The Broken Souls

by Rivka Spicer

  “Well you need to figure it out soon.” Jim reminded her gently. “Going by the previous memories, if Tom finds out what’s going on then his rage will be terrible to behold. Twice that we know of a man you love has died.” The rest of what he was trying to say, the other violent consequences towards her, hung in the air unspoken but they all understood what he was getting at. Jen shivered at the thought and was about to say something when her phone rang.

  It was Kim calling to say they were having trouble getting the license to dig. They’d been arguing with the officials all afternoon and so she’d be late for dinner as they were going to keep trying.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Jen asked, more out of politeness than anything else, but Kim sounded very hopeful when she said to come over to the licensing office and see.

  “I know where the offices are.” Jim told her as she hung up. “It’s not far from here, definitely within walking distance. We’d better be quick – I think they close at five.”

  “Have I got time to go back to the hotel and get changed?” Jen plucked at her clothes, dirty from crawling around in the excavations that morning. “I don’t want to give a bad impression.” Jim looked at his watch and frowned.

  “Probably not, but there’s a street right next to the licensing authority that has loads of clothes shops. I’m sure if we ran in and out we’d get there on time. It’d certainly be quicker than trekking all the way back to the hotel and driving across.”

  “Whatever.” Jen agreed so Jim quickly dropped the glasses back inside the tea house and they set off briskly across town. Thankfully the sun was getting lower in the sky and the air had cooled with a breeze blowing in off the Nile so the walk wasn’t too unbearable. Jen pulled the veil off the top of her head and hung it loosely around her neck, relishing the balmy air as it cooled her hairline.

  Within twenty minutes they had emerged onto a busy street where, as Jim had promised, there were several shops selling clothes. Unfortunately they were all traditional Egyptian garb, nothing western.

  “Well never mind.” Jen chuckled, the events of the morning briefly forgotten in her amusement. “I’m sure they’ll look very fetching. Come on.”

  Selecting a shop at random she strode through the door and smiled at the women behind the counter.

  “Does anyone speak English?” She asked gently, but the women all looked at her blankly.

  “It’s ok, I speak a little Arabic.” Jim told her and went up to the counter. After a few minutes he seemed to get across what they were after as the women all started smiling and vanished into various parts of the shop.

  “They’re going to get you a bowl of water too.” Jim told Jen quietly. “I said you were worried about dirtying the fabric.”

  “Thanks.” Jen was so grateful she could have cried. Suddenly the women all reappeared and hustled her into a heavily curtained dressing room.

  “This should be amusing.” Jim remarked, looking around the shop for the first time. “She’s picked a very traditional shop. They don’t seem to have any of the short tunic and trousers sets that most of the women here wear. I think we can expect the floor length skirts and bright patterns.” Mark shrugged blankly.

  “I know nothing about clothes.” He admitted but then smiled. “Thankfully she looks good in whatever she wears.”

  Less than five minutes later Jen reappeared and both men simply gaped at her. She looked astonishing in a floor length silk dress of deepest royal blue with an overdress slashed with turquoise, long dropped sleeves gathered up at the elbow.

  “I’m so embarrassed!” She cried as soon as she saw them. “They sponged me down!! They wouldn’t let me even touch the sponge! I’ve never been washed before!” Her expression was just so funny that first Mark and then Jim totally cracked up at her expense.

  “Oh god is it awful?” Jen looked at the dress. “The ladies picked it. Do people really wear this sort of thing?”

  “It’s beautiful.” Chuckled Mark. “Honestly.” Jim was about to tell her to hurry up and pay when the women reappeared again, this time with a veil that they carefully pinned into Jen’s hair and the effect was really quite striking.

  “Thank you.” Hoping it was a universally understood word, Jen smiled at all the women and didn’t notice the men staring at her with unabashed admiration. “How much?” When they wrote the figure down for her it didn’t seem too exorbitant so without bothering to barter she handed over the requested amount and turned to leave the shop, clutching her dirty clothes in a plastic bag they’d managed to find somewhere.

  “Let me.” Mark took the bag from her and they headed back out into the bustling street.

  “Will you two stop staring at me.” Jen snapped eventually after they’d walked another five minutes up the street and round the corner. “You’re making me uncomfortable.”

  “Sorry.” They murmured in unison but Jim seemed compelled to explain. “You just look like an Arabic woman and it really suits you. It’s very…” he searched for the word, “flattering? Feminine? I don’t know. It’s just surprising, that’s all. You don’t look at all western.”

  “As long as that’s a good thing.” Muttered Jen. “Where is this place anyway?”

  “Right here.” They had just arrived in front of an official-looking but dirty building and Jim led them through a wide door into a cool marble-floored lobby. There was a small reception area on the right and they were about to head for it when Kim appeared from a hallway right in front of them.

  “Thank god you’re here!” She sounded frustrated. “Where’s…Good god! Jen, I didn’t recognise you for a moment. What are you wearing? Never mind. You look amazing!! Come on in.” She hurried them all across the lobby into the hallway and turned left into a large office where three very officious-looking Arabs were having a heated discussion, seemingly oblivious to the man sitting before the desk in front of them.

