Cleopatra's Secret: Keepers of the LIght

by LYDIA STORM

  At last they reached a small room at the back of the temple where a life-size picture of Osiris and Isis was painted next to a star of shimmering silver. Cleopatra stood before the image of the Gods. The artwork was magnificent, even compared with what Antony had already seen in the temples and palaces of Alexandria. With their translucent flowing white robes covering supple bronzed limbs and jewel-like eyes, heavily lined in black paint, the two Gods seemed eerily lifelike in the flickering light.

  “Is this what you came to show me?” asked Antony, gazing at the painted Gods.

  A strange look clouded Cleopatra’s eyes, as though her mind were somewhere else and his gaze was drawn inexplicably to the old bronze scarab locket that hung between her breasts. “For millennia, the pharaohs and our priests have served in a secret order known as The Keepers of the Light. In our written language of symbols, the word sba means both star and door.” She pointed to the picture of the star on the wall. “Look up above you, Antony. What do you see?”

  Tearing his eyes from the wall painting, he turned his gaze upward. A shaft was cut from the stone ceiling revealing the gleaming fires of the stars burning bright in the sky above. “I see the stars.”

  “Yes, but which stars?”

  “Well, I’m not as schooled in the constellations as you Egyptians, but I seem to remember those make up Orion.”

  “Yes,” she said eagerly, “for us he is Osiris. Below the great star, you see rising just beneath is Sothis, or Isis. When she rises to a certain point, the Nile will flood its banks and the cycle of life will be renewed in Egypt.”

  “So your Gods are the stars?” Antony peered up at the constellations more deeply.

  “Not exactly.” Cleopatra pointed to the three gleaming points of Orion's belt. “You see these three stars that make up Osiris's belt? Then the milky cluster over there that seems almost like a river of diamonds? What do those remind you of?”

  Antony furrowed his brow and searched the sky, trying to find meaning in it. He was growing annoyed. He did not like to be spoken to as if he were a small child at his pedagogue’s knee. “I’ve told you already, I’m no astronomer. I see no meaning in them.”

  Unruffled, Cleopatra put her hand on his shoulder and spoke softly. “These Pyramids are like a map of the stars. See how they mimic Osiris's belt? Three great stars, three Great Pyramids, with one larger and more magnificent than the other two? And the large body of stars over there runs across the sky at precisely the same angle as the Nile flowing past our monuments. Our sacred land of Giza is the very copy of the heavens. This was done by order of the Gods, that those whose blood flows from the First Time will not forget where we come from.”

  A chill went through Antony. “I don’t understand.”

  “Come.” She held out her hand. “I will show you.”

  Antony allowed Cleopatra to close her fingers around his as she turned him to face once more the uncanny painting of Isis and Osiris and the gleaming silver star. “There are many doors into the Pyramids, but there is only one that matters. Behind it lies the great secret of the universe. This door has only ever been opened to The Keepers Of The Light.” She indicated the rock face before them.

  Antony pushed on the stone walls. “You have one of your trap doors, such as I have seen in the palace?” he asked, still feeling around the sides of the limestone.

  “No human architect could engineer such a door as we enter now. For this we will need a Guide.”

  She moved to a shadowy alcove where an altar stood before a statue of Anubis hewn from smooth black marble. Cleopatra prostrated herself before the jackal-headed God, and removing a carved ruby ring from her finger, placed it in his offering bowl where it kindled crimson fire in the torchlight.

  “Lord Anubis: Opener of the Way,” she chanted, “I, Isis, request your assistance. Come now faithful Anubis and grant us entry!”

  There was a rush of air and the torchlight dimmed as the flames dipped low. The bittersweet smoke of the frankincense grew stronger, swirling serpent-like around Antony’s head, almost scorching the inside of his nostrils making him lightheaded.

  He fell back a step as the statue seemed to glow with the force of life before his disbelieving eyes, growing animated, no longer the cold masterpiece of marble created by a skilled craftsman, but transforming into a living God standing before him in all his dreadful splendor.

