Libya, and if I am caught, I don’t think my false papers will hold up to examination.’

  ‘You haven’t been caught yet,’ said Becky.

  ‘That’s because I keep a low profile. I am staying in one room in the house of one of my workers from years ago. I hardly go out in the day and spend the nights clearing the tomb robber’s tunnel. I’ve had to pay the local thugs a minor fortune to keep my activities quiet and then only after promising them a share of anything I find.’

  ‘You did what?’ gasped Becky, ‘You can’t do that.’

  ‘I had to,’ said John. ‘Look, tomb robbers are a fundamental part of Egypt’s culture. They are part of the underbelly of every city in the country, a bit like the mafia in Sicily, but ‘love’ them or hate them; they are a fact of life. Many families base their entire lives around dealing with unrecorded artefacts and many antiquities come onto the market from sources unknown. They have contacts and communication networks that stretch across the country and many have ancestors that were robbing tombs thousands of years ago. I couldn’t go to the government, so I had no option and turned to the next best thing.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Look, we can’t talk here,’ said John, ‘There are too many prying eyes. Is there somewhere we can go?’

  ‘I have a room booked,’ said Becky. ‘We can talk there.’

  Five minutes later, they sat at either side of a tiny dressing table in a’ hotel bedroom.

  ‘So,’ said Becky, ‘bring me up to speed.’

  ‘Six weeks ago,’ said John, ‘I arrived in Faiyum and made my way straight to the dig site. I had made arrangements with one of my contacts and he set me up a meeting with the biggest antiquities dealer in Faiyum.’

  ‘Is he legitimate?’ asked Becky.

  ‘Of course he’s not,’ said John, ‘it’s all a thin cover for his illicit dealings. Anyway, the fact is, they know of every tomb ever discovered in this part of the world and the probable location of many that are still to be found.’

  ‘Did they know of the one you and my father found?’

  ‘They did, but were very wary of getting involved.’

  ‘I suppose that was because the government.’

  ‘That was part of it,’ said John, ‘but there was something else, reluctance on religious grounds.’

  ‘That’s absurd,’ said Becky. ‘Since when did those sort of people care about religion?’

  ‘I know, but that’s how it is.’

  ‘A curse of some sort?’ asked Becky.

  ‘I suppose so,’ said John. ‘Anyway, at first they treated me with deep suspicion and I got nowhere, but after being passed from contact to contact, they eventually introduced me to another guy. Someone who had no such principles, but even though he would help me find the way in, he made it clear that he would only go so far. I was taken by car to a suburb where I was shown into a surprisingly modern house and in the cellar; there was an amateur excavation where the owners had found an old grave. Many Egyptian families know that due to the copious amounts of history beneath their feet, the chances are there may be a grave or two. Anyway, this family struck it lucky and found a couple of ornaments. Not much, but enough to pay the bills for a couple of months. The thing is that during the excavation they found what was obviously a filled in tunnel of some sort and as soon as I saw it, I knew that it led down in the right direction to intercept the catacombs.’

  ‘So you started to excavate?’

  ‘We did, though not before passing bundles of dollars to dozens of people. Anyway, the dig was relatively easy and consisted mainly of loose rubble. The hardest part was finding somewhere to put it all so that we didn’t alert the neighbours. They now have rubble in almost every room of the house, but three days ago, we made a break through.’

  ‘You got into the catacombs?’

  ‘Not quite. Just before we were about to break through, I heard voices the other side.’

  ‘There was someone in there?’

  ‘Yup, and not just anyone either. I managed to clear a tiny hole in the last of the rubble, just enough to see through, and there were two people talking, One I didn’t know, but the other one I would recognise anywhere.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘’I don’t know how to tell you this, Becky, but it was Dr Samari.’

  ‘Dr Samari,’
said Becky. ‘But that’s impossible, he’s dead.’

  ‘It was him, Becky; he was almost in touching distance. Despite what we thought, it would seem that he didn’t die in that assault. Either that, or the assault didn’t take place at all and it was all an elaborate ploy to frame your father.

  ‘But that means…’ began Becky.

  ‘He died in vain, Becky,’ said John. ‘Your father killed himself for no reason.’

  ‘But a friend of his in the police warned him that he was to be charged with murder. Why would he say Samari was dead if he wasn’t?’

  ‘He was probably on the payroll of whoever is behind this, but if you think about it, it is a perfect outcome for them. Your father was found hanged and even if he had told anyone about the Samari accusation before he died, they could produce the healthy doctor and claim your dad had lost his mind. No body, no murder, just a foreign archaeologist with a grudge for being sacked for operating an illegal dig.’

  ‘It doesn’t make any sense,’ said Becky, ‘why go to all that trouble, just to claim a new find for themselves? Even if it is the biggest discovery ever found, the days of artefacts being carted halfway around the world are over. Egypt would keep the treasures, and my father would simply profit from having his name associated with the find.’

  ‘Well, that depends,’ said John.

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On what they found behind that door. Don’t forget your father’s letter. He said that, whatever it was that he found, had the potential to be the greatest discovery in the history of archaeology. I suspect that whatever the credentials of the people involved, the control of such a discovery was too great to be attributed to one man, and a foreign one at that.’

  ‘So you think they reopened the dig?’

  ‘I think so. As soon as your father and I were off the scene, they came back and carried on where we left off.’

  ‘Where is the entrance?’ asked Becky.

  ‘It’s in the side of a banking, hidden behind the reed beds of the river, not far from here,’ said John, ‘Most of the year it’s under water, but the shaft leads upward above the water line then drops sharply into the catacombs.’