Close Up the Sky

by James L. Ferrell

  “Your palms are smooth, so you are obviously not a grave robber. But I intend to find out just who, or what, you really are." He turned to one of the guards. "Bring the witness forward," he ordered.

  The guard stepped to the double doors and spoke to the seated man. Matt was not surprised to see Nessif Eguic Famaed stroll into the room. The Morruk stuck his chin out and put a sneer on his ugly face. He looked at Matt with hatred in his eyes. The gash on his cheek made by the bullet was dirty and swollen.

  "Do you know this man?" Memhotep asked.

  "Yes," Nessif snarled. "But he is not a man. He is a demon."

  Matt felt his heart sink. He had just admitted to coming from west of the Nile and could not give Memhotep a plausible explanation as to what he was doing there. Now Nessif was accusing him of being a demon.

  "I thought you said he was a spy," Memhotep responded. "Now you say he is a demon. Which is it?"

  "He is both!” Nessif shouted. “Some time ago, in the darkness of the night, I saw a strange light coming from the desert near the dwelling place of my tribe. When my men and I went to investigate, we found tracks coming from a great fissure in the earth." He paused and smirked at Matt.

  Memhotep's eyes widened. "Go on," he ordered.

  "We trailed them through the desert hoping to see what manner of creature lived beneath the earth. We eventually overtook this demon, but when we drew near he brought thunder from the sky and would have destroyed us. My warriors fled in terror, but I remained behind with a few brave men and eventually captured him. While we were attempting to determine what manner of demon he was, he again called forth thunder; this time with lightning, and did this!" He pointed to the gash on his cheek. "But we continued to fight and did not permit him to escape. We kept him bound and placed him in a pit. Then, when darkness fell, he cried out in a loud voice and called forth another demon, one even mightier than himself. This huge devil slew all of my men, tearing their bowels open and spilling their insides onto the ground." Nessif paused for effect. He walked over to where Matt stood and glared at him with vehemence. "I am the only survivor, my lord, and have come forth as his accuser."

  Memhotep said nothing for a long moment, his expression blank. At last he spoke to Matt in a quiet voice. "You have admitted to being among the dead of Thebes, and this witness has accused you of being a demon. I must admit that you appear to be only a man, but there is always the possibility that I could be wrong. You said you came to Thebes looking for your acquaintances. Who, and where, are they?"

  Matt let out a long breath. "They are explorers, Memhotep. I assure you that we are not spies and I am not a demon. If I could find them, they would bear me out. The witness you have called against me is a criminal who tried to rob and kill me as I walked through the desert. It is true that something came in the night and destroyed his men while they held me captive, but I have no knowledge as to its nature. I feared for my own life even as his men were being killed. But I must confess that whatever it was, it saved me from the fire that this man and his friends had lighted to torture me."

  "He lies!" screamed Nessif. "Look under his robe and tell me if you have ever seen a garment such as the one he wears!"

  Memhotep jumped to his feet. "Silence!" He gazed at Matt for a moment and then said to the guard, “Remove his robe."

  The guard stepped forward, but Matt held up a hand. "I will do it," he said.

  Memhotep nodded and the guard moved back. Matt pulled the robe over his head and threw it on the floor. Memhotep and the other men stared with open mouths at the L-suit. "It seems your accuser is correct in this one area at least," he observed. "What manner of clothing is that?"

  Matt swallowed and answered, "It is designed to protect us against the heat of the desert and the cold of the mountains. Many of my people wear them." It was an oversimplification of the facts, but they would not have understood the exact nature of the garment even if he had told them.

  One of the guards standing behind Memhotep leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Whatever he said apparently astonished the judge. He rose and stepped back from his bench. "Search him!" he commanded.

  Two of the guards grabbed Matt's arms and held him while a third ran his hands over the L-suit. He found the bulge of the two nine-millimeter magazines and fumbled the Velcro fastener open. He took them out and laid them on the magistrate's bench. None of them noticed the gleam that came to Nessif's eyes at sight of the magazines. Next the guard found the pager and the copper knife that Tarel had given him, which he also removed and placed on the bench.

