“Great,” Rachel said cheerfully. “Perhaps your father can help me with my school project?”
“Rachel,” Megan scolded. “I’m sure he has better things to do while he’s here than to help you with your schoolwork.”
Diedrich laughed. “Like I said, my father loves to talk about his work. It’s getting him to stop that’s the problem.”
Megan stood and brushed the dust and grass from her pants. “We’d better be getting back. My dad is probably waiting to take us into town.”
She let Claire and Diedrich ride in front on the journey back to the stable while she stayed behind with Rachel. Claire prattled the entire ride, pumping the boy for information—mostly about his father’s work. Megan held Thunder back, gradually putting some distance between her and her friends.
Rachel looked over her shoulder. “Come on, Megan.”
Megan put a finger to her lips and beckoned Rachel to her. Rachel slowed Annabelle down until Megan was beside her.
“What’s up?”
Megan leaned across the space between the horses. “Don’t you think it’s strange?” she murmured into Rachel’s ear.
Rachel leaned toward Megan until their heads touched. “What’s strange? Diedrich’s perfectly charming. If you ask me, he fancies you a bit. What’s strange about that?”
Megan gave Diedrich and Claire a sideways glance. Claire still chatted away, and they didn’t even notice Megan and Rachel were no longer behind them. He was charming, and handsome, and he did seem to like her.
Focus, Megan. Daydreaming about Diedrich wasn’t the point, and it didn’t satisfy the little itch at the back of her brain.
She looked back at Rachel. “It’s not Diedrich that’s strange. It’s his father, and this whole situation. When Dad told me that the Hemmlichs were coming to stay, I asked him why. He told me that it was Mr. Hemmlich’s idea to visit. Don’t you think that’s odd?”
Rachel sat up straight. “Meg, come on. He’s an Egyptologist, and Sir Gregory was a renowned archaeologist. Maybe he’s a little starstruck, and he really just wanted to see the house where Archibald lived. And your father’s firm has supported people in his profession in the past. It’s not that big a stretch.”
“Maybe.” Megan pulled herself up straight in the saddle. “But listen to this.” She relayed the conversation she overheard in the dining room between Diedrich and his father.
“So I’m wondering how much he really knows about Sir Gregory and his house.” She gave Rachel a meaningful look. “Know what I mean?”
Rachel flapped a hand at her. “You’re mad. How could he know anything about that? Let it go, Meg. Enjoy the fact, for just a moment, that someone like Diedrich has taken an interest in you. You’re not just the Librarian, you’re also a teenager, for cripes’ sake. Act like it, will you?”
She kicked Annabelle into a trot to catch up with Claire and Diedrich.
Megan chewed on a thumbnail. She wasn’t sure how Diedrich’s apparent attention made her feel—happy or afraid. It was easier to worry about something she was more able to control.
“Just the same, Rache, I think I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Their trip into town was one of the best afternoons of her life. Megan and Diedrich split from the adults not long after her father parked the car in the small lot near the train station. The two of them spent an hour wandering between the ancient tombstones in the cemetery behind the medieval church that sat in the center of town. Megan showed him several from the fifteenth century, the names and dates almost worn away by time.
“People didn’t live very long back then, did they?” Diedrich commented.
Megan shook her head. “Plagues, pox, bad dental hygiene. Makes for a short life.”
Diedrich laughed. “I guess so.”
At the very back of the cemetery, beneath the branches of a large tree was a small mausoleum. Diedrich peered at the name on the door. “I didn’t know Sir Gregory was buried here.”
Megan stood beside him. “I didn’t know either. I never, like, looked for his grave or anything.” She ran her hands over the letters carved into the stone door of the mausoleum. “Huh, look at that.”
“What’s that at the bottom—a tree?” Diedrich knelt in front of the door. “It looks like an olive tree. Odd thing to have on your tombstone, isn’t it?”
Megan took a step back and looked at the tree. She had seen it before—the same symbol was engraved in the stone over the room of enchanted books. “Yeah, it’s weird. Come on, let’s go. Come and see the rest of town.”
