Neville decided that, unless he wanted to have a mutiny on his hands he’d better interrupt this disturbing conversation.
He cupped his hands and called out in English: “I say! Ali! Ishmael! Where have you gotten to, damn it?”
He repeated the same, leaving out the emphasis, in Arabic.
He heard a muttered exclamation, then Ali called out in a mixture of Arabic and English:
“We are here. We were only praying.”
The three returned to the camp soon after, and Neville saw no reason to make an issue of their absence, but over the evening card game he warned his companions about the possibility of mutiny.
“I don’t think Miriam is at all for it,” Neville concluded, “but both the men are frightened of the Hawk Rock. Frightened men do foolish things—but I don’t think they’ll attack us. Sneaking off in the night with as many of the supplies as possible seems more likely.”
Eddie suggested a rotation that would “accidentally” keep their camels and gear under watch at all times. Neville agreed, and when Eddie volunteered to watch, suggested instead that rather than anything overt they begin with Derek Schmidt dossing down near the camels.
“I shall complain about you people’s snoring,” Derek agreed with a wry grin, “if anyone asks, and perhaps even if they do not.”
These arrangements must have been satisfactory, for dawn found their company and their gear intact. By the following night they knew they would reach the Hawk Rock mid-morning the next day.
The Europeans remained alert that night, but when Eddie rose shortly before dawn, Ali and Ishmael were gone. They had taken nothing but their own gear, some food, and water. The camels—and Miriam—remained.
“They are cowards,” the girl said. “They fear this rock so much that they abandon me and even the camels.”
“How,” Neville asked, “will your father and brother survive a four-day journey across the desert? Four days, that is, by camel. It’ll take more time on foot.”
Miriam paused rather longer than Neville thought necessary before answering.
“They are Bedouin!” she replied proudly. “Not soft Europeans. They will have no difficulty.”
Neville didn’t doubt that the Arabs were tougher than he was, but he’d seen how ready both Ali and Ishmael had been for the afternoon’s rests. He kept his suspicions to himself.
“Miriam,” he asked gently, “do you want to follow your father, or go on with us?”
“I go with you,” Miriam replied without a pause. “I am not a coward to be afraid of a big rock, and you are men of honor.”
“Thank you for your trust,” Neville said. When Miriam returned to her tent he added in a soft voice to Eddie, “Make certain we live up to that trust. Do you understand me, Sergeant?”
“I do indeed, Captain Hawthorne,” Eddie replied crisply, but the light that had entered his eyes when he discovered that Miriam had not fled didn’t diminish in the least.
———
The defection of Ali and Ishmael did not change Alphonse’s plans. He put himself on point when they departed and insisted Neville ride at his side. This close, the rock no longer resembled a hawk. The lines that had seemed to define wings and other features were revealed as crags, cuts, and the work of erosion.
“You and I, Neville, will look for any paths or trails,” Alphonse said happily, “and for the water of which Chad Spice wrote.”
Neville nodded, though his choice would have been to ride along the group’s flank, watching for any signs of trouble. He’d moved Miriam to the center of the group, Eddie to the rear. Both Derek and Eddie had been cautioned to keep alert for anything out of the ordinary, but he feared that Eddie had eyes for nothing but the pert little Arab girl perched atop her camel.
She’s hardly more than a heap of cloth, Neville thought, but Eddie’s transformed her into a princess.
As they came closer to the rock, Alphonse spotted a steep trail that led toward the top. Despite Alphonse’s eagerness to begin exploring at once, Neville insisted on circumnavigating the rock before taking any other action. They found no evidence of any other human presence, but Neville noted several places where the rock could be climbed if the climber possessed sufficient patience and rope. Ample animal tracks—from small jerboa to what looked suspiciously like jackal—raised hopes that water was still available.
Alphonse’s trail proved to be too steep for the camels, but a small, sheltered box canyon tucked in the hollow of the hawk’s eastern “wing” provided an ideal place to pitch camp.
