“There she is, Evie!” Jonathan pointed a long finger to a tall, slender woman talking to a short man wearing a red fez. She stood like an oasis of calm in the midst of the chaos that was Giza Port. Vendors, travelers, and beggars mingled around her with a wide assortment of animals including Jonathan’s favorite – camels. “Cleo!” he shouted waving wildly down into the crowd. “Cleo!”
“Oh Rick, she looks wonderful.” Evelyn exclaimed, clinging to her husband’s arm, her face radiating joy.
Cleo heard Jonathan calling and began to scan for the source. Finding it, she waved. Although biased, as any mother would be, Evelyn thought her daughter was even more beautiful than she remembered. It was a beauty that came from nowhere. In America people had often thought she was adopted. Her physical resemblance to her parents, even to her mother, was fleeting at best, nonexistent at worst. Instead, her appearance was Egyptian to the core. In makeup, her resemblance to the bust of Nefertiti was stunning. The only hint of her paternity was in her eyes which, depending on her mood to be a tranquil gold or vengeful green. They were also the only gauge for her mood that Evie had ever been able to define. Mother and daughter were too far apart for an accurate assessment of color though Evie was confident they were a joyful gold.
The only problem Evie could see was the very large, very mean looking dog sitting beside Cleopatra. They would have to talk about that.
As the ship docked, Evie watched Cleo conclude her negotiations with the porter. She admired her daughter’s resolve. Even from a distance it was clear that Cleo was not a person to be trifled with. Body language spoke of her surety of her place in the world’s hierarchy. Having spent a lifetime arguing with the girl, Evie knew that the porter was in for it. Had Cleo not chosen to enter archeology, litigation would have been an ideal career. Not that this deeply embedded belligerent steak was immediately obvious.
There were clues of course. She preferred to downplay her beauty, maintaining as near a mannish appearance as possible. Her long black hair was almost always pulled tightly back from her angular face and her daily uniform was trousers and a blouse, an ensemble that did an adequate job of hiding the shape beneath it. But no matter how she tried, her natural grace gave her away. This regal quality was something Evie could not explain. She was as clumsy as they came and Rick wasn’t exactly a smooth mover either. But Cleopatra’s posture was that of a dancer, upright and tall, shoulders back, head high. Her gestures were fluid, gracefully weightless. It was all too easy to forget the nature of her words when mesmerized by the power of her body language. The porter was easy prey. At last he nodded indicating the end of their negotiations.
As the riverboat docked Evie pushed her way to the front of the line. She was the first person to disembark, running down the gangplank only to trip and nearly fall at the bottom. Without missing a beat she continued on, heading straight for her daughter only to stop short when the dog cocked his head to the side and eyed her with an unreadable expression.
“Who is you new friend?” Evie asked, seeing something that made her uncomfortable in the dog’s level gaze.
“Yeah, didn’t we tell you ‘no pets’?” Rick asked reproachfully as he stepped around the dog and hugged his daughter tight. They had been fighting over dogs since she was a little girl. Cleo had always wanted one. To Evelyn, it stood to reason that Cleo would get one the second Rick could do nothing to stop her. She was her father’s daughter, after all.
Cleo pushed out of her fathers embrace. “Isn’t that just like you? First words to the daughter you haven’t seen in months are a rebuke.”
And so it began again. The arguments between her husband and daughter were as redundant as a skipping record. He was about to launch into Rick O’Connell speech #132 entitled ‘There will be absolutely NO dogs in my house’.
Rick was infamous for speeches so repetitive anyone who knew him for long could repeat them with him verbatim. They rarely did, due to the bursts of temper that followed. Following their usual pattern, Cleo glared at him for a moment and then melted into a meek smile and offered an explanation. “I was alone in that rambling old house and thought it would be wise to have some protection. Most people are terrified of large dogs. They don’t know he is a big sweetie. His name is Apis.”
“Where’d you get him?” Jonathan asked, his tone distasteful, eyes the giant dog that returned his stare with a less than pleasant expression.
