The passageway moved and revealed hidden sections of the walls, covered in hieroglyphs. As she moved the walls, two stories were told, front and back. One told the story of the journey to Cyprus. Another told of the construction of the temple and the excavation of the tunnels. She pushed her way back to the path and kept going, revealing the building of the pyramid while the wall opposite depicted a brutal war filled with horrible machines that covered land, sea, and air. Where the story should have ended, there was, instead, another doorway.
She felt for a lever, found none, but saw one lamp hooked loosely to the wall. She unhooked the lamp, and its light revealed a stone stairwell.
She followed the stairs up to a landing. Through a large doorway, she crept until she found a sarcophagus. Above and beyond she found many more; a hall of the dead; seven generations, entombed; all who had come and all of their descendants, save one.
These were Moira’s dead, but the stories told in the second room were only partially hers. The others told of ancient events and forgotten wars, and in the tomb's context, the claim became that these people were the inheritors of that past, not Amani and her people, but these Greek interlopers. Thieves.
The steam of the world’s workings threatened to obliterate her thoughts once more, but she fought against it and found her way back down the stairs and to the path. The tunnel’s library was small, squeezed as it was beneath the massive tomb.
Amani went about her chosen work, allowing herself to think of nothing else but selecting the books destined for Alexandria. By a system of ropes and pulleys, she hoisted them out of the tunnel and onto the topside grass. Then she secured herself to the line and climbed the rock wall. The time had come to fight back.
Papyrus 5.17
Amani conscripted Theodotus and his men to march her books to the bay. She stared up at Moira and me and announced she was continuing the work of choosing the works to be brought to Alexandria. She would not be set aside any longer.
Whatever argument she had worked up for us, she quickly forgot. Moira sprung from the docks like a beast, scurried down the walls, and plucked Amani off the ground on her way out the door. Scrolls tumbled down the stairs behind them and washed out into the sea.
They moved out of one tunnel and into another that ended not in a library, but in a series of living spaces carved high into the cave walls. Moira scaled the wall, tossed Amani inside, and left her there. A single lamp by the great room’s entrance burned, allowing Amani to see how far she had to fall if she tried to escape. Little of that light reached inside her room, but there was nothing to see. Moira’s people had carved these niches as safe spaces to sleep, nothing more. Only the common area below showed some signs of community life, in long-neglected tables and a stone-carved seating circle.
Amani lay on the hard rock and stared up at the shadowed ceiling where the light played against variances in the rock surfaces, creating the suggestion of figures. Amani saw books sinking in the sea. She saw soldiers marching toward Sosanna. Flies danced along a dog’s carcass. Men lay dead in the streets of Rome.
She turned on her side and listened to the sound of her own breathing.
She had no sense of how much time had passed when she heard the clatter of Moira’s return. Some hope had remained within her that it might have been Andros or me coming to rescue her, but she knew the sound of Moira’s points stabbing against the rock. Amani turned in time to see her dart through the door and across the room. For a moment, Moira disappeared, and then she filled the space outside Amani’s niche, metal arms splayed.
For a long moment, neither said anything but only stared at each other. Amani had nothing left. She had made the boldest move she could. Nothing remained.
“I saved a few of the scrolls you dropped,” Moira said, “and I’ve seen the books Theodotus and his men carried. You chose well enough.”
Amani sat up. “I can continue?”
“They tell me you could have led the Romans straight to us, if that’s what you had wanted. They say I ought to trust you.”
Amani waited, allowed herself to hope.
“This is a dreary place to sleep, anyway. The temple was our home.” Moira snapped off the last word and went quiet. She reached out an arm for Amani, but, instead of grabbing, waited for her to indicate it was all right. Then she carried her down and let her go.
“For what little time remains, you have the job Philostratos wanted for you,” Moira said, and then crawled away, leaving Amani to find her way out.
Amani returned to her work and found herself more adept than the day before. She finished another small library and moved on to another before returning to camp to sleep, only to begin again the next morning. She ignored the strange second room. Yet, as she worked in the huge, three-storied library, glimpses of the ignored room returned to her. When she was ready to carry out the chosen scrolls, she paused to find its meaning.
The walls slanted toward a common point, as within a pyramid. The torch lamps revealed slender structures that reached out into the space on either side. She took a hesitant step off the path, and the room sank beneath her weight. Only the pathway remained in place, now revealing itself to be a bridge. The supports of the bridge also narrowed to a point in the center, and when the room came to a rest, it formed another pyramid. The mysterious, linear shapes lined up with more strange forms at the center. Amani realized she had seen all this before, in the scroll Moira destroyed.
The solid shapes inside the empty pyramid represented the empty passages and rooms within its solid counterpart. Hieroglyphs suggested how water running beneath the pyramid might have created the magnetic pulses which resonated through and were focused by the pyramid. Maybe. Amani had the feeling no one working in Cyprus had any actual idea how the most powerful technologies worked.
With no action from Amani, the floor rose, and when she returned to the passageway above, she found Moira waiting for her.
