It was quite heavy for its size but easily picked up. The professors decided to take the box back to Cairo. On the return they all took turns trying to open the box, but there seemed to be no key hole, or notch or any opening they could find. Along the top were numerals from 1 to 12. “Surely this is the key to opening the box,” thought Emily. “Is twelve an important number, Professor Dasam?” she asked. “Rather important, but nowhere near as important as nine,” he answered.
Emily took the box in her hands and counted from left to right to the number nine and pushed. Nothing happened. Then she counted from the right to the left nine times to the number four and she heard a faint “click”. She tried the nine again and there was another “click” but nothing happened. So she counted halfway from the right to seven and pushed. Another click. She counted from the left to six and pushed.
The box flew open.
The Professors shot up in their car seats and called to the driver to stop the car. The three of them peered into the box. It was empty save for a small piece of parchment. Professor Dasam attempted to read the hieroglyphics:
“We of the Glorious City of Urgup dedicate this tomb to all its peoples that they may lie here on their journey to the other —,” he could not make out the next part of the text. “— leagues from — where the sun sets on — a camel’s day from Ur.”
“Our lost city has been found, Emily,” he said, “ or rather it has been named.
“Urgup”
CHAPTER FOUR:
The Colour of Kidnappers
THE NEWSPAPER ARTICLE about the new pyramid lay on a table in a rundown hotel at the outskirts of Cairo. A place frequented by riffraff, thieves, cutthroats, bunko men and drifters. Among them were four noticeably different men. Noticeable because they were English from the East End of London and they kept just to themselves. Their leader, Smily Wiley, had a round face which was centered by a waxed moustache that curled well beyond his cheeks. Butts, a companion in crime, had chopped whiskers that ran down the sides of his face. Rutts, another, seemed to have a perpetual three week’s growth of scraggly beard and droopy eyelids. Nutts, the third, was completely bald.
“Look here, Smiley,” said Butts. “The American girl has spotted a brand new pyramid.” “Let’s rob it while it’s fresh from the sands,” laughed Rutts. “Forget about the pyramid. There will be bobbies all over the place guarding its entrance.” “Now, I have a better idea. We’ll kidnap the girl and ransom her for the loot inside the pyramid.”
“But she’s just a little tyke,” said Nutts, “why would you go and do a thing like that?”
“Always the soft heart,” said Smiley Wiley. “Tell you what I’ll do. When we kidnap her, you can keep watch over her to see that nothing bad happens to her,” he added with a chuckle.
The four of them bought an old jalopy missing its headlights and a rear bumper. They filled it full of petrol, which is what they call gasoline in Egypt, and drove off into the desert. Asking several people on the way, they eventually arrived at the site of the newly discovered pyramid. Parking the car a quarter of a mile from the site, they ambled over to watch the digging and to find Emily. They spotted her talking to two older men. She left the men and walked towards a series of tents, so the four thieves followed her. The tents were latrines, toilets, marked “Ladies” and “Gentlemen” and “Workers”.
Butts wanted to relieve himself, but Smiley Wiley told him to wait. They had more important work to do than his needs.
When Emily left the “Ladies” tent, the four men grabbed her, stuffing a dirty handkerchief in her mouth so she could not yell, and pretended to be talking to her as they started towards their car. Butts and Rutts said they couldn’t wait, they had to go to the bathroom. Smiley agreed. They left Emily with Nutts as they sought out the “Gentlemen’s” latrine. “Just a moment,” a voice called out, “that tent is for ‘Gentlemen’, you three can use those tents at the far end signed ‘Workers’.”
Nutts had a rope with which he tied Emily’s hands. “You are making a square knot,” Emily told him. “You want a granny knot to secure my hands,” she went on. “A granny. Who taught you, your granny?” asked Nutts, who knew very little about knots. So he untied the square knot, which Emily knew would really secure her, and tied a granny under Emily’s careful supervision. Then he tied her to a tree, because he, too, needed to relieve himself.
