The Amarnan Kings, Book 6: Scarab - Descendant

by Overton, Max

  Muammar hesitated, busying himself with checking their bonds. "There is no ransom. It is a story I made up to get the others away."

  "What?" Marc exclaimed. "They'll kill us when they get back. You bastard, I'll bet that was your plan all..."

  Tahir raised his rifle. "What is he saying? Why is the infidel angry?"

  "I told him to behave or else I would keep him tied up and let him soil his clothing."

  Tahir laughed and turned to leave the hut. "Hurry up and finish with them. I will brew some coffee."

  Muammar waited until the other man left the hut. "Do not think ill of me, Dr Andrews. Were it not for my efforts you would be dead already." He turned and squatted beside Dani. "Please, Dr Hanser, wait an hour and then call out as if in pain. If you are convincing, I may be able to free you all."

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  Chapter Thirteen

  Nazim Manouk, Bashir's aide and secretary, flew into Cairo with a crate containing all the papers and possessions belonging to the British Syrian Expedition. There was no customs inspection and the contents remained locked away. Accompanying Nazim was a Syrian army officer who owed a debt to the Under-Minister and was eager to pay it off. Bashir had put in a phone call to a high-ranking officer in Damascus and had Lieutenant Jamal Al-Din placed on detached duty as a liaison between the Minister and the Egyptian military. Bashir drew Nazim aside in the Cairo airport and explained the matter to him.

  "I don't fully trust Colonel Sarraj, and I need someone who understands the military mind. I need someone utterly loyal to me."

  "I am loyal, Minister," Nazim murmured.

  "Well of course you are, Nazim. Now, have all the baggage sent to this ship at the docks. We sail for Luxor this afternoon." Bashir handed his secretary a slip of paper with the name of a freighter on it.

  "Wouldn't it be quicker to fly down to Luxor, sir?"

  "I want to get the feel of the river first. This is my first time in Egypt and I want to experience it all. Besides, it may be some days before Sarraj has a launch ready for us."

  Later that day, the three men and their stores were aboard a small rusting river freighter called the 'Gamal An Nil' or 'Nile Beauty'. The stores lay in the hold along with other containers making the trip upriver to Luxor, but the accommodation was limited to small cabins with very basic amenities. Nazim and Lieutenant Al-Din accepted them without comment, but Bashir grumbled until the captain of the 'Beauty' suggested he find passage on another vessel if he was not satisfied.

  The freighter eased out into the river channel and started churning its slow way south against the current. The muffled thump and rattle of the engines was felt through the rusting iron plates of the decking rather than heard, and after an hour or so their senses tuned it out, allowing them to enjoy the voyage. Cityscape gave way to villages; industrial land became farmland and reed beds, while palms and acacia trees softened the edges of the river. Nazim and Jamal came on deck and stood by the rail, watching the land slide slowly past. Farmers worked their land, ploughing and tilling as their forefathers had done down the centuries, and small boys watched over flocks of sheep, goats and cattle. Fishing boats and other watercraft plied the wide expanse of water, a breeze ruffling the surface and reflections of the bright sun dancing in their wake.

  "It is very beautiful," Jamal Al-Din remarked.

  "You have been to Egypt before?"

  "I have never been out of Syria. I thought my own country beautiful, but this is glorious. I can feel millions of people and thousands of years crowding around me."

  Nazim smiled. "I expected an army officer but I have found a romantic."

  "Can I not be both?"

  They stood and took in the sights in silence for many minutes.

  "What exactly are my duties?" Jamal asked.

  "What have you been told?" Nazim countered.

  "The Minister called in a favour. I was assigned to him and told to obey him as if he was my commanding officer."

  "Then do that." After a few minutes, Nazim added, "The Egyptian military is keeping an eye on us and giving us some assistance. Your job will be to liaise with them if necessary and report back to the Minister."

  "Report back on what?"

  "Anything and everything."