She took him for a walk along the cobbled streets of the small downtown area of the little village, with its mixture of Tudor, white-stucco and cut-stone shops. It was like stepping back in time. They passed the butcher, sides of pork hanging in the front window and a pack of dogs hanging around the door. Next was the small grocery, where the owner, Mr. Watkins, swept the sidewalk. The pub was full of afternoon patrons and late-lunchers. Mrs. Steiner, the plump and jolly proprietor of the bakery, gave Megan and Diedrich each a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie.
They crossed the street to the tiny, cramped, used bookshop, where Diedrich languished over the dusty volumes crammed onto the shelves. He purchased two books, both rare according to him, about England’s native birds.
Rachel and Claire met them at the coffeehouse at four o’clock, just in time for afternoon tea. Diedrich entertained all three girls with a repertoire of bad jokes over steaming mugs of hot chocolate and scones.
The sun touched the horizon as Megan and Diedrich left her schoolmates at the shop and headed toward the car. On the way, Diedrich slipped his hand into hers. Megan didn’t know what to do. She tried to keep her breathing under control, and couldn’t look anywhere but straight ahead. She didn’t pull her hand away, though, and Diedrich gave her a shy smile and a wink. Not a word passed between them on the ride home, but Megan could not stop smiling.
She floated through dinner, only vaguely aware there were other people at the table. She kept her gaze glued to her bowl, watching the patterns swirl in her soup. She was afraid that if she looked at Diedrich she would fall into a bout of uncontrollable giggling.
“Mr. Hemmlich,” her father’s voice penetrated the fog that had overtaken Megan’s brain. “I’m sure Megan would be interested to hear your plans for your expedition into Egypt.”
Megan snapped her head up. “What?” It took her a second to register what her father said. As if someone had flipped a switch, that itch in the back of her brain roared back. She looked at Mr. Hemmlich, suddenly focused, and tried to appear interested without being suspicious. “Oh, yes, Mr. Hemmlich, I would like to hear about it very much.”
Mr. Hemmlich set his spoon aside, adjusted his tie and cleared his throat. “Uh…yes, yes. I’m taking a group of graduate students from the University of Berlin into the Valley of the Kings. We hope to uncover the previously undiscovered tomb of a little-known pharaoh. It is said to contain many lost treasures.” He cast a quick, furtive glance at Megan. “The museum doesn’t have the funding for the kind of trip I am planning, so I am hoping your father’s firm is willing to sponsor us.”
Her father sipped his wine. “We’re happy to do so. Your proposal was very intriguing. My boss thinks so too. Herr Hemmlich has done his homework. It’s a good investment.”
Megan nodded politely, smiled and went back to her soup. She remained alert. Sir Gregory once called all of the artifacts he wrote into his enchanted books “treasures”. Coincidence? Probably, Megan thought. Treasure could mean anything.
A simple question couldn’t hurt. “What kind of things do you think you’ll find?”
Mr. Hemmlich pushed his lower lip out. “Oh, nothing most people would find terribly exciting, I’m afraid. Mummies, sarcophagi, ancient scrolls and writings, and pottery—that sort of thing. To me, and the rest of the archaeological community, they are priceless treasures. Of course, there is also hope to find the intrinsically valuable pieces these types of tombs u
sually hold as well—jewelry, gold statues and the like. That is, of course, assuming a tomb robber hasn’t beaten us to it.”
“Writings? Like the Book of the Dead?” Megan asked, now genuinely interested. She was thinking of the book she and Rachel had found in the Library of Athena just the day before.
Mr. Hemmlich lifted his brows, his forehead crinkled in surprise. “I am impressed.” He folded his napkin and placed it on the table. “Not many young people take an interest in the ancient world.” He gave Diedrich a pointed look, which Diedrich ignored.
“What is a ‘Book of the Dead’?” Megan’s father asked. He slurped up the last of his soup.
