by Overton, Max
"A wonderful story, indeed," Al-Din said.
Ali took them to see wall carvings in the open colonnades, but also to see lesser ones in darkened passageways where little sunlight penetrated. The stilted figures of men and animals seem to pause in their eternal actions, half-hidden by the soft shadows, as living men regarded them. The Egyptian pointed to the hieroglyphs associated with each carving.
"See, this one describes an offering by Meny, son of Hotep, a rich merchant of Ta-Senet, who brings cattle and grain as an offering to the priests of Amun; and this one from Lord Amentep offering a hundred jars of fine wine."
"You really can read the hieroglyphs?" Nazim asked.
Ali fidgeted and looked down. "Of course, effendi. I have studied for many years."
Nazim pointed at a series of hieroglyphs enclosed within a cartouche. "What does this one say?"
Ali grimaced and shuffled his feet some more. "That is the offering Lord Amentep makes. It says, 'one hundred jars of fine wine'."
"Thank you, Ali. You have been a most interesting and instructive guide, but the hour grows late and we must leave." Nazim took out his wallet and took out two notes, passing them across to the delighted Egyptian. "Your fee--and a little extra for your fascinating stories."
"Thank you, effendi. May the blessings of Allah be upon thee both."
Nazim and Al-Din left their guide looking for another customer and walked out of the temple and back onto the Avenue with its line of sphinxes.
"I'm surprised you gave him a tip," Al-Din said. "I thought you said he was making up stories."
"He was, but something he said made me recognise the biggest mistake we have been making in our venture to discover Scarab's tomb. I had to reward him for that, even if he was unaware of what he'd done."
"Now you have made me curious," Al-Din said. "What is this great mistake?"
"He translated those hieroglyphs as 'one hundred jars of fine wine' but it couldn't have been that. I know enough about hieroglyphs to know that the figures inside that boundary--the cartouche--represent a royal name. That makes me wonder whether anything the Englishwoman--Dr Hanser--said was true. We just believed her without suspecting anything was amiss, but perhaps her translation of the Syrian inscription was faulty at best--or even deliberately misleading."
Al-Din whistled. "How can you find out?"
"I have photographs of key passages of the inscription, including the description of how to find the tomb. I will have to show them to an expert at the museum. He will be able to tell me what they really say."
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* * *
Chapter Twenty-Four
The young woman stood on the balcony of the Nomarch's residence in Behdet, leaning on the stone balustrade and staring out over the night-time city and beyond to where the Great River--Iteru--shimmered in the light of a waxing moon. The night air was cool, and the woman folded her arms across her bare chest, the gold of her arm-bands cold against her breasts, and shivered.
Why am I here? What am I waiting for ?
Few lights were visible in the darkened city at this late hour. The cooking fires had long been banked or extinguished and only the rich could afford to keep oil lamps burning through the night. She could make out a fitful glow from the great temple of Heru and from lesser shrines of any of a hundred gods scattered through the darkened streets. Lights burned in the guard posts and in the residence behind her, but they burned dimly, as dimly as moon-washed stars in the body of the goddess Nut and did not blind her. A cry reached her ears and she looked north, pinpointing the wail of an infant in distress. A lamp flickered, butter-yellow, and she imagined the mother, sleepless as she ministered to her child while her husband slept.
A night bird called--an owl perhaps--hunting on silent wings, its keen eyes searching out its prey--a sleeping sparrow in the fronds of the palms or a foraging mouse in the grain warehouses by the river. From the river came a splash and gurgle as some denizen of the waters--fish or crocodile most likely--pursued its own cold purpose.
Why am I here? What has summoned me ?
Wood smoke drifted across the balcony, faint and sour, mixing with the subtle undercurrents of massed humanity--the stink of ordure, rank sweat from man and beast, spices, cooked food--from the sleeping city below, and perfumes--rose and lotus--from the Nomarch's wife's bedroom. Incense from the temples beat at her brain and conjured up visions of priests chanting hymns of praise and the silent dark statues of the gods in their sanctuaries.
