‘Look. As arranged. He’s distracting the guards.’
I could make out a group of young men standing around the harbour edge holding long poles. We could just hear them chatting and laughing, above the slapping of the waves against the tiny jetty. Light from the firebrands reflected on metal, suggesting armour and swords. They were only the length of a cricket pitch away. Luckily, their backs were to us as they watched the juggler and we disembarked in silence, making our way up to the garden outside the palace. The boatmen who had brought us over, pushed off straight away and rowed on silently, quickly disappearing into the murk.
We walked slowly in single file round the edges of the garden. Above us the palms swayed with quiet majesty, hiding and revealing sparkling stars as we moved. Angelos took the lead, followed by Håkan and then Anastasia. I came next, with Nysa and Devorah behind. The weak light from lamps along the harbour gave us just enough illumination to separate out the back of the person in front from a pillar or a bush. We eased our way up the steps and approached the great doors. They stood slightly ajar. Angelos stopped just outside them, his hand half raised and we all froze where we were. He remained entirely motionless for enough time to allow an egg to become hard boiled. The muscles in my leg ached and knotted. I half-bent down to rub my calf and prevent complete cramp setting in. When I straightened up Angelos, Håkan and Anastasia had vanished. I looked around in panic and Nysa grinned and pointed to the door now opened wider. I entered the darkness of the palace room and careered straight into Anastasia’s back.
She caught my arm and squeezed it none too gently. Nysa came up next to her and Anastasia whispered something. I caught a vision of legs, and frowned. It made no sense.
‘The guard. He’s been knocked out or worse. Angelos tripped over his legs. The guard’s been gagged.’ Nysa provided the commentary.
‘We’re not alone,’ she continued.
‘Are we going back?’ I formulated the words with care in my mind, with a mixture of relief and disappointment rising up inside me. Nysa shook her head which I sensed rather than saw.
‘We can’t. The boat is meeting us by the hidden door. We have to go on.’
Probably the adrenaline would have kicked in at that point anyway, but the sound of shouting ahead of us produced that effect in spades. We took each other’s hands and walked across the pale mosaic floor, heading towards the dim rectangle of less black darkness that suggested the side doors. The freshness of the sea cleared my head as we emerged onto the colonnade. Nysa still clutched my hand in hers and I felt reluctant to let go. We were heading straight towards where the shouts came from.
‘We must go through the labyrinth. It’s the only way out.’
I squeezed her hand in response. They’d told me in the warehouse that we would have to make our way through the maze of the Labyrinth Library. Apparently Nysa would lead the way as she’d recently passed through it and no changes had been made. We approached. Above the door two twisted copper clips showed where the sword had been displayed only a few days ago.
We could hear at least two voices quite close by. This area had lamplight. Nysa’s eyes sparkled once more and her mouth had a compressed look I associated with someone about to run a competitive sprint. She released my hand and whispered very quietly in Angelos’s ears. He nodded and drew a long dagger from the folds of his charcoal grey cloak. He beckoned Nysa forward. She took my hand once more and looked across at Håkan, standing by Anastasia.
‘They have entered the labyrinth and are lost. We’re going to slip through. Even if they see us, if we are swift we will outrun them. If they catch us Angelos will deal with them. Our job is to keep on moving forward.’
She waited to ensure we all understood. Perhaps the other girls could follow her thoughts or maybe they already knew the plan. Holding Nysa’s hand, I reached back for Håkan. We slipped past a picture of some pale-faced god surrounded by voluptuous women, and entered the curving rows of storage slots. I looked around desperately for the books we were meant to be saving and then remembered that in this era writing was on scrolls, which must be what was stuffed into these giant cubby holes. Nysa hardly paused. We padded silently, first in one direction and then another. At one point we could hear our fellow library visitors just on the other side of the high shelving. The tone of their voices and the tinge of panic in them suggested they realised coming in here hadn’t been such a good idea. The light danced on the ceiling far above from the flaming torches they carried. I think they balked at the idea of setting alight their own funeral pyre.