“Did you see it?” Moira asked.
“I did.” Amani searched deep for the courage to answer. “I saw plans for the pyramids, hypothesizing how they once powered the entire region.”
Moira's mechanical arms tapped absently at the walls of the pyramid. “That would be a no, then. Grab your sack. We won't be coming back this way.”
Papyrus 5.18
They stepped back off the passageway, and the floor sank. Moira led Amani off the movable floor, into the center of the pyramid. Without their weight, the floor rose again, revealing the open space below. Moira climbed down into the darkness, and soon, gas lamps lit a passageway that ran beneath the pyramid room. Amani tossed down her sack and then jumped in after it.
Moira caught the sack, and Amani landed in ankle-deep water. Ahead, the tunnel ended with the rubble of a cave-in, but between there and where they stood, a doorway opened to a stairwell.
“The earthquake didn't collapse the tunnel,” Moira said, “but they had flooded. We demolished the one next to it to keep it from destroying everything. We had to save the tunnel before we could even bury our dead.”
“I found your necropolis.” She hoped her tone conveyed her condolences.
“The stairwell leads up to it.”
“I didn't see stairs leading down this far.”
“When your return the moving wall to its original position, it reveals the rest of the stairs, and they lead here.” She turned and pointed down the tunnel in the other direction, revealing more dark passageways.
“It's all connected,” Amani said.
Moira moved, her mechanical arms keeping her dry. Amani followed, and, as the passageway ran slightly uphill, they were soon out of the water. Moira settled onto the ground and stretched.
“We have three treasures here,” Moira said, “whatever gold remains, the books of the Library, and the work of my people. The others are interested in the first two. You're the first to explore the latter.”
“The gods,” Amani said, “the hieroglyphs, so many are Kushite. Why?”
“T
he Kushite language preserved the science. The work may have begun outside the kingdom of Kush, but the knowledge came to us through their culture. It's too late to put all of this back in the context of first-century Egypt, so we saved the context in which we received it. To strip that away would be to lose something, maybe in a way we couldn't even see.”
Amani nodded in silence
“You're Nubian,” Moira said. “You understand the importance of this place. So, you’ll understand the importance of what I’m about to tell you. Cato’s men will find us before we make our escape.”
“We have the metal men,” Amani said. “They'll give us whatever time we need.”
“The metal men have to be in the tunnels when they collapse,” Moira said. “Rome can never know they exist.”
“What do the others say?” Amani asked.
“Andros had a plan,” Moira said. “Sosanna can take the soldiers to a tapped-out mine.”
“That won't fool them long,” Amani said.
“The soldiers aren't looking for Philostratos. They're not looking for Andros, and they don't know about me.”
Amani stared at her, silent.
“When Cato's men arrive at the mine,” Moira said, “they'll find you, Theodotus, and his men. You'll say it's the last place anyone ever saw Philostratos. Cato will deem your search a failure, and he'll have you returned to your ships and sent home.”
“I’m being pulled away, again,” Amani said.
“The rest of us will finish the boats and destroy everything we leave behind. Philostratos wants to find another way, but by morning, he will have to admit there is none. You'll leave at first light, and, if Theodotus has his way, you'll sleep in the temple tonight so there's no doubt where you'll be.”
Amani's heart beat a little faster. “If he gets his way?”
“If I can't trust you to be with the men in the morning, I'll take you there now.”
“And if you can?”
“In a few days, we lose this forever. I thought that would mean nothing to anyone but me. Our purpose was to preserve the books and return them to Alexandria, but there is meaning in this place. It has a beauty and merit all its own. I don't want you asleep in these final hours. Bear witness of us. See who we were before history forgets.”
Throughout the night, Amani explored the secret passages. One opened onto the ships’ dock. Although no longer her prescribed task, she collected to save, but she also studied inventions and read books destined to be lost to history forever.
Every so often, the touch of metal upon her flesh reminded her she had the remains of the jewel beetle tucked in her tunic. She pulled it out and laid it on the workroom floor as she had found it. It looked plain and without purpose, but in the light of day, it had soared and shimmered with ever-changing hues. None of these strange clumps of metal or rolls of papyrus would see the daylight. They would never have their chance to amaze and inspire.
What they needed was not a couple of cobbled-together boats, but a ship. It would take a ship to cross the sea. They would have to pick up one somewhere. The closest port was Arsinoe, just to the west. Maybe they’d try to make it to the Levant. Even in summer, the trip was madness.
They could all be lost at sea, and history would drown with them.
When Amani climbed topside, we were waiting for her. She refused to look at me but spoke in private with Moira and seemed unbothered by Theodotus, both of whom had championed the idea of sending her away.
While the others finished preparing for the journey, she turned to mein at last.
“There’s no guarantee either of us makes it back to Alexandria,” she said.
“Fortunes change.”
“Mine didn’t.” Instead of laughing, she wept and buried her face in my chest. “I thought you would always fight for me.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long, but the journey is almost over. What you do now gives us victory. The books will make it home because of you.”
