Ankhtifi's Papyrus

by Graham Warren

  “So, let me get this clear, you brought each region back to unify Egypt by looking different to the people of each of those regions.”

  “Yes, Alex, exactly that. It was not easy, it was not easy at all, as for the good of Egypt I could not be all things to all men, but I brought the majority with me, and that is all I needed to keep my country intact, to keep its people as one. But now someone has stolen the papyrus, I am unable to control the regions.”

  “The papyrus is needed to make the spell work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think it was lifted from your pocket by a thief who didn’t know what it was?” Alex thought that was more tactful than asking if he had been careless with it, just like he had been with Gadeem’s magic, “or do you think you were directly targeted?”

  “Oh, I was targeted, as I did not need to carry it with me. It was kept in here.” He lifted a small wooden box from the seat of the chair next to him, placed it on the table, flicked the clasp and lifted back the lid. Inside was a shabti which looked different to any Kate and Alex had seen before. It was far from heavily detailed whilst having an unusual translucence about it.

  “It looks as though it is made from wax?”

  “It is, Kate.” Ankhtifi lifted it from its box, rolling it over in his palm to reveal an empty slot in its back, the size of a large cigar. “That is where the papyrus should be, that is where it always has been, but it is not there now.”

  Chapter 6

  -

  Reading Between the Lines

  It was the early hours of Saturday morning when Kate lifted her head from the pile of books in front of her. All open at pages relating to either Hathor or Sekhmet they sat, higgledy-piggledy, on the desk in front of her. She spun around on her chair to speak to Alex.

  He sat in his favourite old armchair in their library, eyes closed, feet up on a well cushioned footstool, hands clasped in his lap. She could tell that he was far from asleep; he was in deep thought. Not being one to keep her own thoughts to herself she abruptly said, “These books are rubbish.”

  “Not helpful then?” he asked as he opened his eyes, stood, then went over to Kate.

  “Not at all.”

  “Any?”

  “Well, yes … one or two mentions, so it does look as though Hathor and Sekhmet are one and the same. There is one very revealing story in this book.” She moved several, closed some, as she hunted for the book she wanted.

  As there was the definite chance that a now wobbly pile of books may well end up on the floor, Alex started to slip them back into their places: in the bookcases around the room. He was amazed how many of those Kate had discarded as useless were by familiar names, familiar to him anyway, because they were colleagues, or ex-colleagues, of his father: world renowned archaeologist Quentin Cumberpatch.

  “This one,” she said whilst pointing to nothing more than a couple of brief paragraphs.

  Alex quickly scanned them, read them, then read them again slowly. “Not much there in the way of detail, but incredibly revealing.”

  “If you think that there is not much there, you should try looking in the books you have just put away. Every single one describes what the god looks like, then almost every author goes on to tell you, to brag about where they have dug, where they have found statues of that particular god. There is more ego than fact in each of those books.”

  Having met many of the authors, Alex could quite believe it. He now also understood why his father had been so willing to give these to him. Mentally, he made a note to pass them on to the little library used by tourists at the Winter Palace. He required his library to be full of books that contained the in-depth knowledge that they needed. Though the library was shared by Kate, Alex, Emmy and Cairo, it was Kate and Alex who used it most, and she had designated him as librarian.

  Kate showed him relevant sentences in a few more books, but literally no more than a few words in each.

  Alex was amazed at how focussed she had been since arriving back. There was no question of sleep because neither of them could sleep, they were far too confused to sleep.

  What they both now knew was that the ancient god Ra sent his daughter, Sekhmet, to destroy those mortals who had conspired against him, though who these were was not alluded to. Sekhmet’s blood-lust was such that it did not stop at just them. Ra had to really struggle to stop her from destroying all of humanity. He succeeded by deviously getting her so drunk that her anger left her.

  Some books said that whilst so heavily under the influence of alcohol Ra turned her into Hathor, others said that he turned her back into Hathor. After their time with Ankhtifi, the one they were going to go with, was from a small book, almost a pamphlet, which stated that Hathor, in times of extreme anger, annoyance, injustice, turned quite automatically into Sekhmet; turning back just as automatically after the problem had been sorted, though only after she had been calmed.

  “I had to find out about Sekhmet, but how does this help us?” Kate asked.

  “I’m not sure it really does.” Alex glanced towards the Sekhmet shabti that was back where it should be, one of Ankhtifi’s soldiers having returned it to him as they had left his tomb.

  Kate found herself also looking at the shabti.

  “It still is my favourite piece, though I do feel differently when I look at it.”

  “Who wouldn’t?”

  “I now see it as a reminder of everything we do not know. Perhaps, in a way, that is a good thing.” He went and sat back in his armchair. “I need a coffee; would you like something?”

  “Yes, to know what the hell is going on.”

  Alex, via the bat ordering system, ordered coffee for him, tamar-hindi for Kate, along with a plateful of roasted sweet potato topped with herbs and goats cheese for them to share. “The thing is, Kate, from what you have checked out, we now know that Ankhtifi was telling us the truth about Hathor. That convinces me that he is telling the truth about the papyrus.”