At a gap between one circle of storage and a more inner one, Nysa paused. She pointed out a hieroglyph of a feather, near the floor. A wave of terror swept through me. A sense of despair quickly followed, much like I’d felt with the vision of my own dad begging in some horrible Hammerford future. Nysa took a deep breath and pulled me through the gap. The feelings left instantly. Moments later we stood near a giant cow with a sun between its horns.
‘A bull,’ corrected Nysa, a little smile of triumph on her face. I nodded, had a closer peek and concluded she was correct. We stood at the centre. Now what?
Nysa let go of my hand and led the way down a passage towards a stone chamber glowing with lamplight, some metres ahead of us.
Angelos spoke. Out loud. My heart hammered itself almost out of my chest. Was he an idiot? The older boy grinned at us as he tugged on a long chain hanging near the door to the chamber. It moved silently but a distant soft rasping noise answered as he pulled. Nysa looked at both Håkan and me.
‘The library is now closed and will hold its quarry. The only way out is now through this room. And that way has its own perils.’ Nysa’s teeth flashed another smile.
“Will they die?”
We entered the room with a large pillar in the middle. All the walls had paintings. Angelos led us to look at the right-hand wall and studied the picture there. I recognised Anubis, the jackal-headed god, and my favourite, the Lady with the feather on her head. Nysa and Angelos stared at some smaller pictures, nodded to each other and then had us stand in the far left corner of the room.
Angelos pointed to a rectangular stone that stood out, literally, from the back wall, and had a face of some type of anteater on it. He said something and I got we were absolutely not to touch this. He and Nysa pushed on other pictures and they depressed inwards. Moments later, by the other back corner, a huge slab of the floor slid under the wall, making a dull grinding noise. The young men stuck in the labyrinth shouted, fear and anger colouring their words. The girls descended into this new hole, with Anastasia leading Håkan.
Angelos beckoned to me. He knelt down by my knees and grasped my legs. He was really strong. He stood up, lifting me high towards the lamps over our heads.
‘Swing.’
I got the message and pushed the lamp. It swung on the chains that went high up to the ceiling in the total murk above. We repeated the exercise with the other lamp, producing a weird effect on the pictures in the room. They almost came alive and didn’t now have a very friendly disposition. Angelos shouted something rude, judging by the disturbing anatomical image that arose in my mind, and we ducked down the stone stairs to the room below the chamber. We could hear feet flapping about somewhere above us. Angelos spoke slowly in his own language.
‘Now they will easily find the Apis Bull and the chamber. But it will be their sarcophagus unless and until the librarians decide to let them out. Let’s hope there are librarians still left alive tomorrow to do so.’
He grinned without any mirth in his eyes. He pulled a lever and a rasping noise accompanied the stone ceiling juddering back into place above us.
‘Come. We’ve a task to do.’
For some hours we worked in a blur of activity. In these rooms below the library other scrolls were stored, along with strange chimney-shaped pillars of pale clay, full of writing I couldn’t begin to fathom. We carried our precious parchments, scrolls and tubes of ancient wisdom across a large room decorated
with lovely frescoes that I didn’t have time to study. Sweat dripped into my eyes and the regular blast of sea air became a welcome respite when we made it outside to where the boat had been docked. The ceremonial room, as Nysa called it, had a further stairway going down. After descending this and following a corridor, we came to a doorway leading to a vestibule and a further door. Both stood open. We emerged onto a hidden outer area behind high rocks. We descended a few more stairs and reached a tiny wharf hidden behind an outcrop of rocks further out to sea. Here our boat bobbed up and down. Strong hands took our precious cargo and stowed it with great care. Above us stars twinkled. On this side of the island we could hear nothing of the harbour life and could just make out the top of the great Pharos Lighthouse. The boatmen didn’t come inside and seemed a little nervous of what they were handling with such gentle concern.
“We’re finished.” Nysa smiled, her teeth brilliantly white against her charcoal-dark face. “Come,” she murmured, “something you must see.”
