Vulnavia had kept them at bay, swinging her axe like some modern‐day Boudicca and possessed of all the mighty energies of that warrior queen.
Finally cornered in the surgical amphitheatre, Vulnavia was badly burned when the overhead acid bath overflowed, raining a corrosive stream down upon her. In the long months that she was subjected to the horrors of St. Daffodils, Phibes was kept alive by TPN (Total Parenteral Feeding) while he sojourned with his wife in the ornate double sarcophagus sequestered in the deepest recesses of #5 Maldine Square.
The film, “THE ABOMINABLE DR. PHIBES”, presents a portrait of the eternally happy couple in repose. Now, his loose collar tells Phibes that he is still too thin so without standing on ceremony, he dug right into his plate. The eagle fidgeted at the sight of the bangers bubbling and bursting through their skin. Phibes nodded for him to take a bite but the great bird, in a sign of avian politeness, lifted his wings and drifted away from his perch leaving Phibes to enjoy his lunch alone. When he floated back twenty minutes later, shreds of skin and fur were stuck to his claws and the great sewer rats of Bermondsey had suffered a few more casualties.
All that was left of the bangers and mash were some bread crusts. Vulnavia started to toss them to the pigeons down below but thought better of it. The sea eagle might still be hungry. Besides, Phibes was putting on his heavy glove. It was time to talk business. She got up and took her leave so that they could commune in private.
For the next two days Phibes and the sea eagle were locked in communion. Three times a day Vulnavia left a tray at the observatory door. Veal and eggs and a biscuit, a Phibes breakfast favorite plus Irish stew and a beef cutlet for his other meals. The eagle always had offal, which Vulnavia spiked with bits of pemmican.
There were never any leftovers, a sign of the intense work effort going on inside the observatory. On the third morning she found Phibes alone Several filled notebooks lay about on the workbench and the ashtray was piled high with pencil stubs. Lost amongst this litter was a glassine envelope. Sealed within and priceless beyond compare was a fragment of the Osiris Papyrus, its glyphs depicting the location of the last resting place of that great ‘heretic’ king, Akhenaton.
Like all great societies, ancient Egypt was torn by factional strife, none as violent as the late 18th Dynasty clash between the worshipers of the traditional gods, some sixty of them including Re, Anubis, etc., who had been entrenched for centuries in the ancient capital of Thebes and Akhenaton‘s followers, who believed that the Aton ‐ the Sun Disk ‐ is all powerful, all encompassing and who made their devotions through Pharaoh, its embodiment on earth.
This sixty‐to‐one ‘faith index’ created tensions in Egyptian society, so much so that Akhenaton shifted the capitol from Thebes to Amarna and, along with his queen, the enigmatic Nefertiti, transported the royal court to that place as well.
The royal couple was a study in contrasts. Akhenaton was tall, lanky even, with a long face made sensual by heavy lidded eyes and a soft full mouth. We cannot know his voice except that it was powerful enough to re‐form a kingdom.
Nefertiti is probably the most recognizable great lady in history, along with Mona Lisa. One look at her and you can see that she could move kings and kingdoms…and did! But unlike many of their predecessors, she and Akhenaton weren’t aloof, they didn’t hide in their palaces. They were a very visible couple who could be seen everywhere and anywhere, their natural attraction to one another always in plain view.
The crowds loved their public sorties as this excerpt from the Amarna B papyrus records:
“Did you see that?
No.
There. Again! The wind shifted slightly, sending a corrugated swell angling across the Nile. Amarna is downstream from Thebes. The river is narrower and deeper here.
A crowd has gathered along the river’s edge and more people keep coming.
The Royal Barge is passing! A low cry goes up from the ladies. Ah…ah…ah. Many have brought their servants for the occasion. The latter have been fanning their mistresses ever since they got here. But even though the sun hangs low above the horizon, the servants have worked up a good sweat to keep the fans moving. Now they are fanning furiously! What is that? Is Pharaoh humpbacked?
Her companion squints, smiles. No, she sighs enviously, it’s her feet. The queen’s toenails are painted. A sudden shift in the current sends the barge into shore, just in time for the onlookers to see Pharaoh’s back coil and uncoil like a bow after it has shot its arrow.
Nefertiti is all but inundated by his long frame. Visible are her two slender feet, pointing skyward and matching her husband’s quiverings.
The queen’s hair is spread out across the coverlet in midnight passion and the crowd is surprised to see its red and gold streaks sparkling in the black mass. The modesty curtains billow up just as Pharaoh stretches out contentedly on the pillows.
But the queen is stirring. Throwing a merry look toward those on shore, she slides across and atop her husband. And, tossing her head back, her breasts jabbing the air, she throttles her royal spouse deeper into the pillows.
Sighs and approving whispers from the crowd follow the barge as it drifts off further downriver
* * *
Under Akhenaton’s progressive rule, Amarna flourished for a dozen years, prevailing against the cadres of bureaucrats it had replaced, their displeasure growing into plots and actions that finally culminated in his downfall and removal.
