“What about this one?” Alec asked pointing to another hieroglyph.
Samuel scanned his notes. “The circle is a ball of string or placenta. And this one is a cow’s rib cage, and of course the reed.
“What is it for… an ancient recipe for bovine pâté?”
“Actually no, it means revered one.”
“Yes, I can see the logic there,” Alec raised both brows in exaggeration.
“Alright, so some of it defies logic, but look here.” Samuel pointed to the cat. “These characters actually spell out m, and iw. What say you about that?” Samuel stared at him as though he were a simpleton when he didn’t respond. “M-iw,” he waited. “As in mew… You still don’t get it? Honestly,” he sighed heavily. “Cat… meow?”
“I get it,” Alec stared at him humorlessly as he pulled on his pants. “Can I at least get dressed before you start haranguing me?”
Samuel stood, closing the map inside his book with a snap. “Did I mention you are an absolute delight in the morning?” He gave Alec a look of irritation. “I’ll be down at the bar if you need me,” he added before closing the door behind him.
Alec joined him a few minutes later looking more like a cowboy of the American West than an English lord. He’d opted to forgo the overcoat, which left the gun belt and knife strapped to his thigh exposed. His vest was open over the loose lawn shirt he wore.
“Good God man!” Samuel brows shot up when he saw him. “I thought we were supposed to be going on a scientific expedition, not a hunting trip.”
“I just don’t want to be confused anymore with the prey.” Alec patted one of the revolvers he wore on his side as he spoke.
“That should do it.”
“Where is our guide?” Alec looked around at the other patrons.
“He isn’t allowed in this part of the hotel.”
“No wonder the people here hate the English.”
“Well, don’t blame us. The Turks are the ones in charge.” Samuel swallowed the last of his drink. “We’re to meet him at the boat. It’s set to sail in an hour.” He then turned and ordered a few more bottles. “For the road,” he grinned. “What with the Zulu’s threatening war and making it difficult for the caravans to travel. It could get a little dry. Not to mention that most of the peasants are Muslim. It could get very, very dry.”
Samuel turned back to the attendant. “Have it sent here,” he wrote down the information, “along with our things.” The man nodded but waited patiently.
“Ah, yes.” Samuel handed him several coins. “Baksheesh.” He looked over to Alec after handing over the generous tip. “And you thought we wouldn’t have to grease the wheels of trade.” The man bowed happily and left them.
“I’ve done nothing but since arriving.” Alec replied sarcastically. “How did you hear of an uprising?”
“It’s surprising the kind of information you can glean from fahddling in a bar.”
“Do I want to ask?” Alec gave him a sideways glance.
“Gossiping.” Samuel stood up. “There is a place around the corner that comes highly recommended. Let’s go get something to eat, I’m starving.”
~*~
Samuel swiped at the flies that were hovering around his plate of mutton. Alec joined him on the mat sitting cross-legged before a large bowl of steaming couscous.
“Why can’t a civilization as old as this one discover the benefits of a simple chair?”
“Why don’t you ask them?” Samuel eyed the large man in back who was slicing off hunks of meat with a cleaver. “They look like they’d love to explain it to you.”
Alec looked over to the man who’d been watching them since they’d arrived. “At least this time I’m dressed for the climate.” Alec replied as he returned the cooks icy stare. He adjusted the knife he had placed in his waistband so that he could bend more easily.
“Ah, here he comes.” Samuel said as the server came towards them. “Do you want anything else?”
A fork, Alec thought with rancor as he pulled out the small book of interpretation he’d been reading. Opening it, he pointed to the mutton asking for another plate.
“Ah hell,” Samuel groaned.
The man turned angrily from him and shouted to the man in the back. The cook shook his fist in the air and hollered something in return. Several more men with sharpened cutlery emerged from the rear joining the server upfront.
“What? I did nothing but order another meal of mutton.” Alec seemed surprised by the uproar as the man shook his fist at him.