We followed her back to the room under the painted chamber with its clever trick wall. One set of stairs ascended, to end in the ceiling made by the huge slab of stone that had returned to its original position. On the other side of the room, away from the door we had been passing in and out of like pack animals, a narrower stairway rose up much higher. I followed Nysa up and she pointed out a hollow area in the wall. Pressing my face into that I could look through a peephole into the chamber beyond the labyrinth. The paintings in the room still swayed like a crazy ship at sea, as the lamps continued to swing. Two young men paced up and down the wobbling room. They held smoking torches in their hands. The air now had a haze and one of them coughed. Their eyes darted about this way and that and despite their tans they were very pale.
I descended the stairs and let Håkan have a look.
‘Will they die?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Nysa smiled a tight smile at me. “It’s important they respect the Library and now they will. I don’t think any of their friends will come this way anytime soon. I’m sure the Lady, Hypatia, will see they get released. Eventually.”
‘We must go.” This from Angelos.
Some few minutes later we were far out into the harbour once more, gliding through the darkness, this time with Maimonides’ ship giving its distracting display on our left.
“Now we become slaves.” Nysa rubbed my arm and grinned up at me. “It’s going to be quite an adventure.”
I’d a horrible suspicion she might be right!
A Smelly Ride
Our smelly cart crunched and bumped its way over the uneven road. We lay or sat on the soft straw, watching the Nile to one side of us and the cultivated fields on the other change hour by hour and remain essentially the same. The upright poles of our mobile prison were made from thick bamboo. A crosspiece of stout planking, extending all round these poles and lashed to them, had cooking pans and water sacks attached. Over our heads a torn canvas covering protected us from the relentless sun. A flap of the same stained material could be unrolled on the outside of either side of our contraption, meaning fair-skinned slaves like me would not end up lobster red.
Four substantial horses pulled us along. Angelos sat outside with the driver, his hair now oiled, a dagger at his belt and the black lines around his eyes giving him the look of a young slaver. Our driver, as big as two all-in wrestlers rolled into one, gave me great confidence we were not about to be sold to some Nubian potentate for his amusement. We were being driven by Magnus, the man mountain who’d saved me more than once already.
‘We’re halfway there.’
‘Oh, good,’ I responded to Nysa. ‘I’ll miss the smell when we finally get out of this cart.’
She smiled. Nysa had a grubby cloth pulled over her head, and wore an old dress from one of her servants. Anastasia wore gaudy clothes with her bare tummy just showing. She had a circlet of silver coins around her forehead. Her hair, which she kept rearranging this way and that, hung loose and had taken on a dusty quality. Håkan sat close by, dressed like me in a simple tunic with a thin blanket to keep him warm at night. Devorah had fallen asleep with her head in Nysa’s lap. One of her sandals had slipped off a rather grimy foot. To be honest, I hardly noticed the smell any more, designed to keep the curious at a distance.
It had been Myrna’s idea when we set off from the warehouse in the early hours of dawn, the same night we’d taken the scrolls from the library. The straw covering the bottom of the cart had a sweet smell and proved to be surprisingly soft as we walked over it. Myrna had taken a phial from her satchel and dribbled a gooey liquid around the edges of the cart. Aroma de cat pee mixed with fragrance of foot rot. Goodness only knows how she’d made it. We all protested, but she pointed out in her own silent way, that it would keep us safe by disguising us. We could remain the sweet-smelling children of merchants that most of us actually were.
We’d left Alexandria through the southern gate. It had taken a good thirty minutes to weave through the streets even at that early hour. Although most of the rioters seemed to have gone to their beds, market traders were abroad and our cart became involved in more than one argument. The conflict resolved swiftly once Magnus stood up. Just outside the city gates, stallholders were setting up their wares by lamplight. Various people milled around waiting for the bell that would indicate strangers could enter the city. I saw the black twins at the same moment they spotted our cart. One leaned close to the other. I pretended to be dozing, sitting leaning against the struts of our new home, and tuned into their talk.
‘Is that them?’
‘Dunno. They look filthy, not the highborn and the son of kings at all.’
