The Amarnan Kings, Book 6: Scarab - Descendant

by Overton, Max

  "I wonder where Marc and Muammar are," Dani said. "I hope they're safe."

  "If I know Marc, he's even now on his way to Luxor, having divined our purpose, or having read the letter you left. He's probably on that little fishing boat there..." Daffyd pointed out over the water to a small boat tacking across the river. "It's been following us for a while." He waved, but there was no response from the little craft and after a while it put in to the eastern shore near a village. "Or perhaps not," he murmured.

  "Doesn't matter, they'll be all right now, I'm sure. Just soak in that scenery, Dafs. Makes you glad to be alive."

  "Oh, I know, old girl. I've always wanted to visit the land of the pharaohs and here I am, courtesy of a bit of Syrian serendipity. What are the chances, eh?"

  "I don't think it was chance."

  Daffyd smiled. "Determinism? You think all this was fated?"

  "I don't know about fate, but I think we're being guided."

  "By God?"

  Dani laughed lightly. "I think there is more than one possibility. A god or gods is definitely there, but possibilities could also include disembodied spirits, the collective unconscious you like to quote or just our own subconscious."

  "You've changed your tune. It wasn't that long ago you decried any attempt to indicate there was more to you than plain Dani Hanser--not that plain could ever describe you."

  "I've had time to think, and being on the river is doing something to me. Maybe I'm just being wooed by the romanticism of a Nile cruise but..." Dani lapsed into silence.

  Daffyd gave her a few moments before asking, "But what?"

  "But that dream I had, the old woman at the temple and...I feel like I've been here before."

  "D�j� vu you mean?"

  "No, more than that. It's like I'm having a lucid dream. You know what that is, Dafs?"

  "I've heard the term."

  "More specifically, a wake-initiated lucid dream. That's where a person who is awake slips into a dream state without losing consciousness."

  "Daydreaming, you mean? We all do that, old girl."

  "No, it's more than that. In a lucid dream you know you're dreaming and you can influence the course of the dream. I do that sometimes, Dafs. I used to a lot when I was a child. My grandmother..."

  "The Egyptian one?"

  Dani nodded. "She used to say I lived more in the dream world than the waking one."

  Daffyd said nothing, but Dani did not seem to notice.

  "I'm sort of having one now," she continued.

  "What? What do you mean?"

  "If I focus, the boat seems much longer...and broader too. There are men pulling on oars and talking. They are subdued, depressed even...as if... as if they've lost a battle..."

  "You can see this? Where?"

  "All around us." Dani looked down and frowned. "How strange. I'm wearing a kilt and my breasts are bare..." She smiled. "They're larger than mine. I have streaks and spots of blood on me. I've been in a fight."

  "Dani, you know all this from the account on the chamber walls. You've read and lived Scarab's life, so of course you know what she did and where she's been. You're describing the account of the flight from Thebes after the big battle with Horemheb. All you can see is just a dream derived from a familiar account. Don't assume it's real."

  "It seems real, Dafs. Look, I'm not totally around the twist. I know I'm sitting here with you in the twentieth century, talking to you, seeing the modern-day river craft and towns, but if I concentrate..." Dani fell silent for a few seconds. "...there are no other boats, no towns, just a huge expanse of river and vegetation surrounded by desert cliffs. The sun feels hot on me, I feel tired and my muscles are aching..."

  "You see what you expect to see, old girl. This expedition has all been too much for you, coming hard on the heels of your translation. You've been through a lot, had the most precious thing of yours taken away, and your mind is clinging to what it knows...to what it thinks it knows. You need rest, lots of it, to drive these images from your mind."

  Dani closed her eyes and sighed. "You think I'm imagining all this? That what I see is a construct of my mind woven from the things I read in the account?"

  "I'm afraid so, old girl."

  "Not so much of the 'old', Dafs...and you're wrong. I can prove it."

  "How?"

  She opened her eyes and turned toward the stern of the boat. "There's Huni, one of my brother's soldiers. I read about him in the account, but it never mentioned he had a birthmark. He does, a port wine stain, over his left shoulder. How could I know that unless I could see it?"