  “That’s the director.” Jim whispered to the others as Kim went back to her seat, but Jen wasn’t listening. As she concentrated on the conversation before her she found she could understand some of the words and the more she listened the clearer it became. A deep sense of calm enveloped her mind and she found herself drifting towards the desk.

  “Enough! Cease your bickering!” Her voice sounded familiar but the words were not hers. “I am Bint’Anath, Daughter-Wife of Rameses the Great and Isinofre, born again!” She used a variation of her mother’s name. “Grant these people their license or I shall curse your soul to the coldest wastes of the afterlife for eternity. I am named Daughter of the Goddess Anath, Great Queen of the people, and even death cannot silence me. Do not anger me or you would be wise to fear my power!”

  She made an astonishing figure with her head thrown back and eyes flashing power and the man in charge looked like he had swallowed his tongue.

  “Of course, Great Queen.” He whispered, waving frantically at the others to do as she requested. Bint’Anath drew herself up and gazed at him icily.

  “The history of our people is best preserved in the open, not buried beneath millennia of stone and dust.” She declared. “You petty fools with your parchment and your arguments are nothing in the face of our great legacy. Do not ever let me hear again that you have stood in the way of history.”

  “Of course, Great Queen.” The man prostrated himself humbly on the floor before her and Bint’Anath simply gazed at his quaking back as the other two handed over the necessary licenses with trembling hands, before also prostrating themselves flat on the floor. Without saying anything, Bint’Anath swept out of the room and across the lobby, shaking herself out of the icy calmness as the sun warmed her skin.

  “What the hell just happened?” Kim demanded, skidding to a stop beside her. “What did you say to them? You said one thing and they just handed over the papers!” Jen blinked.

  “I don’t know. Didn’t you hear me?”

  “Well of course we heard you.” Jim came rushing out. “Unfortunately it was a variati
on of Arabic that none of us speak. Best guess? It was an ancient version.”

  “What?” Jen was totally bemused. “How could I have been speaking ancient Arabic?” She looked around at her companions faces, realisation dawning as each nodded sombrely in turn to confirm Jim’s words. “Oh my god.” Reality came crashing down around her and she didn’t know what to say except “Oh my god” again.

  “Jennifer Anderson I presume? I’m Richard.” To rescue her the dig director introduced himself and Jen numbly shook his hand.

  “Nice to meet you.” She said automatically but further than that words just failed her.

  “No, no, the pleasure is all mine I assure you!” Now that the prospect of a totally undiscovered tomb was all theirs to explore he was full of glee and excitement. “Do you have any idea what this discovery means?”

  “Yes.” Jen whispered. “Yes I think I do. Nothing will ever be the same again.” Stumbling, she wandered off in the general direction of the hotel, unable to face them all anymore. Kim recovered first, closing her mouth where it had been gaping wide open.

  “I’ll go.” She waved the others back and went to follow Jen. “We’ll all meet back at the hotel.” She called over her shoulder.

  “Do you think she’ll be ok?” Mark asked as he followed Richard and Jim back to the director’s car.

  “Who knows?” Jim shrugged. “Sorry mate but this is way out of my experience. You know more than anyone.”

  “Would anyone care to explain what’s going on?” Richard asked as they arrived at the car and got in, but neither of the others answered. It was Jen’s story to tell. Realising that all he was going to get was silence the director sighed and started up the car. Someone would explain it to him eventually.

  By the time Kim and Jen arrived back at the hotel Jen was much calmer and she went upstairs to change while Kim met the others in the restaurant. As soon as he realised they were back Mark excused himself to check that Jen was ok and headed up to her room, knocking hesitantly on her door.

  “It’s Mark.” He called through and seconds later Jen answered.

  “It’s open. Come on in.”

  When he entered she was standing by the window, still in the gorgeous blue outfit, gazing distantly out across the Nile at the Valleys beyond.

  “Are you ok?” He asked gently, putting his arms around her from behind, and she leaned back into him.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand what happened this afternoon.” She admitted. “How can a memory just take over like that? Just for a few moments I really did feel like Bint’Anath, remembered what it felt like to be a Queen.”

  “I don’t think it did take over.” Mark told her slowly. “I think you just remembered who you were. You remember places and people, why not a language? Makes more sense than thinking someone took over, don’t you think?” Jen nodded as this explanation processed in her mind.

  “You’re probably right. It just shook me a bit.”

  “I’m not surprised.” He kissed the top of her head gently and then released her. “Come down for dinner – we missed out on lunch so you must be starving.”

  “Yes.” For the first time Jen realised how hungry she was. “I’ll just change into something more suitable.” Mark grinned as she turned to rummage through her suitcase.

  “I happen to like that outfit.” He protested. “It suits you.” Jen smiled.

  “I like it too but it’s too pretty just to wear for dinner. I’ll keep it for something a bit more formal. Help me take the veil off please.” She stood still while he removed the veil, large hands struggling with the small hair grips. Finally he succeeded and she folded the gauzy material up into her suitcase.

