CHAPTER SEVEN
Wadi Bey el Kebir, Mid-Morning of September 17, 1940...
"Were you able to ask Lostris for help?" Ardeth asked a bleary-eyed Martin. The two men had spent an arduous night walking in the wadi, stopping only for a few hours to sleep briefly.
They'd taken turns keeping watch while the other slept for an hour. Countless emperor scorpions, busy with their night work, had scuttled to and fro across the wadi, causing Ardeth some concern. The sting of the scorpion could paralyze an arm or leg for days but the Sahara would claim their lives well before the poison could wear off.
"Yes. I was able to make contact with her and she has agreed to help," Martin replied, eyeing a slow moving emperor scorpion near his foot. "I thought the scorpions dug themselves into the sand during the day," he finished.
"Normally, they do dig into the sand. That one is dead," Ardeth noted drily, nodding his head at the emperor scorpion at Martin's feet.
Martin lifted up his leg and brought his boot down onto the scorpion's shell. Obediently, the shell cracked.
"A feast fit for an emperor!" Martin chided no one in particular, adjusting Ardeth's tagelmust around his eyes.
A worry line appeared on Ardeth's brow and he glanced sideways at Martin. Rambling and muttering incoherently were early signs of heat exhaustion, and the late summer day promised another scorcher.
Ardeth remembered the town of Al-Aziziyah near the Mediterranean had recorded a world record temperature of 136 degrees Fahrenheit, on another late summer day: September 13, 1922. This morning's temperature seemed no less hot. The sky above was a deep blue: there were no signs of Nuit sending the rains to help them down the wadi towards Tripoli.
He reached into the sack he'd made from ripping off a swath of cloth from his robe when he'd lent Martin the tagelmust. Pulling out a root from the desert succulent plant, he handed it to Martin.
"Here, my friend. You need to drink the entire root," he said. Martin looked at Ardeth, distracted for a moment, then he nodded and accepted the proffered root. Drinking the water the thick root held, Martin's eyes cleared.
"Thank you, Ardeth. I think the desert is trying to claim me," he told Ardeth before draining the root dry.
"You're welcome. And you are not the only one the desert is trying to claim," Ardeth replied, pointing to the dead carcass of a camel on top of the wadi's bank. "Camel?" Ardeth asked aloud. Climbing up the steep bank of the wadi, he scanned the horizon for signs of nomads.
"Are they there?" Martin called up, excited hope in his voice, knowing that camels might mean nomads were camping nearby. Camels could easily walk fifty miles in one day.
Ardeth looked down at Martin, and shook his head. "No."
"Damn," Martin said.
"The nomads have been gone for a while. This camel wandered off." Ardeth bent down to examine the carcass. The camel's skin was dried to tough leather. "She's been dead for several days," Ardeth said.
"She?"
"She," Ardeth confirmed and stood up. "She was nursing a young one." He climbed back down the bank of the wadi. "Come, we must make more time before we rest in the heat of the day," he told Martin.
The two men started to turn and Ardeth happened to glance to his right. A sharp intake of breath alerted Martin that something was wrong. He too, turned, and sucked his breath in sharply at the sight of the roiling black clouds filling the sky. Rumbling was heard in the distance, rumbling that sounded like laughter.
"Seth," Ardeth muttered under his breath.
"Again?" Martin asked, his eyes fixed on the black cloud.
Pulling out the Bracelet from the leather pouch, Ardeth slipped the Bracelet onto his right wrist. He stood tall, and Martin spread his arms and called out, "Lostris, Daughter of the Waters, we have need of your help!"
The emeralds in the Bracelet began to burn a brighter shade of green and Ardeth felt a power begin to emanate up his arm from the Bracelet. The rumbling grew louder until a gravelly male voice could be heard: "You will fail, Daughter of the Waters! They shall die under the waters and their souls lost for all time!"
"Not this time, Dark One. It was I who kept you at bay last night and you shall not harm them today," another male voice interjected.
"Imhotep!" Ardeth exclaimed.
