The Time Travelers: Volume Two

by Caroline B. Cooney

  Life.

  STRAT AND ANNIE

  The first rays of dawn glinted off Annie’s dark hair. Her long white pleated gown lifted gently in the breeze. She seemed ancient and silvery. She could have been a goddess.

  “I am starving to death,” said Annie dramatically.

  He looked at her with great affection. He had saved her from starving to death. Whatever else he had done wrong in his life—and Strat felt assaulted by all he had done wrong in his life—at least he had rescued Annie.

  He said, “No one will ever excavate it, because archaeologists care only for kings, but I know where the workmen’s village is from here. It takes hundreds of men to do all the stonework, the painting, the road building, the engineering, the cooking. Would a gold sandal be a fair exchange for a jug of water, a loaf of bread and a seat in the shade?”

  Annie giggled. “Let’s hold out for two jugs of water. Although I would really like an ice cream sundae with chocolate sauce.”

  He loved her instant recovery. She was not having the vapors, or in need of a rest cure, or weeping on his shoulder, the way girls would in his day. She was bouncing and eager for whatever came next.

  He felt a ripping in his soul, as of tendons wrenched from bones because of a fall in a ball game.

  What would come next?

  He sat above her on the wall, Annie standing between his knees staring up at him, thinking his the most beautiful face she had ever seen. Of my precious four days, she thought, more than two are gone. Time is so stingy. “How I missed you,” she said, “all these months. But you did the right thing when you saved Katie, Strat, and I have held your noble act in my heart as an example of how to live.”

  Annie imagined saying those words in 1999 to a boy in her high school. The situation would not come up, though, because boys in her class liked to be examples of how not to live. Noble conduct was not a goal in her century.

  “Here comes trouble,” said Strat softly.

  Guards were walking toward them, motioning at Strat to get down. But there was nothing scary about them. They were not armed and dangerous like her tomb escorts. They were just nice guys keeping people off tourist attractions. Annie smiled and waved.

  Strat hopped down onto the pavement. “I don’t think they know you,” he murmured. “They probably weren’t part of the sacrifice ritual. They’ve lost interest now that I’m off their wall. Let’s find the workmen’s village and buy some food.”

  Already the cool breezes were gone and the air parched. Huge numbers of people had arrived to take advantage of the short time before the blistering heat began.

  Crews were getting to work on funerary chapels and memorial temples. Teams were erecting statues and walling in family cemeteries. Flowers were being delivered, and fine spices and incense being burned. Daughters were visiting their dead mothers and sons paying respect to their ancestors.

  Where they had been alone only minutes ago, Annie and Strat were among hundreds now.

  “I can hear a choir rehearsing somewhere,” she said. “This is so much more fun with you here. I really feel part of ancient Egypt. Of course, I almost was part of ancient Egypt. The dead part.”

  “We are in the center of the City of the Dead,” he agreed.

  “Thank you,” she said, “for keeping me in the city of the living instead,” and she began to cry. “Oh, Strat,” she whispered, “what should we do about Renifer? She didn’t choose the city of the living. Should Renifer have to obey our choice, and not be allowed her choice? Is she still a sacrifice or has she become a suicide?”

  Strat looked around him. In the west, where the sands deepened into hills, just before the hills soared into cliffs hundreds of feet high, somewhere tucked among those hills was the workers’ village.

  “I know,” said Annie. “At some point in the day when nobody’s around, we’ll go back down and offer her a second chance. I know I’d take it. I’d be sick of dying by then.”

  Strat took a deep breath. “I think it would be better if we went right now and closed the shaft.”

  “Strat! You can’t mean it!” How had she ever thought that Strat was noble of heart and generous in deed? “That’s horrible. Absolutely not! Leaving her there was bad enough. We’re not going to be the ones who seal her in!”

  “People are going to walk by and find that open hole. They’ll explore. They’ll find Renifer. She won’t be dead because it takes days to starve. Then what? They drag her out? They hand her back to Pharaoh? Will she suffer an even more terrible fate because she circumvented Pharaoh’s plan?”

