Damned by the Ancients

by Catherine Cavendish

  Hilde sighed. “I wish you’d have another word with her, Hermann. It’s so awkward. I feel like an intruder. I have been dreading her coming home. I’m sorry to say that, but it’s true. You can see why, surely.”

  Ziegler went over to his wife and kissed her forehead. “I know, Hilde, I know. I’ll try again, but she’s as stubborn as Lara when she wants to be, and you know how she could be when she set her mind on something.”

  “I always hoped we could be good friends.”

  “Don’t give up hope yet.”

  * * * *

  A few gray clouds kept the day from being perfect. Rather like his mood, Hermann thought as he ascended the steps of the Lorenz Museum. Gabriele would be along in an hour or so. Enough time for him to sort out and catalog the new artifacts. Then he remembered the touch of that statue of Set. Maybe he would get his assistant to do it instead. Max Dressler was an unimaginative little man, but useful. Tell him to do a job and off he would scuttle. He was reliable in the field, too.

  Ziegler summoned him to his office and watched as the little barrel of a man bent down and carefully picked up the two statuettes.

  “You don’t experience anything…peculiar…when you touch the statue of Set?”

  “Peculiar?”

  “A sort of tingling. No. Stronger than that. A sharp pricking?”

  Dressler shook his head, a look of incomprehension on his chubby face.

  “It doesn’t matter. It must be me. Catalog these two carefully and get them out on display as soon as possible. I should like my daughter to see them.”

  “Of course, Herr Ziegler.”

  Dressler hurried away with the precious artifacts and Ziegler lit a cigarette. He glanced out of the window and did a double take. Gabriele was strolling across the courtyard, but she wasn’t alone.

  Quintillus.

  How did she even know him? The day before yesterday, the man had had to check with Ziegler as to the identity of the young woman in the photograph. He watched the two of them, engaged in animated conversation. She laughed. Quintillus smiled. Ziegler had barely thought the man capable of such an expression. They reached the steps and disappeared from sight.

  Ziegler’s heart beat faster. His blood pressure would be through the ceiling soon. Surely she would be on her way to his office now. He could find out when she had met him but he must take care not to antagonize her or he would drive her away. She was so much like her mother—hating to be challenged.

  A soft knock at the door.

  “Enter.”

  The door scraped open and Gabriele came in, her beaming smile melting his heart.

  “I have just been having such an interesting conversation,” she said.

  “I know. I saw you.” He couldn’t keep the barb out of his voice.

  “What’s the matter, Papa? You know Dr. Quintillus, don’t you? He told me he has supplied you with a number of rare finds, including a solid-gold statue of Set and an alabaster statue of Cleopatra in almost perfect condition. I should love to see them.”

  “In answer to your question, I do indeed know Dr. Quintillus. He is not a person I would wish to befriend my daughter.”

  “Why? He’s perfectly charming.”

  “Crocodiles smile. Just before they bite you.”

  “What?”

  Ziegler shook his head. This wasn’t going well. So far, he had made a complete hash of it. He could sense the tension behind his daughter’s stare. “How did you meet him?”

  “Quite by chance. I bumped into him yesterday and we had a short chat. I told him I was studying art in Vienna and he suggested we meet for coffee. He said he would send an invitation and that letter this morning came from him. He told me he was a business associate of yours—”

  “Business associate? I would hardly call him that.”

  “I believe he meant only in the sense that he supplied you with artifacts. That’s true, isn’t it?”

  Her father nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. I have little choice but to deal with him. He somehow manages to secure the rarest and most precious finds, and if I didn’t acquire them he would merely sell to one of the other museums. Questions would then be asked about my ability to spot a valuable addition to our collection. But believe me when I say he isn’t a suitable acquaintance for you. Not at all.”

  “Papa. I believe I am old enough to choose my own friends.”

  “Of course you are, but…” Any minute now and she would turn on her pretty heels and march out of his office. “I’m sorry. What did the two of you talk about?”

