Kate and Leonie peered down from above before running down, grabbing him under each arm, then getting him up and out as quickly as they could. He was panting heavily as Leonie took the bag containing his rucksack from him. No longer wearing the robes of an aristocrat, she, like them, was wearing a rag of a galabeya.
Much to Alex’s surprise there were no soldiers around, though there was much activity. Wide, flat-bottomed boats lined the Nile, yet this was not the mighty river that they were used to.
“See down there!” Leonie pointed towards one of many boats.
“Which one?” Kate asked.
Leonie raised her arms, using her hands to make the shape of a flag. Every boat had a flag, many had two or three high up on their masts: their country flag, merchant flag, and in some cases, a flag with the symbol of what they were carrying.
A boat, moored on the outside of two others, raised a black, red and gold flag. Nothing more needed to be said; they ran, weaving through the lines of Egyptians who were transporting goods to and from the boats.
A single large square sail was raised. Using whatever wind he could find, to go against the weak flow of the Nile, the captain navigated his boat away from its moorings as Leonie and Kate, having first run across one, then a second boat, jumped on board. Alex arrived just too late to be able to make the distance. Catching the rope thrown by Kate, she and Leonie dragged him aboard before he had time to think … in this temperature, he would dry quickly.
They, and the produce on board, were saved from the intensity of the sun by a thick canvas that was roped to a sturdy wooden frame.
“Do you think that we will be followed?” Alex asked as he placed his trainers out in the sun to dry.
“I doubt it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“How can you be sure?” Kate asked.
“Could I answer that in a short while, once everyone is on board?” She stood and looked forward, towards two figures standing on the banks of the Nile in the far distance.
Reaching up from the rowing boat, Alex grabbed Emmy’s hands. Kate grabbed Cairo’s. After a reunion, profuse apologies from Alex over the message he left for Emmy, and everyone being brought up to speed, there was silence as the facts were digested.
“So, with this Pepy II dead, the people turn on the ruling classes. I can see that,” Emmy said. “But, surely there will be a new pharaoh who will calm this very quickly?”
“Normally, yes.” Leonie, standing as she spoke, raised her arms to hold onto the frame, to which the overhead canvas was strapped. “Pepy II had been losing power for many years. To combat this, he devolved the regions, creating provincial governors.”
“Weren’t they called nomarchs?”
Kate looked at Alex in such a way as to say ‘shut up and listen’.
“That’s right, around forty of them. It worked well, as many people gained power, influence and, of course, wealth.”
“Okay, what’s the drawback?” Kate asked.
“He devolved power to such an extent that he had no obvious successor.”
“So, the nomarchs,” Emmy said, supporting Alex by using the correct term, “formed their alliances, then fought for power.”
“Something like that.”
“You have studied this period?” Leonie nodded as Alex said this. “Ankhtifi?” Leonie gave a further nod. “When Kate and I looked into him, we couldn’t find out much.”
“Nothing of substance,” Kate added as she continued to munch on a bunch of grapes.
“There isn’t much to find, Kate, and I have looked.” Leonie paused as she let her eyes take her along the banks of the Nile, along the obvious line of where the water should have been. “I have not been able to check the internet.”
“Forget the internet,” Kate said as if it were an order. “There is so much rubbish written on there.”
Kate, Alex and Emmy had given up with trying to find facts, real facts, online. Cairo never used a computer in the first place. To put something into print, however poor, was quite different to putting something onto a medium that could be changed and manipulated at will.
“Today Egypt will experience the death of the Old Kingdom, we must now head through the tumultuous times of the First Intermediate Period, Ankhtifi’s period, before reaching the unified Middle Kingdom. In all, a span of no more than one hundred and twenty-five years.” Leonie continued to hold onto the overhead beam whilst she spoke, flexing her body as she did. “During the early part of the First Intermediate Period don’t even try and work out who had power and where they had that power, as allegiances changed on an almost daily basis. I have really tried to work it out. Honestly, it’s impossible.”
Leonie went on to explain to her eager audience that this was the worst year in Egypt’s history, as soon the sky would darken for months upon end, causing total crop failure in areas previously unaffected by the drought. The picture she painted was horrific, one of anyone wearing fine linen being beaten to death, of death through starvation on a massive scale, of gold being less than useless, as no amount of money could buy food because there was none. When she went on to say that Egyptians were having to eat anything to survive, she became far too graphic for Emmy and was told by Kate not to fantasise.
Alex, who had long since stopped watching her body as it moved, saw the horror in her eyes. “You have seen what you are telling us, haven’t you?”
“Yes, and as we unload all the food around you, you will also see it. It will change you, just like it did me!”
Having returned to the now empty deck of their boat, there was not a dry eye; they were lost for words. Emmy was freely sobbing on Alex’s left shoulder, whilst Kate sobbed on his right. Cairo was curled up into a ball. Leonie was doing her best to comfort him, though he was in no fit state to be comforted. Leonie, the crew, the captain, were all equally as affected. The sight of starving people, the smell of death, was not something that could ever be forgotten. It was far more intense that any of them could ever have imagined.