Neville assigned this task to Derek and Miriam, insisting that Eddie take a rifle and stand watch near the canyon’s opening.
“But Miriam can’t understand either German or English!” Eddie protested.
“Derek can make his needs clear with signs,” Neville replied. Then he lowered his voice, “Get a hold of yourself, man! She’s a Bedouin. You have no idea what she looks like under all that cloth, and I’m not at all convinced that her menfolk have abandoned us. Their best survival strategy would be to follow us, get hold of our gear, and leave us stranded.”
Eddie nodded, a trace of stubbornness still in his eyes.
“Think of what you’re doing as keeping Miriam safe, if you must,” Neville offered. “Do you think her father will believe we left her unmolested? Unless this entire thing is her plan…”
He bit his lower lip thoughtfully.
“Never!” Eddie said and stalked off to his post.
Great, Neville thought. I wonder just how much Alphonse is to blame for this? Him and his damn Parsifal!
Slinging a rifle across his back, and checking the load in his pistol, Neville went to escort Alphonse up the trail. Both men carried axes in case there was heavier vegetation above.
“Surely you do not think you will need a rifle,” Alphonse asked, his eyebrows taking flight in surprise. “A bucket perhaps. I have put a collapsible one in my pack.”
“Hunting,” Neville said shortly. He and Alphonse had already debated the need for the party to carry more weapons. “Where there is water, there may be game.”
Alphonse nodded approvingly, and without further discussion they began their climb. The steepness of the trail was the least of their difficulties. The sandy soil proved to be permeated with small pebbles that rolled underfoot, so that each step must be carefully tested. The occasional rocky stretches, though more challenging to climb, at least provided reliable footing.
Eventually, the trail spread out into a more or less level area, sheltered on all sides by rocky outcroppings, the highest of which, facing to the south, must be the head of the “hawk.” The entirety of this upper canyon was lightly covered in bristly vegetation. Some of the shrubs clustered along the edges were as much as waist high. Ferocious-looking thorns testified how they had reached that height in such a barren region.
“Good fodder for the camels at least,” Neville said, poking a narrow-leafed bush with the butt of his rifle. “Now let’s see if we can find water. Check where the vegetation is thickest.”
Alphonse nodded absently. He hadn’t heard a word.
“This is the place,” he announced rapturously. “It must be. I can feel it. Somewhere Chad Spice wrote, there was an inscription…”
Neville sighed. Clearly necessities like water and food took second place to archeological finds on the German’s list of priorities. However, the canyon wasn’t terribly large. Unless trouble came down from the rocks, he could cover the area with his rifle.
“Keep an eye out for snakes… and scorpions,” was all he said, but he was thinking about human vipers, not natural ones.
Neville easily located the spring welling up along the eastern edge of the canyon. He was beginning to hack away the shrubs that crowded around it when Alphonse cried out.
“I have found it!” he said, executing an impromptu dance of victory.
“Ye gods, man!” Neville exclaimed. “I thought you’d been bitten by a cobra.”
“It is he
re,” Alphonse said, pointing to the southern wall of the canyon. “Incised into the side of a rock.”
He knelt and started brushing at something with his sleeve. Despite his own responsibilities, Neville crossed to examine the German’s find.
“It looks like an obelisk,” Neville offered a moment later, “fallen on its side. I bet it was erected where the taller rocks would protect it from the weather.”
“I agree,” Alphonse said, bending closer to inspect the writing. “Hieratic, rather than hieroglyphic, I would guess New Kingdom period.”
“That’s a good deal later than I imagined your Neferankhotep,” Neville said, frowning.
“True.”
Undaunted, Alphonse rummaged in his pack until he came up with a rolled sheet of paper and a chunk of drawing charcoal.
“I will make a rubbing,” he announced, “so that I may make my translation in the camp. Derek will assist me.”
Neville wasn’t surprised to learn that Alphonse’s servant possessed the training to assist his master with this task. He was coming to respect Derek’s competence as a matter of course.