  "He has nothing else, my lord," said the guard.

  Memhotep resumed his seat and looked at the items before him. He picked up each in turn, examined it, and laid it back down. "What are these?" He pointed to the magazines and pager.

  "I mean no disrespect, my lord, but they are things that would have no meaning to you. I cannot explain them."

  "So you say." Memhotep leaned back in his chair and scrutinized Matt for several long seconds. At last he spoke. "I was just informed that a madman who was similarly clad was recently captured while attempting to rob the temple of Amen, and was subsequently banished by the pharaoh. Are you aware of this?"

  Matt was shocked. He stepped forward and placed his hands on the bench. The guard jerked him back and twisted his arm behind his back. Pain shot through his shoulder. Memhotep waved him off. The guard released him, but stayed close by.

  "Answer my question," Memhotep said in a calm voice. "Do you know this man?"

  He had seen Williams and Summerhour only a few hours before, so the man to whom Memhotep referred must surely be Edward! It was now even more imperative that he somehow manage to escape and get word to the others.

  "He is one of the men I am seeking," he answered. "I must find him, my lord. I beg you to help me. The lives of many people depend upon it."

  Memhotep seemed to consider that for a while, then spoke to the guard next to Matt. "Take him to the guard room and bind him. Wait there and see that no one comes near him until you receive further orders." The guard took Matt by the arm and tried to pull him around.

  "No!" Matt shouted. "You don't understand! You have to listen to me." He jerked free of the guard's grip and lunged toward Memhotep. The magistrate stepped back out of harm's way while the other guards jumped forward to help subdue the prisoner. Matt struggled with all his strength, but they overpowered him and pinned him down.

  During the confusion no one noticed Nessif stealthily pick up the magazines and pager and slip them into his robe. While the guards were struggling with Matt, and Memhotep's attention was diverted, he walked into the anteroom and vanished.

  "You've got to listen to me!" Matt shouted at Memhotep.

  "Take him away," Memhotep ordered the guards. "And remember, he is not to be harmed and no one is to speak to him!"

  They dragged Matt through the back door and slammed it shut behind them. Memhotep turned to the remaining guard. "Inform the captain of the guard to advise the pharaoh that another of the black-clad madmen has been captured, and that I await his instructions."

  After the guard left, Memhotep returned to his bench and sat down. He did not enjoy being involved in such an unusual case. His expertise was in handling simple cases of theft or assault, and sometimes the occasional murder. He knew he was not qualified to pass judgment on this stranger, and for that reason decided to send the case up to Ramses himself. He was aware that the pharaoh had banished the other intruder, but he had no real knowledge as to why. These were dangerous days, and it paid to play it safe whenever possible. If Ramses did not wish to pass personal judgment and returned jurisdiction to him, he would simply sentence the stranger to death as a demon from the west bank. After all, he had the testimony of the desert brigand that the man had come from the bowels of the earth and had used magic to destroy his tribesmen. At the thought of Nessif, he turned and scanned the room. The Morruk was gone. He glanced down at his bench. The objects that had been taken from
the prisoner were also gone! Memhotep stood up and smoothed his linen robe. He felt hot blood rise to his cheeks at the thought of Nessif stealing the objects from right under his nose. He considered alerting the guards, then decided to let it pass. It had been his experience that thieves eventually got exactly what they deserved anyway. Besides, it had been a long day and he was growing hungry. His wife would be waiting to serve his supper and continue their celebration of the feast of Amen. He could already taste the delicacies she would have ready for him. Satisfied that he had made the correct decision, he gathered his effects and went out the door.