Voices of doubt echoed within her. Because of her, it said, so many books would be lost.
“Is there any chance Berenice will let me work when we get back?” she asked.
“You've lived under her rule.”
“She thinks I'm capable, but she hates me.” She took a deep breath, full of exhaustion.
“I love you,” I said, “and I will fight for you.”
“I know you love me,” she said. “You’ve been a father to me. Be safe. Go home to Alexandria. Protect the books. Give my people their history, and, if we never see each other again, know that I love you.”
“We will return to Alexandria, both of us,” I said. “You will see the wonders that this knowledge brings to the city and all of Egypt. This is the beginning of a new era. What we’ve done here will set the course of history, and our names will be at the heart of it.”
She nodded, but this was not what she wanted to hear. She wanted to be comforted, held, and promised that she would always have access to it all. The moment was lost. She left me and the temple and followed the others across the lake.
The group stopped twice before camping for the night, and Amani slept without fear in the light of a full moon. The next morning, Theodotus coaxed her to her feet with promises of reaching the mine by midday. His men gathered the ash and charred wood from the night's fire and bagged and carried them.
They walked uphill for an hour before leaving the woods behind. The grasslands became more sporadic. Ancient flows of volcanic rock stretched down from the mountains, and there they found their mine. The men made a fire pit and filled it with the ash and wood from the night before. They set out their belongings, creating the illusion of a long habitation, and then Amani followed them into the mouth of the cave. They traveled as deep and for as long as they dared, exploring the mine and leaving evidence of their passing. And when they returned, Cato's men were there to receive them.
The spring tide would come in two days.
With the day spent, they did little to interrogate Amani, Theodotus, and the others. Sosanna, their guide, slept in the camp and departed the next morning. Cato's men spent an hour asking additional questions, and then they left part of their regiment behind to search the area. The rest escorted Amani and the Alexandrians back toward Paphos.
They camped in the wild that night and arrived at Cato's home shortly after midday on the day of the spring tide. Amani listened for the sound of the temple exploding, but heard nothing. Maybe it was too far away. Maybe, she thought, we had spared the annex.
The books we could not fit in the boats we would keep hidden underground, waiting for her return, each word preserved. She would take them away, somehow, maybe to Athens, where she would find a place in the country and become a woman of the written word. One day, I would come, and we would hold each other once again.
Fate would reunite us.
Papyrus 5.19
The soldiers brought Amani to Cato in his small garden. He kept his attention on his garden. Kept within a brick wall, it contained no statues, only the plants and a place to sit, drink wine, and contemplate. Cato's simple clothing looked like he had dressed to work in the dirt, but Amani knew better. He always dressed that way.
“A man is only as good as his reputation,” he said, “but great men have bad reputations, every one.”
“You don't have a bad reputation,” Amani said.
“I aspire to be a good man, not a great one.” He pinched off the wilted remains of a bloom. “Did you find your Philostratos?”
She considered the day, and, despite the lack of an explosion, she supposed her words still true. “If he's alive, he's not on the island.”
He still had his back to her, and though she tried to judge his reaction by the line of his shoulders, she could not.
“I don't believe I told you I'd met your Ptolemy,” he said. “I counseled him not to go to Rome. The wealth of Egypt could not satisfy its appetite. I was honest with him, in as much as what I said was true, but I never told him the reason
I warned him away.”
Amani waited, but in her heart, she knew the answer.
“I won't pressure you on what secrets Egypt kept here,” he said, “but others will, others who found Rome less than satiated.”
In the house, she saw movement and a flash of white cloth, but she could not make out the form.
“This is my territory,” Cato said, “but I have agreed to bring you to them. What you do from there, whether you stay with them or return to Alexandria, will be up to you.”
Still looking at the figure through the window, Amani said, “Caesar. The real reason you didn't want Ptolemy to go to Rome was Caesar. The Roman who rules Egypt rules the world.”
“I've known what he is longer than most,” Cato said. “If the Senate is not careful, he will bring down the Republic.”
“I once wanted nothing more than to see Cleopatra rule,” she said. “I thought her destined to be a great Queen.”
“And now?”
“My grandfather sat on the Egyptian council. None of them were great men, just good people, serving their neighbors.”
“You dream of another Republic,” Cato said.
“No one who’s been to Rome would dream of another Republic.”
“You judge us when we’re broken, and perhaps you’re not wrong to do so.” He took her hand and led her to the room off the garden.
Amani hesitated, but Cato urged her on. Cleopatra rose to greet her. She wore an abundance of gold and pearls, playing up her role of royalty beyond anything Amani had seen in Pompey's villa. Her makeup was both elegant and severe, and her pose, perfect. Her hand, though, betrayed her, reaching out to Amani of its own accord before she brought it down again.
Cato bid them both welcome and left the room.
“It's only the two of us,” Cleopatra said. “I convinced my father to spend his time with Theodotus.”
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