Cleo shot a hard glance at her uncle and Evelyn was instantly interested in her explanation for this. Cleo’s expression said that there was something about the dog she didn’t really want to explain. But Cleo being Cleo took a different tack and fired back, “What happened to your face?”
It was like watching tennis. Now it was Jonathan’s turn to burn under the hot lights of scrutiny. “Oh, you know me. It was just a slight misunderstanding Missy, nothing I couldn’t handle.” He puffed up a little bit, trying to look in control and then deflated under the disbelieving stare of his niece. Angrily he insisted, “Where did the dog come from?”
“Well,” she paused, returning his glare for a thoughtful moment as she chose her words. Something was definitely not right about the dog. Her expression became earnest as she turned her gaze from Evie to Rick and back again. “It was fate. I didn’t feel comfortable in the house by myself but I was making the best of it. I was having a harder than usual time sleeping. Anyway, I was having a good dream for once. Something about a dog, playing fetch in a vineyard I think and I woke up hearing something scratching at the front door.” Her father caught her eye and she answered his question before he asked it. “Yes, I got the home protection system before opening the door.” The ‘system’ in question being Rick’s old baseball bat, “I opened it and there sat this adorable little puppy. I figured it was God’s way of telling me I needed a dog. He’s an angel, really.” She reached down, petting his broad head as he gazed happily up at her. She glanced at Evie who wasn’t able to wipe the disbelief from her face in time not to be caught. Looking irritated Cleo added, “Don’t worry he’ll grow on you.”
In Evie’s opinion the beast looked more like the devil than an angel. He was obviously named for the Apis bull, ‘the living soul’ of Osiris on earth. The Greeks associated Apis with their god Hades. Either way you looked at it, Cleo had named the dog very appropriately. In Evie’s opinion he looked like death was his stock in trade. She considered insisting that the dog had to go for a minute as they stared each other down. Then he turned to Cleo again and suddenly looked like a devoted, if slightly goofy, puppy. In her optimism Evelyn made up her mind to like the dog. He obviously had good taste and, she had to admit, they were all unfamiliar to him. Maybe once they got to know each other it would be okay.
As the porters collected their trunks the group moved on to more mundane topics ranging from the state of the house to the weather. The inevitable topic of new friends with specific interest in those of the masculine variety was once again skillfully evaded with a parlay to Cleo’s studies. It was clear that she’d planned what she would say carefully, but then that was how she was. Evelyn couldn’t tell if she was being truthful or lying. It was always that way.
~~~~~
Marcus had been happy to pack up and relocate. He’d had no interest in digging up a workmen’s village anyway. The possibilities of treasure in a village were slim indeed. A mortuary temple was something else altogether. Odds were that it had been looted in ancient times, especially given the condition of the entrance. But there was still a chance and Marcus was a gambling man.
It had been an exciting moment when he was told the path was clear. He’d made two guards go with him, in front of him actually. His joy had been short lived. They rounded a corner and ran smack into another cave in. He had cursed a blue streak all the way back to the surface.
Marcus had always hated this part. Digging for the entrance always took toolong and it was so boring. He wanted to get in there and see what was left. He sat in his chair drinking tea as he watched the line of diggers enter and exit in a wide looping arch to the rubble pile. They were close. He could feel it.
His thoughts drifted to the great riches rumored to exist in Hamunaptra. Seti had built the city. It stood to reason that he would want to be close to his treasure didn’t it? A Cheshire cat grin spread across his heavy face as he imagined what he might find.
“Marcus.” A shadow crossed in front of him. Shading his eyes he looked up at the silhouette blocking the sun.
Squinting he realized who it was. He was on the one hand happy Charles had returned and on the other upset by it. He needed a little help with the diggers. Natives were so skittish, complaining about hearing voices and weird writing in the sand. Silly superstitious blather was all it was but since discovering the second cave in they had grown increasingly paranoid, insisting it was a sign. A few had run away already. The last thing he needed was a stampede. Charles would whip them back into shape.