  For Bashir, the long trip on the Nile was an opportunity to relax before the stresses of the search engulfed him. He spent the whole of the first full day sitting on the deck of the steamer, staring avidly at the passing scenery. He took breakfast under an awning, and smoked cigarettes and drank strong black coffee while he made notes in a small book. There were certain preparations that needed to be made, but there was little he could accomplish until they docked in Luxor. After breakfast, he put his notebook away and contemplated the scenes slowly drifting past him. He revelled in the sight of cliffs and desert, of farmland and orchard, villages and towns, little fishing dhows and patches of reed bed where birds abounded. He saw swirls in the water and imagined them to be crocodiles; ducks lifted in a thunder of wings from the reed beds and he imagined bronzed archers in loincloths bringing them down with swift arrows; he saw ruins on the banks and imagined them rebuilt and glorious, teeming with priests and nobles. From time to time, Nazim unobtrusively provided him with coffee or, as the sun climbed higher in the sky, with cold drinks and sweet pastries as snacks.

  The ship slowed as night approached and though they had lights aboard, in the absence of a pilot familiar with that stretch of the river, they tied up at an overnight dock. The passengers were responsible for their own meals and Nazim bought ingredients from local farmers and fishers and prepared a simple dish of rice and river fish with fresh vegetables on gas burners set up on the afterdeck. After the meal, the three men sat and looked at the darkened river flowing past, at the dim lights of farming households and the brilliant stars littered across a clear sky. Nazim and Jamal murmured quietly to each other, conscious of Bashir's presence and not wanting to disturb him. A few mosquitoes plagued them at first, but these disappeared as the night cooled. Shadows drifted overhead and the muted calls of hunting owls drifted from the fields close to the water. The water rippled and sucked, slipping past the moored freighter, reflecting the starlight.

  Bashir retired for the night, but Nazim and Jamal stayed up for a while longer, enjoying a last cigarette and a modicum of companionship. The young army officer flicked his butt over the rail, watching its faint red glow arcing to extinction in the dark water.

  "What is it the Minister seeks on this journey deep into Egypt?" Jamal asked. "I ask only that I might serve him efficiently."

  Nazim considered the request, wondering whether to ask Bashir for permission or whether to just assume responsibility himself.

  "What do you know of Egyptian history?" he asked.

  Jamal shrugged. "Almost nothing. I know there were pharaohs who built the pyramids and ruled an empire before the coming of the Prophet, peace be unto him."

  Nazim eyed the man sitting beside him. "You are a man of faith?"

  "Of course."

  "So you believe the gods of the ancient Egyptians to be what, exactly?"

  "They are nothing but djinn or afrit," Jamal said.

  Nazim nodded in the dark. "I don't suppose it matters what you believe as long as you are loyal." He thought for a few moments. "We found an inscription in Syria that hinted at an undiscovered tomb in Egypt. The Minister has decided, for scientific reasons, to test the veracity of the inscription by looking for the tomb. You have heard of King Tutankhamen?"

  "Everyone has heard of him. Why?"

  "The tomb we seek is of his brother--another king."

  Jamal whistled softly. "Important then."

  "Yes." Nazim hesitated, seeking the right words. "It is possible that others--foreigners or even Egyptian military officers may try to cheat the Minister. It will be your job to prevent this."

  "A few soldiers would be useful. I am only one man."

  "The presence of soldiers might precipitate
that very betrayal. Keep your eyes and ears open, Lieutenant Al-Din, and trust no one but me."

  Two days later, the steamer passed by the site of El-Amarna on the eastern bank. Bashir stood at the railing and stared avidly at the crescent gouge in the cliffs and the open land filled with rock and sand and very little else. A harsh and washed out light reduced detail, making everything appear flat and unwelcoming. Nazim stood with Bashir, and Jamal close by, though the lieutenant said nothing, being content to just listen.

  "There it is, Nazim," Bashir murmured. "The royal City of the Sun, Akhet-Aten."

  "It doesn't look like much, Minister. Those piles of rock could be the ruins of palaces and temples, I suppose, but it's hard to tell."

  "Do not be fooled by appearances. Much has been discovered there and no doubt much is yet to be discovered. Perhaps when our present enterprise comes to a successful conclusion, we can release the account of the Scarab inscription and scholars can use it to sift through the ruins with greater knowledge."