Mr. Hemmlich leaned forward and tented his fingers over his empty soup bowl, with a very self-satisfied look on his face. He was clearly happy to oblige the request. “The Book of the Dead is a series of spells. A copy was placed in every pharaoh’s tomb, to be used as a guide through the afterlife. During the Old Kingdom, the spells were actually written on the walls of the tomb. Later, in the Middle Kingdom, the spells were carved directly into the outer coffin. Those are called coffin texts.”
I’ll have to tell Rachel she doesn’t have to worry about waking up any mummies. Megan suppressed a giggle. “Mr. Hemmlich, were the spells ever, you know, written on paper, bound in a book?”
Mr. Hemmlich looked surprised, as if that were the last thing he expected Megan to ask. “I’ve heard of such a thing, but they are exceedingly rare. They were used by the priests of Anubis, the God of Mummification, because they contained the exact method of mummification. Prayers, herbs, the proper removal of organs. The museum doesn’t even have one. In fact I have never seen one except in photos.”
Interesting, but expected. Most of the books down there are rare. The itch in Megan’s brain lessened just a little bit. Could she have misjudged Josef Hemmlich? His story about the expedition made sense—Diedrich had told her how much his father wanted to go. It still didn’t explain why he had come all the way to the manor. Is he really just Sir Gregory’s number one fan or whatever?
Bailey entered, followed by two of the staff. Each had a covered dish in their hands. They set the food on the table, and Bailey served up a standing rib roast with rich brown gravy, mashed potatoes, fresh cranberry sauce and green beans almandine.
“So why do you think that there is a tomb that hasn’t already been found?” Megan asked while she waited for everyone to be served. “Haven’t people been digging around the valley for decades?”
Mr. Hemmlich’s face paled, then flushed, and he was very concerned about the placement of his silverware. He cleared his throat before he spoke. “I have spent many years poring over the writings of the New Kingdom.” Megan could swear his voice wavered, but she may have imagined it.
“In several of the lesser-known scrolls, there is mention of a king, one that history has forgotten, and whose tomb has not been accounted for—an unnamed pharaoh.”
Megan swallowed a bit of mashed potato. “Certainly he has a name. All of the pharaohs had names, right?”
Mr. Hemmlich nodded while he chewed his roast beef. “I’m sure he did, but it has since been lost to history, the way Tutankhamen’s was almost lost when Horemheb erased the boy king’s name from nearly everything in Egypt.”
“Why would he do that?” Megan said.
“It’s not known for certain, but most agree it was a difference of religious opinion. Tut removed the monotheistic worship of the god Aten and reinstated the polytheistic one of the Old Kingdom, under the sun god Amun. When Horemheb came to power, he destroyed everything from every pharaoh between himself and Ahmenotep III.”
Wow, it’s like he’s speaking a different language. I understood about half of that. I’ll have to ask Claire what it means.
“This king I am searching for,” Mr. Hemmlich went on, “no real record of him exists. I’ve only ever seen him called ‘The Everlasting One’. The title is often used to refer to the god Osiris, and at first I thought that it was he whom these writings were about. Further study has led me to believe that they, in fact, refer to a living person. In all of the tombs that have been excavated, none ever call their occupant by this name. I am certain there is a tomb in the valley that has been overlooked, perhaps purposefully hidden.” There was a gleam in his eye Megan found unsettling. Almost…maniacal.
“Well, that does sound exciting,” Megan’s father said. “A mysterious king, a lost tomb. Quite an adventure, I would say.” He lifted his glass in a quick toast and drained it. “I almost wish I were going along.”
“A fool’s errand,” Diedrich muttered. “The Everlasting King doesn’t exist. It’s an Egyptian folktale.”
Mr. Hemmlich gave his son a hard stare. “Many say so.” He nodded. “I believe, and so do the others signed on for the expedition, that he is out there, beneath the sand. And I intend to find him.”
Diedrich glared back at his father, but spoke to Megan and her father. “My father fancies himself the next Howard Carter.”
Mr. Hemmlich’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.