Seth's voice echoed Ardeth. "Imhotep," he snarled. The clouds gathered themselves into the angry face of Seth.
"I have come to assist the Daughter of the Waters. You will be safe. I have seen this much, Ardeth Bey," Imhotep replied as a sharp cry sounded--a female's voice in pain. The belly of Nuit opened and a torrent of rain poured down into the wadi. Instantly, the wadi flooded and the two men raised their arms, trying to shield themselves from the huge tsunami that bore down upon them.
"My son," Nuit's voice, weak, started to say but her words were cut off by Seth.
"My brother shall die!" Seth roared, laughing as he fought with his mother, draining her belly of water.
"You shall be safe. I have cleared the waters around you and you shall be able to breathe," Lostris said, her melodious voice filling Ardeth's ears. And Ardeth hoped that her words were true.
"Pharaoh Tamose, lend me your power as a God-King of Egypt," she said. A golden light flashed, and instead of being engulfed in the tsunami, the two travelers found themselves swimming effortlessly and time seemed to slow. Seth's laughter died down, and disappeared entirely.
In his mind, Ardeth saw himself as a newborn, his skin still damp from the womb waters. He smiled. His mother was singing a lullaby as she nursed him, a lock of her hair brushing his cheek. Her long fingers stroked his thick dark hair--"unusual for a baby to have a full head of hair at birth," he thought.
"Her name is Khuta, Ardeth Bey. She is your remote grandmother and she named her son Ardeth," Imhotep's voice said, startling Ardeth.
"Ardeth is an unusual name. My grandmothers told me my name has not been used since the time before the 17th Dynasty, according to the scrolls the scribe keeps," he told Imhotep.
"Your scribe is correct. Khuta wanted a new name in honor of a new place to live. Are you displeased with her choice?"
"Not at all," Ardeth replied softly. In his vision, Khuta looked up, and her eyes grew wide in surprise. She stopped singing and whispered, "Ardeth, my son." Ardeth wasn't surprised to see the scars on her face; to him, Khuta was made more beautiful by her disfigurement.
The vision faded and Ardeth heard Martin say "And I love you, Mummy," and Ardeth knew that Imhotep had give Martin his own vision.
Lostris and Imhotep spoke together, their voices blending well. "We have placed you as near the shore as we can and you are a half a day's hike from the Great Green." A contralto male voice joined in--Pharaoh Tamose, Ardeth suspected--"We can not hold Seth back much longer. The Gods of Egypt are watching over you," the voices faded out as the rain stopped suddenly and the sky cleared to a bright enamel blue. The water in the wadi receded just as suddenly, leaving drying puddles in the deep riverbed.
Ardeth now found himself face down in a fast-drying puddle of water. He got up, wiping water from his face, and looked for Martin. Martin was already standing, looking around. He was shaking his head, trying to clear his ears of water.
"Did I hear them correctly? That we are only a half a day's desert hike from Tripoli?" Martin asked, his voice soft, full of wonder that he was able to swim in the raging water, and full of wonder that he'd been able to talk to his mother.
Ardeth nodded, and replied just as softly. "The Gods always protect when they can. A half a day's hike is not so bad." He looked at Martin. "Did you find your mother?" knowing Martin had never known his mother in this life, for she had died soon after his birth.
Martin nodded, the tagelmust already half dry in the searing heat. Ardeth shaded his eyes and looked at the sun, judging the time. "Then come, let us go. We shall be in Tripoli by nightfall," he told Martin. "We no longer have our supplies of food and water, so we shall have to hurry," he finished.
Far ahead in the distance, the Mediterranean sea glinted green, beckoning the two travelers.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
INTERMISSION I
It's night
All is calm
The birds
Still send
Some cries
to their comrades and
To the sun
Night has come
Like a curtain that is drawn
Slowly, slowly.
Night is born
Words on a black cloud
Here is the moon
And in the rooms
They sleep with glimpses
Of dreams in their eyes
--Fanny Ben-Aris, age 9 (concentration camp inmate, displayed at Yad Vashem, Museum of the Holocaust, Jerusalem)
to be continued in Book Two: The Liberation of London
Wadi Bey el Kebir, Mid-Morning of September 17, 1940...
