Twenty: Three Books
Egypt: The close of the 18th Dynasty
Horemheb, Pharaoh of Egypt, stepped forward and took the curve handled adze from the hands of the Head Priest. The Great One of the Two Lands prepared to perform the "Opening of the Mouth" ceremony for the mummy of his Queen, Mutnodjmet.
Beyond him stretched the desert, forever in motion beneath the sun. A mastaba of stone was erected here. So many years ago, it was to be his home in the afterlife. That had been two decades ago when he was a scribe for Akhenaton, the Heretic Pharaoh. Now he had come here to bury the woman who had become his wife.
She had remained beautiful in death, her face slack as though she had just fallen asleep. Beside her bed was the body of their fourth child, born dead as had been its predecessors. This time, her desire to give him an heir had taken her life as well.
The servants had removed the birthing stool. Her life's blood was now only a pink stain upon the marble floor. Someone had added her favored court wig, a diadem of small flowers rested upon her brow. Her elegant hands lay folded by her sides as they would for eternity after the embalmers wrapped her.
Sister to Nefertiti, daughter of Ay, she had joined her life to his in an effort to unite Egypt once again under the old Gods. As her sister was the Sun, Mutnodjmet was the Moon: cool, reserved, and serenely beautiful.
"King's Great Wife, Singer of Hathor, Singer of Amun, Lady of the South and the North,
Mistress of the Two Lands." The Priest announced her titles. Her husband would remember her by one alone: Sweet One.
He held forward the adze, touching the lips of her mummy case. "Awake!..May you be alert as a living one, rejuvenated every day, healthy in millions of occasions of god sleep, while the gods protect you, protection being around you every day."
Wait for me, Sweet One, the Pharaoh added silently.
Paris
It stood nearly seven feet tall. The double plume on her head proclaimed her a lady of great station, perhaps a Queen. Gabriel Sédilot walked a circle about the sarcophagus. The unusual blue coloring added to the headdress and at various parts of the case commanded his attention. Onuris, his Egyptian business associate, had done his job well.
A boy squatted on the floor of the warehouse. His large dark eyes watched listlessly as the rich Frenchman stuck a pair of spectacles with a jeweler's loupe on his large hooked nose and peered at the carvings.
"It's adequate." Sédilot said. "Highly unusual use of color," he paused and examined Onuris who stood by, his wizened features drawn in concentration. "Did your cousin make this one?"
"No! I swear by Allah! This case came from Medinet Abu. The Desert. She was buried with another woman in a small tomb."
Sédilot humphed. So much for the idea that it was the sarcophagus of a Queen. "Does this contain the original mummy?"
Onuris spread his hands, the gnarled fingers looked like the claws of a bird. "It is in poor condition." Why any of these Europeans would want a dried up old stick of a body was beyond his ken. Many of the mummies had been stacked in storage to be sold as firewood for locomotive tinderboxes.
The case had been heavy enough to transport. Before it left the ship one inept dock hand had almost hit a pilling with it and would have broken off the carved feathers.
"Very well, let me seen what else you've brought." Sédilot moved towards a trunk that Onuris siddled over to.
The boy rested his hands on his knees and shrank back near the sarcophagus.
Husani had become the Lady's servant. He'd been in the tomb when the men who hired him sent him down a shaft to verify an opening into the mastaba. Dangled by a rope, he was the first person to see the Queen since the priests had sealed her in the darkness forever.
His excitement at the loot pulled out of the case waned when he saw them hack her chest open to pull out the scarab-the amulet that protected the heart. They tore off her rings and her necklaces. Each of her fingers and toes had been wrapped and covered with gold imitations of her digits. A diadem of jeweled flowers still rested upon her shriveled brow and a desiccated lotus lay upon her breast. Someone had loved her.
As the robbers retreated with their gold, Husani had taken a last glimpse of the lady's mummy. He looked at her shriveled features, imagining her mouth gaping in a silent scream at her desecration. Perhaps she screamed because without the protection of her scarab she would not be allowed to pass into the Field of Reeds, what he ancients called heaven.
She would be lost in darkness, surrounded by the vile and the wicked. Monsters would chase her for eternity. What hand had rested the flowers upon her brow would never hold hers again.
He'd left with the robbers. Somehow, he'd find a way to win back his Lady's heart.
He'd followed her to the ship. In the trunk that Onuris was showing to the Frenchman, the heart scarab rested in a pouch along with a mask of Anubis, and the Lady's carved bust.
Father Alphonse walked through the apse of the church. At this time of night, not many stayed to keep a late vigil before the altar. He walked down the center aisle and nodded greetings to a pair of women who sat with rosaries in hand.
There was something almost mystical about the sanctuary at night. As if in the quiet hours, one could truly whisper into the Divine's ear. The sense of peace from the quiet was welcome after the evening's festivities.