  "Your name will forever be associated with Amarna and its kings."

  Bashir looked sharply at Nazim, uncertain whether his secretary was daring to make fun of him. A cormorant dived into the water close by, emerging from the river with a small silvery fish in its bill, and Bashir turned away from Nazim, distracted by the movement.

  "It is amazing to think that all the characters we have come across in the inscription--Akhenaten, Smenkhkare, Ay, Tutankhamen, Horemheb--all walked that land over there, eating, drinking, plotting."

  "Not forgetting Scarab herself," Nazim added. "A mysterious figure, Minister. I'm still not sure just what to make of her. Was she as she described herself or did she invent herself? Did she do what she claimed to have done and if so, did she really meet her gods?" He heard Jamal snort derisively behind him and smiled to himself. "It will be interesting to see her face to face at last, gaze upon her golden mummy mask."

  The crescent desert field of Amarna fell behind them as the rusty 'Gamal An Nil' steadily forged its way upriver. The cliffs marched close upon the river again, crowding the farmland into thin strips along the water's edge. There were fewer villages here, and fewer fishing boats plying their trade--just cliffs and sunburnt desert, hot breezes and the ever-present hawks circling far above. The presence of mankind was never far away though. Ruins dotted the shore and cliffs, and soon the ramparts of the desert receded once more and the green and fertile land pushed outward from the river, the source of all life in Egypt.

  The river curved northeast, then south and southwest to Luxor. Civilisation crowded back, the ancient city known as Waset, Apet, or Thebes, now a bustling modern city replete with all the advances of twentieth century living--traffic, noise, crowds of people, and polluted air and water.

  The 'Gamal An Nil' tied up at the docks in the late morning and Lieutenant Al-Din saw to the unloading of their baggage and its transport to the 'Hotel of the Kings' near the Karnak temple. Bashir and Nazim went straight to the hotel, where the Minister lost no time in relaxing in the best room available, while Nazim went in search of Colonel Sarraj's agents in the city. He returned two hours later, hot and grimy but moderately satisfied, and found that Bashir had eaten a meal and was now fast asleep. While he waited to report his findings, he dined with Jamal, and then bathed and changed into clean clothes, before settling down in the hotel lounge to go over the lists he had prepared. Bashir joined him in the lounge in the early afternoon, also refreshed, and ordered coffee for them both.

  "Thank God we are back in a civilised city, Nazim," Bashir said, settling into an over-stuffed armchair. "A week of basic living on that boat is about as much as I could take. I feel clean again--rested and ready for discovery."

  "There may be more hardship to come, Minister. If the tomb proves to be in the desert, there may be weeks of roughing it in tents."

  Bashir waved the idea away dismissively, and poured himself a coffee from the silver pot a servant had placed on the table beside him. "Has Sarraj provided the launch?"

  "Yes, Minister. It is fuelled and supplied with food and drink."

  "Excellent. We'll start the search tomorrow."

  "Have you given consideration to how we identify the place, Minister? The inscription was rather vague."

  "We know the region of river it must be in. We'll scout the area and see if anything matches the description."

  "Do we know the region of river, Minister?"

  "Of course. You have told me yourself--three days upriver from Waset--Luxor."

  "Three days by fully laden galley, rowed by weary and injured soldiers. Is that rowing continually for seventy-two hours or only daylight hours?" Nazim grimaced. "The account is vague and I have made some preliminary calculations in the hope of narrowing down our search."

  "And?"

  "Seventy-two hours with fresh rowers and a light load could take a galley all the way up to modern-day Aswan. That is an enormous stretch of river to search."

  Bashir swore. "Are we beaten before we start, then?"

  "Perhaps not, Minister. Taking into consideration the state of the men and the load they carried, I think they would get no further than Edfu."

  Bashir consulted a map. "That's still a lot of river."

  "We know they went upriver for three days. I have calculated the minimum distance they must have travelled as well--Esna. My estimate places what we seek between Esna and Edfu."

  "That is much better. Well done, Nazim. It looks like I was right to bring you along after all."

  "Your praise warms my heart, Minister."