  “Perhaps tomorrow we could go shopping and get you some clothes for every day wear.” Mark suggested as she stripped off, hanging the layers of fabric in the wardrobe. “I know there’s nothing wrong with the clothes you’ve got but you do look very striking in these.”

  “Maybe.” Jen didn’t sound convinced, but Mark let it slide, waiting by the door as she pulled on a summer dress and light cardigan and washed the dust from her face. “Are the others still downstairs?” She asked when she was done and Mark nodded, pulling the door closed behind them.

  “They’re in the restaurant. I think Richard would like an explanation.” Jen smiled.

  “Kim is probably telling him as we speak and she’s got Jim to back her up so whether he believes her or not is entirely academic. They have their tomb to dig up so hopefully he’ll be happy enough not to ask too many questions.”

  “Fingers crossed!”

  The director seemed utterly bemused by the whole scenario at first but he soon came to the same conclusions as Jim had and came to regard Jen with something akin to awe. For a while he just sat and gazed at her and then the questions had started. He wanted to know everything she remembered down to the clothes she wore and the food she ate. He asked about the Pharoah as a man, how he had behaved as a husband and a king, whether his men had respected him or did their jobs out of fear. He wanted to know what the women’s quarters were like and whether it was true that they had lived in almost total isolation. He asked how they had built the temples and what their boats looked like. He wanted to know if she could read hieroglyphs and what sort of education she had received as a female in a man’s world. Most of all he was utterly fascinated by Egyptian medicine. They had been so far ahead of their time that doctors and researchers now were only just rediscovering things the ancient Egyptians had known thousands of years ago.

  At first it was daunting but when Jen realised that he was not ridiculing her and was genuinely interested she relaxed and tried to remember, answering as many questions as she could in as much detail as she could. As long as they stayed away from the topics of her marriage and the aftermath of it she didn’t get too distressed and told them stories that took their breath away.

  As any archaeologist can tell you, there is very little direct evidence of day to day life remaining from ancient times. They can guess at what a person’s life was like from various artefacts and paintings or written texts from the time but nobody ever wants to describe the minutiae of everyday life, the way they dressed a person’s hair with oil or the exact method of folding a robe. There were no records of the man-eating crocodile that had terrorised the banks of the Nile until the Pharoah’s guards had tracked it down and killed it. Nobody had written a recipe book of ancient Egyptian dinners or told which spices they used and where they obtained them from. Richard was particularly fascinated by Jen’s favourite sweet that she could recall and describe to the point of making a man’s mouth water. She couldn’t remember the exact name of them but recalled that they were made of fresh dates mashed up with water until they became a sticky paste to which chopped nuts and cinnamon were added. The paste was then formed into little balls and dipped in honey before being rolled in ground almonds. She recalled with humour the day she had eaten a whole dish of them, not realising that dates had a laxative effect and then spent the whole night with horrific diarrhoea. She had suffered terribly for days with dehydration and sworn never to eat more than a couple at a time. The Pharoah had been unbearable, sending priest after priest to pray over his sick wife while her head pounded and her stomach gurgled.

  It was when he started asking questions about women’s problems and whether or not it was really true that they had to lie absolutely flat and weren’t allowed to leave the room until they stopped bleeding that Kim finally stepped in and told him in no uncertain terms that the interrogation had gone far enough. Richard looked as though he was going to protest but Kim reminded him that Jen was there for the whole week and there would be plenty of time for questions later. Satisfied with that he went silent and ruminated over all this new information he had been given with a slightly dazed look on his face.

  When they had finished eating and were getting ready to leave he placed a reverent hand on Jen’s shoulder.

  “One day when we have finish
ed digging in this infernal heat, I would be extremely honoured if you would allow me to write some articles about your life.” He told her. “I suspect that nobody would believe it but it would be groundbreaking stuff, even if I kept it for my personal collection. Would you sit with me, tell me about your life as Bint’Anath from start to finish?” Jen smiled at him.

  “It would be an honour.” She responded quietly. “I haven’t made my decision yet Richard but if I choose Mark and my soul is restored then in the next life all these memories would be gone and there will be no-one left that knows how life was lived in Ancient Egypt.”

  “Or Rome.” Kim looked sad at the concept. “I’d love an account of life in Rome.”

  “Well when we get some time we can do that too.” Jen offered. “I think it would be both cruel and selfish not to leave a record behind for future generations, however painful some of those memories are. There will never be another opportunity like this for you. I know Mara said that there were a handful of others out there with these past life memories but how many of them have lived the lives that I have or walked the Ancient Cities of my past? And how many of them have access to historians and archaeologists that can prove to them they aren’t mad and actually appreciate the memories they have? No, I will sit with you both one day and give you an accounting of ancient history like you’ve never heard it before.” Richard squeezed her shoulder in gratitude.

  “That would make an old man very happy.” He nodded and cleared his throat to pretend he didn’t have tears in his eyes and waved good bye, heading out into the lobby of the hotel while Kim and Jen hugged and Jim shook hands with Mark.

  “Sleep well.” Kim whispered. “It’s been a long day.”

  Chapter thirteen