“Very well,” Neville replied. “I will finish freeing up the spring. Judging from the steepness of the path, I rather hope we can lower water directly to the camp rather than carrying it down the trail.”
By that evening, Alphonse and Derek had worked out a rough translation of the inscription. As Alphonse read it to the assembled company, his measured cadence was accented with theatrical flourishes of his eyebrows:
Remember that Anubis will bring you before Osiris.
Remember that your heart and your soul will be weighed against Maat.
Remember that the monster Ammit waits to devour the wicked.
The son and the self flies as the Nile and the boat.
The mother and the wife follow as the Nile and the boat.
Under the watching Eye of the Hawk, the homecoming is joyous.
“Nice,” Eddie said judicially when Alphonse concluded, “but what does it mean?”
Alphonse replied happily, “The first three lines are traditional warnings or cautions, but the latter portion is not so clear.”
Neville tilted the page Alphonse had handed around for inspection so he could read it more clearly in the firelight.
“I wonder,” he said slowly, “if the boat mentioned here isn’t an actual boat. Didn’t the ancient Egyptians envision the sun as a boat? A boat on which a bunch of gods sailed?”
“Sometimes,” Alphonse replied. “Another common image was of a flaming ball being rolled by a dung beetle—this is one reason the scarab beetle was sacred and used for amulets.”
“Slow down,” Neville insisted. “Sometimes too much knowledge is counterproductive. What’s caught my eye is the way these people go ‘as’ the Nile and the boat. If the boat was a usual type of vessel, why ‘fly’? I assume you didn’t employ poetic license in your choice of words?”
“I did not,” Alphonse said stiffly.
“I didn’t think you would,” Neville replied soothingly. “Now, here we have an inscription dating from a lot later than the legend you’re tracking down, right?”
Alphonse nodded, still frowning.
“What if it offers some sort of directions?” Neville continued, excited by the picture that was building in his mind. “Directions written down later, for those who might have forgotten the way to the Valley of Dust but who might need to go there to make offerings? If the boat is the boat of the sun, then it travels from east to west. The Nile travels south to north—contrary to just about every river I know. It’s stretching some, but what if traveling as the Nile and the boat is traveling northwest?”
Alphonse’s frown was replaced with a grin.
“If this is so,” he said, “then the reference to a homecoming makes sense. It is a coming to the Valley of Dust—the final home of Neferankhotep’s mortal remains. And the Eye of the Hawk…”
“Confirms our guess,” Neville interrupted, too enthused to remember his manners. “There are only a few directions from which this Hawk Rock would resemble a hawk. We came from southeast. The other angle that would provide the same general orientation is looking back at the rock from further to the northwest.”
Eddie Bryce thumped him on the back.
“Maybe you’re stretching, Captain,” he said, “but it’s a nice bit of work nevertheless. What do we do now?”
“Tomorrow,” Alphonse said, “I will go atop the Hawk Rock and study the land to the northwest through my telescope. Perhaps I will see something. Even if I do not, I would wish to journey some distance in that direction to see if we can find evidence to confirm Neville’s reasoning.”
Derek interjected, “We may run short on provisions, sir.”
“Nonsense!” Alphonse replied with an airy wave of his hand. “Captain Hawthorne has found both fresh water and camel fodder. With the departure of our guides, we have two more man’s worth of provisions yet untouched. And the Valley of Dust was said to be populated with goats.”
Neville didn’t say anything about that last. He knew if he did Alphonse would merely point out that Chad Spice’s journal had been correct on the matter of finding water at the Hawk Rock. Besides, if he was in the least honest with himself, he had to admit that he, too, was curious as to what they might find. Being part of a major archeological discovery could only do good things for his reputation, both within the Army and in wider circles as well.
“I think we would not be imprudent,” Neville said, “to continue our journey at least a bit further northwest. Tomorrow morning while Alphonse makes his telescopic survey we will finish replenishing our water and cut fodder for the camels.”
“Very good,” Alphonse said, rubbing his hands briskly together. “Everything is perfectly in order.”
