Stolen Souls

by Sackett, Jeffrey

  "Sure," Suzanne said as she bent over to lift one of the lids. It was indeed rather light, as Will and Gus had remarked previously. As she and Harriet replaced two of the lids, both women noticed that Roderick was making no effort to assist them. Probably thinks it's beneath him, Harriet thought. Thank God for the American Revolution.

  As Suzanne rested a lid on the edge of a crate before sliding it down upon a coffin, the edge of the lid dislodged a large splinter of wood which fell inward and landed upon the face of the mummy of Yuya. She reached down and brushed it off, stroking his face with her hand inadvertently. Feels like plaster, she thought absently, and then dropped the lid in place.

  Harriet and Suzanne replaced the other two lids, and then they left the grounds building. After locking and checking the door, they began the walk to the administrative offices in the faculty tower. It was not a tower at all, of course: being the only building on the campus more than three stories in height, it had been laughingly dubbed a tower years before, and the label had stuck.

  As they approached the charming Georgian building, Suzanne said, "Harriet, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

  She laughed. "Suzie, I'm a teacher. I get paid to answer questions."

  "Okay. First of all, who was this MacDougal he mentions in the letter?"

  "I'm not certain, but I'm pretty sure he's referring to Sir James MacDougal, one of the early proponents of what is sometimes called higher criticism."

  "Which is? Don't forget, you're talking to a business woman, not another archeologist."

  "Sorry. It's the subjection of the Bible to the same kind of critical analysis to which we subject other ancient documents, such as the Iliad and the Gilgamesh Epic. It's really a form of linguistic and historical dissection."

  "Okay," Suzanne said, not fully understanding the explanation. "So what's this MacDougal got to do with the mummies?"

  "Probably nothing. But if he did his work in the first half of the nineteenth century, and I think he did, then he may very well have done some work into the Proto-Sinaitic script which Sam thinks is on that scroll."

  "I get it." Suzanne nodded as they mounted the wooden steps to the front door of the faculty building. "So the ninth Earl couldn't have the scroll translated until long after he had left Egypt."

  "Right. MacDougal hadn't published his research."

  "Okay. Second question: Who were the Saint-Simonians?"

  "I have no idea. There was a French socialist philosopher of the eighteenth century named Saint-Simon, but I have no idea if they were connected to him."

  "Hey," Suzanne jested, "you're supposed to know everything."

  "Sorry." She laughed. Harriet opened the door and led Suzanne and Roderick into the main corridor of the first floor. They began to mount the first flight of stairs which would lead them to the third floor and Sam's office.

  "One more question," Suzanne said.

  "Shoot."

  "What the hell was the ninth Earl so upset about? You'd think he brought the bubonic plague back with him, from the way he wrote about the antiquities."

  "Beats me." She shrugged as they rounded the first landing. "I hope that Sam can shed some light on it for us. Whatever upset him so much is on that scroll."

  "Did your late uncle ever say anything to you about them, Your Lordship?" Suzanne asked.

  "Not a bloody word. In fact, I discovered them by accident when I was going through the collection in the attic. He didn't discuss them with me until the day he died, and even then . . ." Roderick paused, frowning. "It's funny, now that I think back on it. He seemed positively apoplectic when he found out that I was planning to sell the mummies. And there's the strangest story the butler told me . . ."

  Roderick gave Harriet and Suzanne a brief synopsis of the odd tale of the bombing of Chudley during the Second World War and the fourteenth Earl's strange behavior. "Peculiar, isn't it?" he concluded.

  "More than peculiar," Harriet said. "Apparently he knew something which we don't know."

  "Yes, but what?" Suzanne asked. "If there was a translation of the scroll which he read, then what did he do with it?"

  "Who knows? I doubt we'll ever know, and I also don't really think it matters too much. We know a good deal more about the ancient Semitic languages today than they knew a hundred and fifty years ago. Any translation Sam can make will be a hell of a lot better than one made in the 1830s." She noticed Suzanne scratching her hand. "What's the matter?"

  "I dunno. Bug bite, probably."

  Harriet led them to the door to Sam's office and she knocked on the door. There was no response from within, so she knocked again. "Sam?" she called. No answer. She opened the door hesitantly and peeked in. Sam Goldhaber sat behind an incredibly messy desk which was piled high with books. He was referring to two of them which were lying open before him. To his right lay the unrolled scroll, the ends kept from curling up by the weight of a stapler and a tape dispenser. He was writing furiously in a notebook. "Sam?" Harriet said again.