“Actually, you implied that his mother is a goat.” Samuel sighed with regret.
“I did no such thing!”
“He’s demanding restitution.”
“Of course he is.” Alec gave Samuel a look of irritation. He handed over the book of interpretation pointing out the phrase he had used. “Tell him it was a mistake.”
Samuel reiterated. The large man yanked the book away and skewered it with a sharp pole he’d been waving. He then placed it in the hot coals where it began to smolder.
“Ah…” Samuel looked over at Alec when nothing else was said. “I believe he still wants payment.”
“I figured that.”
The waiter complained vehemently, shaking his hands while pointing to him. Alec stood up, his height giving him some advantage over the shorter men. “Tell them I will pay only for my meal.”
Samuel spoke to them again gesturing with his hands for them to calm down as he rose. The large man argued against him as the server stood behind him.
“Sorry, they are insisting you pay for the insult as well.”
“Tell them I have a least a dozen reasons as to why that’s not going to happen.” Alec placed his hands on both revolvers. A few men shrunk back as he stared them down.
Samuel looked at him for a moment. “Alright, if that is how you want to play this out.” He opened his own jacket revealing two more revolvers on each side of his gun belt. “Make that two dozen.” Tossing enough coins to cover their meal onto the mat, he issued the challenge.
The large man raised his cleaver threateningly. Both Alec and Samuel drew their weapons in response. The men froze… waiting.
“Perhaps now would be a good idea to back out of here?” Samuel suggested.
“That’s probably the wise thing to do,” Alec nodded as they started to slowly back out of the shop.
As soon as they were out the door, the cleaver the large man had held sunk into the wood pole of the awning outside with a thud, missing Alec’s shoulder by an inch.
Alec’s expression hardened as he narrowed his eyes on the large man and fired. The clay pot above his head busted scattering grains into the fire below. Smoke quickly overcame the small area, billowing out of the storefront.
“Let’s get out of here!” Samuel called as the angry men started pouring out into the street pointing at them.
“Agreed!” Alec shouted as they turned and ran toward the docks.
Several men chased after them as they high-tailed it to the boat that was preparing to set sail. Running hell-bent, they started calling to the captain of the ship waving to get his attention.
The guide noticed them first. The captain at his side issued several orders and started pulling up the rope fastening the boat to the dock. Several of the hands aboard ship readied the sails sending them up the mast. They billowed out as the wind caught hold. The ship creaked under the strain of the open canopy as it surged forward. The guide waved at them to hurry, shouting as the ship separated from the dock.
Alec and Samuel took the end of the pier at a full run, jumping over the gap that continued to widen. They landed on the deck as the angry men who’d chased them crowded together at the end of the pier shouting and shaking their fists.
Samuel turned and waved at the group with a smile on his face. “That was close,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath.
Alec started laughing. “Yes, but we still have our coin.” He smiled while tipping his hand in far
ewell to the large man who stood on the dock waving his fist.
Chapter 4
Alec removed the rocks covering the watering hole they were lucky enough to have found. Reaching down he scooped the water with his cupped hand and drank thirstily. The liquid slipped down his dry throat as he swallowed. It might be the foulest water he’d ever tasted, but it was wet. He moved to the side to allow Samuel to drink.
“Aaughhh,” Samuel collapsed to the side once he drank his fill. “I can’t believe—”
Crack! The sound of musket fire reverberated as the dirt sprayed up a few feet away from him from the shot.
“What the—” Samuel started until he turned around, “Ah, Com’on!”
“Bloody Hell!” Alec swore as he looked up to see several men on horseback descend from the hills. Swathed in black they looked every bit like a swirling bevy of blackbirds preying down upon them. Several more shots rang out as they approached.
“And just when I thought being in the middle of the desert without a guide was bad enough.” Alec replied cynically as he moved to stand.