And that was the problem.
This was Marcus’ dig, Dr. Rosemond had placed him in charge but it was obvious that in everyone else’s opinion, Charles was the man in control. It wasn’t fair, but Marcus lacked the courage to blatantly cross Charles. Better to wait until Charles gave him an opportunity. Forcing a tight smile he spoke, “Back so soon?”
The thin man tossed a book into Marcus lap. “I have something you might find interesting…and lucrative.”
~~~~~
“But I feel like I should be there. I have so much to learn. There is a supply group going out and I could join them. Dr. Rosemond has been most encouraging. I do not understand why you cannot be.” Cleo had been arguing with her parents for a month about going back to the dig site. This one had been going on for almost an hour with one brief interruption to stanch the blood flow.
Rick was sitting in his chair, slightly concussed, holding a bloodied rag filled with ice chips to his forehead. He’d been trying to help his wife unpack her library when Bull-In-A-China-Shop Carnahan had nearly killed him – again. She’d been trying to pull herself up from the floor and instead pulled the shelf down. With reflexes born of vast experience Evie had managed to dodge the cascade of literature. Rick was not so fortunate. He had thought he’d bolted all the shelves to the wall to avoid just this type of thing. He was proved painfully wrong.
“Darling, I have a bad feeling about it. How does a workman’s village pertain to your research of Isis or Osiris? I believe your time is better spent in the library.” Evelyn replied with a deep sigh. She turned her back on the conversation and started counting boxes again. It was obvious to Rick that she was finally figuring out that she had many more books than would ever fit in the library. He also knew that would not stop her. There were going to be expensive construction crews in his future as his wife expanded her library rather than purge a few books. He could argue, but it wouldn’t do him any good.
“Mum, Dr. Rosemond agrees with me. This could be very important to my career. Fieldwork is essential. You don’t want me to have to wait 15 years for a Bembridge appointment do you?”
Ricks eyes widened as Cleo bit her lip. He was so glad he wasn’t the one who’d said that.
It was true of course. Evelyn had waited for 15 years mainly because she lacked experience in the field. Sadly the experience she did have she could never put on a resume. And her adventures at Hamunaptra had soured her against additional forays into the desert. Without the fieldwork it had taken a long time to gain entrance to the prestigious group. But Rick knew from personal experience that once his wife set her mind to something, she was unstoppable. It just took Bembridge a little longer to figure that out.
She’d kept him up nights reminiscing about her triumphant return, as a full Bembridge Scholar and Assistant Curator, to the Museum. She had expected to be warmly greeted by the entire staff.
It didn’t work out like she imagined it would. When she came home after her first day she was as angry as Rick had ever seen her. The reality was that only Dr. Rosemond greeted her and he wasn’t very polite. She’d use the word ‘curt’ to describe his manner. The funny thing was that she was annoyed because he’d assumed she didn’t want to do field work and had delegated all the day-to-day museum things to her. She didn’t want to do field work. She’d actually been afraid that he would make her do it. Rick couldn’t understand why the fact that Dr. Rosemond had made an assumption, a correct assumption, should matter so much.
And because it wouldn’t be an O’Connell homecoming without at least a few big surprises, they also found out that Marcus was still working at the Museum. Luckily he was out in the field but that hadn’t stopped Evie from getting into a argument with him. She won, but not without a fight. She had also had a battle with the Director of Security, a guy named Bridferth.
Even Rick, whose ability to identify and avoid danger was admittedly impaired, knew better than to try and argue with his wife at a time like this. Cleo’s timing was terrible and what she was arguing for was worse.
Evelyn turned to her daughter, hands on her hips with her chin thrust forward. It was her fighting stance. Things were about to get ugly. “Of course I don’t want you to have to wait so long. But this is foolishness. You will learn more in the library than in a workman’s village.”