  "Shut up!" he snapped. Then he looked up and blushed slightly. "I'm sorry. Come in and take a seat. But be quiet. I'm halfway done with this. Wait a few minutes."

  "Sam, we've read—"

  "Harriet, sit down and don't bother me! Let me finish translating this."

  "Is it of any importance?" she asked.

  "Harriet," he said threateningly.

  "Sorry." She sat down on a wooden chair which stood beside the door and motioned for Suzanne and Roderick to do the same. Roderick took out a cigarette and explained with a few gestures that he would be outside in the hall.

  A half hour passed. Harriet and Suzanne sat and watched Sam expectantly. Soon Roderick returned and wandered around the office, examining the artwork on the walls with thinly veiled disinterest. For all the attention Sam paid to them, he might as well have been alone in the room.

  At last he tossed his pen down on the desk and leaned back in his swivel chair. "Unbelievable," he said. "Unbelievable."

  "Well?" Harriet asked. "Could you put together a translation?"

  "Yes," Sam replied, lifting his thick glasses from the bridge of his nose and rubbing his eyes.

  "And?"

  Sam shook his head. "Unbelievable," he repeated. "Sam, come on. What's it say?"

  "Okay. Let me begin with the language itself. It is definitely Proto-Sinaitic, and I'll swear that it's an original document. It must be over three thousand five hundred years old. Minimum."

  Harriet whistled. "That's old, even by Egyptian standards."

  "It's also much older than any complete document in any ancient Semitic tongue," Sam said. "And if what I suspect is correct, it is a document of priceless historical value. I mean really priceless!"

  "Why? What's it say?" Harriet rose to her feet and walked around the desk to Goldhaber's side. "Read it to us."

  "Okay, Professor, if you will resume your seat." He grinned. Harriet did so reluctantly. "Listen carefully to the way it opens." He put his glasses back on and began to read his own translation.

  The words of Ousha Zaphenath-paneah, servant of the great lord Dudimosh, ruler of the black lands and the red lands, the destroyer of foreign gods, who nurtures his people. I, Ousha Zaphenath-paneah, the servant of the great god Xepheraxepher, write this with my own hand, in the tenth year of the reign of the great lord Dudimosh, in the one hundred and eleventh year since the Hyksos overthrew the sons of Mizrim and established their rule over the red lands and the black lands. I am the mouth and the eyes of the great lord Dudimosh. My words are true. I know the name of the god.

  Sam Goldhaber sat back once again and smiled at the three faces before him. Suzanne and Roderick were staring at him with looks of utter incomprehension. Harriet alone of the three understood the significance of what she had just heard. "God!" she whispered. "Sam, are you sure about this translation?"

  "Absolutely. No doubt whatsoever. And," he added, "there's something else about this that even you may not have caught, Harriet."

  "
Well, I haven't caught any of it," Suzanne said. "Will somebody please let me in on it?"

  "The Hyksos," Harriet began to explain, "were a group of Asiatics who conquered Egypt during the seventeenth century B.C. Records from the period are very sparse, because the Egyptians tried to eradicate as much memory of the conquest as possible. The Hyksos were overthrown about 1570, and the historical evidence for the preceding two centuries is meager. This scroll, apparently, is a record of something written by what we today would call the prime minister of one of the Hyksos kings. The name of the king was what, again, Sam?"

  "Dudimosh," he said, glancing at the notebook.

  "Dudimosh. Or Dudimose, as Manetho's history calls him. He was the Hyksos leader who extended Hyksos rule from the Nile delta to the entire span of Egypt." She turned to Sam. "This is fantastic! What does the rest of it say?"

  "Hold on, boss. There's something else. I knew you'd miss it."

  "What?"

  "Your Lordship, will you please take down that Bible from the shelf behind you?" Roderick did as he was asked. "Please look up Genesis forty-one, verses forty-one through forty-five. Read them please."

  Roderick fumbled through the Bible looking for a table of contents. "It's the first book," Suzanne prompted gently. Roderick smiled in appreciation and managed after a few moments to find the chapter and verse.

  "Read it, please," Sam repeated.