‘Disguised?’
‘Could be. It’s our best bet. We’ve watched here for two days. The prophecy said they’ll move to the south towards the palaces of Sothis.’
‘The Pyramids, you mean.’
‘Just so. Come. Let’s tell Simoneas. We’ll easily catch them.’
Once Alexandria had passed out of sight I told – inwardly – what I’d heard to Nysa and Håkan. Nysa told Angelos, using more conventional means of communication. Magnus as usual didn’t comment. Angelos looked over to me, chewing his lip. He murmured something in Magnus’s ear and Magnus nodded. About half an hour later we came to a crossroads of sorts, with a track leading west away from the Nile that flowed by relentlessly on our left. Magnus eased the horses onto this track and behind a significant clump of palm trees. We took this side road for about fifteen minutes and then he stopped. The man mountain came round and opened the door at the back of our cage. Angelos suggested we stretch our legs. A quick interchange took place between Angelos and Nysa. She pointed at me.
‘Go with him. You can hear best at a distance, better than me. We’ll see if we’re being followed.’
Under Angelos’s direction, I wrapped a clean square cloth around my head, giving myself an air of eastern mystery and keeping the sun off. The heat pressed down on me as we climbed a significant dune behind the trees.
‘Keep low,’ Angelos whispered and gestured at the same time. When we made the crest of our little sandy hill, without stepping on any scorpions or seeing any asps, we surveyed the road we’d followed stretching back several miles. In front of us the Nile glittered in muddy glory. One boat made its way upstream, with its sail flapping in the strong breeze. I wiped sweat from my eyes, and squinted at the road behind us shimmering in the dazzling sunlight. It moved away from the river for a bit, passing through cultivated land on both sides. Rocky outcrops and sandy slopes broke up the view even from our higher vantage point. Anyone following us could not be sure if we were ahead or not.
Angelos poked me. He pointed back towards Alexandria. Dust rose from the road and reflected light flashed from a chariot pulled by two horses. Behind rode three or four men on camels. They would be level with us in about fifteen minutes, I judged.
I turned to ask Angelos a question but already he was loping down the hill in slithering strid
es of sand and dust. I followed and arrived back at the cart streaming with sweat. Angelos went with Håkan back the way our cart had taken, carrying two brushes.
“To hide our tracks,” Anastasia murmured in my direction. I figured as much and studied Anastasia watching Håkan jog alongside Angelos. A little while later they returned and we all drank deeply from our water flasks. We refilled them at the well near the palm trees. I splashed cool water on my face and enjoyed the sensation of drops trickling down my sweaty back. Oh for a shower.
Angelos, Håkan and I climbed back to the lookout point. The party following us, assuming they were, had drawn much closer. They’d stopped a few hundred metres away and we could hear snatches of sound as they talked to each other. I’d not noticed, but the track had divided at that point and they were having to decide which way to go. After studying the ground for a bit they settled on the route we’d taken.
“Sugar! I couldn’t hear what they were saying. A jumble. They all spoke at once.”
Angelos stared at me. I remembered he didn’t speak twenty-first century English. He smiled.
“No, it’s all right,’ said Angelos. ‘We need them in front of us.”
They passed us by five minutes later, never appearing to notice the track to our little wadi. Or perhaps Magnus or Angelos had other powers that misdirected people. The fact was that after that point we didn’t see them again. Maybe they’re not following us after all. But I knew that to be a vain hope. The man standing in the chariot had been Simoneas, with one of his coal-black companions. He’d been looking for me the night I’d arrived. I expected the hunt remained in play, with me as the quarry.
‘Yes. Halfway there. Another two days and you’ll see the pyramids.’ Nysa winked at me and I stopped ruminating.
Yes. That would indeed be mega cool. Then we could get rid of our precious cargo and finally I could go home. I wasn’t sure how that would be accomplished, but I’d not given much thought to the possibility that the rest of my life would be spent in Egypt, watching the Roman Empire collapse from a ringside seat.
Time Knot Page 33