“The bones of so many children, small children, babies.” Emmy could not rationalise it, neither could she stop her tears. “The Nile is low, very low, but it isn’t dry. Why don’t they grow something, just enough to keep themselves alive? I don’t understand, they have grain. Okay, not much, admittedly, but they do have some grain.”
Leonie dropped a bucket over the side of the boat then pulled it back in. She poured some of its Nile water into a clay mug. After making sure Emmy had taken the top off her plastic bottle of water, she handed over the mug, advising her to take the very smallest sip. On reflection, she suggested that it might be best if Emmy stuck a finger in the water and then licked it.
Having all drunk so much water from the Nile they were confused over Leonie’s comments. The men on the tourist feluccas, to this day, brewed their tea directly from Nile water.
Emmy was hesitant, though Kate was not. She was angry with what she had just witnessed, though she was also angry with Leonie and her I-know-better-than-you attitude. Ripping the mug from Emmy, Kate took a really big swig.
Leonie looked horrified.
Cairo was sprayed with water which came back from Kate much faster than it had been swallowed.
Alex and Emmy watched as Kate, turned, stuck her head over the side of the boat and brought back everything she had eaten, then continued to bring back what she hadn’t eaten.
Leonie apologised to Kate, even though she had nothing to apologise for, whilst Emmy made sure that Kate had the bottled water to hand for when she eventually stopped retching. “With the flow of the Nile so drastically reduced, the acidity of the water has increased. Rather than bring life, it kills any seeds that are watered by it.”
“What can they drink?” Alex asked.
“Only water from the deepest wells.”
As Leonie paused, Alex added, “Because then it has been naturally filtered as it passes through the ground.”
“Yes, that is the only dr
inkable water.” Leonie looked to Emmy: “Even then it has to be rationed, there is not enough filtering through to be able to grow crops.”
“I think that I can see why you have showed all that you have,” Alex said over the sounds of Kate fighting a losing battle with her empty stomach, “because Ankhtifi, through the use of his spell, brought order out of chaos, and you want to convince us of the importance of finding his papyrus.”
“Yes, though it is more than that.” Leonie sat down on the deck at the far side of the boat as she spoke. “His father tried to bring order, and after next year the inundations do slowly improve, though they improve only very little year on year. Do you know, Ankhtifi saw his father slaughtered in front of him when he was a boy, yet later in his life, he had to work with those same people to reunite his beloved Egypt. He is truly one of Egypt’s greatest leaders, a great pharaoh, yet our historians, people like your father,” she was looking directly at Alex, “make him out to be a warlord. History is wrong about him. I need you to help me to find the stolen papyrus as well as correct the injustice of his place in history.” She looked in desperation from Alex, to Emmy, to Cairo, to the back of Kate, who was now bringing up nothing more than air, though was making quite a noise about it.
“There is no history, only fictions of varying degrees of plausibility,” Alex said under his breath.
“Sorry, I didn’t get that. Will you help, will you all help me, help Ankhtifi, help maintain order in the afterlife?”
Emmy and Cairo immediately said yes, even Kate managed to stick her arm behind her and project an upward thumb from a clenched fist.
“What about you, Alex?”
“I thought that we were already helping, so, of course the answer is yes. It’s just that you made me think of something Voltaire said.”
Emmy was taken aback: “You now read Voltaire?”
Alex flushed, “I wish I did. You know how I like quotations, and the one of his which came to mind as you were speaking,” he pointed towards Leonie, “was: ‘There is no history, only fictions of varying degrees of plausibility’.”
There was a long period of reflection, as they headed south to Luxor.
Stepping from the ancient boat, onto the grass between a group of date palms, in the Luxor of today, Kate, Alex, Emmy and Cairo discarded their roughly made galabeyas. They were standing on the tourist dock between the bridge across the Nile, used by so many tourist busses and taxis to take visitors from the Luxor hotels to the West Bank, and the cruise boat moorings. With no shortage of taxis, they would all be back at the Winter Palace very soon, all except Leonie that was. She had said that she was staying on the boat until it reached the ancient village of El Moalla, as below deck were the supplies that the villagers needed.
Reluctant to leave without her, she had assured Alex that there was nothing he could do to help. She had also assured them all that the missing girls would both be back at the Winter Palace this evening.
Kate was far too desperate for a shower and a change of clothes to be worrying about either Leonie or Celina. Even though she had been told that she didn’t smell, the aroma of vomit hit her whenever she moved her head.
Emmy was wondering how she was going to tell Alex what she had to tell him, what she had discussed with her ancient relation, Henuttawy: the favourite daughter of Ramses.
Cairo was thinking of food, though as he did he thought of the starving people he had witnessed earlier today. Looking at the faces around him, the sadness upon them, the eyes which were becoming tearful, it was obvious that they were all thinking of the same.
Chapter 9
-
Too Much Trust?
“Would I be asking if it wasn’t important?”
“What’s wrong, you sound really agitated?” Kate asked of Alex as she arrived beside him at reception.
“I am,” he said after turning away from large Mohammed, the one built like a brick barn, to look directly at her. “I need to see the photocopy of Leonie’s passport and they can’t find it.”