  “Why wouldn’t he tell us the truth if he needs our help?” Alex did not answer. It was fast approaching dawn and they were both very tired though unable to think of sleep. He saw the look of realisation appear on her face. “So, what should we do next?”

  “That’s just it; I have no idea. Seeing that the tenth dynasty happened a thousand or so years before anyone we know in the afterlife, I can’t see who is going to be able to help us.”

  “Our ancient memories certainly won’t.”

  “Not really.”

  “What were you so deep in thought over?”

  “Everything!” Alex said as he wiggled a hand to say that his thoughts were all over the place. “I don’t want to, but I keep thinking of those gaffirs.” He could not hold back the laugh, neither could Kate.

  As they had left Ankhtifi’s tomb, they had called into the gaffirs hut to collect the two plastic bags containing the spells. They had found them on the floor; empty. They had also come across the two gaffirs, one bright red, the other issuing minor explosions of various degrees from an open mouth, both were asleep, possibly passed out.

  “Whatever possessed them to smoke the contents?” Kate asked as their order arrived. Alex did nothing more than shake his head as he pictured the scene. She moved over to sit opposite him, immediately picking up a fork. Sliding it under the smallest slice of food, it disappeared into her mouth. The tamar-hindi was grabbed for. “How do they keep it so hot when it comes all the way from the Winter Palace?”

  “Don’t know.” He cautiously nibbled on a piece.

  As if by magic, Cairo arrived and the plate was emptied. The temperature of its contents having no effect on him. There was only time for quick greetings; for him to tell them that Emmy had gone off with Henuttawy and would be arriving later, before he fell asleep.

  “I’m pleased that you are taking the help that Rose offered,” Alex said cautiously. Had he mentioned something like this, just a short while ago, Kate would have exploded, saying that she did not need or want anybody’s he
lp.

  “You won’t tell anybody, will you?”

  “Of course not. But whatever it is that the two of you discuss, it’s working.”

  “She is working on my ancient memories. She really is great.”

  It was something that Ramses had said, which had led Alex to believe that Kate’s attitude stemmed right back to her ancient ancestry. “Don’t become too gentle, too calm, as we need you to have that edge.”

  “No worries of that.” They hugged, they kissed, in a friendly brother sister way, then fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead.” Emmy was having no success with waking Cairo. She sat in Alex’s chair, picking up the note he had left for her on the coffee table as she did. Not the homecoming she had wished for, that she had pictured in her dreams, though one she was becoming resigned to. At least he had cared enough to leave her a note. She unfolded an A4 sheet and read:

  Will phone you as soon as we land in Cairo.

  She rearranged her previous thought: “At least he has left a note, but didn’t care enough to even sign it.” She now slumped, rather than sat, in Alex’s favourite chair, though she did turn her phone on. Emmy used her mobile just about as much as Alex did, as any of them did. Their interactions being mostly with ancients who could not use mobiles; their time spent in tombs and temples where no signal could penetrate, or out in the desert where there never had been a signal, made them nothing more than very expensive timepieces.

  Her phone rang, it made her jump. Looking at the screen, it was Alex. She went to answer it, though for some inexplicable reason hit the reject button. Confused, though taking this as a sign, she turned her phone off as she told the now waking Cairo to get ready as they were going to Cairo.

  “She cut me off!” Alex said to Kate as they walked out of Cairo International Airport, after taking the internal flight from Luxor, and towards the rows of waiting taxis and minibuses.

  “Honestly, Alex, what do you expect with the note that you left her?”

  “How do you know what I wrote?”

  Kate stopped walking, turned to him, saying very seriously, “I don’t, I haven’t got the faintest idea what you wrote, all I know is how long it took you to write.” He stood looking bemused. “If I had been away for days, then came home to any note that was scrawled on a piece of printer paper in 0.3 seconds, especially written by the person I am in love with, I …” She could not find the words.

  “I would be on the floor in pain.”

  “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

  “I do love her, I have missed her–”

  “Don’t go getting mushy on me, you know that I don’t do mushy.”

  “Why didn’t you say something before now?”

  “I’m not your cupid, stupid!”

  And Alex did feel stupid. He tried to call Emmy again; her phone was off and there was no voicemail. “What do you think I should do?”

  “She’s bright, she’ll be able to read between the lines.”

  “And know that I love her?”

  “And know that you are the biggest jerk who ever lived!” Kate turned, walking briskly through the automatic doors to get a taxi.

  Shaking himself from his trance-like state he ran after Kate, only to collide with the glass doors, whose closing program had been unable to react quickly enough to someone running towards them. Embarrassed, more than dazed, he heard someone speak to him by name.

  “Honestly, Alex, it is a wonder that you have lived this long.”

  “Rose, what are you doing here?” He turned, his face flushed, only to see that it was not Rose, though it had sounded like her: mellow, caring, sexy even, with the slightest hint of a German accent.

  “Would you sign this for me?” She held up the latest copy of The ADD, though with no pen. She did not want it signed, she wanted to send a message which Alex received loud and clear.

  “Leonie … I presume?”

  “You presume correctly. Shall we go?”