  Roderick cleared his throat and read from the book. "And Pharaoh said to Joseph, 'Behold, I have set you over all the land of Egypt.' Then Pharaoh took the signet ring from his hand and put it on Joseph's hand, and arrayed him in garments of fine linen, and put a gold chain around his neck; and he made him to ride in the second chariot; and they cried before him, 'Bow the knee!' Thus he set him over all the land of Egypt. Moreover Pharaoh said to Joseph, 'I am Pharaoh, and without your consent no man shall lift up hand or foot in all the land of Egypt.' And Pharaoh called Joseph's name Zaphenath paneah."

  "What?! Sam, are you serious?" Harriet asked.

  "Don't look at me, boss. I'm just the bureaucrat making the translation. Zaphenath-paneah means 'he who furnishes the land with sustenance.' Remember the story of Joseph's dreams about the famine in Egypt, which led the Egyptians to stockpile food?"

  "This is—this is—" Harriet stammered.

  "Incredible, just like I said."

  "Ousha," Harriet mused. "Similar enough to Yoshef, given a thousand years between the events and the writing of Genesis."

  "Certainly," Sam agreed. "Ousha is most definitely a primitive form of Yoshef. And the title is exactly the same, as if it were special enough to be remembered and preserved."

  "I'm sorry I'm so obtuse," Suzanne broke in, "but what's so important about this? I mean, this is in the Bible, right? So it isn't anything new, right?"

  Harriet and Sam exchanged amused glances. Harriet struggled not to sound too condescending as she said, "Suzie, there are no external references to any Old Testament character before the time of King Solomon. Most modern scholars believe that the patriarchs—Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph—are legendary. We have proof here that at least one of them was real."

  "It goes beyond that," Sam added. "Have you read the Bible?"

  "Sure, when I was a kid."

  Sam shook his head disapprovingly. "It's when you're an adult that you need to read it. But be that as it may, do you remember the story of Joseph and Moses and Israel in Egypt?"

  Suzanne did not like his tone. "Remind me of it," she said.

  "The biblical account tells us that Joseph's brothers sold him into slavery in Egypt, and by means of accurate prophecies he rose to be the right-hand man of the king. He brought his whole family to Egypt, where presumably they flourished. The book of Exodus says that 'there arose a new King over Egypt who knew not Joseph,' and who enslaved his descendants. They remained in slavery until Moses led them out of Egypt."

  "Okay, that's familiar enough. So?"

  "So this has always been dismissed by scholars as myth, or distorted ethnic memory at best. But what do we have here?"

  "The Hyksos," Harriet said. "A Semitic people who conquered Egypt. And a clear statement that Joseph, or Ousha, call him what you will, was a government official under one of the Hyksos kings."

  "Don't you see?" Sam asked. "The whole biblical account receives substantiation. The Hyksos are overthrown, and the newly reestablished native Egyptian dynasty enslaves their erstwhile allies, the Hebrews. And then, later, they escape from Egypt. And that's the Exodus."

  The importance of the document began to dawn upon Suzanne. "So this is really of quite a bit of historical value."

  "You've heard of the Dead Sea Scrolls?"

  "Sure. What about them?"

  "This makes them look as important as yesterday's newspaper." He paused and then laughed. "Of course, yesterday's newspaper may be pretty damned important in four thousand years. Your Lordship, I must own this document. I'll give you whatever you want for it. I'll sell my house, I'll sell my children, I'll rob FortKnox, but I must have this document to study and research."

  "Well, of course," Roderick stammered. "I'll have to have my solicitor . . ." He paused. "When I engage a new solicitor, I'll have him work out the details with you. Agreed?"

  "Agreed." Sam held his hand out toward Roderick, who instinctively reached out and shook it. Sam smiled at Harriet. A handshake was a contract, and he knew it, even if Roderick didn't.

  "What about the rest of the scroll, Sam?" Harriet asked.

  "Oh, that. A lot of superstitious narration. It will be of great value to the religion and mythology people. This god of his, Xepheraxepher—never heard of him. Name doesn't even sound Semitic. More Iranian than anything else. Indo-European of some sort. But it—"

  "Sam," Harriet said, "what does the rest of the scroll say? Does it give us any information about the mummies?"