  "Is there any way of determining whether this Huni had such a mark...or even that he existed?" Daffyd asked gently. "You know the name from the account, and your imagination is filling in the blanks. There's no way you can prove what you see is real."

  "You don't believe me."

  "It's not a matter of belief or disbelief. You're having this vision, waking dream, lucid dream, hallucination--call it what you will--and I think that in your present state you're unable to distinguish fact from fiction. I doubt if your conscious mind even knows the difference."

  Dani smiled wanly. "So when we get to Luxor you'll be calling for the boys in white coats with straitjackets and butterfly nets, will you?"

  "And get us both arrested? Nonsense. You're not barmy, just very tired. I think you should take a few days off when we get to Luxor. I'll find Nazim. There's not much we can do anyway, until we get the golden scarab."

  "No, I've got the real Scarab instead. I don't think I need the carving any more, Dafs. I think I could see the position of the tomb in one of my dreams."

  "Yes, but that's the whole point, old...Dani lass, you'd think you saw it, but there'd be no proof you actually were seeing it. It could just be your imagination filling in blanks again."

  Dani was silent for a long time, staring out over the water as the last of the summer twilight drained out of the western sky and stars brightened in the body of the night. At one point she cocked her head on one side, looking so intently at a hatch near her that Daffyd got up to examine it more closely. He could see nothing of any interest, so sat down again, content to give Dani the peace she so obviously needed.

  "I can prove it," Dani said suddenly. "I can prove this is more than an illusion. Listen, Kare the ship's master was just talking to me..." She saw Daffyd's expression and pointed at the hatch. "He was kneeling over there. Anyway, he told me about an island we'll be drawing alongside very soon--round that next bend."

  "So?"

  "So I've never been to Egypt have I? Never taken a Nile cruise? How could I possibly know something like that unless I was getting the information from somebody who'd been there?"

  "You've looked at maps of the area," Daffyd pointed out. "I was with you."

  "Those maps showed roads and towns, not the river in any detail. It was no more than a heavy blue line running north and south. Did you see any islands or anything depicted?"

  Daffyd had to concede he had not.

  "So in a few minutes we are going to round that bend in the river and see this island and there's no way I could know of the existence of it unless someone told me. And the only person who has told me is the ship's master from my lucid dream--whom you don't believe exists."

  "I didn't exactly say I didn't believe you, lass. It's just that you haven't been able to prove it to me."

  "Well, hang onto your hat, Dafs, because in a few minutes I'll make you eat it." Dani got up and walked to the rail, leaning out and looking forward to catch her first glimpse of the promised island. Daffyd came after her, standing close, one arm around her to prevent any act of imbalance tipping her over the side. He kept his eyes on her, his forehead wrinkled in a frown of worry, rather than on the river ahead.

  "Any moment now..."

  The river curved in a broad sweep, the water dark between village-speckled shores, and Dani leaned out further, her eyes searching.

  "Where is it?"

  The riv
er straightened again. It remained flat and featureless with no contour breaking its limpid surface. Dani slumped against the rail and Daffyd caught her in his arms, guiding her back to the chairs. He held her close while her shoulders shook and waited in silence for her to gather herself.

  "I was so sure it was there. Why would he lie?"

  "The ship's master?"

  "Yes, Kare. Why would he tell me...Scarab...something like that if it wasn't true?"

  Daffyd said nothing, waiting for Dani to draw her own conclusions.

  "It was my imagination filling in the blanks again, wasn't it?"

  "Afraid so, lass. It is the most likely explanation..." A thought occurred to him. Daffyd closed his eyes and muttered an imprecation under his breath.

  "What?"

  "I have to be honest--there is another explanation. It's been over three thousand years. An island could have long since vanished in that time."

  Dani sat up and looked at the small dark Welshman beside her. She smiled. "Poor Dafs, what it must have cost you to admit that, not wanting to foster what you see as my delusion."

  "Ah well, I'd rather be honest with you."