While the four men were in the ‘Worker’s tents, Emily easily loosened the granny knot and ran off back to the professors. She did not tell them what had happened because she had lied to Nutts about the knots and knew it was wrong to lie.
What she didn’t know, was that Smiley Wiley had already written the kidnap letter and mailed it to the professors, presuming that he would have Emily in capture well before the letter arrived.
When, three days later, Professor Witherspoon received the letter and read it, he was alarmed. “Dasam,” he announced, “look at this. Somebody claims he has kidnapped Emily. I thought she was at your house.” The two professors raced to Professor Dasam’s house only to find Emily in the parlor reading a book on ancient Arabia.
“Emily,” they cried out, “thank goodness you are safe.” “Safe from what,” asked Dasam’s wife as she entered the room. “Kidnappers, claiming they had Emily and demanding all the valued property from the newly discovered pyramid in exchange for Emily,” Dasam explained and showed his wife and Emily the letter.
“They must be English,” Emily said. “How can you tell?” asked Professor Witherspoon. “Because they spell color with a u, colour,” she explained. Witherspoon looked at Emily. “Why would she presume the kidnappers were English, when they just as easily might have been Egyptians or Europeans?” he thought. But he let it pass.
“I shall place my two most trusted guards to watch over Emily,” announced Professor Dasam. He sent for the men he called Hadar and Kadar. Kadar was at least six feet six inches tall with bushy eyebrows like the professor’s. But his body was lean and he had a very embracing smile that lit up his face. Hadar was shorter, darker and more muscular with an enormous moustache that covered half his face. Tucked into his waist Emily spied what looked like a curled sword.
“Ah, you are looking at my scimitar,” noted Hadar. “I rarely use it, but I always carry it.,” he added. May I see it,” she asked. But before Hadar removed the sword from its case, Professor Dasam spoke out. “In this country, Emily, when a man unsheathes his scimitar, he must draw blood.”
Despite Dasam’s comments, Hadar withdrew the sword from its scabbard and placed it gently into Emily’s hands. It was a short sword, curled in an arc and she could feel that the blade was razor sharp.
Before placing the scimitar back in its case, Hadar gave a quick wipe of the blade to his forearm and then wiped the blood from his arm with a handkerchief. Emily was speechless.
“Now,” said Professor Witherspoon, “that you have seen the courage of Hadar, I would like to see the courage of Emily. Tell us about the kidnappers, please.”
“How did he know?” she wondered and then told the whole story of the failed kidnapping.
CHAPTER FIVE:
The Reign of Hotemhotem
PROFESSOR DASAM WAS head of the Department of Archaeology at the University in Cairo and an expert in hieroglyphics. He took Emily’s parchment, unfolded it to read the sign language.
“No,” he announced. “This is Emily’s and before I read it, I shall teach her the ancient languages of Arabia.
Thus Emily became the youngest student in the Professor’s classroom. She worked very hard, repeating words and memorizing signs, studying ancient scripts, questioning translations. A miracle presented itself before Professor Dasam’s eyes as Emily excelled beyond almost all of his classroom of students twice her age.
The day came when Emily graduated. “Now,” said Professor Dasam, as a prize for your good work, you shall
translate the parchment.” “No, no,” exclaimed Emily, “as a present from me to you, for your great scholarship and love of teaching, I wish you to translate.” “Very well,” he replied.
“How interesting,” he announced. “This talks about a city called Urgup, the home of Hotemhotem and his wife Nefertutti. It numbers the buildings and the people, the warehouses full of wheat and barley, the fields full of flowers and the stalls for one thousand camels. It talks of Ashtar and Isis, and of the promise of peace on earth.”
“Look here, Professor Witherspoon, near the bottom of the parchment is a map. It locates the city near the great Holy Well of Shambac.” he added. “Emily, what a great find you have. We know the Holy Well and maybe, if we are lucky, we shall discover the Lost City of Urgup,” the professor told her.
