The Ankh of Isis: The Library of Athena, Book 2

by Christine Norris

  “It’s papyrus,” Diedrich had told her when she asked. “Reeds of papyrus bound together and stacked on top of each other. My father has several miniature replicas in his study, and I think there is a full-size one in the museum.”

  “It won’t sink?” Rachel asked as they boarded. “It’s only reeds, after all.”

  Diedrich shrugged. “It worked for the Egyptians for thousands of years, so I’ll take a chance and say no, it won’t sink.”

  The little boat proved sturdy and quick, and now Megan watched as the shore sped by. With favorable winds and weather, they would get to Byblos an entire day ahead of Josef.

  Palm trees grew on the beach. Beyond them fields stretched away into the distance. She saw men and women hunched over large woven baskets that were tucked between the rows. They picked beans and tended the fields. Little naked, brown-skinned children ran between the rows and played a game that looked like tag. It was a perfect scene of day-to-day life in Ancient Egypt. Megan smiled—it seemed so…normal. None of them would ever guess that a race for life and death was going on at this very moment.

  None of them are even real, she reminded herself. It was so easy to believe everything here was part of the real world. Sir Gregory could weave an impressive spell, that’s for sure.

  Megan watched, spellbound by the beauty of the land. The delta was so green and full of life. A far cry from the image that usually came to mind when she thought of Egypt—dry deserts, unending heat, pyramids and mummies.

  “There’s the mouth of the Nile.” Diedrich pointed to a break in the terrain, where the wide river flowed into the sea. Boats, piled high with goods or filled with people or animals, moved down and across it, pulled by oars or pushed by poles.

  “Where are the pyramids?” Rachel had reiterated her distrust in Diedrich when he allowed his father to escape, but started to warm up to him over breakfast. And when he had suggested the boat ride, Megan was sure she had almost apologized.

  Claire answered Rachel’s question. “Giza. On the western shore of the Nile, farther than we can see from here.”

  Rachel sighed. “I would have liked to. I mean, I know this is all Sir Gregory’s imagination, but this may be as close as I ever get to the real thing.”

  “Cheer up, Rache, we might make it there yet,” Megan said. “You never know where the next clue will lead.”

  The wind picked up, the sail billowed and the Nile slipped behind them. Megan noticed a gradual shift in their surroundings. The coastline changed from white sandy beaches to rocky, less-inviting shore. Villages grew closer to the water until they stood right along its edge. Unlike the other buildings they had seen, these were built not from sand and mud or even from block, but from uncut rock, held together with a thick white mortar, and wood. Instead of dirt, flat stones paved the roads that cut between the structures, and on them walked more horses than camels.

  It was early afternoon when one of the oarsmen called out to Diedrich. He had a brief talk with the man, and then came to sit with the girls.

  “We’re almost there. Another hour, maybe two. I asked about the tree. The king has already cut it down. We’re definitely looking for the pillar.”

  “What do we do once we arrive in Byblos?” Rachel said.

  “Head straight for the palace.” Megan had been thinking about it for most of the journey. “Then we find the box, get the next clue, and move on before Diedrich’s father can find us.”

  “You hope,” Rachel said. “Or else we’re well and truly sunk.”

  When they reached the harbor of Byblos, one of the oarsmen threw a rope to a man on the dock. The boat was tied up, and Diedrich and the girls disembarked. They thanked the oarsmen, and Diedrich tipped the harbor master with one of Claire’s rings, and the four of them walked into the city. Cargo ships lined the docks, and slaves loaded and unloaded their lumber and cloth under the watchful eye of their masters.

  “Traders,” Claire said. “The Phoenicians were traders. I remember reading about them. They exported cedar to Egypt, and ran the trade routes all over the Middle East and into Western Europe. Dyed cloth was one of their most sought-after exports.”

  “Thank you, National Geographic,” Rachel said. “Where’s the palace?”

  Megan looked at the buildings, packed together tightly along cobbled streets. The street in front of them was lined with booths, covered in brightly colored striped cloth, and people were selling things out of the booths. A market.

  Probably called a bazaar or something here, though.