After the meal, Megan excused herself and ran to her room. She pushed the button on the front of her computer monitor, clicked on the ISP icon, and signed on. There were no less than four emails each from Rachel and Claire, every one asking what had happened between her and Diedrich after they left the coffeehouse. She jotted off a teasing note and copied it to both of them, telling them that it was none of their business. Then she sent a separate email to Rachel about the dinner conversation with Mr. Hemmlich.
Rache—
Diedrich was right—his father wants to go to Egypt, to look for some missing pharaoh. I still think he wants something from Sir Gregory, but I’m not sure what it is yet. Probably something NOT related to LOA. Oh yeah, Book of the Dead will not bring mummies back to life. LOL. Thought you’d want to know.
She clicked the send button and logged off. There was a knock at the door.
“Yes?” She pulled the door open.
Diedrich jumped, as if her words were fire. “Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting?”
“Uh, um, no.” Megan smiled, a black-and-white movie playing in her head. She pulled herself up to her full height, and tried to project a confidence she sure as heck didn’t have. “Sorry, I, uh… Do you need something?”
Not bad. At least I didn’t sound like a babbling idiot.
Diedrich scratched the back of his neck. “You, uh, ran off so fast after dinner.” He leaned against the doorframe. “I thought perhaps you weren’t feeling well?”
Megan shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I just wanted to come up here and…clear my head. Rest. It was such a long day.”
“Oh.” Diedrich smiled, and Megan’s stomach flip-flopped. “I’m glad it’s nothing serious.”
Silence. Megan looked at the floor, scuffed a slipper-clad foot along the carpet. This was falling apart fast. She wished she could remember how this went in the movies, but her mind was a blank. She tried, at least, to keep her cool. “Is there anything else?”
Diedrich stood up straight. “Actually, yes. I wonder if you might like to take a walk with me?.”
Chapter Six: Suspicion Renewed
Five minutes later they walked out the back door and into the courtyard. It was a lovely evening—the sky was clear and the stars shone like tiny jewels in the sky—but the air was chilly. Small puffs of white drifted from their mouths as they walked along the path from the door to the reflecting pool.
The still water was an unbroken sheet of light. The white marble statues and columns glowed in the nearly full moonlight. They walked past it, their hands in their pockets.
Megan didn’t know what to say. She wanted to break the tension that grew around the two of them. “You know all about me now, but I hardly know anything about you. So, tell me about your family. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
Diedrich shook his head. “No, I am an only child, like you. My parents, they divorced when I was very young. My mother lives
in Switzerland. She studies diseases, searches for cures. I haven’t seen her in a few years.”
Megan winced—she had struck a nerve. Stupid. What a shame, she thought, to be left alone by both your parents. She knew a little about how that felt. Even though she had no choice about losing her mother, for a while after her death Megan felt her mother had abandoned her. She had been angry. And although her father worked a lot, she could always count on him when she really needed him.
She was ruining the mood. I’m totally blowing it! What would Kate say? She took a deep mental breath and tried again. “You said this morning you wanted to be a writer. What kind of things do you like to write?”
Diedrich looked up at the round, blank face of the moon. “Thank you, Megan.”
“For what?”
“No one ever asks me about my writing. I usually keep it to myself. Most of my friends don’t even know about it. So far I’ve only written a few short stories. My professor says I show a lot of promise.”
“That’s great.”
Diedrich gave her a genuine, grateful smile. “Thank you again. I wish my father thought so. I like writing short stories, they’re fun, but there’s really no living in them. What I would really like to write are books. Stories about things that could have happened long ago but didn’t, of places and beasts that you’ve only dreamed about.”
Diedrich shifted his eyes to look at Megan. “I love folktales and mythology. The way the stories stand for so many things. The ideology of a whole culture wrapped up in stories. I have a hundred books at home, all about mythology. It’s another of those things my father encourages. I suppose he’s still holding out some hope that I might choose archaeology as a career.”
Megan tried to hide her amusement. He might be surprised how much he has in common with one particular archeologist.
The Ankh of Isis: The Library of Athena, Book 2 Page 5