  “What could be more terrible than being buried alive?” Annie demanded.

  Strat pointed toward the edge of the desert. A hundred yards away, the mutilated corpses of dead men stuck up into the air on tall sharp spikes. Annie had seen that happen; she just hadn’t been willing to remember. There was, after all, something worse than running out of air.

  “If we close up the shaft, we’ll actually be keeping Renifer safe,” said Strat. “When it’s dark tonight, and everyone else is gone, we pull away the stone and offer her a second chance.”

  Annie’s heartbeat returned to normal. He was a gentleman after all; he had saved Katie; he would save Renifer. It was good.

  “Too late,” said Strat sadly. “Look. The shaft is already surrounded.”

  “I can’t see,” whispered Annie, starting to cry. “What’s happening?”

  “I don’t dare get closer,” said Strat. “Quick, up that hill. We can see from there.”

  They staggered across the sand, which was first hard and flat and then sinking and ankle-breaking, scrabbled up a ragged hillside of sand and climbed rocks that collapsed under their weight. Some places were so steep they were forced to crawl.

  “Be careful at the edges,” said Strat. “The wind chews on the undersides of these hills, leaving crags supported by nothing.”

  The crest of the hill was wild and wonderful. Fingers of rock poked out into thin air. The peak of the Pyramid was half a mile away, but eye level. The necropolis stretched on and on. Thousands of distant tomb structures glittered like sugar cubes in the sun.

  And where Renifer’s open shaft might be, Annie had no idea.

  “Let your eye travel down the causeway,” said Strat, “and look for a dozen workers with baskets.”

  “Baskets?” said Annie blankly.

  “Rock and sand,” said Strat quietly. “That’s how they filled in your shaft. Basket after basket. Rock after rock.”

  And there it was, a team lifting one basket after another from a series of donkey-drawn carts. Somebody somewhere had known about the second shaft.

  Strat and Annie clung to each other. They could not, mercifully, hear the sound of the rocks as they dropped down.

  But Renifer would.

  Annie prayed to her own God that Renifer would not be scared. That she remained proud of her choice. That the end would come quickly for her.

  Strat held her until she had stopped weeping.

  The sun scorched the desert floor on four sides. He knew that the workmen’s village was not far below, but the twists and turns of the jagged hill hid it entirely. Alone, they perched on a rock ledge.

  “You’re wearing only one sandal,” said Strat.

  “The other one fell off in the tomb,” said Annie. “It’s there with Renifer, I guess. I don’t know how I managed to keep this one.”

  Strat took it in his hand. I also held this sandal in another life. Or stole it, depending on who tells the story. He remembered what he had to go back to.

  When he set the sandal down, Annie’s white dress blew over it, hiding it.

  Beyond them, spread out like a painting in five stripes, lay Egypt. Two outside stripes of yellow desert. Narrow green stripes of farmland inside those. The placid brown ribbon of the Nile in the middle. “The river is a sort of vertical oasis, isn’t it?” said Annie.

  “You are my oasis,” said Strat.

  He was not sure just how much time he
spent telling her that and showing her that. Long enough to know he wanted it to last forever, but long enough to know that time was passing. The heat of noon would be too much on this exposed spot. They must get out of the sun or die under it.

  He pulled her even closer, to tell her what he thought they should do next, and Annie screamed.

  PANKH

  Pankh was amused.

  The foreigners were in each other’s arms, oblivious to the world, cooing. He had completely surprised them.

  He knew how impressive he looked. Of course, foreigners were always deeply impressed by Egyptians. His white kilt was starched and finely pleated, unlike their sweat-stained garb. His wig was heavy and flawlessly braided, unlike the messy sandy locks of the foreigners. But most important, his dagger was heavy and strong in his hand.

  The girl, pleasingly, had screamed.

  She would scream more before he was done.

  Hetepheres’ tomb had been empty. He had spat down the trapdoor, trying to spit on the queen’s sarcophagus, but missed.

  These were the possibilities: The foreign male had carried the gold in some basket or bundle that Pankh had not seen; or the man had buried it to retrieve later; or somebody else had the gold.

