Gold of the Ancients

by Graham Warren

  Alex took on board the lady’s use of ‘intimately’. In the gold room Cleopatra’s words had had a distinctly unwanted effect on him.

  “She does not need protecting,” Bast said.

  “Cleopatra?”

  “Alex!” Bast extended his name as she said it.

  “Of course … Emmy!”

  “Exactly! … She does not need to be protected.”

  “No?”

  “No, Alex. Not by you, not by anybody.”

  “How did you know what I–”

  “I know you well enough to know what you were thinking just now. I also know Emmy well enough, well … not Emmy per se, but I know Henuttawy very well, and most importantly I know her father inside out.” Henuttawy was the favourite daughter of Ramses, and as Henuttawy had put it when she had proudly introduced Emmy on a previous adventure, “this is my grand, grand, grand, and many more grands, daughter.”

  Bast paused for the room to return to its previous noisy level. There had been obvious glee at the arrival of near naked dancing girls and their blind musicians. “Emmy has suffered a trauma, a very dep trauma, but she will not grow, not gain strength from this, until you let her. Give her the space to grow and you will be amazed how mentally strong she will become. Even now, having spent a year with Dr Margretti, she is a long way from having access to all of her ancient memories. The longer she is in Egypt, the easier it will be for her to retrieve them.”

  Alex could not disagree, because the more his ancient memories had come back to him, the more firmly he believed that understanding the past, was the only way to understand the future. In many ways it had been important for them to learn from Dr Margretti, yet in many other ways it had been detrimental to their ancient memories, to maintaining the edge they needed. He remained convinced that should they get out of here, then Egypt, and Luxor in particular, was his home.

  The three of them continued to discuss things for a while before a casual glance around the room jogged Alex’s memory. “How can you be here and there at the same time? And are you safe here? Where are all of Cleopatra’s gods?”

  Bast smiled as she advised Alex that the words ‘safe’ and ‘Cleopatra’ were inadvisable in the same sentence. She also advised Alex that to understand how the ancient gods felt about Cleopatra was too long a conversation for now. Suffice to say that any ancient Greek, upon becoming pharaoh of Egypt, who thought they could control ancient Egyptian gods, needed to think again. Likewise, Greek gods attempting to exert their power in Egypt was never going to be tolerated. Alex mentioned that Alexander, a Greek, had a Thoth, an Egyptian god. Bast and the kindly lady both moved their lips to one side, their eyes to the ceiling, and inclined their heads. “Okay, I get it. Too much to explain for today, but I do want to know.”

  “Given time, you will understand everything, Alex.”

  “How much time? … No, don’t answer that. A thousand years?”

  “Ramses likes to think he knows all the answers, but even he does not know them all, so, it will be many, many more centuries than that.”

  “You are here and there,” Alex kept low as he pointed to the far side of the room and then back to Bast. “How?”

  She informed Alex that her cat-tapestry-coat was being worn by some annoying Greek at the other side of the room, and that she knew everything of the plan because Cairo had enlightened her. His mouth having been so full of sandwiches as he did, she joked that her coat would need cleaning upon its return.

  “It will be returned then?”

  “When I leave, my coat leaves with me. It has to, as we are one. Oh, that Greek woman was really annoying me, going on and on about how she loved my coat and wanting to know where she could get one made just like it. Well, after Cairo had told me everything, she was annoying no more. I could not be seen to move over here, but if she wore my coat I could effectively be in two places at once. She swapped me willingly for this,” Bast tugged at the white garment she was wearing, “even though she is now wearing nothing except my coat.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  “Something, if you count the gold bangles and number of chins, but otherwise nothing … absolutely nothing. I am convinced that she will give you the diversion you are looking for.” Alex had previously mentioned that he would need a diversion in order to wake Kate without being seen.