Why am I here? Who called me to this place ?
The woman raised her hands to her face, touching old scars and her fingers brushed her right eye, feeling the hardness under the lid. She opened the eye and felt smooth stone beneath, her mind sensing the cool green-tinged darkness wherein lay the presence of the gods--the Nine of Iunu.
I am here. What do you want of me ?
Something flicked past her, arrow-swift in the night sky, piercing the dark body of Nut. A streak of light coursed from the southeast, plunging down across the city, silent as it disappeared into the blackness that lay beyond the walls.
What lies there? The temple of Auset ?
Certainty filled her. What she sought was in the temple of Auset. The sign could not be clearer. The goddess had spoken despite her not having the golden scarab in her possession. The young woman felt her heart break anew at the remembered loss and she cried out...
* * *
She sat bolt upright in her lumpy bed, tears in her eyes, and a cry of anguish still ringing in her ears. Near her, in the darkness, she heard scraping noises and she poised herself for battle, her hand scrabbling beneath the head-rest for the dagger that always lay there.
"What the hell's going on?" a male voice queried. "Are you all right?"
"Who is that?"
"Me. Who else would it be?"
"Daffyd?" Dani swung her feet over the side of the bed and sat with her head in her hands. "I...I had a dream...I think. It was...so real."
Daffyd switched the light on and a low-wattage fly-spotted incandescent bulb shone wanly from the ceiling, revealing bedclothes in disarray on the bed and on the floor. Daffyd stood by the door in shorts and a vest, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
"Want to talk about it, lass? Sometimes talking about a nightmare makes it seem less real."
"It wasn't a nightmare, or at least I don't think it was."
"You cried out as if your heart was breaking."
Dani nodded. "It was. I realised I didn't have the golden scarab and it tore me apart. It was so real."
"Sounds like a nightmare to me."
"No. At least, not at first. I was there, Daffyd, in ancient Behdet..."
"Where?"
"Behdet. It's the old name for Edfu. I was there on the balcony of the Nomarch's palace, looking out on a sleeping city. It was so real--I could see the lights in the temples, hear the night birds, smell the smoke, feel the chill night air on my bare..." Dani looked down at her pyjama top and smiled. "I was bare-breasted in my dream but I wasn't self-conscious, just a bit chilly."
"We tend to be less inhibited in our dreams."
"It wasn't that. It felt natural because I belonged there. I was wearing what I would normally wear and what I saw, what I heard and smelled and felt were all normal things..."
Daffyd crossed the room and sat down on the bed beside Dani. "What do you mean by normal, lass? As far as I'm aware you've never gone around with your breasts in the breeze in your life."
Dani smiled again, a little uncertainly. "Damn right, at least not as Dani Hanser, but I wasn't me. That sounds stupid I know, but that wasn't Dani standing there on the balcony."
"Scarab?"
Dani nodded. "It couldn't have been me though, could it?"
"Ah lass, who am I to say? If this had happened a year ago, I'd have said it was just a dream, and if you insisted it felt real I'd recommend a good psychiatrist, but after hearing Scarab's story and seeing you interact with the golden scarab..." Daff
yd shook his head. "As Shakespeare put it, 'there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy'. Remember what we talked about earlier? The collective unconscious? I'd say we're seeing another example of it here."
"Or as I said, I'm Scarab reincarnated."
"I doubt it lass. All the cases of reincarnation I've read about involved youngsters who remember things but forget them by the time they're seven or eight. I've never heard of an adult suddenly remembering things. No, I'd say it's one of two things--the collective unconscious of the human race, or your mind conjuring up images in a dream state from memories of Scarab's account."
"Scarab was never in the Nomarch's palace in Behdet--at least not in the account--so how did my mind create that?"
"That's true, but there were plenty of descriptions of sights, sounds and smells from other places. You're in Behdet--Edfu--now, so your mind just cobbles together a dream from the descriptions and your experiences today."
Dani chewed her lip, thinking. "You make it sound so reasonable, Dafs, but that wasn't all there was. The gods were there too and..."