  "I appreciate it."

  They sat in companionable silence for a while longer, watching the river flowing by, lit now by a rising moon. They each kept their own thoughts to themselves, though Dani's eyes often flicked aft as if watching something unseen.

  Dani felt a tremor in Daffyd's arm and turned from her contemplation to the present day. "You're shivering." She looked down at her own jacket and at his thin shirt. "I've been selfish keeping you out in the cold. Go inside, I'll be all right."

  "I'll wait a while."

  "You don't want to leave me out here alone, do you? Do you think I'll do something stupid?"

  "Not really, lass, but you're experiencing something intensely emotional and such things are better shared, if only with an unbelieving codger like myself."

  "I can't think of anyone I'd rather share my thoughts and feelings with. But I'm still being selfish keeping you out here. Let's both go in." Dani got to her feet and smiled. "I wonder if the ferry catering runs to a nice hot cup of coffee or soup."

  They moved forward to the stairs to the lower deck and Daffyd waited for her, standing aside. Dani turned to look over at the moonlit river as she stepped onto the first step and hesitated, her eyes wide and staring.

  "It's there," she murmured. "The tomb is directly west of here."

  "You can see it?" Daffyd asked. "It's too dark to see anything."

  "It's broad daylight in my dream," Dani said with a smile. "There's already a boat on the shore and my friends are climbing the cliff track to the pylon..." She fell silent. "It's gone."

  "The tomb?"

  "No, my vision. Scarab's left me."

  Daffyd helped Dani down the stairs and along the lower deck to the doors admitting them to the interior of the ferry. Lights and a hubbub of conversation spilled out onto the deck as the doors opened, cutting off abruptly as they closed. Neither of them saw Ali Hafiz emerge from the shadows beneath the stairs.

  * * *

  The ferry pulled into the docks at Luxor a few minutes before midnight, navigation lights guiding the captain in and enabling him to ease alongside the terminal jetty with minimal fuss. Passengers started disembarking, and Dani and Daffyd shuffled along with their few possessions in hand. On the docks they could see the dispersing passengers and a small group of soldiers.

  "I wonder what they're doing here," Daffyd murmured. "I think we should avoid them; we don't want to risk being asked for our papers."

  As soon as they reached the dock, Daffyd steered Dani away from the soldiers, but Hafiz stopped him. "You cannot leave the docks in that direction. The gates are locked at night. You will have to come this way." He pointed past the soldiers.

  "There are other people going in that direction."

  "They are locals and will be let through the gates. Come this way."

  Hafiz ushered Dani and Daffyd toward the soldiers, stopping in front of the officer. "Colonel Sarraj, these people are the ones you seek."

  Dani gasped and stepped back, but the soldiers quickly surrounded them, rifles at the ready. Daffyd glared at Hafiz and then moved closer to Dani, slipping his arm around her protectively.

  Sarraj coolly looked them over. "So, Dr Danielle Hanser and Dr Daffyd Rhys-Williams, we meet at last."

  "And who the hell are you, boyo?" Daffyd asked.

  "I am Colonel Michel Sarraj, and I am here to arrest you."

  "On what charges?"

  "Entering the country illegally should do for a start."

  Return to Contents

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Muammar led Marc to one of the parks along the river, where they washed their hair free of desert dust and drank deeply from the water in one of the fountains. Several people passing by stared, but no one accosted them and Muammar started back into the city streets.

  "We need to find my second cousin. You remember I mentioned him?"

  "You know his address?"

  "Not exactly, but I think I can find it."

  "You've been to Edfu before?" Marc asked. "I thought you said you hadn't been in Egypt."

  "So I did, and no I haven't." Muammar would not say more, just smiled and walked on. He stopped from time to time and spoke with whoever was close by--though always men--short conversations in Arabic, sometimes altering the direction of their travel after doing so. Gradually, they neared the city centre and their path diverged less and less.

  "Nearly there, I think." Muammar spoke with another man, this time at length, following the man's gestures as much as his words. Thanking the man, he led Marc up the street and to an unprepossessing door set in a brick wall.