  Pen-Meru? Could he have moved so swiftly?

  But it was unlikely that Pen-Meru would trust a foreign male. And although Pankh could possibly imagine Pen-Meru saving Renifer, why would anybody save the girl of ivory?

  Pankh had climbed out of the tomb, retreated behind the mastaba, dusted himself off and straightened his wig. He was preparing a lie should he encounter the same tomb police when Pharaoh’s crew arrived to fill in the shaft.

  So Pharaoh had known of the second shaft; known its precise location and that it was empty. But his men had certainly not known that the stone would be moved away and the shaft gaping open, down to where the living sacrifice probably still lived. Pankh laughed grimly to himself as they swore oaths not to tell Pharaoh. His retreat was covered by the racket of rocks they threw down as quickly as they could, to keep the spirit of the sacrifice from reaching out toward their bare feet and cursing their lives.

  And there, beyond, were the two foreigners, on the edge of the desert, climbing the cliff. Nobody went toward the desert, where there was no water, no shelter and no hope. People went toward the Nile. Had there been time already to bury the gold up on that cliff? Were they carrying it with them? Or did they expect to meet others with the gold at that spot?

  Pankh would get the gold before he threw them off the cliff. No need to worry about bodies. Tomb police didn’t bother with this piece of sand. Jackals did.

  But now, standing before them, Pankh felt the rage of frustration working through his chest. They had no gold with them. But they certainly knew where it was; the girl had removed it and placed it somewhere. “Gold,” said Pankh clearly. He drew bracelets around his arms and a necklace around his throat and raised his eyebrows.

  The foreign boy and girl were puzzled.

  “Gold!” he shouted, hating them for not understanding a civilized language. “Where is the gold?”

  Their eyes flew open and their jaws dropped. They stared as if seeing somebody rise from the dead.

  “The gold,” he spat. “Where is the gold?”

  “I have the gold,” said Renifer, behind him.

  Pankh whirled.

  Renifer stood on the very edge of the cliff. She was so weighted down with that beautiful gold he did not know how she could possibly have scrambled up here. Behind her was nothing but air.

  Pankh recovered quickly. “How beautiful you are, my beloved,” he whispered. “How wonderful that you survived Pharaoh’s evil trick. How glad I am to see you in the land of the living.”

  Renifer said nothing. He could not see her breathe or blink. She did not look as if she belonged to the land of the living. Her face was as expressionless as if she had died.

  Pankh had his back to the foreign man. He was vulnerable. And yet, he felt in some way that the danger came from Renifer herself. “Come, my beloved. You will hide in my house, lest Pharaoh learn that you survived. But what pleasure we will have in being together, you and I.”

  Renifer said nothing.

  Pankh took a few steps away, hoping Renifer would step toward him. The rims of this kind of cliff frequently caved in, and her weight was putting her in danger. Although of course he could simply retrieve the gold from her corpse. “Renifer, it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t intend for Pharaoh to sacrifice you. Who could have dreamed that such an idea would enter the mind of a civilized Egyptian? Come to me, my beloved.”

  Renifer said nothing.

  She had not an inch between herself and falling. He extended his hand. But she seemed not to see it. “Your father and I were forced to agree with Pharaoh. My beloved, let us leave these strangers to their own devices. Let us go home and rejoice that you live.”

  She was still and unearthly in her gold. How had she gotten up the steep and difficult slope? Had she been lifted? By what power?

  The thin chain of the amulet of Sekhmet seemed to cut his neck.

  By now some laborer or priest or guard would have noticed this strange scene playing out on the distant hill. Somebody would investigate. Pankh could not permit Renifer to delay any longer. They would be out of time. “Renifer, come let your beloved Pankh embrace you.”

  Renifer removed one arm piece. Its gold was over an inch thick. He could not take his eyes off it. Underhanded, she threw the bracelet. The heavy circle sailed in a great arc out beyond the cliff and then vanished in a long curving silent fall.