The two professors organized a small caravan of camels and a dozen servants to carry them to the Holy Well and scout the area for the lost city. On the day of departure, Professor Dasam, his able assistant, Panwar, and the servants went to a nearby Mosque. There they took off their shoes and washed their feet and hands before entering the building which was conical in shape with a large dome. “They will pray that Allah will guide us safely and that his will be done,” noted Professor Witherspoon. “We also say, thy will be done,” commented Emily. “Well, of course,” noted the professor, “we are all part of the religions that began with Abraham, although sometimes it doesn’t appear to be the case.”
Emily had never ridden a camel and when the driver of the caravan approached her she was nervous. The camel seemed unconcerned. It was dressed with all sorts of finery across its back and around its face with tassels on blankets and harnesses and even the seat at the top of its hump. The driver spoke to the camel and it kneeled down, first with its forelegs and then its back legs. Emily was helped up onto the seat and with a loud “Hup! Hup!” the camel rose and Emily found herself sitting higher than the first story of a building nearby.
Off they went and it wasn’t long before Emily actually enjoyed the camel ride, swaying this way and that with so much to see high above the street level. Soon they were in the desert leaving Cairo behind in the dusk of evening. They arrived at a small town and booked rooms at an inn beside another Mosque. Emily’s room was small but clean and she soon fell asleep only to be awakened in the middle of the night by a voice, a singsong voice, calling strange words in Arabic. There seemed to be echoes everywhere, then silence.
In the morning she asked the professors what the voice was that awakened her in the early hours. “You heard a Messim,” explained Professor Dasam; “he call us to prayers five times each day, to remind us that Allah, or God as you would call him, is great and we must honor him by trying to live a life worthy of his greatness.”
The next afternoon the small caravan arrived at the Holy Well of Shambac. It was an oasis, a large garden filled with palm trees and fragrant bushes, surrounded by many tents. In front of the tents, tables were set up selling fruits and nuts and every sort of tea. The professors’ party set up their own tent not too far away, bought tea and boiled fresh water from the well.
When they had their fill, Professor Witherspoon took out Emily’s parchment and he and Professor Dasam studied it carefully, looking this way and that way. As they examined the parchment a small gust of wind arose and swiped the parchment right out of Professor Witherspoon’s hands, where it swooped this way and that way and suddenly stopped, dropping it down the Holy Well.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” exclaimed the professor, “what shall we do?”
Emily looked down the well. All she could see was darkness surrounded by the stones that had been placed on all sides deep into the sands of the desert. Above was a bucket about two and one half feet in diameter and three feet deep. It was attached by rope to a metal frame which was above and on two sides of the well.
The parchment is made of animal skin, thought Emily. “That means it won’t sink right away. Maybe I can go down the well and retrieve it.” The idea actually frightened her. Were there spiders and snakes and all sorts of creepy crawlies down there? And suppose the bucket overturned and sent her right to the bottom into the water!
Emily steeled herself and approached the two professors. She told them her plan. Neither liked the idea. It was too risky. She was too young. The parchment probably was already under water.
“But suppose it isn’t. It’s made of some animal skin. Please, please let me try. We can’t give up finding the Lost City or Urgup,” she pleaded. The professors thought long and hard. “All right,” they said, “we’ll give it a try.”
Emily climbed into the bucket with her knees tight against her body holding on to the rope with both hands. Slowly the professors and Panwar let down the rope into the well. As she descended the light became darker and darker until she could only see a foot from her hand. After about fifty feet Emily noticed that the wall of the well seemed to change in tone and color, as if the well housing was made of a different material.
Then she noticed what looked like writing on the insides of the well. Soon she could hear water below and then she jerked the rope to let the professors and Panwar stop lowering her. Just under the bucket the parchment floated in the water. Emily leaned over to get it. The bucket twisted and Emily found herself out of the bucket holding onto the rope just inches above the water. She crawled up the rope, hand over hand, until the bucket righted itself. Then she carefully lowered herself back into the bucket. This time, very slowly and carefully she reached down and caught the parchment.