Cleo’s frustration level was fairing no better. “I don’t understand why you are being so obstinate. The worship of both Osiris and Isis was supposed to be national. I would like the opportunity to prove that point. If there are statues or inscriptions in the village that will prove that the worship transcended the upper classes and….”
“There is so much civil unrest right now. The war just ended. Darling, it is just too dangerous,” Evie countered.
Score one for Evelyn. The new government in Egypt was not real friendly to English archeologists digging up their ancestors at the moment. The native peoples were downright hostile. He didn’t want his daughter out in the desert either. His reasons had nothing to do with the natives though.
Evie’s next words were as if she’d read his mind. “Never mind that Hamunaptra is in that general vicinity as well.”
Cleo bristled and opened her mouth to retort but before she could Rick decided to get into the action. Removing the towel from his forhead he launched into his famous ‘No! You May Not and I Don’t Need A Reason’ speech, “You must be as drunk as your uncle. We’ve been through this already. There is absolutely, positively no way you are going. That is final! End of story.”
Their return to Cairo hadn’t been any better for him than it had been for his wife. They’d been fighting more than usual. The newest addition to the O’Connell Greatest Hits, and the one that was the cause of his latest expulsion from his bed, was his sporadic work history. His endless quest for new adventures made it nearly impossible for him to focus on any one thing long enough to hold a job, much less make a career of it. After being dumb enough to promise to find local distractions to ease his wanderlust, his wife had formed the opinion that a job would qualify quite nicely. She had even adapted his parent’s mantra about responsibility into her own guilt-inspiring lecture.
His rebuttal that the proceeds from Hamunaptra had been well invested, therefore negating the need for any of them to work fell on deaf ears. If he wanted to sleep in his own bed any time soon he was going to have to get a job. That thought combined with his new headache and the idea of his only child stumbling on Old Beetle Brains was enough to make any man sputtering mad.
Even as he ranted his way through his self confessed redundant rendition of ‘Because I Said So, That’s Why’ he knew she was thinking up her rebuttal. He also knew it would be good.
When he finished she said, “I am going.”
As his mouth opened to embark on his toxic ‘How Dare You Defy Me’ lecture, she cut him off. “This is very important to me and I am handling it badly. I don’t want to live my life in fear of the ‘what if’. Please, try to understand. I need to do this - for my studies. There is a security force already in place and more going out with the supply group. Besides, the city is buried and the priest is dead. You’ve said so countless times. It’s perfectly safe.”
Rick hated women who argued with logic. He supposed it was better than arguing with them when they were irrational, but at least the irrational arguments could be shrugged off as just that. As he struggled for a counter attack, she gave him that look. It was the one where her eyes twinkled and her smile was a little wicked. He’d seen that face in the mirror thousands of times. She offered, “what if I promise not to read anything out loud?”
Rick’s mood changed almost instantly. He watched with gleeful pride as Evelyn’s lips pursed. If anyone ever doubted that Cleo was his kid, she proved his paternity at times like this. His daughter’s playful jab at Evelyn’s most easily pushed button was just the kind of levity he needed. She had done what he would have loved to do but couldn’t if he ever wanted to sleep in his bed again. His iron resolve melted and in a show of gratitude he caved in. “Okay, okay. I don’t know why I bother arguing with you Carnahan women. As long as you don’t read anything and you take that damn dog of yours you can go.”
“Agreed.” She bounced into her father’s arms, planted a kiss on his scruffy check and with a huge smile started out of the room to pack. Apis followed happily at her heals.
“You! Both of you always throw that in my face. Why I only did what any other scholar…” Evelyn sputtered as Cleo danced past her and up the stairs trailed closely by the dog.
“Evelyn, she was just teasing.” Rick said, trying to take some of the hurt out of the joke.
“I still don’t think we should let her go.” Evelyn replied, still staring at the now empty staircase.
“Honey, she’s an adult. What do you want me to do? Spank her and lock her in her room?” His attempt at humor fell flat. His chuckle died in his throat as Evelyn turned angry eyes on him. He shrugged. No sense in arguing with her. He rarely won an argument anyway, but his injury clouded brain made it a virtual certainty that he would lose. Instead, he offered, “She’s a bright girl. She won’t do anything stupid.”