  “We should just ask for directions.” Megan took a step toward the bazaar. “It’ll save time.”

  Huh? What’s going on now? Several of the vendors and many of the shoppers gave her odd glances. One child, being pulled along by his mother, openly stared.

  She grabbed Diedrich’s arm and whispered in his ear. “Uh, did I do something wrong? People are looking at me weird.”

  “We do sort of stand out.” Claire gave Megan a sidelong glance. “I don’t think they’ve ever seen hair quite that color before.”

  Megan touched her auburn locks. “Oh, I guess not.” Either that or they’re wondering where I left my hairbrush.

  Diedrich scratched his cheek, which had grown the smallest bit of stubble. “It’s not just that. We have to be careful here. Outside of Ancient Egypt, many cultures didn’t see women as equals.”

  Megan remembered their walk through Ancient Athens. The four girls had to be accompanied across the city by a male guide, because young, unmarried women were not allowed to walk the streets alone.

  “You girls stay close to me.” Diedrich gave a short, barking laugh. “They’re looking at me as much as you, Meg. They’re probably wondering who I am, who can afford three wives.”

  “Wives?” Megan said. “You can’t be serious. I’m fourteen years old!”

  Diedrich shrugged. “I didn’t make up the rules. Most people married young. Rich men and kings were able to afford more than one wife. I’m new in town, these people are traders and we’re in the bazaar. They’re looking at a rich man, to see what I’m in the market for.”

  Megan realized it was probably the same reason Hepu treated them so well and offered them the use of his boat.

  Rachel snorted. “Women aren’t equal? What rubbish is that?”

  “It’s their culture, Rachel,” Claire said quietly. “We should respect it.”

  “But we’re in a bloody book,” Rachel complained a little too loudly. “This place isn’t real, just made to look like it, right?”

  At the sound of Rachel’s raised voice, more people stopped and turned to look. Diedrich nodded and leaned in close to Rachel, a sympathetic look on his face. “And you know, better than I, that Sir Gregory wrote this book to be accurate to the land and people. Who knows what would happen if we were to ignore the local customs. So behave, please.”

  Rachel’s jaw clenched, then relaxed. Megan could tell she still didn’t trust Diedrich, but she wasn’t stupid. “Oh, all right, fine. I’ll play along if it will get us out of here.”

  He stood straight and glanced up and down the street. “Wait here. I’ll find out which way the palace is.”

  He walked across the street to the nearest vendor, a dark heavyset man selling bronze pots from a wooden cart pulled by a donkey. Diedrich gave a cheery greeting and a short wave. Megan couldn’t hear what they said after that, but she assumed Diedrich was inquiring which way they should go. The man pointed down the street and gestured with his hands to the right and left. He held up three fingers.

  Diedrich nodded his head and stuck his hand out for a handshake. The man looked at it like it was dirty. Diedrich looked embarrassed. His cheeks turned red, and he pulled his hand back and gave a quick bow instead.

  “I guess they don’t shake hands here either?” Megan said.

  “No, and I completely forgot that,” Diedrich said to the girls as he crossed the street again. “It’s not far. He said we should walk three blocks, and then turn left�
�we can’t miss it.”

  Chapter Twelve: Phoenician Hospitality

  The palace sat in the center of a huge square in the middle of the city. They saw it as soon as they turned the corner—a huge building that gleamed in the sun. A large golden dome sat on the top, with smaller ones on either side. A hundred turrets surrounded the central building, with elegant, colorful spires that reached for the sky like needles. The windows were shaped sort of like mushrooms with pointed tips.

  The whole thing was surrounded by a white stucco wall, twelve feet high. It must have been several yards thick as well, because guards walked along the top, spears in hand.

  “It’s amazing,” Rachel said.

  Megan agreed. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Sort of reminds me of a big colorful ice-cream sundae.”

  They walked toward the palace. “Makes you wonder if this is what it really looked like,” Claire said.

  “What do you mean?” Rachel asked.

  “Well, I can’t imagine the real palace of Byblos still exists, except as ruins. The Crusades in the thirteenth century saw to that, and every war to rage across Lebanon ever since. So, is this what it really looked like, or just the product of Sir Gregory’s imagination?”