Jackals barking in the small hours just before dawn were the first sign that everything was far from in order.
“That doesn’t sound right,” Eddie said to Neville, after the captain shook him awake. “Too many. Too scattered. I might believe it of a wolf pack, but jackals…”
“My thoughts exactly,” Neville agreed. “I’m going to wake the others. I’ll send Derek to help you ready the camels. Muffle the harness. We’ll take the gear but leave the tents set up.”
“Are we leaving?” Eddie asked, stomping into his boots.
“I want to get out of this canyon,” Neville replied. “ ‘Box’ seems too apt a description for it. Let’s make certain the box doesn’t turn into a coffin.”
Neville woke Alphonse and Derek, warning them to keep both light and sound to a minimum. Then he crossed to the small tent Miriam occupied. He’d half-expected to find it empty, but the girl was waiting, dressed and alert.
“Those are not jackals,” she said as soon as she saw him.
“I thought not,” Neville replied. “This canyon is too closed in for my tastes.”
“I understand,” Miriam replied. “I will help with the camels.”
“Good. Send Eddie Bryce to me. I want him on guard.”
Since their gear had been ready for a morning departure, loading the camels didn’t take long. The jackals’ barking had nearly ceased, but Neville wasn’t fooled into complacency. Earlier, whoever was out there must have been getting into position. Now they were probably waiting for better light.
By the time Derek reported that the camels were ready, Neville had made his plans. Open desert was hardly preferable to the box canyon, but it did offer a faint hope for escape.
“Form up,” he told the others. “We’ll get out and head east toward the Nile.”
No one spoke. No one protested, though the glimpse Neville had of Alphonse’s expression demonstrated more eloquently than any impassioned words that Neville would pay dearly if this proved a false alarm.
It isn’t, though, Neville thought, and moved his camel forward.
Camels’ feet are soft and made for traveling across sand. They are quiet, but not noiseless. Equally, though Nevil
le’s band carried no lights and the moon had set, the darkness was not absolute. Starlight is quite enough for eyes accustomed to its glow. Even so, Neville hoped they might get away with it.
But whoever it was who had raised the jackal’s call in the darkness did not wait for daylight to attack. Perhaps someone noticed that, though the tents kept their places, the grumbling shapes of the camels were no longer picketed at the camp’s fringe. Perhaps the attack had been planned for earlier in any case.
For whatever reason, before Neville and his band had traveled far from the Hawk Rock, a shrill cry of rage and disappointment pierced the clear desert air. Neville knew that their enemies would seek them to the east—for there was nothing but desert to the west. Speed, then, rather than deception was their only chance.
He thumped his camel and the creature reluctantly stretched out its limbs in an undulating run. The other camels followed suit without prompting. Indeed, the shrieks from where the Hawk Rock bulked behind them were prompting enough.
It’s five days back to the Nile, Neville thought despairingly. If they have camels or horses we’re sunk. Maybe we should have fought it out back there.
But he knew his small group wouldn’t have had a chance. He and Eddie were in training, but Derek was disabled, and Alphonse didn’t even carry a gun. Miriam would also be useless in a fight. Indeed, Neville expected that if he looked back he would see that her camel—and perhaps one of those bearing their supplies—would be gone. What better way for the Bedouin girl to win back her father’s support?
Thus Neville was surprised out of all proportion when Miriam’s camel drew alongside his own. The girl called out to him.
“Follow me, Captain Hawthorne. I know a place where, Allah willing, these superstitious dogs will not follow.”
Neville did not permit Miriam to take the lead; she pressed her camel to the front. The beast—not the water carrier this time—lightly burdened by no other weight than her lithe form, took the lead easily.
And Neville followed. What else could he do? Miriam was offering some hope, slender though it might be. If her offer proved to be another trap—well, they were already into it up to their necks. Glancing back over his shoulder, he was certain he saw a fair-sized dust cloud occluding the stars and knew that at least some of their pursuers were mounted.
The Buried Pyramid Page 3