  Too late. The shutters had come down. She would tell him nothing now. Her next words confirmed it.

  “I told you. We spoke of the statues. May I see them now?”

  At that moment, her father wanted nothing more than to march her down to the station and see her off on the next train back to Vienna. Anything to keep her out of the clutches of Emeryk Quintillus. What did he want with her anyway? The man had to be old enough to be her father—he must be at least Ziegler’s own age if not older. He might not look it; not a single gray hair appeared to trouble that mane of black locks and his skin showed no evidence of wrinkles, even though his career spanned several decades.

  “Well, Papa, am I to be permitted to see these lovely new finds?”

  Ziegler nodded slowly. “Of course, my dear. Come with me.”

  Max Dressler was closing the door of the display cabinet when Gabriele and her father walked into the Egyptian gallery. He handed the key to Ziegler and stepped back to allow Gabriele to view the artifacts.

  When she saw them, her smile erased all trace of her earlier annoyance. “They are so beautiful, Papa. Exquisite.”

  “They are indeed.”

  “Dr. Quintillus has served you well.”

  Ziegler didn’t answer. His left hand curled into a fist. He clasped it behind his back. The gold statue of Set gleamed in its new home. Its eyes captivated him. He couldn’t tear himself away from the cold, steady gaze as the sounds of the gallery melted into the background. Gabriele spoke to him, but he didn’t understand her so couldn’t respond. Max Dressler put a concerned hand on his arm. Ziegler shrugged him off. In front of his eyes, the scene changed. No longer did he see a glass display cabinet full of ancient Egyptian art. Instead, a wide river shimmered in a sun-drenched landscape. Desert sand lay in hills and valleys. A temple soared upward, and a massive white bird circled overhead. Ziegler stood alone but not for long. A cloud passed over the sun, and darkness descended. The heat became a chill wind, penetrating deep within his bones. A deep, familiar voice spoke in his mind.

  I will have her.

  “Papa! Why don’t you answer me? Papa!”

  Ziegler snapped back to reality. Once again he was in the Egyptian gallery. He put his hand to his head as a fierce pain scythed through his brain.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  Gabriele eased him onto a chair. “You look so white, Papa. What’s the matter?”

  Ziegler shook his head. “For the life of me, I have no idea.”

  “I’ll get you some water, Herr Ziegler,” Dressler said and scurried off.

  Ziegler grabbed Gabriele’s hand. He must warn her. Now.

  “Promise me you won’t see that man again, Quintillus I mean.”

  Gabriele’s face darkened. “I doubt that our paths will cross much, if at all. But I really don’t understand why you hate him so much. He hasn’t done anything to harm you, has he?”

  Ziegler shook his head. “Some men don’t have to do anything before you know they are inherently evil.”

  “Oh, now that is too much. He was perfectly charming and very interesting. His knowledge of Egyptian history is phenomenal and he makes you feel as if you are really there. As if he had actually lived during those far-off times.”

  “If you told me he had bee
n alive in those times, I would have a hard time disbelieving you.”

  “Now that is too much.”

  “Gabriele, you don’t know him as I do. If he’s being charming to you it is because he wants something. You’re a beautiful young woman. You must be careful. Your reputation—”

  “He has done nothing to compromise that. We only went to have a coffee.” Her anger was showing. Lips thin and pursed. Two bright red spots on her cheeks.

  “I’m quite sure he hasn’t. Yet. But you don’t know what he is capable of.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “I don’t know, but I do know there is far more to Emeryk Quintillus than meets the eye. Please, for your own sake, keep away from him.”

  Gabriele appeared to struggle to keep her voice steady. “If you feel better now, I’m going home, Papa. At least you have more color in your cheeks.”

  Dressler bustled back with a brimming glass of water, which he promptly handed to Ziegler.

  “I will see you this evening, Gabriele. Please remember what I said.”