The blatant skepticism on Evelyn’s face reminded him that she too was a very bright girl and she had done something incredibly stupid 22 years before.
~~~~~
Apis’ head snapped up as the curtains at her open window billowed. He sniffed the air and whined quietly. His head cocked sideways as if straining to hear something. His jaws opening in a doggy smile and his pink tongue lulled as his head dropped to rest again on his paws. There was nothing to fear, all things were as they should be.
The breeze passed him by and drifted over Cleo’s sleeping figure, ghostly fingers reaching for her, caressing her skin. A soft moan escaped her lips and she rolled to her side, cuddling into her pillow. Dreamless sleep erupted into vivid memory.
It was a familiar place, somewhere her mind traveled to often when her thoughts were troubled. It was a garden, perfectly symmetrical with torches evenly spaced throughout. She stepped into the grass feeling the squish of moist earth beneath her feet. At a reflective pool, filled with luminous fish, she stopped. Before her was a torch planted in the ground illuminating a portable writing table, a sheet of papyrus with several columns of hieroglyphs rested on top of it. The last symbols retained a wet sheen indicating that the work had been very recently abandoned.
She leaned in staring at the words so carefully inscribed on the page in green ink. She read aloud, “shenu meriti, tai-n thera ten a asrut neh-tu. Un het err khesef nai.”
The symbols burned neon, searing deep into her mind as she translated: Eternal beloved, our time apart grows short. We will meet again.
Green ink. It was a spell, a promise. A curse. And she had read it aloud.
The ancient Egyptians reserved the vibrant color for magic, words of power. Fear gripped her heart even as unwarranted and unwelcome joy filled it. They would be reunited.
Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention and her head snapped round sending a cascade of black hair spinning into her straining eyes. She scanned the garden and thought she saw someone in the shadows – a man. She called out to him as he faded back into the darkness.
She ran after him, an ephemeral figure in black. Catching his arm she pulled him around to see the face of the man haunting her dreams.
~~~~~
Her eyes fluttered open and his face faded before she could embed it in her memory. She was left with a dim recollection of piercing, dark eyes. Only the words written in green ink stayed with her, repeating in her head like broken record.
A spell. A promise. A curse. She read it out loud.
She broke the rule, she thought, smiling at how silly she was being to react with such fear. Still, she was unable to shake the feeling.
Shuddering, she realized there would be no more sleep. Climbing out of her bed, she tripped over Apis who yelped when she stepped on his paw. Muttering to herself she sat down at her dressing table. There were still several hours before she was to leave. Opening a drawer she retrieved her diary and copied the hieroglyphs that continued to swirl about in her mind.
She sat for a long moment staring at the symbols and nervously twisting a lock of hair. Her jewelry box sat beside her diary on the desk. Her eyes turned toward the ornate box as an internal voice begged for the affirmation that resided within it. With reverent hands she opened the box and stared at the ring nestled on a pillow of silk. Shenu meriti. The ring must have inspired the dream, she thought even as her heart argued to the contrary. Slipping the ring into its rightful place on her hand she decided that it was time. Dressing quickly she hefted her pack and looked around her room as if she would never see it again. Shaking off the idea with a determined flip of her hair, she marched out and shut the door behind her.
~~~~~
Jonathan woke as she stepped over him on the landing. He wanted to tell her, no beg her, not to go. He had a terrible feeling, not just the headache that was making his eyes throb and the nausea rise in his stomach heralding the coming hangover, but something deeper. Hamunaptra. It was constantly on his mind and no amount of bourbon could remove it. He needed to warn her, remind her how dangerous it was and how much he didn’t want to go back there.
He opened his mouth to say something just as Apis turned his head and glared daggers at him. Jonathan cringed. He and Apis had reached an agreement of sorts. As long as he stayed out the dog’s way, Apis wouldn’t eat him. In keeping with their contract he closed his mouth and remained silent.