  “But there are naked dancing girls … lots of them,” Alex looked towards the girls, before letting his eyes scan the audience, “and more than enough bare flesh around the room.” It was true that garments had slipped, either intentionally or unintentionally – Alex thought mostly intentionally – so how would another naked lady give him the diversion he needed.

  In the full knowledge that she could not be in the room as Cleopatra went to speak, Bast enlightened him with her description of what would take place just after she had left. She described a naked, screaming, flailing lady, who considered herself to be above those around her, trying to assert her status whilst attempting to forcefully grab clothes from anybody within reach. After a little more thought Bast added, “Upon reflection, I think you had better let me worry about waking Kate.”

  He nodded to Bast, almost gleefully, in agreement. The waking of Kate, taken care of … Great!

  “Your worry will be getting Kate out of here quickly if Cleopatra reacts differently to how you expect. I can’t see that she would, but you never know. You do appear to have thought of everything.” Alex’s confidence was given a great boost. Bast had far greater knowledge of the actions of Cleopatra, though she also knew all too well that for her to get involved, beyond giving very general advice, could very well reignite the war between the ancient gods of Egypt and Greece, and nobody wanted that, least of all her!

  They were still talking, and of course Alex was still worrying, as the room fell silent. The dancing girls left hurriedly as the priest stood, arms raised. Cleopatra was waiting for all eyes to be on her before she rose. Alex knew that once she spoke they were lost. She would captivate all in the room, he and Cairo included. Kate also, if she were awake. He glanced towards Bast, but she had already left.

  Moving as a cat under tables she was not at all happy to have wine soaked paws. A hand reached down to either stroke her or pick her up. A quick slash of a paw and that hand would not be doing much, except hurting, for the next few days.

  Not one royal soldier had time to react as a black cat at full run raced towards Kate and the now standing Cleopatra. It leapt onto the sleeping Kate; a paw turned into a hand for a fleeting moment; Kate’s head took an abrupt turn before both hand and cat disappeared. Instantly, as if she were a coiled snake waiting to spring, Kate was on her feet, adrenalin coursing through her veins. “No you don’t, you old bag,” was both clear enough, and loud enough, for all to hear, despite the slightly drunken slur in the enunciation. There was an audible gasp, and yes, all eyes were most definitely fixed on Kate and Cleopatra; absolutely glued, regardless of the audience’s own state of intoxication. There was a second or two of hesitation as they attempted to rationalise what they had just heard – surely nobody could have said that to Cleopatra. They watched in stunned silence as Kate smashed her palm so forcefully into Cleopatra’s face, that not only did she fall back into her throne, she fell back with so much force that the back broke off. Cleopatra ending up flat on her back on the floor, legs up in the air, removed any doubt about what they had just heard and seen. It had a most sobering effect.

  Royal soldiers moved far too late to protect their Queen, but at least they had now actually started to move, though none, despite all their training, appeared to know what to do. It was almost possible to read their thought processes: protect the queen – but she was already down; act on orders – but nobody was giving orders. The priest, seeing the confusion and having lost all sense of calm and control, screamed for them to protect Cleopatra, restrain Kate and find the others. Some royal soldiers turned to move towards Kate, others started to go to the aid of Cleopatra. Now, as a naked woman towards
the far side of the room started screaming, it was like a road traffic accident on a busy junction. The royal soldiers did not know which way to move. In the disarray they spun in circles colliding with guests and each other. The outcome was a mangled pile of writhing bodies on the floor. The priest, collapsed to his knees, sobbing, at the realisation that his privileged position in the afterlife had disappeared before his eyes, and all in less than a minute.

  Much to Alex’s surprise and consternation – though later he was to wonder why he had been surprised – Kate failed to stick to the plan. Perhaps as Cleopatra was only semiconscious she did not feel she could have the planned one to one conversation. Alex considered and thought it a case of the demon drink, or more likely, knowing Kate as he did, just plain hubris.