  Gabriele nodded but Ziegler read defiance in that nod. He could only hope she would see the sense of his warning and keep away from Quintillus. If not… He shivered.

  “Perhaps you should go home?”

  “No, Dressler. I shall be all right. Thank you for the water. It’s helping.”

  “What happened? You seemed to drift off somehow.”

  “Yes. It did seem like it, but I’m quite recovered now.”

  * * * *

  Gabriele wasn’t home when he arrived back a little after six. Hilde appeared distracted. She kept fiddling with a fine cotton handkerchief, twisting it back and forth through her fingers. “I hoped she would be with you. She’s been out all day.”

  “She told me she received a letter from a Dr. Quintillus this morning. Did she show it to you or leave it lying around anywhere?”

  “She would hardly show it to me. I didn’t even know she had received any such letter. She may have left it in her room, I suppose. Why, does it matter?”

  “She met up with him this morning at the museum. He is not a man I approve of—especially not one I would want my daughter associating with.”

  “Whatever has he done?”

  “That’s just it, Hilde. I have no idea. He makes my flesh crawl and I don’t know why. I only know I want him as far from Gabriele as possible.”

  * * * *

  Gabriele arrived home at eleven that night. Hilde had already retired but her father stayed up, pacing the floor, smoking endless cigarettes. When he heard the sound of her key in the lock, he strode into the hall.

  She looked flushed, but the smile died on her face as soon as she saw her father’s expression.

  “Where have you been until this time?”

  Her lips set in a thin, hard line, her chin tilted upward. “Out with some friends of mine.”

  “Which friends?”

  “You don’t know them.”

  She flounced past him and he caught a whiff of cigar smoke. That distinctive aroma. He knew only one man who smoked cigars that smelled like that.

  “You’ve been with Quintillus. After I specifically asked you not to see him.”

  “What if I have? He’s charming, distinguished, and—”

  “What’s that on your wrist?”

  Gabriele caressed the golden bangle, encrusted with stones that looked like real rubies and emeralds.

  “A present. From a friend.”

  “And what is Quintillus doing giving you presents?”

  “He said he wanted me to have it. That it suited me.”

  “Let me see it.”

  Gabriele hesitated, then thrust her arm out.

  Ziegler examined it closely. He recognized the cartouche of Cleopatra, the serpent of Isis, and another symbol. The head of Set. His stomach churned. Unless he was much mistaken, Quintillus was up to something here. And Gabriele had been earmarked to be at the center of it.

  Chapter 13

  Gabriele tossed back her mane of black hair as Quintillus circled her. The long, white silk gown he had given her flowed around her bare feet while her new bangle gleamed and sparkled at her wrist and another, serpentine-shaped armlet glittered on her left arm. On her head she wore a diadem—the royal insignia.

  “You could almost be her,” Quintillus said, taking her hand. “My beloved queen.”

  Gabriele giggled and withdrew her hand. Her laughter stopped abruptly when Quintillus’s expression changed. Instead of admiration, she now read anger in those dark eyes.

  “Do not mock me,” he said and a shudder passed through her body. Is this what Papa meant? This sudden change? For the first time in his company, a flash of fear struck Gabriele.

  Gone as soon as it had arrived, his expression returned to normal, but in that one moment, Gabriele had seen a different side of Quintillus. Maybe she should heed her father’s words after all.

  The moment passed. Quintillus took her hand.

  “Come with me, my dear.”

  He led her into a room lined with bookshelves, crammed to the rafters with leather-bound volumes. He motioned her to sit and she found herself drawn to his gaze. His eyes grew darker, and in them she saw swirling clouds. Then she was floating, drifting into the twin pools that merged and became one vast tranquil river. Palm trees swayed on the banks, an endless film played out as the countryside changed from lush and green to dry and desertlike.

  The scene changed.