  "Yes, but I'd hardly call it information. You know how the ancients reasoned, Harriet. Everything, even the simplest things, had some sort of supernatural, religious foundation. It's filled with that sort of thing."

  "Well, read it to us. Listen, Sam, the letter in the teakwood box was written by the ninth Earl of Selwyn, the one who brought the mummies back to England. He said that something in that scroll of yours was so terrible that he couldn't even bring himself to explain it in his letter. Well, you've read the scroll. What is it?"

  Sam laughed heartily. "Good grief! I can't believe that an educated nineteenth-century Englishman would take this seriously! It's so ridiculous!"

  "Okay, it's ridiculous. What the hell is it?" She was growing impatient with him. "Will you read the goddamn translation?"

  "Okay, okay, relax." Sam looked back down at his notebook. "Okay, here's where I stopped." He read aloud.

  My words are true. I know the name of the god. ("Oh, I read that already.") Know ye, whoever reads these my words, that the name of the god is Xepheraxepher. The name is the power of Xepheraxepher for his children who call upon his name.

  Sam looked up. "An ancient perspective," he explained. "They believed that words held power, and knowing a god's name made one able to call upon his power in times of need." He looked back at his notebook and continued.

  In the third year of the reign of the great lord Dudimosh, the dwellers in the temples of the red lands rose up against the great lord Dudimosh, and he smote them bitterly. Their leader was the priest Sekhemib of the false god Anubis ("Sekhemib!" Harriet cried. "That's one of the mummies!"), and his followers were the forty-eight other priests who drank the souls of the people. The great lord Dudimosh bound Sekhemib and the forty-eight priests of the abomination and cast them into the deepest of pits. He heaped fire upon them, yet they died not. He smote them with the sword, yet they died not. He buried them alive and uncovered them from their burial, yet they died not. He hanged them by their necks, yet they died not. Under great torture the people of the red lands told the lord Dudimosh that Sekhemib and his priests drank the souls of the people, and could not
perish by human hands until the end of their days. When the end of their days drew nigh they were not gathered to their fathers after the manner of the people, but they drank the souls of the people and lived yet another lifetime. The priests of Sekhemib had lived since beyond memory, from generation to generation, and they died not.

  Sam paused. "I wish old Ousha could see Sekhemib now. He didn't look too lively the last time I saw him."

  "Sam, just keep reading," Harriet said. She took the past too seriously to find it an appropriate subject of flippancy.

  I told the great lord Dudimosh of the power of Sekhemib (Sam continued), and he said unto me, "Bind him with chains and keep him until the end of his appointed days. Then shall we embalm him after the manner of his people and keep his body from the evil thing which it serves." So I bound the forty-nine priests, Sekhemib and his followers, and as the years passed they began to die after the manner of men. They begged for the tekenues to be brought unto them, that they might drink their souls and live; for the tekenu is he whose soul is consumed by the power of Anubis. But I did obey the word of the great lord Dudimosh, and I called upon the name of Xepheraxepher when Sekhemib called upon the name of Anubis. Anubis enabled Sekhemib to make my hands to move and my feet to walk as he willed, but I called upon the name of Xepheraxepher and kept Sekhemib and his followers bound in chains until the end of his days. When he died I ordered that he be embalmed after the manner of his people, but the embalmer's knife would not pierce his flesh. And so the forty-nine priests were embalmed at the end of their appointed days, and the great lord Dudimosh commanded me, saying, "Place them in coffins of wood, for stone would do too great an honor to their uncleanliness. Take the golden medallions which they wear and put them in the coffins with them, that no one might be defiled by the unclean gold. Take the bodies of the priests and hide them, that their people may not bring the tekenu nigh unto them." And I did as my lord commanded me.

  I charge you, whoever reads these words, to guard the bodies of Sekhemib and his followers. Know that of the forty-nine, only Sekhemib and six others have the power to command the arms and legs and tongue, for these seven have served the god Anubis since before the dawn of time; and the other forty-two are mortal men and not high priests, chosen to serve the seven chosen ones of the god Anubis. Only these seven are hidden and must remain hidden, even unto the end of the world. Touch not their bodies, lest they drink your soul. Place not their gold upon your neck, neither take unto yourself their riches, lest they drink your soul. Know that the burning of the body of the tekenu gives them a possession unto eternity, but the killing of the priest releases the soul and gives the tekenu back his days.