  Kate stood on the broken throne, told nobody to move at such volume, and with so much anger, that nobody did. “She,” Kate gesticulated toward Cleopatra on the floor, and was slightly unsteady on her feet as she did so, “is stealing the gold of the ancients, your gold.” An audible gasp was heard around the room. Kate had them where she wanted them. She pulled out a multi-coloured gold amulet in the shape of a falcon. An impressive piece which she must have taken from the gold room. “This is Egyptian gold, Ramses II’s gold. She,” again Kate pointed down to Cleopatra, again she wobbled, “has changed the name on it to that of her son, Caesarion.” Kate paused to wait for the crowd’s disgust at the obvious injustice. Their reaction, much to her surprise, was somewhat mixed. One of the recently floored soldiers had managed to stand. Kate made sure he did not move any closer. Her ferocity stopping him, rather than her logic.

  “No, Kate,” Alex wanted to shout. However, he knew there was no point, as the damage had already been done. They had discussed this. The plan totally hinged on Cleopatra’s need to protect her son. Now that they knew exactly where he was, okay, there would have been the bluff, that they already held him captive, but with Bast gone Cleopatra would have had no option except to accept this as a fact. She could not have done anything else. They would have then been able to walk out of here.

  Kate was on a roll, and not Alex, not anybody – except, perhaps, a royal soldier or two – could stop her. They were in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.

  “Don’t you get it? She is making Caesarion a pharaoh by putting his name on stolen Egyptian gold. She wants to rule the afterlife with her–”

  Kate never got to say ‘son’. There was cheering, whooping and generally great celebration, as if what had just occurred was all part of the evening’s entertainment; that this was the great news they had all been promised, and to them it was really great news. They were Greeks, and Cleopatra was making them greater than any Egyptian. Greater than the mighty Ramses II. Of course they were happy.

  “Listen … Listen to me,” Kate shouted. Eventually they did listen. “Don’t you understand? She,” pointing to Cleopatra again, who had made no attempt to move, “is stealing ancient Egyptian gold and changing the ownership to herself and Caesarion.” Kate waved the amulet over her head.

  “Hubris and alcohol, a deadly combination,” thought Alex. Everybody was now on their feet, even the royal soldiers were jumping up and down with joy, they were ecstatic at the news.

  The priest pulled himself together. He could see an opportunity to save himself, though only if he played his cards right. Firstly, he had to make absolutely sure that the royal soldiers had Kate in their sights. Alex was forced to move.

  Kate felt her hand being grabbed, and though the person grabbing it said something, she had no idea what was said. Her already high adrenaline rush now reached new heights, so did her feelings of utter confusion as she half ran, was half dragged into the crowd. She made an attempt to free her hand, but Alex was having none of it. “If we get separated now we might as well surrender.” This she did hear.

  “So much for your flipping plan,” she shouted over the cacophony of celebrating Greeks. Kate aimed a mighty thump at Alex with her free hand, as they worked their way through the jubilant crowd. It was back to being his plan, and he was back to being in pain, though thankfully Kate’s blow had only been glancing.

  In annoyance he shouted back, “What were you thinking of? They want her to steal Egyptian gold. They are Greeks, they crave more power. We discussed all that!”

  “Do you want to argue about it now?” said an obviously inebriated Kate.

  “Not now,” Alex shouted as he dragged her further into the celebratory crowd. He hoped beyond hope that Cairo had been able to prepare some sort of diversion. The idea of a diversion had been Kate’s, just in case the plan fell apart, though neither Alex nor Cairo could have expected Kate to have been the primary cause of it falling apart.

  Cairo was ready. Earlier he had moved along, under the tables crammed with food, and tied their cloths together. Standing innocently by the exit, the one Kate and Alex would be heading for, he waited. Upon seeing them, he pulled as hard as he could. It started with a small crash, then a larger crash, as solid gold plates, serving dishes and bowls hit the marble floor. The room silenced. Cairo quickly gathered the cloth and pulled again. It was as if a thunderstorm was taking place within the room, as now large gold platters hit the marble floor. Using the stunned silence, he shouted at the top of his voice, “Egyptians, we are under attack.” To a person, everybody started to run.