As the dog and his owner disappeared into the shadows on the ground floor he stumbled to his feet. Jonathan rubbed his dry, red eyes and tottered to his bed where his tossed and turned, nightmares of horrors past merging seamlessly into visions of horrors to come.
~~~~~~
“Dr. Rosemond, do you have a moment?”
Dr. Rosemond continued his writing for a minute and then raised tired eyes to meet Evie’s entirely too perky countenance. The sun had barely risen and he was on only his first cup of tea. It was too early for this. He looked at his watch. It was still two hours before the museum opened.
He had been corresponding with Cleopatra for over 10 years and had assumed the fruit had not fallen far from the tree. It was for that reason he had accepted Evelyn’s appointment by Bembridge. He had subsequently been painfully reminded what happens when you assume and he was quite certain he had made an ass of himself. The Carnahan women were near polar opposites.
Cleopatra was reserved. Her speech and writing were brief and to the point. She did not mince words and she did not waste time.
Evelyn was nothing like her daughter. Talkative and effusive, he was convinced Evelyn’s only economy was with money. She liberally spent her words. As a result, talking to Evelyn never took just a moment. Maybe he could keep this conversation short, and maybe he could personally change the axis of the earth. Taking a deep breath, he made a valiant attempt at limiting the discussion. “I only have a moment, Mrs. Carnahan. What would you like to discuss?”
She stepped into his office, tripping over the Oriental rug as she entered. Settling gracelessly into one of the chairs across from his desk she appeared completely unconcerned by her near fall. Leaning forward, hands primly in her lap she began, “The dig that Marcus is running. Surely, you have heard about his reputation for treasure hunting. I fear that should anything of value be uncovered the museum would never be made aware of it.”
“Mr. Baynard has been with the Museum for almost 25 years Mrs. Carnahan. It strikes me as unwise to besmirch the character of a man who has exhibited such loyalty.” Dr. Rosemond paused and considered his words. He was very aware of the kind of man Marcus was. Men like Marcus had their uses. In a terrible attempt to ease her mind he stepped into a new mine field. “Besides, Charles is there and your daughter will be back at the dig in a couple of days. They will keep an eye on him. The odds that the dig will turn up anything valuable are anyone’s guess anyway.”
“What sort of man is Charles? I was under the impression that he and Marcus are quite good friends.” Her tone implied that such an association was highly distasteful. Her raised chin and glowering brown eyes confirmed her feelings on the subject.
“He recommended Mr. Bridferth. I know your first meeting was less than pleasant but he does a wonderful job,” Dr. Rosemond replied with finality. Something about the entire conversation seemed off to him but he didn’t care to figure out the inner workings of so garbled a mind. He had more important things to do. “Mrs. Carnahan, I have much to do before the Museum opens.”
“Why does this dig require the presence of the Director of Security? Shouldn’t the guards he posted there suffice?” She persisted.
Exasperated he sighed. Removing his glasses again to rub his eyes he sat back in his chair and answered her. “As you well know, the climate in Egypt has changed, Mrs. Carnahan. Authorization only means that the government is in agreement. The native peoples are blatantly unsupportive of efforts to dig up their history. Any dig these days requires a security force.”
“I understand that, but his primary focus should be on the security of the museum. He is needed here. This building houses the wealth of ancient Egypt yet he is off digging up the Thebian country side and….”
“Mrs. Carnahan, as I said earlier, the dig may not yield anything of importance. Then again it could be the find of the century. It is appropriate for Mr. Bridferth to make regular trips to the site to ensure that a proper level of security is maintained. I too am making periodic visits to ensure that no pilfering occurs. You will have to trust that the decisions made before your arrival are in the best interest of the museum. I trust that I have set your mind at ease. Now if there is nothing else, I have a great deal of work to do before the museum opens.”
Sufficiently rebuked and angry she finally huffed out of his office. What had gotten into her?
~~~~~
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