  "Here?" Marc asked.

  Muammar nodded and knocked. Minutes passed and he knocked again, this time rewarded by the door opening and a bearded face peering out of the gloom.

  "Yes?" said the man.

  "Are you Mohammad ibn Sukrah?"

  The man stared at the two men on his doorstep with suspicion. "Who wants to know?"

  "I am Muammar al-Hadi, son of Mostafa al-Hadi and A'isha bint Hawid. I am the son of your mother's sister's daughter. I ask the hospitality of your house for myself and my companion, Dr Marc Andrews."

  "Never let it be said that I turned away my cousin. Enter and make this house your home."

  Mohammad stood aside to let his guests inside. Following Muammar's lead, Marc removed his shoes and followed the other men into an inside room, where Mohammad and Muammar embraced. Their host gestured to a sofa and waited for them to seat themselves before calling out, "Juman."

  A woman appeared from a concealed doorway, and Mohammad ordered coffee for his guests. While the woman busied herself in the kitchen--they could hear the sounds of pots and china being arranged--Mohammad enquired as to the health and welfare of any of the family members associated with Muammar's relations.

  All conversation took place in Arabic, and Muammar did not bother translating anything, so Marc's attention wandered. He looked at the wall hangings in a desultory fashion, noted the presence of a large wood-inlaid radio on a small table in one corner, and followed the tracery of a pattern in the rich wool carpet underfoot. Stifling a yawn, he ran his fingers through his beard and crossed his legs, the sole of his foot ending up pointing at their host.

  Muammar saw his cousin's outraged expression and turned quickly. "Marc, quickly, uncross your legs," he snapped.

  Marc obeyed without thinking, but then asked, "Why?"

  "It's very bad manners for the sole of your foot to point at anyone. Apologise and sound as if you mean it. I'll translate."

  "It's only my foot, for God's sake," Marc mumbled.

  "When will you learn that you're in another country, with people who have different customs and values? Just apologise, please."

  "Oh all right, you don't have to go on about it. Mr Mohammad, I'm sorry if I offended you. I
didn't mean to."

  Muammar quickly translated, adding, "Please excuse the infidel's lack of manners, cousin. I promised his...his elders that I would look after him, but he is a stranger to civilised ways."

  "It seems that was a rash promise you made, cousin, but for your sake I will excuse his bad manners."

  "Thank you, cousin."

  Coffee arrived and Mohammad poured cups of sweet black brew for his guests. They both drank and their cups were refilled. When they finished, Juman appeared again and removed the cups. Mohammad took out a crumpled piece of paper from his gallibaya and smoothed it out.

  "Perhaps you can explain this, cousin. It seems to pertain to you and your infidel friend."

  Muammar took the piece of paper and read Dani's letter, passing it to Marc when he finished. "This was given to you by a European man and woman?"

  "No. Imam Abdel Nour handed it to me this afternoon. He tells me one of the attendants at the Dhuhr prayers in the mosque today was seen to throw it away, and out of curiosity, retrieved it. It is written in English, so neither he, nor I, could read it, but the envelope, from which the paper was obviously removed, bore both your name, cousin, and mine. I know this," Mohammad added, "Because Imam Nour took it to a man who can read English. He was concerned that the person who threw it away may have wanted it back, and sought to identify him. When he found it was addressed to me, he delivered it, with an explanation."

  "Did the man who could read English tell you or the imam what was written in the letter?"

  "No, and I did not enquire once I knew it was addressed to you. I did not expect to see you, but I held it in case you turned up. Evidently, the letter writer knew of your imminent arrival."

  Muammar told Mohammad of the contents of the letter.

  "It mentions Hafiz," Marc said. "Is that the same Hafiz, do you think?"

  Muammar translated Marc's question for the benefit of his cousin. "I think it likely."

  "This Hafiz is an enemy?" Mohammad asked.

  "If it is the same man. He tried to kill us."

  Muammar hesitated before he went on. "Cousin, was there anything else with this letter. It mentions English pounds--twenty of them."