  The sand below was soft. The heavy gold would dig its own hole, the sand would close over it and Pankh would never find it. “No, no, my beloved!” protested Pankh. “You and I will need that gold in our marriage. Think what it will cost to protect you for all time from the wrath of Pharaoh.”

  Renifer threw a second bracelet into the air.

  “Beloved,” he said coaxingly, inching toward her.

  She almost smiled. She almost softened. She was almost his. When she held out her arms, Pankh acted swiftly, grabbing for those gold-laden wrists, but Renifer leaned back over the cliff edge, planning to fall, still willing to die for Pharaoh.

  Pankh’s velocity was great. He could not stop himself. Together they would hurtle over the cliff and hundreds of feet down to their deaths. He tried to brace himself against her; let her fall while he saved himself.

  But the arm of the foreign male, in its loathsome jacket of heavy cloth, pulled Renifer to safety while Pankh spun out into the air and was lost.

  The amulet flew up in Pankh’s face, and the last thing he saw before death was the image of Sekhmet, goddess of revenge.

  RENIFER

  Renifer stood within the embrace of the foreign male.

  She did not need to follow their language to know what they were asking. Fascinated, amazed, they were crying—how did you get here? how did you know? are you all right? we’re so glad to see you!

  Had the gods sent these strangers to save Renifer—or had she been sent to save them? “I was kneeling beside the sarcophagus while I prayed,” she explained, as if they had been given Egyptian along with life. “Pankh looked into the tomb. He did not see me. He had eyes only for gold and thought the tomb empty. He swore, yet again defiling Hetepheres. He damned her for not making her gold available to him. He spat, promising to kill you, O girl of ivory.”

  The girl had been entrusted to Renifer’s care. Handed to Renifer, as it were, in the midst of Pharaoh’s papyrus swamp. Renifer could not let Pankh kill the girl of ivory. She had almost literally been on Pankh’s heels as he ascended the ladder out of Hetepheres’ tomb, too busy muttering to himself and uttering threats to look back. When Pankh hid behind a mastaba, she walked behind a chapel, and then Pharaoh’s crew arrived.

  For a few moments, she stared at them, as they filled in forever the shaft out of which she had just escaped. She heard their oaths to say nothing to Pharaoh and u
nderstood their terror.

  Heavy lay the gold on her body. She followed Pankh as he chased the girl of ivory and the foreign male. There was a perfectly fine path up the cliff, but the foreigners and Pankh hadn’t seen it, so they struggled up the worst and most crumbling side. Renifer walked slowly along the path. The workers in the village saw her—a goddess, as it were, clothed in gold, going back to her home in the cliffs, and they fell on their faces in the sand and let her pass.

  Beyond the Pyramids, the Nile sparkled under the sun. Renifer could see the city of Memphis, her beloved and beautiful home. She could see, from here, the entire world.

  And many of its inhabitants, running in her direction.

  Pankh had not cried out, but witnesses had. Tourists and guides, vendors of carved wooden hippos or hot spicy sausages—all had shouted to the tomb police that somebody had fallen. A crowd was gathering at the foot of the cliff, exclaiming over Pankh’s body. He was an officer of Pharaoh, wearing his uniform. There was no hope of explaining these extraordinary events.

  Foreigners would be held responsible.

  Nobody would believe any version of Pankh’s death except the worst: that he had been pushed to his death by the foreign male. Renifer could see all too clearly what was going to happen now. The boy, who had come to save the girl of ivory and who had just now saved Renifer herself, would be accused of murder, and pay the ultimate price.

  The crowd began pointing and shouting, and Renifer knew what they were shouting for. The foreign male.

  The girl of ivory turned even more pale, if that were possible, and she and the boy exchanged frightened looks. They had reason to be frightened.

  “Go into the desert,” said Renifer, pointing at the massive hills in the west. The Nile was truly cupped in a valley, and the sides of the cup were high and brutal. No civilized person went west of the Nile.

  “Sekhmet saved me,” she said quietly, “and you who protected me will be given protection. Be not afraid. I will prevent the mob from reaching you.”