He felt a curious awareness, realizing he was being observed. Turning towards the church's door, he saw a man had entered. The new arrival walked into the sanctuary. He genuflected gracefully and turned his face towards Father Alphonse. Half of his face was shrouded in darkness.
A superstitious thrill past through the Father. Shaking it off mentally, he waited for the man to approach him. He came abreast of Alphonse and turned his attention towards the altar. "Father, I have a question."
"Yes," Alphonse replied. "How may I help?"
"Three books of the Bible: Leviticus, Matthew, and John. How would you interpret similarities in them?"
Father Alphonse took a seat on the end of row of pews and waved for his visitor to sit. Crossing his arms, he rocked back and began. "An interesting group of books. Two in the New Testament, and one in the old. Leviticus is the third book of the five that comprise the Jewish Torah. It's thought of by scholars as the book of laws, and also instructions on ritual and priestly duties."
The man sat quiet for a moment. "Is there any direct connection between them?"
"Not on a superficial level. As Catholics, we interpret the information in Leviticus as an indication of the coming of Christ. The other two," he said, raising a hand, "are eye-witness reports of Christ's activities."
"Do any of them relate directly to that laws that Leviticus lays out for the priests?"
"Some." The priest paused. "What sort of connection do you hope to find?"
The man lifted an eyebrow. It was a telling gesture in its simple elegance. "I'm not sure."
Father Alphonse considered the comparison. "Moses."
"Go on, Father."
"If you are looking at it from the idea of conversations with the Divine, Moses was instructed by God to write the laws that form Leviticus. John and Matthew were companions of Christ."
The man sat quiet for a moment. "Matthew contains a greater number of Christ's miracles."
"And the story of John the Baptist," the priest added.
The stranger sat with his eye trained upon the altar. "Thank you, Father." He got to his feet and turned away.
"Sorry I could not be of more help."
The stranger paused. "Do you preside at marriages?"
"Of course. Will it be occurring soon?"
A smile crossed the man's features. "As soon as the mystery of the books has been revealed."
Alphonse smiled back. "Then we shall see each other again?"
"I pray so, Father. Good Night."
Alphonse watched the man's retreating figure as he moved silently through the church. He was reminded of a passage: Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.
"Good morning, Agnes," Phillipe Robillard called from the front hall.
"Good morning. Would you care for coffee?"
"That would be wonderful." He joined her in the kitchen. "Where is Etienne? Is he out running errands all ready?"
Agnes offered him a cup and saucer. "We found a note in the hallway this morning. He," she glanced upwards towards the study, "wants a bible sent to Emily."
Phillipe took the coffee, dropping a sugar cube into it. "That's…not unusual I suppose."
Agnes gave the younger man a meaningful look. "He's got that look about him again. You can practically hear the wheels turning inside his head."
"Something is up?" Phillipe asked softly. "We'll ask Javier."
Annie lifted her parasol with an impatient gesture. "Jim says it's definitely artifacts, so Ned wasn't lying. He wouldn't tell me more though. Just gave me money to meet him at a hotel in Paris."
Chase escorted her out of the train station. "No dates either?"
Annie carefully arranged her dress as she sat. "No."
"You seem a bit perturbed." Chase observed.
Annie looked sharply at him. "I'm angry. I thought Jim would trust me more." She mouth formed a sullen pout. "It's Sterns' doing."
"Now, Annie," he cautioned. "Don't let that Irish temper of yours get the better of you. No one can suspect that you're watching them."
"I know," she huffed. As she turned to glance out of the window, her voice turned soft. "I just expected more from Jim Burns."
"It's business, Annie. You know that better than anyone else," Chase cautioned.
"Yes. I know," she replied, irritated.
Emily arrived home in time to oversee Maxine Sablon's ritual of watering her palm. It looked decidedly comfortable in the nook next to the staircase.
Maxine brought her a bag. "This came for you."
Thanking the girl, Emily went upstairs and sat on the sofa. Inside the bag was a bible. Sticking out of the edge was one of Erik's envelopes. She opened it with happy anticipation to have her feelings wilt as she read his note.
I need your female intuition once more. What is the connection between the books Leviticus, Matthew, and John?—E.
Emily flipped over the page and read it over again. That's all? she wondered. We've barely seen each other and all I get is a hurried 'I love you' from Charles and a question about the bible?
She let her head drop back on the top of the sofa, feeling a keen sense of disappointment. He'd said that he would have to be elsewhere and she understood that. Why did it have to happen now that he had asked her to marry him? Things were going nicely, albeit a bit quickly.
She sat up and kicked off her shoes, letting the cool air caress her toes. He'd done this to her. He'd sent her flowers and chocolates and little gifts. He'd made sure to tell her every moment they were together that he loved her. Somewhere along the line, she'd come to expect it.
That thought saddened her. She'd said "I love you" back, but hadn't taken the time to reciprocate his gifts. Now that they could not see each other every day, it was time for her to send something to him.