  “It’s still beautiful, either way,” Rachel said. “But how are we going to get inside?” The large front gate was made of thick, iron-bound wood, and guarded by four thick, iron-bound men. “I don’t think we’ll just be able to walk up and ring the bell.”

  “How did Isis get inside?” Megan asked Diedrich. “Since we seem to be on her journey, maybe that’s the key.”

  “If I remember correctly, she disguised herself as a hairdresser.” Diedrich stroked his chin. “She taught the Queen’s maids how to braid their hair, and made them perfume. But that wouldn’t work.”

  “Why not?” Rachel tossed her own expertly plaited hair, which was tied off at the end with a strip of leather she had bartered from one of the servants at Hepu’s house. “I don’t have any perfume, but I’m brilliant with braids.”

  “Because after Isis was inside, the queen took a liking to her, and asked her to take care of her child, the little prince. Isis loved the baby so much she wanted to make him immortal. She put him inside a magic fire to burn off his humanity. Then she turned herself into a swallow and flew above him and around the pillar. Once the queen realized who Isis was, she gave her whatever she wanted, which of course was the box inside the pillar, Osiris’ coffin.”

  Rachel’s face fell. “Oh. I guess we can’t do that. Besides, if I went in, there would be no way for you three to follow. Sorry, Meg, but you’re all thumbs when it comes to plaiting.”

  “What if we posed as musicians?” Claire suggested. “We could get in to see the king that way.”

  Megan wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Uh, Claire, have you ever listened to me play in music class? I totally stink. I’m sure they would figure out we were faking, and then they’d probably throw us in jail. Or worse. Not a good plan.”

  Claire grimaced. “Oops, didn’t think of that. Sorry.”

  Megan turned to Diedrich. “Do you really think the people here think you’re an important man?”

  Diedrich nodded.

  “Good, then we’ll go with that. We’ll just ask for a place to stay. Being important, we’d be allowed to do that, right?”

  Diedrich nodded again.

  “Think of a name for yourself,” she said. “An Egyptian name.”

  Diedrich pursed his lips, his brows knit together. “Tutankhamen?”

  Claire rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you just call yourself Osiris and get it over with?”

  “Yeah, pick something a little less conspicuous, will you?” Rachel said. “And hurry it up. We don’t know how long until your father gets here.”

  Diedrich scratched his head. “The only names I can remember are pharaoh’s names. How about Ay? He was the pharaoh after Tut. Of course, scholars do suspect him of killing Tut to assume the throne.”

  “Never heard of him,” Megan said. “It’s cool with me. Claire, what do you think?”

  Claire nodded. “That’ll do.”

  Diedrich walked up to the gate and approached one of the guards. Not making the same mistake twice, he raised his right hand in a kind of salute. “Hail. I seek an audience with the king.”

  The man looked Diedrich over, then at the girls. Megan cast her gaze down, as she had seen Meryet do when around her husband, although it made her a little mad to do so.

  “What business do you have with King Malcander?”

  Diedrich didn’t skip a beat. “I am Ay, from Thebes. I am traveling through Byblos on my way home from the west, and I seek the king’s hospitality for my household this evening.”

  The guard narrowed his eyes, and glanced at the visitors. Megan’s stomach flipped, and she crossed her fingers. The story was simple enough to be believable. She hoped the guard bought it.

  “Where is your caravan? Camels, tents and servants?”

  Oops, I didn’t think about that. Megan bit the inside of her cheek. Please, Diedrich, think of something good.

  “We arrived by boat. Our barge is in the harbor, being looked over by my servants.” Diedrich gave Megan a quick wink in response to her astonished look. “We have also stopped here to trade with your people for Byblos’ excellent cedar and beautiful cloth. I am buying for the pharaoh’s house, of course.”

  At the mention of the Egyptian king, the guard straightened up and looked alert. “Wait here.” He gave a quick bow and slipped inside the gate.

  Megan pulled Diedrich’s ear toward her mouth. “Are you nuts? What will they do when they find out we’re not here to trade, and that the pharaoh didn’t send us?”