  Bashir looked up sharply, wondering if he detected a faint nuance of sarcasm. After a moment, he dismissed his suspicion. "If we fail to identify the site, we might need to re-examine the inscription. Speaking of which, Nazim, there are numerous references in it to the golden scarab. Remember? And somewhere, something about it being hidden--disguised in some way."

  Nazim frowned. "Vaguely, but I didn't pay much attention to the story as such, being more concerned with making sure the recording equipment worked. Is it important?"

  "I don't know, but the thought has been running around in my head."

  "I could check it for you. The original accounts and translations are in the crate we brought along."

  Bashir nodded and sipped his strong coffee. "Do so, when you have the time, but don't shirk your other duties. I dare say it's not important, but I'd like to be certain."

  "There is one other thing, Minister," Nazim said after a few moments. "While I was out I heard a rumour that a tomb shaft had just been discovered, carved into the river cliffs a little south of Esna. That is in the region where we expect Scarab's tomb to be."

  Bashir spluttered over his coffee, putting the cup down with a clatter and dabbing at his suit with a handkerchief. "They've found it? That's...that's a disaster. Why didn't you tell me immediately?"

  Nazim shrugged.

  Bashir wiped his hands absently on the coffee-stained handkerchief. "Are you sure?"

  "No, Minister. As I said, it's a rumour."

  "If it's true, we are finished. Everything will have been for nothing. How do we find out the truth of it?"

  "I would imagine the Director of the Luxor Museum would know. Someone in your position should be able to get in to see him at short notice."

  "Yes, yes of course." Bashir looked at his watch and leapt to his feet. "I'll go immediately. Make yourself useful while I'm gone, Nazim."

  Bashir rushed out of the hotel and took a taxi to the Luxor Museum. He asked for the Director and gave his own name, flashing his diplomatic papers at the flustered receptionist. After a few minutes waiting impatiently by the front desk, a young man arrived and led him along corridors and down stairs to a small office in the basement with the name Dr Hosni Maroun on the door.

  A small bespectacled man in a faded tweed suit and bow tie got up from behind a desk to greet his visitor. "Minister Bashir, from the Department of National History in Damascus? You are a long way from home."
r />   "Er, yes. Thank you for seeing me, Dr Maroun. You are the Director of the museum?"

  "No. Dr Karim Zewali is currently in Cairo, so I am deputising for him. How may I be of assistance? Is it to do with King Smenkhkare?"

  Bashir opened his mouth in astonishment and then closed it with a snap. "How did you know? Has someone been talking?"

  Maroun smiled. "You spoke with Director Nasrallah in Cairo concerning this matter. I did not realise it was a confidence." He gestured toward a chair. "Please have a seat, Minister. Yes, we in Egypt are very possessive about our historical artefacts, I suppose because so much of it has been looted in the past."

  "I assure you that is not my intention."

  "Of course not, but we like to keep tabs on what goes on. Naturally, Director Nasrallah informed me of your interest."

  "I understand you have recently discovered a tomb shaft."

  "And you wondered whether we had pipped you at the post."

  "Pipped me...? Ah, yes, the thought had crossed my mind."

  Dr Maroun sat and stared at Bashir for a few moments. "Please do not take offence, Minister Bashir, but excavations within Egypt should be carried out by experts--Egyptian experts of the Department of Antiquities."

  "Of course. I would expect nothing less. My own interest in this matter is solely to determine the veracity of an inscription found in Syria--currently being investigated by Syrian experts of the National History Ministry. I hoped we could work together on this, just as our two countries are joined politically in the great United Arab Republic."

  "What was it again you hoped to find?" Maroun asked. "Director Nasrallah spoke to me but I admit to being a little confused. There was talk of Smenkhkare and someone called Scarab, as well as Beketaten, Akhenaten and Tutankhamen."

  Bashir grimaced and nodded. "The truth of the matter is, Dr Maroun, the inscription that was found in Syria hints of a tomb in this area, and we are not really sure whose it is, or even of its actual existence."

  "Well, Minister Bashir, I believe I can set your mind at rest. It is not the tomb of Pharaoh Smenkhkare."

  "You...you have opened it? Who...who was...was in it?"