  The blood rushed from Antony’s shaky limbs as the Jackal turned his hypnotic eyes on him.

  Cleopatra grabbed his wrist firmly as Antony fought the urge to bolt from the suffocating mortuary, with its unholy demons, out into the clear night.

  Mastering himself, he tore his eyes from the Dark God hovering in the shadows to glare at her. “If this is some trick of yours, I don’t like it!”

  She motioned for silence. The room seemed to flicker, like a flame caught in a draft, as the painting covered walls and earth floor warped and shimmered into particles of mater decomposing all around them.

  In panic, Antony clutched at the dissolving walls, reaching out his palms to find nothing more than swirling atoms as incorporeal as dust motes floating in the moonlight. He sprang back as the veil between the worlds shifted, and in place of the wall painting of the silver star, a tunnel now stood leading down into complete darkness.

  The Jackal God approached Antony, his burning red eyes x-rays into Antony’s soul. He knew in that moment what death was as he stood face to face with its ambassador.

  Antony clutched the hilt of his sword but his sweaty fingers slipped from the steel. He was powerless against the dark shadow Jackal looming above him. Anubis seemed to grow, filling the room with his presence and Antony felt his knees buckle and his breath––or was it his soul––being sucked from his body.

  He tried to call out to Cleopatra for help, but his vocal chords were paralyzed. Anubis’s stone face held him for a moment longer, then the God turned and disappeared into the tunnel.

  Cleopatra tugged at Antony’s hand and he found himself being dragged down a blind path deep into the blackness of the earth.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The smell of ancient dust rose to meet Antony as he stumbled into the dank tunnel. He blinked, hoping his eyes would adjust, but found only impenetrable blackness. Antony swung back to where the entrance had been, but whatever mystical portal had opened vanished as quickly as it had appeared. His heart pounded in sickening thuds as he tried to get some bearings without the faculty of sight. At least he could hear the Guide’s heavy footsteps as Anubis trudged ahead of them.

  Cleopatra tugged at his hand. He had no choice but to follow her lead or be left alone in this pitch-black hole.

  Wild thoughts raced through his mind.

  What if his Roman brethren had been right? Was Cleopatra truly a sorceress bent on ensnaring him and leading him to destruction? Was he, the general who had defeated dozens of armies choked with blood lust, now to perish at the soft bejeweled hand of a temptress and her enchantments?

  Antony stopped short. The unnerving hiss of serpents and the slither of reptilian scales gliding across ancient earth and along the unseen walls of the tunnel made his flesh crawl.

  If he acted now, could he somehow dash back to the entrance and discover a way out?

  “The only way lies before you,” came the booming voice of Anubis. “Have courage, Lord Antony.”

  Cleopatra paused, waiting until Antony mastered himself, but the Jackal trudged forward. Fearing he would lose his only guide, Antony hurried after him.

  They walked on and on, deeper into the earth and the blackness of the unknown, until at last Antony felt the path turning upwards, and to his relief, he saw torches burning up ahead. Never so happy to see a friendly light, he quickened his pace with Cleopatra at his side.

  He could see her now, her noble profile outlined against the flickering amber light. She seemed caught up in some reverie of her own and Antony wondered if she even walked in the same reality he did.

  They turned a sharp
corner and the passage opened into a cavernous space. Anubis stepped aside as Cleopatra, lost in an experience of her own, passed before Antony into the chamber. Antony followed after her.

  Unlike any of the palaces or temples he had visited in Egypt, the walls were bare of any decoration. He scanned the space, the chamber seemed almost empty, but for one side of the room, where a row of sarcophagi lined the wall.

  Antony let out a breath. This was a tomb then. Cleopatra simply wished to show him the splendor of her dynasty’s past. Yet apart from the massive size of the chamber, there was nothing terribly splendid about it.

  Slowly he approached the open coffins. Each held the body of an ancient pharaoh. He leaned closer to get a better look at these sleeping figures of the kings and queens of Egypt. Every face was unmarked by signs of decay and their rich garments and sparkling jewels gleamed from within the coffins as fresh and pristine as Cleopatra’s.