"You saw them?" Daffyd shrugged. "They're part of the account as well. Your mind would incorporate them."
"And they showed me where the golden scarab is."
Daffyd stared at Dani. "We know where it is," he said slowly. "Bashir's got it."
"No. It's just north of here, in the temple of Auset. The gods showed me, sending a shooting star to guide me."
"I didn't know there was a temple of Auset--Isis. There's a big temple to Horus, but..."
"Heru, not Horus. And yes, there is one for Auset."
"Even if there is, how can the scarab possibly be there? The last time we saw it, it was in Bashir's possession, in Syria. No doubt he brought it to Egypt, but if it's anywhere it's in Luxor."
"The gods said it was here."
"Dani, you saw a shooting star...no, you dreamed you saw a shooting star and because you are dying to get it back, your mind interpreted it as that. It was a dream, lass, a vivid one, but just your mind striving to make sense of recent events and desires."
"There's one way to find out, Dafs--go there."
"And if it isn't there? It could be a crushing disappointment."
"Ah, but what if it is there?"
Dani would say no more on the subject, yawning instead and straightening the bedclothes. She professed herself to be utterly at ease with the thought of going back to sleep and suggested they do so immediately as they had a long day ahead of them.
"At least we can wait in Edfu for Marc and Muammar to arrive. We no longer have to go to Luxor to find the golden scarab."
Daffyd shook his head and switched off the light, shuffling and stumbling in the dark back to his blanket on the floor. He lay awake for a long while, even after Dani's regular breathing told him she was asleep. He waited for her nightmare to resume, but it never did, and eventually he dozed off.
Dani arose early the next morning, a smile on her lips. She disappeared into the bathroom and emerged cleansed and made up, ready for what the day would bring. Daffyd moved more slowly, yawning a lot, but spoke cheerfully enough. They breakfasted lightly and, while the sun was still low in the eastern sky, set off on foot to search for the temple of Auset.
Edfu is a city that runs roughly north-south along the western bank of the Nile, and Dani and Daffyd's little hotel was in the southern part of the sprawling city. As the heat of the day grew, they found themselves tiring, and were only just approaching the city centre.
"This is no use," Daffyd complained. "It'll take us all day just to reach the outskirts, let alone find the temple. We should take a taxi."
"We might be able to afford a bus," Dani countered.
There were buses on the roads and queues at places where people were obviously waiting for something. A bus stopped by one of the queues and people got on and off. The problem was that Dani and Daffyd knew a few phrases of Arabic but could not read it. Deciphering the squiggles showing the destination at the front of each bus was beyond them.
"How do we know which one to get?" Daffyd asked.
"I suppose we'll have to ask. What's the Arabic for 'Which bus must we catch to get to the temple of Auset?'"
Daffyd laughed. "Way too complex. Let's just try 'north'. That's shamal I think."
"All right, let me think." Dani concentrated, drawing upon her memory of Arabic phrases. She approached a woman in long flowing robes and headscarf.
"Law samaht...sabah el-khair--Excuse me...good morning."
The woman looked uncomfortable and glanced around for support. Finding none, she mumbled, "Sabah el-khair."
"I'll tell her I can't speak Arabic very well," she said to Daffyd. "La atakhallam 'arabi jayyidan."
"I think that's fairly obvious," Daffyd murmured. "Your pronunciation leaves a bit to be desired."
"If you can do better, please take over." Dani smiled at the woman again, racking her brain for the right words. "We wish to take the bus...el-bus...to the north of the city...shamal Edfu. There is a...a temple of Isis."
The woman shrugged and pointed at a bus passing them on the street and then waved her hands all around, speaking very fast in Arabic. All they could make out were the words 'el-bus' and 'Edfu'.
"I don't think she understood us," Daffyd observed.
"Feel free to exercise your own linguistic abilities," Dani said.
Daffyd tried, more or less repeating what Dani had said and the woman erupted into a torrent of flowing syllables. Passers-by stopped and listened, and added their own gushing contributions.