Power returned to Thebes. Amarna drifted into inconsequence while Akhenaton’s images were obliterated from the temples and his statues were cast down. Ever to the victor belong the spoils of war!
But Akhenaton did not wish to disappear into thin air so he instructed Pi Ankhi, his loyal servitor, to build and to conceal his final resting place from his enemies until ‐ fifty generations hence ‐ ‘some may wish to know about me and what I have done’.
A few months later his body was pulled from its grave and ferreted away from Amarna; to where? remains a mystery.
But Akhenaton left a legacy of profound and lasting consequences. Monotheism is the thread that unites Judaism, Christianity, and Islam into some semblance of respect…and however slightly keeps their faithful from being constantly at one another’s throat.
* * *
Phibes brightened when Vulnavia entered the observatory at just after nine o’clock on the third morning of deliberations. He had unlocked the door so that she would know to come in. He was glad to see her and said so, adding this rather startling instruction: Vulnavia, book passage to Alexandria His voice was strong despite the long effort. Leave nothing behind. Give to charity what we cannot take with us.
Leave Maldine Sq. for good?! was the question mark in her eyes as she went to make the arrangements. What did the future hold? What, indeed?!
THE ARPEGGIOS PLAY AT DAWN
Vulnavia seemed sublimely happy. She had finished her new assignment in less than a fortnight. All was in readiness for their departure and so today, after completing her morning chores, she had changed into a trim lemon‐colored A‐frame and gone down to the library.
She was sitting in a dormer there now, reading a book. Her back was pressed against the wood panel in a classic study hall position with her legs bent toward the opposite wall. She had dropped her shoes on the floor and Phibes noticed that Vulnavia had polished her toenails ‐ a pink blush!
The book was one of those soft‐cover red leather editions with the gold‐tipped pages that were made very popular in the 19th century by the upward‐struggling families on both sides of the Atlantic who wanted to look ‘culture’. These alluring volumes were pedaled door‐to‐door by squadrons of very earnest Horatio Alger types, many of whom did quite well thank you.
William Shakespeare’s Folio Edition was a best seller along with the Aeneid, Bullfinch’s Mythology and the Metamorphosis by Ovid. Most stayed pristine on the shelves throughout the generations except for the Ovid, who offered some practical advice on seduction.
> Vulnavia had been leafing through the pages of her book until she came to something that caused her to stop. Now she was looking very hard at the open page as if to grasp some meaning from the bit of verse printed there:
And the arpeggios played at dawn.
And the arpeggios played at dawn!
Phibes, who’d come into the library and approached her unnoticed, now spoke in the same voice he employed on his diplomatic missions: full of fact sans emotion. It caused Vulnavia to glance down at the author’s name at
bottom of the stanza:
Anton Phibes! She smiled and reread the verse before turning the page.
Phibes liked to scribble these things when he was traveling. How this one found its way into print is anyone’s guess.
What these lines meant, she would soon find out. But for now the Wizards were stirring in the ballroom, far too early for them to be warming up (it was before noon!)
But there they were up on the bandstand behind the gauze curtain in sharp silhouette: a moving cameo thanks to the back lighting.
The crystal ball overhead began to glow red when Phibes passed underneath. The gauze curtain fluttered nervously.
Thank you, the Wizards spelled out in quickstep cameo, thank you for making me…the woman that I am today!
And now Vulnavia made her entrance at the rear of the ballroom. Dressed in all the elegance of her Phibes Saga debut, she glided across the onyx floor…to meet up with Phibes directly beneath the globe that was now rotating seductively above the ballroom floor. There they touched hands, sweeping into a swan‐like pas de deux to celebrate the moment.
It was to be their last dance on Maldine Square
EARTHQUAKE
It happened after midnight when no one was about. Scattered minor damage was reported along the
Bermondsey docks but the rest of the city was unscathed. Not so with toney Maldine Square, where the foundation of one building ‐ #5 ‐ had failed, resulting in the collapse of that entire five‐storey structure.
Police cordoned off the perimeter to prevent looting and posted a 24‐hour guard, although from the looks of the rubble there was little left to loot in that pile of bricks and mortar. Neighbors confirmed that the observatory atop #5 was missing. How it was carted off by thieves is a mystery because London Metro was on the scene within minutes of the building’s collapse. Their shrill whistles would have been enough to scare away any looters.
The estimated weight of the dome is 4~5 tons. The London Earthquake enjoyed two days’ of front‐page fame before it was swept away by the arrival of the newest Cunard liner, with its star‐studded passenger list including Mr. Chaplin, Miss Goddard, Mr. L.B. Mayer and Mr. W. Rogers. The troubles in Sudetenland were also duly noted.
Those who followed earthquakes could follow London’s in a meandering trail of articles over the spring and summer of that year. They would learn that the collapsed building had been the subject of a crime scene investigation, one that turned violent as soon as London Metro Police entered the building where they were met by a “stunning axe‐swinging mute and a passel of midgets” who, in the close combat that quickly followed, appeared to be mechanicals.