  “Relax. We did arrive by boat, that’s true enough. And what are they going to do, ring up the King of Egypt and ask for references? Shoot him an email or a fax? By the time they get suspicious, if they even do, we’ll be long gone.”

  Megan pulled her face away, so that their eyes met. She lifted her eyebrows and smiled. “That’s genius.”

  “Thanks. Just play your part and follow my lead. Once we’re inside, keep your eyes open for that pillar.”

  The guard returned. He bowed deeply to Diedrich. “King Malcander and Queen Astarte are most honored to have you, and invite you into their home.” He moved aside and pushed the gate open.

  Diedrich grasped Megan’s hand as they walked through. They were on a path paved with finely crushed white stones. A wide lawn stretched out on either side, the grass lush and green. To the right was a garden of exotic flowers. Their fragrance wafted on the warm breeze. A circular stone fountain was on the left, the splish-splash of the water adding a calming melody. Peacocks and peahens wandered about, and their cries echoed off of the walls.

  Rachel gasped. “It’s like something from a fairy tale.”

  “We are in a fairy tale of sorts, aren’t we?” Megan said. And I’d like a fairy-tale ending. Happily ever after would be great. Beats being trapped in the storybook. She glanced at Diedrich. Even if I wind up being trapped with Prince Charming.

  The path branched off and led in three different directions—one toward the flowers, another toward the fountain and the third straight ahead, to the palace doors.

  The double doors were intricately carved from wood and ivory. When they were closed, they formed one of those mushroom shapes. They were set into a doorway of brightly painted wood inlaid with gold. Another guard stood beside the doors. He opened them, bowing as the guests passed.

  A floor of black marble greeted them. Huge pillars, each more than four feet in diameter, and painted much like the doorway, stood along either side of a center aisle. At the far end was a platform. Atop the platform were a man and a woman, each seated in a gold chair. As the four young people approached, the man and woman stood, the man opening his arms wide.

  “Welcome,” he said. “Esteemed guests, please come. Our home is your home.”

  Diedrich tugged M
egan’s hand, urging her forward. They walked toward the king and queen, and Megan glanced at the pillars. The one they were looking for was probably in this room. But which one was it? They all looked the same. Megan would have to talk to the girls and Diedrich later, and work out a plan to come in here when they could look without drawing attention to themselves.

  The queen was very beautiful. What did the guard say her name was? Megan couldn’t remember. Tall and slender, with olive skin and deep brown, almond-shaped eyes lined with kohl. A wide, well-formed nose sat above full red lips. Her hair was hidden beneath a sheer purple veil, and gold earrings dangled from her ears. She wore something that resembled an Indian sari—a length of deep purple fabric draped around her body over a shift of purple patterned fabric. Her arms clanged with gold and silver bracelets, and two large jeweled rings sparkled from long, elegant fingers. When she shifted her feet, tiny chimes jingled from gold anklets.

  Megan, Diedrich, Claire and Rachel stopped in front of the king and queen. Diedrich bowed deeply, his hand to his chest. The girls each dropped a curtsey, which the king and queen regarded with strange looks, so Megan quickly bowed her head.

  “Greetings, your majesties,” Diedrich said. “Thank you for so graciously taking us into your home.”

  “It is our pleasure,” the king said. “Our neighbor, Pharaoh, and his emissaries, are always welcome.”

  “I am Ay.” Diedrich extended his hand toward Megan. “And this is my first wife, uh—”

  The centerfold from the book in the manor’s library flashed into Megan’s head. “Nefertari.”

  Diedrich tried to hide his look of surprise. He turned to Claire. “And this is, uh…”

  “Nehesput,” Claire said.

  Diedrich nodded. “And finally…”

  Rachel smiled. “Cleopatra.”

  Megan nearly choked on her laugh. She looked at Rachel, who just gave her a small shrug.

  The queen—Astarte, that was her name—looked the three girls over. Her gaze lingered over Megan’s auburn hair and pale skin. “You must be tired and hungry after your long journey,” she said, her voice soft yet commanding. She clapped her hands and three women dressed the same as the queen, but in plainer fabrics, appeared from behind a doorway to their left. The women knelt on the floor in a straight line before their queen.