“Well,” Samuel said as he stood beside him, waiting for the welcoming party to arrive. “At least we didn’t die of thirst.”
Alec raised his brow at his attempt at levity. Funny…he didn’t feel like laughing. In fact, he felt like returning a little gunfire of his own. He stood with his legs spread slightly apart, a hand resting on the handle of his gun.
Samuel eyed his stance warily. “Why don’t you let me try talking to them first?”
Alec eyed him skeptically. “So far… that hasn’t worked out too well for us, has it?”
“Alright, I admit it. It was me who hired the Dragoman to guide us into the desert. Can we drop it now? It is not like I also contracted him to steal our water and leave us here to die.”
Alec raised an eyebrow in a sideways glance then back at the small army of Arabs that rode toward them. “It doesn’t look like I have much choice?”
“It’s no doubt just a show of strength to gain tribute for crossing their land.”
“You mean highway robbery.” Alec practically swore as he pulled a hand through his hair.
“I believe they see it more as a tax. It’s the way of the land for these desert nomads. Just let me handle it.”
~*~
The warriors continued to fire their weapons in the air as they circled, tightening the gaps as they closed in on them. Even the Arabian horses they rode stomped and flared their nostrils angrily as they came to a halt before them.
Samuel spoke up, but was immediately silenced by a harsh command from their leader. As a group, they unsheathed long curved swords and “invited” the “intruders” to accompany them or pay the price that their trespass demanded… death.
“It seems we’re going on a little ride.” Samuel interpreted.
“Uh-huh.”
“It also seems they want our weapons.”
“Of course they do.”
~*~
They were escorted to a solitary enclosure on the outskirts of an encampment. Nestled against a rocky outcrop, the many large tents blended in with the sun-bleached sand. They hadn’t been there long when an elder from the tribe arrived with an entourage seeking counsel with “The Man of Tongues.”
“This shouldn’t take long.” Samuel said before leaving Alec to pace the small confines of the tent with nothing but a table and chair for company.
What the hell had he been thinking? Alec thought as he trod upon the sand-covered carpet. The flea-bitten scrap was starting to show the effect of his angst, several rolls had appeared, tripping him at every turn.
Bloody hell! Why had he let himself get caught up by the lure of treasure and into another of Sam’s wild schemes…one more ludicrous, idiotic, ill conceived… “Damn!” Alec dragged a hand through his hair in frustration.
He sat down on the old, rickety chair that was placed in the center of the small tent. He hadn’t seen anything but cushions or hard ground to sit on in weeks, yet there it was. It creaked under his weight as he tested it by rocking slightly back and forth, but it held even when he propped it back against the center post and placed his feet on the table.
To sit helpless as Samuel controlled his fate was worse than torture. Quite frankly, the discomfort of having his sweat-soaked clothing stick to his body in the veritable sauna was comforting in comparison.
Much to his annoyance, his awareness of that fact was punctuated by a fly that kept buzzing him; in spite of how many times he waved it away. It must have become aggravated at being trapped inside with him, for it repeatedly rammed itself into the canvas walls. He certainly understood its distress… he too had felt like battering his body against the fabric in frustration.
“For the love of God, how much longer is this going to take?” Alec groaned, listening to the sounds of the busy workday as they drifted on the wind. Lord only knew how tired he was of watching the shadows of the guards as they patrolled outside the tent.
He was momentarily distracted by the children who dared come near the enclosure, but a stern warning from a guard sent them running off in the other direction. He listened to their laughter as it faded into the fabric of the camp.
Visitors must be a rare thing for these people he realized. Hell, the last one had probably brought the ancient chair.
As the sun rose higher, the village quieted leaving him all the more impatient. The conclusion that they must rest in the heat of day did occur to him along with the slim chance of escape. Though the idea of searching every tent in broad daylight for Samuel was ludicrous, he still entertained the idea as he leaned his head against the pole.