They looked like real blokes, one of the Bobbies was heard to say of these midgets, and they sure fought like them! Unlike most earthquakes which radiate out from an epicenter, the London Quake went straight down ‐ toward the true center of the earth. Its measurements were originally taken at the University of London’s Geology Laboratory and were published only after checking and rechecking by the head of the department there.
Such an event had never been recorded in the geophysical literature. A seismic freak, the press called it, straight as a plumb line.
Oxford’s Earth Sciences Laboratory confirmed that this London earthquake was indeed a first and that it proceeded ‘along a straight line connecting #5 Maldine Square to Earth’s center’ (sic). Further, the force vector changed direction, the first wave leading up from Earth Center to #5 Maldine Square, this abruptly reversing itself, flowing down from #5 Maldine Square straight to Earth Center.
No explanation was offered for this sudden reversal of the vector pending further study. The open pit left by #5’s collapse remains to this day.
EPILOGUE ‐the bill of lading‐
That truck was a block long if it was an inch!
You don’t say.
A block long it was and tall ‐ taller than most trucks. You don’t say.
And it had them big heavy steel wheels. Sounded like boulders, they did.
You don’t say. What’re you, a mocking bird?
The talker’s name is Screwy. We’ve seen him before, out on the Lake Country Highway where he and his two companions were talking about the ghost they just saw. Or didn’t. (Book III of the Phibes Saga).
Screwy’s folks had moved recently. He didn’t like the new neighborhood so he kept going back to the old one to see his friends. Not that Feeney and Mort were really his friends. It’s just that he knew them at least but didn’t know anyone in the new neighborhood.
So he kept staying away longer and longer until he just stopped going home. That was a couple years ago. Now he was in London where everyone from the sticks ends up if they ain’t satisfied with the crumbs.
He’s filled out a bit, enough to hold his own in a fair fight. Trouble was there was no such thing as a fair fight down on the docks, which is why Screwy had a gap in his lower jaw which is also why he kept his lips screwed up to cover the gap, which made him look like he was leering at you.
That didn’t go over too big if he was in a crowd and some toff mistook the tooth camouflage for an ogle at the young lady who was hanging on his arm.
The gap in Screwy’s teeth got him into more fights than you could count which is why he had to beef up because he didn’t want any more gaps in his teeth which is why he always looked for the heaviest loads and the crew bosses knew they could count on him.
It got so that Screwy was making pretty good money and had started putting away some of it toward a gold crown. Then he wouldn’t have to screw up his lips anymore and he could smile natural‐like and everyone would know that he was the real deal with all that metal in his mouth.
But he didn’t quite have enough socked away in his poke which is why he kept screwing up his mouth whenever he got into a conversation. Good thing that today he was talking to just this one chap. It was wash‐up time and they were done for the day, except the ropes had to be coiled up. You couldn’t leave them lying around. Someone could get hurt.
So tell me about this truck that’s a block long? the other guy continued, taking a pull on his stogie. It was one of those cheap Rum Soaks that kept going out and you used up a book of matches and then some just to keep the thing lit.
Yeah. Maybe half‐a‐block. But it was so damn heavy they had to call in another crane.
Whad’ya mean, too heavy? We get big trucks down here all the time. That’s what I know and I seen some trucks as big as this one except this one looked spank brand new, black all over with big gold lettering on its sides.
Where’d it come from?
From here, London.
How many on the crew?
Just me and Blivens. And that new kid.
Who, the fat one?
No. The other one with the big heavy boots. Present from his folks when they kicked him out.
He a good worker?
Dunno. Today’s his first day.
Let’s see if he comes back tomorrow. Tuppence sez he does.
You’re on.
So the three of you worked that thing all week?
No. Just today. You’re full of it.
Took us all morning to get the second crane into place. It was one of them Pahlfingers.
Yeah. I know about ‘em.
Ever work with one?
Never had to.
This bugger could lift your house up and never lose a brick.
That smooth, eh? Once we got it positioned it was just a ma
tter of wrapping the truck into the mesh basket. Then up she goes onto the deck and into the hold.
You mean the truck shipped with its load?
I do.
But you don’t know what made it so heavy?
I do. Now you’re contradicting yourself!
Am not.
You never opened it up but you knew what was inside.
Bill of Lading.
Eh?
Had to check it for the ship’s manifest. Driver handed it to me on his way up the gangplank.
He’s traveling with his truck?
Him and that lady. Both dressed real good. She was a looker!
Never mind them. What’s in the truck, Screwy?
Cedar wood planks.
Where to?
I dunno. Somewhere on the Mediterranean. Lebanon, maybe. Lebanon! Now I know your full of it! Cedars of Lebanon!! So we’re shipping the wood back to the forest where it grew! Ain’t that a kick!?
The two men break out laughing as we take our leave. Those adventurous readers who wish to continue the voyage can book passage on “ Dr. Phibes Rises Again”, Book II in the Phibes Saga.
FIN
Vulnavia’s Secret
Copyright © 2011 William Goldstein ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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