  Chapter 18

  Taylor, Summerhour, and Williams waited in a small anteroom for their audience with the pharaoh. It was dark outside, and a cool breeze from the river drifted through wide openings that served as windows in the stone walls. All three were dressed in contemporary clothing and possessed no modern equipment, except for Williams. He had insisted on keeping the long steel knife he always carried. He wore it beneath his robe, strapped to his left leg just below the knee. Both men wore L-suits beneath their robes, but Taylor's attire was too revealing to wear one. She was dressed in a sleeveless white gown split down both sides from thigh to ankle. A green sash held the garment tight around her waist, and a low neckline revealed the cleavage of her breasts. Small triangular pieces of jade and silver decorated her sandal straps, and a narrow silver band held back her hair. Her green eyes were masked by brown contact lenses.

  She had been jubilant when Summerhour had told her the story of Matt's arrest and imprisonment. He and Williams had to restrain her from going directly to the prison to gain his release. She had made it clear that as far as she was concerned his rescue was paramount, even more than the recovery of the stellarite, and that she intended to use whatever means were necessary to bring it to fruition. The argument had raged for almost an hour, finally ending in agreement that the best course of action was to secure the assistance of Nefertari to gain his release.

  The queen had met them personally when they arrived at the palace and had escorted them to this room, located directly off Ramses's formal receiving hall. When Taylor told her that Matt was a prisoner in the city jail, Nefertari had promised an immediate investigation. It had been more than a half-hour since she had left them, and they were anxious for the pharaoh's summons. They all remained standing, even though the room was furnished with comfortable sofas and chairs. Summerhour had been pacing near one of the windows since Nefertari's departure. Periodically he would stop, shake his head as though rejecting some mental dilemma, then resume. Taylor stood with her back against a wall, eyes downcast, face blank. She looked almost like a frozen goddess, unmoving and unseeing. No one had spoken for quite some time, and the silence was beginning to wear on Williams's nerves.

  "Wonder what's taking so long," he said just to break the monotony.

  Summerhour stopped pacing and blew out a breath. "I guess we're not the only ones on tonight's schedule."

  He had barely spoken the words when a guard opened the door and summoned them. They were ushered into a large rectangular room, richly decorated with painted columns and exquisite furniture. It had a high vaulted ceiling, and long horizontal windows cut into one of the walls provided a panoramic view of the city below. There were no curtains, so the evening air was free to circulate through the room. The floor was made of black polished stone that reflected light like a mirror. It had grown dark, and the view from the windows was breathtaking. The lights of the city were visible all the way to the river. Unlike modern cities that showed steady fluorescent light from their windows, those of Thebes displayed the golden glow of oil lamps and cooking fires that scintillated like thousands of fireflies. Beyond the houses lay the Nile, its surface gleaming silver from the moon, just edging above the skyline. Miles beyond the river the desert tapered off to a string of low hills, purple in the dwindling light of day.

  A dozen soldiers clad in white loincloths stood in a row against the opposite wall. They wore the customary cloth headdress of Egypt, with tails draped forward across their shoulders. Silver bands bearing the cobra diadem of the royal guard held the headdresses in place. Each man held a spear angled away from his body at arm's length. A circular dais rose from the floor at one end of the room, and at its center was the golden throne of the Pharaoh of Egypt. The pharaoh stood at the foot of the dais speaking with two men who wore the armor and polished helmets of high-ranking military officers.

  Taylor had seen the king many times, but no matter how often she saw him, his regal bearing never failed to impress her. Unlike the guards, he wore only a loincloth and sandals, his head bare and bald. She knew Ramses was in his mid-fifties, but the muscles of his chest and arms were still smooth and powerful. Nefertari stood at his side, listening to the conversation. When the queen saw Taylor and the others standing at the opposite end of the room, she smiled and spoke to the king. Ramses glanced in their direction, then continued his conversation with the officers. After a few moments the men placed their fists against their breasts in salute and departed.

  Ramses beckoned for Taylor and the others to come forward. Taylor led the way with Summerhour and Williams following. From the king's dress she knew the audiences he was holding this night were of an informal nature. Nevertheless, as she reached him she stopped and knelt on one knee. Summerhour followed her example. Williams, not really knowing what to do, followed suit.