The sight of the sun’s rays filtering through the fabric ceiling perfectly framed by a water stain would forever be emblazoned in his memory, that and the fly which continued to make its rounds. It was while he was debating on whether or not to aid the insect in its escape that the hum of his fellow cellmate’s buzzing transformed into the murmur of a large group of people approaching.
Astonished, Alec stood and approached the entrance. Skimming the fabric of the door, he parted a slit in the opening and spied out. The sight surely shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did.
Far from resting as he’d thought, the whole village was headed his way; the entourage led by none other than Samuel. His step spry, a smoldering cigar clenched in his teeth, by all accounts looking like the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary… and that look never bode well, especially for Alec.
With a moment’s deliberation, Alec decided to sit behind the table facing the opening. The noise, which had been rising to a feverish pitch as they assembled, quieted suddenly.
He didn’t know which was more unnerving, being held in a tent isolated from everything, or being held with the whole population of the village outside holding its collective breath. He waited, ignoring the pull to find out what was going on.
An interminable amount of time seemed to pass before the flaps of the canvas prison separated and Samuel sauntered in with a flourish, grinning from ear to ear, his expression somewhat distorted by the smoldering stogie wedged in one corner of his mouth.
Executing an elaborate bow, Samuel audaciously faced Alec, giving him an inconspicuous wink as he pronounced loud enough for all to hear, “My King.”
King? Alec narrowed his eyes. At least he managed to keep a bored expression on the rest of his face in response to Samuels’s outrageous behavior.
“If you will?” Samuel motioned for a trunk to be brought in and placed before Alec by one of the guards. Ceremoniously, the trunk was opened for him revealing several old books and bound sheaves of paper. The guard, obviously affected, respectfully stepped back from the surprising display of crusty old tomes.
“What is this?” Alec cautiously peered over the edge of the table.
“The trunk?” Samuel queried innocently and then announced with his voice at a volume an opera singer would have envied, “'Tis the key to the city, oh Great Sultan.”
He really should have been on stage, Alec thought, as he watched Samuel bow before him, presenting a picture of courtly pose for the benefit of the onlookers. Alec raised an eyebrow at this. “They live in tents Samuel, they don’t need keys.” His voice held his irritation.
“Please, huh-hum… Please, my King,” Samuel intoned, placing his hands together as if in prayer, he bowed slightly, as if to placate him. A pleading look entered his eye. “Truly Sire, the Gates of Heaven.” He then lowered his voice, “Of paradise and our freedom.” Samuel said the last bit with a slight warning. Taking another bow, he turned and then motioned for his former jailer to follow him outside, closing the flaps behind him.
Alec couldn’t believe they were buying this nonsense. Not only was he surprised by his sudden coronation, but by the bizarre turn of events that had led to Samuel ordering his former guard about.
What the hell is he up to? Alec wondered while Samuel was outside playing to the crowd… and what could a large trunk of old, dilapidated books possibly have to do with it? At least the fly had escaped, Alec realized, amazed that he was actually envious of it.
Samuel once again entered the tent, his backside reappearing as the curtain parted. He was turned facing the crowd outside repeatedly bowing and waving his hand in circles before him as he stepped backwards. Once the flap closed he turned, another of those grins splitting his face, “Ha, entirely too easy my friend, like taking a pebble from a beach.” He practically crowed while dancing a little jig.
“Don’t suppose you’d like to fill me in,” Alec motioned to the trunk on the floor, “on precisely which pebbles are you are presently stealing from these people?” Alec’s voice at least held the authority of a king.
Samuel had the sense at least to stop jigging and mumbled, “Umm…Sor-rey, Alec.”
Was that a hiccup? Alec’s eyes were riveted to the spot where his friend stood. Was he drunk? By God, yes! The fool had definitely been drinking and quite a lot too, for him to be slightly off balance. Alec pulled a hand through his hair in frustration. Unbelievable!
Treasure of Egypt Page 5