  Chapter 7

  -

  No Time to Talk

  For once Kate was following Alex. He was still following rather than leading, though it was Leonie he was following this time. Kate was having to run to catch up with them, as they were moving quickly and she had experienced difficulty extricating herself from the taxi drivers.

  A white minibus, parked at a strange angle to the kerb, with many different tour company signs emblazoned upon it, appeared to be what they were heading for. It was away from the others, out on its own, in a zone which said ‘Emergency Vehicles Only’. The driver was in a heated conversation with two policemen of the non-tourist variety. These were the shoot first, ask questions later type of police. However, the driver still managed to slide the side door open as Leonie, then Alex, arrived.

  Though Leonie beckoned Alex inside, he stood by the door to wait for Kate. His modern Egyptian Arabic may not have been up to much, but he understood enough to know that the driver had distracted the police by discussing Egypt’s defeat in the final of the 2017 Africa Cup of Nations. The anger was real, though it was with Cameroon beating Egypt in the final 2 – 1. That was back in February, though with the Cameroon team dubbed in the Egyptian press as the worst in a generation, their win had sent shockwaves through Egyptian football supporters. They had expected the final to be an easy victory for Egypt … only they lost! It remained a heated subject of discussion throughout coffee shops up and down the country, a subject which the driver had very cleverly used so he had not been moved on from where he was parked.

  “Not now,” Alex said with a smile before Kate could say anything. He bundled her into the minibus, the door sliding shut behind them. They were in silence as well as semi-darkness: the vehicle’s windows being heavily tinted.

  “Quick, put these on and slip your backpacks in these.” Leonie dispensed with introductions, her panicked tone not causing them to question her demands. They each slipped very roughly made galabeyas over their clothes before Kate and Alex squeezed their rucksacks into well used bags made from linen. Leaving by the opposite door to the one they had entered by, they stepped from the minibus into a rural Egypt, an Egypt of farming families living simply from the land.

  A mixed group of men and women, young and old, were sitting in the shade of a date palm, their very basic lunch spread out before them. Dogs, cats, geese, donkeys and large wild birds freely walked around. It was an idyllic jigsaw puzzle scene, though the harsh reality of their daily life could have easily painted quite a different picture. Leonie, after gesturing for Kate and Alex to remain where they stood, walked over to the group, patting a donkey on the nose as she did. She appeared to chat with them freely, gave them the bag she had brought with her from the minibus, then headed along a well-used soil path beside a narrow irrigation canal, only turning to gesture for Kate and Alex to take a different path to the same place as she was headed.

  They converged by a pasture, fed from the irrigation canal, its grass poking up through a thin covering of water. The grazing animals squelched as they ate. Leonie gestured to three young lads who appeared to know exactly what was expected of them.

  “Who are you?” Kate asked in a surprisingly normal tone, considering recent events.

  “Shush.” Leonie looked around, placed a hand just away from her mouth, so that nobody could see her lips move – not that ancients who would wish them harm would have to see her lips move; speaking English, where English would not be expected to be heard, was enough. “Not safe, don’t talk,” she said extremely quickly. A lad arrived with two donkeys. She gestured for Kate to get on. As soon as Kate was straddled across the animal, Leonie took hold of her hands, making sure that they were both holding tightly onto its mane. Speaking to the lad in an ancient Egyptian dialect, Leonie looked satisfied as he got up onto his donkey, then, with Kate’s donkey following, raced off into the distance.

  It was the same procedure with Alex, though he left by a different route. His donkey was moving far too fast for
him to be able to look back. Staying on had to be his primary concern. He did look back as soon as he could, the moment the lad stopped the donkeys: to avoid running sidelong into a wide column of ancient soldiers marching across their road. There was nobody behind, nobody at all.

  Alex was delayed for quite some while. What had at first appeared to be a couple of hundred typically dressed ancient Egyptian soldiers, soon turned into many thousand, including archers and charioteers, all moving at a pace that said this was no normal march; something was going on. Alex felt his stomach sink as he recalled that these windows back into ancient times never occurred when life was peaceful. There had to be a link to a major event for them to remain. As he worried about what dreadful event they were about to witness, he felt the need to get off his donkey and disappear behind the nearest bush.

  Despite leaving last, Leonie arrived at their destination first, which was how she had planned it. She had headed southwest, the most direct route, though this was also the most dangerous route for anyone who did not speak the language of the time, thankfully, Leonie did.

  Kate, having taken a circular path, to the north of Leonie’s, had used an ancient trading route, roughly along what is now Cairo’s northern ring road. With traders from many countries using this, with their multitude of different languages and skin tones, Leonie considered this to be the safest way for Kate. Her black hair was fine, though its cut was not of this time, yet her skin, even with its slight tan, was far too fair to be Egyptian. The local people and soldiers Kate would have to pass were used to seeing travellers who looked strange to them. That said, Leonie was very much relieved to see her arrive.

  Having been on her donkey for possibly a couple of hours, Kate struggled to stand straight after she dismounted. Wearing a rag of a galabeya, whilst Leonie stood there looking resplendent in the robes of an aristocrat, she instantly shifted into belligerent Kate mode.