"I think we're attracting too much attention," Daffyd said. "The last thing we want is a policeman who'd ask for our papers." He tried edging away from the gathering crowd, drawing Dani with him when help arrived unexpectedly.
"You are American?"
Daffyd turned and saw a fit-looking middle-aged man with a bandaged head standing on the edge of the crowd. "English, actually."
"Perhaps I might be of assistance? I can translate."
"Thank you. We want to visit the temple of Auset...of Isis...north of the city and don't know which bus to catch."
"I can help you there." The man turned to the crowd which was dissipating now that someone had happened along who spoke the language of the infidels, and spoke rapidly in Arabic. He listened to the replies and nodded.
"I am told a number five bus will take you to the junction of the roads Nagaa Al Balalees and Al Ghanema. The ruins of the temple you seek are an hour's walk from there, along dirt roads. The bus fare is one shilling each, but the bus will not be here for another hour."
"That long?" Dani asked. "Well, there's no option. Thank you Mr..."
"Hafiz."
"Thank you Mr Hafiz, for all your trouble on our behalf."
"Er, one problem," Daffyd said. "You say bus number five, but the lettering will be in Arabic and we don't read Arabic. How are we going to recognise the right bus?"
Hafiz smiled. He dug into his trouser pocket and, taking out a small battered notebook, tore out a leaf. "You have a pencil?" Dani handed him hers. Hafiz drew on the paper--the Arabic script ����--and handed it back with the pencil. "When you see a bus with that on it, you have the right one. If in doubt, ask the driver. Five is khamsa in Arabic." He sounded the kh- sound as if clearing his throat.
"Thank you, Mr Hafiz, we are indebted to you."
"It is a pleasure Miss..." Hafiz cocked his head to one side, regarding Dani with a smile on his lips. "May I be permitted to know your names?"
Daffyd opened his mouth to warn Dani not to give their real names, but too late.
"I'm Dani Hanser; this is Daffyd Rhys-Williams."
"A pleasure to make your acquaintances." Hafiz bowed and turned away, moving a few paces before turning back. "A thought has just occurred to me, Miss Hanser and Mr Rhys-Williams. You are faced with a long wait in the hot sun for your bus. May I offer you the use of my car?"
"That is very kind, Mr Hafiz,"
Dani said. "But we couldn't possibly impose on you further."
"It would be no imposition, I assure you. I am heading north myself and would be delighted to take you as far as the bus would take you."
"Thank you again, but..."
"It would give me an opportunity to practice my English, so we would both benefit."
"It doesn't sound as if you need the practice," Daffyd said, a faint hint of suspicion in his voice. "You are fluent."
"Thank you," Hafiz said, "But one can always improve. Sometimes the intonation of similar sounding words confuses me."
"In that case, we would be delighted," Dani said.e dug into his trouser pocket and pulled out a notebook and pencilHe
Hafiz led them to a dusty rental car parked a little way down the street, and held the passenger-side door open for Dani, allowing Daffyd to make his own arrangements. He started the car and pulled out into the traffic, heading north.
"So, you are going to the temple of Isis? Is there a special reason for your visit?"
"Why do you ask?" Daffyd said.
"There are other temples in much better repair in Edfu. The Horus one is quite fine, I believe."
"I have always been attracted to the cult of Isis," Dani said.
Hafiz manoeuvred the car through the city traffic and out onto the roads north of the city, quickly finding the Al Ghanema road and following it to the junction where the bus would have dropped them. A little farther up the road, a rutted dirt track diverged, running into the desert, with a dusty sign in Arabic pointing the way. Hafiz eased the vehicle off the road and made his way slowly down the road, the car bouncing and juddering to the sound of protesting springs.
"You do not have to come this far, Mr Hafiz," Dani said. "You have been most kind bringing us this far. We can complete our journey on foot."
"I wouldn't dream of it. The heat of the day would make a journey like that most...ah, most debilitating--is that a correct English word, Miss Hanser?"
"It is indeed, Mr Hafiz, and thank you."
"Besides, I have lived in this area for many years but have never visited the temple. Perhaps it is I who should thank you for giving me the opportunity."