“Smitten, are we? Just wait until Emmy hears of this!”
“Hears what?” Emmy asked as she approached Kate and Alex, the soles of her shoes squeaking on the freshly polished tiled floor.
“Kate’s just being Kate. Ignore her, Emmy.”
Never one to be ignored, Kate said with as much innuendo as she could, “We have just spent over a week in the past, and the first thing he does when he comes back is want a copy of Leonie’s passport.”
Mohammed, old-style corded black phone pressed against his ear, sounded as though he was finally getting somewhere. The police had taken the hotel copies of both girls’ passports; they had yet to bring them back. Knowing how they worked, they were very unlikely to ever return them, not with them having closed the case.
“Why do you want a copy of her passport?” Emmy asked, in the certain knowledge that Alex must have a good reason for asking. It was very unusual for him to get this worked up: he was usually the cool calm one of the group.
“Got them both, both photocopies, Mr Alex,” Mohammed said with a big grin, before sending the boy, who offered chilled moist towels to hot and sweaty returning guests, off to collect them. The tourist police headquarters were located at the far end of a dead-end road beside Luxor railway station, so the boy should not be long. He would, however, need to use a few of his own towels on his return, as Mohammed had demanded that he run.
“Please?” Alex asked in such a deeply worried tone, as he firmly gestured for Kate and Emmy to go to the bar that, much to his surprise, they did. He was soon alone with his thoughts.
Sitting down in their favourite seats, where they could not be seen by anyone passing along the corridor, Cairo immediately joined them.
Kate leaned in close to Emmy before asking: “What’s eating Alex?”
“Something’s obviously worrying him, though I don’t have the faintest idea what it could be,” she replied.
Cairo wanted to know what was going on, so they told him. To their amazement, he immediately said, “He probably check her age. She look old to me.”
Kate and Emmy looked to each other without saying a word. After a few silent moments, Kate turned to Cairo: “Leonie did tell me that she was older than she looked.” Upon hearing her own words, she was unsure why she had felt the need to say this, or what relevance it had, but something in her mind was nagging at her.
Emmy, after confirming to Three that Alex would be joining them, so that he would bring drinks for them all, said that she was no good at guessing ages, though thought that Leonie was more than likely a little older than they were.
“They both thirteen, we sixteen.”
Not quite sixteen, Kate thought, as her birthday was not until the 27th. As for Cairo, he could well be sixteen. Only now did she realise that she had no idea when his birthday was. She thought back to the article in The ADD. Running it through in her mind confirmed that no ages of the missing tourists had been mentioned, so why did Cairo’s assertion that Leonie and Celine were both thirteen ring a bell? It then came to her: it was in discussion with Alex and Rose, when they had sat exactly where she, Emmy and Cairo were now sitting.
“That wasn’t Leonie,” Kate said at the exact moment Alex came into the bar waving photocopies of the girls’ passports.
“The girl we met wasn’t Leonie,” he said as he sat, pushing the photocopies across the table.
“But why did she say that she was?”
“No,” he said forcefully as he shook his head, “that was me, Kate, I told her she was Leonie. That was who I had expected to meet in Cairo and she played along.” He continued to slowly shake his head, “I thought I was being so clever.”
“Then who was she?” Emmy asked.
There were blank faces around the table as Three served the drinks. “No!” Alex exclaimed, before dashing from the bar, almost knocking Three over as he did. He did not wait for the lift, he ran back to the room he was using in the hotel.
�
��Do you think that we should follow him?”
Kate picked up her tamar-hindi before replying to Emmy: “No point, at the speed he left, he could be half way to Cairo by now.”
Alex returned a few minutes later. “She took the gold.”
“No!” came by way of reply from Kate. Emmy and Cairo had no idea what he was talking about.
Alex explained about how he had become, if only for the very shortest period of time, the High Priest of Ra. He finished by saying: “She had to be an ancient to know as much as she did, to be as comfortable as she was in the time we were in. She didn’t ‘see’ five years ago, she appeared in the afterlife five years ago. Why didn’t I see that?” Alex really was beating himself up.
“Hold on,” Kate said, “she can’t be an ancient as you met her at Cairo Airport. You, of all people, don’t need to be told that ancients cannot walk on modern ground.”
“I’ve just been thinking about that. When we met, she was wearing a galabeya, and we all know how those blend in, ancient or modern, they also conveniently hide feet that don’t perfectly align with the ground. We moved so quickly that I never looked down.” Alex paused. “All the warning signs were there, I just didn’t see them.”
“No, you’re wrong, she can’t be an ancient, she went into the minibus. Ancients couldn’t do that.”
“In this case, Kate, she could. All the time she was pushing us to move quickly, leaving us no time to think; we just followed on. She didn’t open the door, the driver did. Remember when we stepped from the minibus, we didn’t have to step down. The strange angle the bus was parked at wasn’t just for the hole back into the past, it was so that Leonie, or whoever she is, would look as though she was able to move through the bus.”
Ankhtifi's Papyrus Page 8