  She was in a palace of some kind. She looked around her at the walls, colored vividly in scarlet, green, blue. Paintings depicted hunting, feasting, battles.

  She sat on a low couch that was padded and comfortable. No one else was around. In front of her, on a low table, stood a golden bowl, partially filled with a clear liquid. Water probably. She peered into it and it rippled. The ripples became miniature waves, boiling into a whirlpool. Fear gripped her, but she couldn’t look away. A face, distorted by the swirling water, took shape. It should have been hers but she did not recognize it. She had no reflection in this bowl. The face was made-up like the faces of the women on the walls. Despite that, there were many resemblances to her own.

  The water stilled. The face faded. Another appeared, reflected in the water that would not mirror her. A face that wasn’t a face. A mask.

  A hand on her shoulder crept slowly round to her neck.

  Gabriele turned and gasped. There was no one there.

  “I can make you immortal,” a familiar male voice said. “All you have to do is believe.”

  * * * *

  The museum had closed but Ziegler stood in front of the cabinet containing the gold statuette. Never before had he experienced such a reaction to a piece of art. It was an inanimate object. It couldn’t hurt him, yet it had. Only him, though. Neither Quintillus nor Dressler had been affected. Hesitantly he inserted the small key into the lock and turned it.

  The statue moved.

  Ziegler stopped, his hand poised to open the cabinet. Returning to his senses, he made to lock it again. The key flew out of his hand and skittered across the floor, out of sight in the dimly lit room. Ziegler stepped back, his hand covering his mouth, stifling a scream that threatened to escape.

  The statue moved again, sliding closer toward him along the glass shelf. A rushing sound deafened him. Ziegler began to pray.

  A familiar voice spoke from the shadows. “That won’t do you any good here.”

  Ziegler stared as the statuette raised its staff and he fell to the floor, clutching his chest.

  Quintillus emerged from the gloom and stood over him, a curious smile playing around his lips.

  Chapter 14

  Hermann Ziegler opened his eyes. He lay where he had fallen on the floor of the Egyptian Gallery. A faint whiff of distinctive cigar smoke wafted over hi
m.

  Quintillus. What had he been doing here?

  Ziegler struggled to sit and his head swam. Then he remembered the sharp pain that had felled him and felt his pulse. Perfectly normal. He stretched out his left arm, relieved that it neither throbbed nor tingled. He could feel no crushing weight of pain on his chest and could probably stand if he made the effort. There could be only one way to find out, so he reached out and used the nearest cabinet to help him up.

  On his feet again, he glanced into the display unit where everything appeared as normal. The gold statue of Set was back in its original position as if nothing untoward had occurred. Maybe he had imagined it all, but could you conjure up so much agony? And he wasn’t imagining the smell of cigar smoke. It had grown fainter now, but it was still there.

  Gabriele. Pray God she was safe at home and not with that monster.

  Ziegler staggered to the exit, wishing he didn’t feel so light-headed. Maybe his blood pressure had dropped. A glass of water. That might help.

  Back in his office, he poured himself a tumblerful from the ever-present jug. He sat behind his desk, grateful for the comfortable chair and support for his back.

  It took a full half hour before he trusted himself to make his way home.

  * * * *

  Hilde greeted him, a worried frown on her face. “Gabriele hasn’t been home again, and I don’t know where she is.”

  It was the news Ziegler had feared. “I can guess who she’s with, and I would do anything to get her away from him. Surely she can see he’s dangerous.”

  “The more you tell her she can’t see him, the more she’ll want to. She’s young, headstrong. Believe it or not, I can see myself in her at that age.”

  Ziegler doubted it, although… Hilde’s eyes had misted over as if she was recalling some incident from her past. Maybe this had been her one act of rebellion before settling down into her conservative world of fresh air, exercise, and afternoon tea.

  “I’m going to look for her,” he said. “I will not have that man ruin my only daughter.”

  “I fear it may already be too late,” Hilde said.