  Though each pharaoh had the distinct appearance of their own individual personality, there was a sameness to them all with their high cheekbones, smooth serene brows and full lips. He stole a glance at Cleopatra, then back at the impossibly preserved pharaohs. These were her ancestors from a time so far back history had never recorded it. At least, not any history he had ever studied.

  He frowned and ran his finger across the smooth wrist of a queen. Her skin was as soft and supple as a child’s and the light of life emanated from her, as it did from them all. How had they escaped the ravages of death? And if they were not dead…but they were. They must be.

  With adrenalin pumping, spurring him forward, he marched down the line of sarcophagi, hoping to discover something more which would explain the mystery of the sleeping pharaohs. He came to the last sarcophagus in the row.

  It had yet to be occupied.

  Antony paused in front of the empty coffin, his feet glued to the floor and stared into the black bottom. A shiver ran down his back as Cleopatra came up behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder.

  Antony’s eyes were still fixed on the sarcophagus. “Whose tomb is that?”

  “It is where you must go.”

  He had known that somehow, but her calm assurance only made him more uneasy.

  Her voice was as serene and melodious as ever. “You understand that it’s yours to occupy now.”

  He turned to her for some kind of explanation, but she only arched a brow and smiled. “The Roman general is not afraid?”

  He was afraid. He was seized by all manner of unnamed terrors, but he could never let her know.

  Before he really understood what was happening, Antony found himself stepping into the sarcophagus. With his heart pumping he lay back against the rough stone interior, barely able to squeeze his large frame into the narrow space.

  For a moment Cleopatra stood over him, her hypnotic eyes burning bright as emeralds, but her expression still calm and cool as any of her dead ancestors resting in the coffins next to his. She raised her arms and spoke in some language he had never heard before. Her voice echoed through the empty chamber as he lay paralyzed as a rat caught in a serpent’s death spell.

  As the last words of her incantation faded away in the silent chamber, Cleopatra looked down at him and stroked his cheek with a tenderness he had only seen her display with young Caesarion. “Now you learn the Mystery of Death.”

  Using both hands to manage its weight, Cleopatra pushed the heavy lid closed.

  Every nerve screamed and his fist thrust forward to stop the stone from falling, but it was too late.

  He was trapped.

  Antony tried to move but the space pushed against his limbs, and the more constricted he found himself, the more frantic he became. The sickening feeling of his quick breaths coming back at him from the lid pressing against his face, and his heart thundering like chariot horses through his chest, made his panic worse. He struggled ferociously, uselessly.

  Let him die free fighting on the battlefield. He did not fear that. But here, like this? There was nothing to fight. Nowhere to go. Nothing but this choking, paralyzing terror. He could feel his mind growing crazed with the primal urge to just get out. To survive. Just to breathe again!

  Interminable hours passed as he struggled with all his furious strength and will to wrestle his way out. But he was bound by stone and darkness. Left with no air and only the thinnest thread of sanity.

  Strength and will had failed. Everything he possessed was useless to him now. Colors flashed in the darkness of his oxygen-starved brain. He could barely feel his cold limbs as his asphyxiating body numbed. Closing his eyes, he at last released his muscles from their vain fight.

  A deep, still serenity slowly settled over him, warm and comforting, lulling his heart now that he had truly surrendered. There was a gentle tugging at his chest, his soul itching to depart. Expelling a final ghost of a breath from his empty lungs, he yielded to death’s embrace....

  At first there was nothing.

  Then the faintest sound of water lapping and vague shadows of pearl gray mist began to swirl before his eyes. His feet touched cool, moist earth and the phantom reeds bordering the river swayed gently by the wind, brushed his skin as he walked along a fog-drenched shoreline. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs to the brim with the soft, watery air.

  The slow, rhythmic splash of a paddle propelling a small boat along the river drew his attention. The Jackal God’s dark form stood out against the silver currents as he ferried his boat towards the horizon where a beautiful light streamed above the waterline.