  "Rise, Taylor," the king commanded. When the three of them were standing, Ramses spoke again. "I have not seen you since you chronicled the lives of the Royal Family. Why have you not returned to visit us before now?" His voice was deep and commanding, and his smile showed that he was glad to see her.

  Taylor lowered her head and placed her palms together in prayer position. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I was called to my own country soon after the chronicles were completed, and many things have happened to prevent my return."

  “I understand. Nefertari has told me of your conversation with her." He looked at the two men standing behind Taylor. "Who are these men? I do not remember them from the days you spent with us."

  Taylor stepped aside and made a sweeping motion with her arm toward her companions. "They are scholars from my country, Your Majesty. They have accompanied me to Egypt to assist in finding the green stone that fell from the sky. May I present Michael and Charles?"

  Summerhour and Williams bowed. Ramses gazed at them for a few seconds then said, "I bid you welcome to Egypt." His words were meant only as formal recognition of their presence and required no response, so none was made.

  "May I speak frankly, my lord?" asked Taylor.

  "I will listen, Taylor. But I also have many questions for you."

  Taylor began speaking in a low but firm tone. "Queen Nefertari has told me about the stranger in black clothing who was banished from Thebes, and about the green stone you gave to him as a peace offering to his people. He is the man we are seeking, and the stone he carries is of great importance to us. I have asked for this audience hoping that Your Majesty will assist us in finding him."

  Ramses's eyes moved over the faces of the three time agents. His penetrating gaze returned to Taylor and rested there, as though trying to read her thoughts. "Come with me," he commanded. She walked with him to one of the windows. Summerhour and Williams came up behind them but remained at a respectful distance. The pharaoh waved his arm across the city. "This is the city of Amen-Re, greatest of all the gods. I have prayed to him many times hoping to learn the answers to certain questions that have puzzled me for years. Now he has answered me.” He turned and let his eyes linger on each of them in turn. “I believe that either the destroyers or the saviors of Egypt stand before me at this moment." He fell silent, apparently waiting for a response.

  Taylor was nonplussed. She looked at the king with a blank expression. “I do not understand, my lord. The saviors or destroyers of Egypt?"

  Ramses’s expression was somber. "I mean that you, Taylor, and these companions of yo
urs, will either save my country and ensure its prosperity for a thousand years, or you will sound its death knoll."

  He walked away from them and ascended the dais. Beside the throne was a small table that held a polished wooden box. He lifted the lid, took something out, and returned to where they were standing. Whatever he had removed was inside his balled fist. "I want you to tell me who you really are, Taylor." When he opened his hand a small, silver amulet fell to the end of its chain and dangled from his fingers.

  Taylor's eyes widened and her mouth fell open. She heard Nefertari give a little gasp. It was the St. Christopher medal that Edward Leahy had always worn. She reached out to take it but Ramses pulled it back. "I see by your expression that you have seen this jewelry before," he said. "To whom does it belong?" When she made no immediate reply, his voice became firm. "I am waiting for an answer, Taylor."

  Taylor straightened to her full height, shoulders back. She knew it was time for a partial truth. "It belonged to a man named Edward Leahy, my lord. He is the man to whom you gave the Eye of Amen. The image on the disk is a servant of our God," she said.

  “So,” Ramses responded. There was a tone of wonderment in his voice. He looked at the medal for a few seconds, then back to Taylor. "And who is your god?"

  "He is known by many names, Your Majesty, but He is the God of all people."

  Ramses cocked his head and gave her a quizzical look. "The God of all people? Are you saying He is greater than Amen-Re?"

  "Yes, my lord. There are no greater gods. He is the One God."

  Ramses stood quietly for a moment while he considered her reply. "The Hebrews also speak of such a god, but they have no images of Him." He spoke softly, almost to himself. He walked back to the window and gazed at the city for a moment. Finally, he turned, ascended the dais, and sat down on his throne where he remained deep in thought. While they all waited in silence, Nefertari went up the dais steps and sat down on a chair immediately to his right. She reached out and placed her hand over his.