Three tugs on the rope told the men to pull Emily and the bucket up to the top of the well. They were relieved and so grateful that she was safe and that the parchment had been returned without any harm to its inscriptions or its map.
“Wait,” said Emily, “halfway down, the sides of the well are made of a different form of rock and there are rows of hieroglyphic inscriptions around the sides. If you will give me paper and pencil and a good flashlight, I can go back down and copy them.”
How could the professors say no? Here she had already risked her life to retrieve the bucket and wanted to go back down to further the research into this ancient place. Emily was given sheaves of paper which she tucked down her blouse. A large flashlight was tied around her waist with enough extra string so that she could hold it in either hand.
Lowering herself carefully, Emily signaled when she sighted the changing tone of the rocks. She turned on the flashlight. Before her and on every side has writing. Shapes of animals and birds, slashes of designs were dug into the stone. Carefully she tied the flashlight against her neck so that she could free her hands to copy the inscriptions.
It seemed that hours had flown by to the three men holding the rope. They became worried. They wanted to pull Emily up out of the well. Yet she had not signaled them and they could tell by the weight of the rope that she had not fallen out. “We’ll give her fifteen more minutes,” said Professor Witherspoon, “and then we’ll haul her out, like it or not.” The other two agreed.
Ten minutes later they felt three tugs and with a look of quiet joy and relieved apprehension they pulled her, almost too quickly, out of the well. Emily looked so tired, Panwar picked her up and carried her straight to her tent. Professor Dasam took her some tea and sweet cakes made from dates and honey while Professor Witherspoon sat quietly by her side holding one hand and promising himself that he would never let this wonderful young lady endanger herself like that again.
Suddenly he took her in his arms and cried. That this shy private man could lose himself like this overwhelmed Emily and she gave him a hug and kiss on his forehead. It seemed to jar the professor who stepped back and apologized to Emily for his emotional outburst. “Professor, next to my mother and father you are the person I love most,” Emily told him. And this just seemed to confound the professor more as his face reddened and his hands shook and he said in a very quiet voice, “Thank yo
u.”
“This time,” said Professor Dasam, “ you shall translate the inscriptions you have copied from the well.” “If you will help me, I shall be glad to,” Emily replied. The two of them worked for almost a week, often rewriting whole passages, trying out different words and translations, for the text was not like any other the professor had seen. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said one day. “There must be a key we are missing. One symbol that stands for something very different from what it means in other texts.”
Emily thought about this. “We know that this well is not too far away from the lost city. Suppose that the bottom of the well once was where I found the inscriptions. Suppose that the well was built by the citizens of Urgup.” She told this to the professor. “You may have found the key. Let’s look at symbols that repeat themselves quite often. Let’s translate them as “the people of Ugup or the city of Urgup or …”
“The reign of Hotemhotem,” interrupted Emily.
There it was, the key to the translation. The professor started reading out loud, “Let the peoples know of the reign of Hotemhotem. Of his great love of peace. Of his palace and comely wife Nefertutti. Of his son, Hotemhotem II. Of the city of Urgup and its one thousand camels. Of the spices and barley and wheat that gathers in its stores. Praise be to Hotemhotem, living one hundred leagues from this water from the heavens as the sun rises in its zenith. Praise to …” and the professor stopped.
“Witherspoon, do you realize what Emily has found,” he called out.
“An exact description of how to find the Lost City of Urgup,” Professor Witherspoon answered.
CHAPTER SIX:
The Missing Stones
EMILY SMILED AS she looked at her two guards, Kadar and Hadar, who Professor Witherspoon hired to protect her from the evil men, Smiley Wiley and his three thugs, Butts, Nutts, and Rutts. She had gone down the Holy Well to rescue the parchment that had blown down into the water at the very bottom. And in so doing she had discovered the hieroglyphics halfway down that located the most important building in Urgup.
Emily and the Lost City of Urgup Page 3