  Pushing, shoving, staggering and almost falling, Alex and Kate made it to the exit they were aiming for. Now the disorganised fleeing of the guests had turned into a river, as once through the door, they all headed the same way.

  Having both caught a fleeting glance of Cairo as they exited the banqueting hall, they knew that as long as they could break to the left – the cells – as everybody else broke to the right – the palace walls and the exit – then there was every possibility that they would all be together again very soon. Not in his wildest dreams had Alex thought they would have to put this part of the plan into action, Kate’s part, yet for reasons they had not thought of at the time, because of Kate’s failure to follow the plan, they were.

  Having been virtually flung from the torrent of people racing for the exit, Alex and Kate found themselves on the narrow though empty corridor which took them to the cells. Cairo appeared from the crowds at virtually the same time. He called out to let them know he was close behind. Alex raised an arm in acknowledgement. There was no time for anything except running. The thought of being caught by Cleopatra was one thing, the thought of being caught by her after what Kate had just done, was quite another.

  “Here it is. Here is our way out.” Kate approached the cell door at a run, in the wine filled confidence that it would push open, the scuba tanks would be there, the rope, and that they would be free.

  Seeing Kate bounce off the door and fall to the floor in pain offered Alex no satisfaction for her thump of earlier. Well, it did, a little, though the cell door failing to open came as more than a shock. He shouted for Emmy. No reply. He put his shoulder to the door. It only confirmed his fears, that door was never going to open without the key. He ran to the guard’s position. There was the key rack … empty, totally and utterly empty, there was not a key to be seen. They were trapped at a dead end with nowhere to go. In the certainty that the approaching footsteps were those of soldiers, not of fleeing party guests, their hearts sank.

  Chapter 42

  -

  Home Sweet Home?

  “So it was young Cairo here who saved the day.”

  “As only he could,” Alex said, giving Cairo an acknowledging wink and fist to the shoulder, before raising his glass to mirror that of Ramses.

  It had indeed been Cairo who had saved the day. Kate had slumped to the floor, in quite some pain, though also in resignation of their fate, as the cell door had failed to open. Alex had suffered a similar feeling of doom after he had double-checked and still not found any key at the guard’s position. He had stood there as if he was a rabbit in headlights, looking down the corridor at the fast approaching, though dist
ant, royal soldiers. Cairo had muttered something unintelligible before leaning back and disappearing from view. A much more intelligible scream, crash, and then words, had followed from within the cell. Kate had tried the wrong door, which, in their panic, they all had thought was the right door. The key had been on the inside and had been quickly turned. They had continued to hear the attempts of the royal soldiers to break the cell door down as they had ascended.

  Bobbing in the water, some distance from shore, they had all felt relaxed, cold yes, but relaxed, as it would have been impossible for any ancient to follow them. Expressing not the least surprise, they had each been pulled aboard a small Egyptian Navy vessel. “Rose!” Alex had said. “Rose!” they had all agreed. Upon their transfer to a dhabiya, moored well out in the Nile, just to the north of Cairo, which had been provisioned for the twelve-day cruise to Luxor, Alex had been reunited with Emmy. They had been inseparable ever since. Cairo had been, and still was, over the moon. Kate had appeared accepting most of the time, and even now was happy for them, though when tired or worried she was far less so.

  They had all needed the time to talk, not just about the events of the previous year, but of the future, their future. A future which was inseparable from their past. Each different, yet each connected. They had agreed and disagreed. They had cried and they had laughed. The one thing they had all agreed on was Egypt. With their particular skills they could live nowhere else, and for them Egypt was Luxor, ancient Thebes, even more ancient, Waset, and Luxor was home. They had been going home, and home was where they were going to stay.