  Flooded with relief, Antony called out, “Guide! Take me with you!”

  But Anubis slid past in his ebony boat, headed towards the radiance at the end of the river.

  Possessed by a sudden urgent desire to see the light, Antony began to run. If only he could reach that light all would be well. But it seemed as if the harder he pushed himself, the farther away the horizon grew.

  He stopped, panting for breath, and the song of the river filled his ears. He had never noticed the beauty of it before, its tinkling shallows and deep rich currents entwined in an endless variety of notes and rhythms. A smile of pure childlike happiness spread across his face as the wind picked up the melody and even the bright pinpricks of the emerging stars vibrated their own bell-like chorus.

  The Song echoed from everywhere and everything, and yet it also seemed to come from a place to the north where the twilight mists hung like gauze curtains over an image still obscured.

  Reluctantly tearing himself from the fading light, he pushed his way through the reeds, away from the river’s edge, towards the shimmering fog. As he reached the entrance of a lush grove, the crisp north wind swept away the mists, revealing deep green leaves sparkling with fresh dew and ancient twisting tree limbs. The silver-blue light of a crescent moon met the warm apricot tones of the setting sun as both hung suspended in rainbow hues over the ring of cypress trees.

  Antony pushed aside a tangle of entwined roses to step inside the magic circle where the true throne of Egypt awaited him.

  She sat amidst the blooming purple iris and fresh green grass. Her flowing silver robes wrapped around every sensuous curve of her body, her black hair spilling across lush exposed breasts, a shining crescent moon crowning her brow. With eyes as green and impenetrable as Nile water, Isis met his gaze.

  Antony went to her. Like a tired child coming to rest against his mother, he laid his head on her lap and closed his eyes. He felt her stroke back his hair with gentle, nurturing fingers. Her soothing touch erased everything from his mind, leaving it open as the reflecting ponds in Cleopatra’s moonlight garden at Lochias Palace, no more then a smooth surface for impressions to play upon.

  Images came.

  A screaming phoenix flying in a glory of gold and scarlet plumes left trails of fire as it circled in the night and nova-bright stars swam around him in the heavens.

  Out of the chaos arose the ancient Gods, materializing like melted starlight falling to the earth. The most powerful of
them all, Osiris, conversed with a naked woman in a barren field. She shivered in the cold night without a fire or clothing to warm her. She seemed barely human to Antony, with her tangled, dirty hair and grunting speech. But Osiris whispered secret knowledge in her ear as he gently caressed her breast, his hand trailing down her belly to between her legs, and as he rubbed her rosy flower, he continued to speak magic in low intimate tones. She arched her body back against the cold ground and Osiris straddled her, planting the seed of the Gods in her womb.

  Antony watched from his place out of time as the woman grew ripe and gave birth to twins: a boy and a girl. The Gods clothed them in tunics of spun gold and placed the crowns of Egypt upon their shining black hair. Isis raised them up and set them on thrones. The barren land grew cultivated before Antony’s eyes into acres of rippling wheat, orchards ripe with heavy fruit and carefully tended pleasure gardens where the Gods and mortals alike took their repose.

  Thoth, the ibis-headed God of all learning and knowledge, covered the walls of the temples with symbols, teaching the priests and priestesses the meaning of hieroglyphics. Antony watched as their knowledge and laws were hewn into the limestone––never to be forgotten.

  As the roll of time rushed forward, royal brothers married their sisters, and the pharaoh married his daughter, and the wife her sons, down through the gilded generations; always keeping the divine bloodline of the Gods alive upon the throne that ruled the earth.

  At the appointed hour, the radiant ones began to melt back into the shimmering light, until only their pale outlines shone in the gold and white of the horizon. The Gods had vanished from the earth.

  Except for Isis.

  The Great Mother hung back. Antony could feel her overpowering love, connecting her too deeply to her children to desert them so quickly. His heart ached with gratitude that she had not left them. Not left him.

  The vision began to shift again, like tidal pools swirling. All fell away except for Her. Isis. Cleopatra.