"Were you able to ask Lostris for help?" Ardeth asked a bleary-eyed Martin. The two men had spent an arduous night walking in the wadi, stopping only for a few hours to sleep briefly.
They'd taken turns keeping watch while the other slept for an hour. Countless emperor scorpions, busy with their night work, had scuttled to and fro across the wadi, causing Ardeth some concern. The sting of the scorpion could paralyze an arm or leg for days but the Sahara would claim their lives well before the poison could wear off.
"Yes. I was able to make contact with her and she has agreed to help," Martin replied, eyeing a slow moving emperor scorpion near his foot. "I thought the scorpions dug themselves into the sand during the day," he finished.
"Normally, they do dig into the sand. That one is dead," Ardeth noted drily, nodding his head at the emperor scorpion at Martin's feet.
Martin lifted up his leg and brought his boot down onto the scorpion's shell. Obediently, the shell cracked.
"A feast fit for an emperor!" Martin chided no one in particular, adjusting Ardeth's tagelmust around his eyes.
A worry line appeared on Ardeth's brow and he glanced sideways at Martin. Rambling and muttering incoherently were early signs of heat exhaustion, and the late summer day promised another scorcher.
Ardeth remembered the town of Al-Aziziyah near the Mediterranean had recorded a world record temperature of 136 degrees Fahrenheit, on another late summer day: September 13, 1922. This morning's temperature seemed no less hot. The sky above was a deep blue: there were no signs of Nuit sending the rains to help them down the wadi towards Tripoli.
He reached into the sack he'd made from ripping off a swath of cloth from his robe when he'd lent Martin the tagelmust. Pulling out a root from the desert succulent plant, he handed it to Martin.
"Here, my friend. You need to drink the entire root," he said. Martin looked at Ardeth, distracted for a moment, then he nodded and accepted the proffered root. Drinking the water the thick root held, Martin's eyes cleared.
"Thank you, Ardeth. I think the desert is trying to claim me," he told Ardeth before draining the root dry.
"You're welcome. And you are not the only one the desert is trying to claim," Ardeth replied, pointing to the dead carcass of a camel on top of the wadi's bank. "Camel?" Ardeth asked aloud. Climbing up the steep bank of the wadi, he scanned the horizon for signs of nomads.
"Are they there?" Martin called up, excited hope in his voice, knowing that camels might mean nomads were camping nearby. Camels could easily walk fifty miles in one day.
Ardeth looked down at Martin, and shook his head. "No."
"Damn," Martin said.
"The nomads have been gone for a while. This camel wandered off." Ardeth bent down to examine the carcass. The camel's skin was dried to tough leather. "She's been dead for several days," Ardeth said.
"She?"
"She," Ardeth confirmed and stood up. "She was nursing a young one." He climbed back down the bank of the wadi. "Come, we must make more time before we rest in the heat of the day," he told Martin.
The two men started to turn and Ardeth happened to glance to his right. A sharp intake of breath alerted Martin that something was wrong. He too, turned, and sucked his breath in sharply at the sight of the roiling black clouds filling the sky. Rumbling was heard in the distance, rumbling that sounded like laughter.
"Seth," Ardeth muttered under his breath.
"Again?" Martin asked, his eyes fixed on the black cloud.
Pulling out the Bracelet from the leather pouch, Ardeth slipped the Bracelet onto his right wrist. He stood tall, and Martin spread his arms and called out, "Lostris, Daughter of the Waters, we have need of your help!"
The emeralds in the Bracelet began to burn a brighter shade of green and Ardeth felt a power begin to emanate up his arm from the Bracelet. The rumbling grew louder until a gravelly male voice could be heard: "You will fail, Daughter of the Waters! They shall die under the waters and their souls lost for all time!"
"Not this time, Dark One. It was I who kept you at bay last night and you shall not harm them today," another male voice interjected.
"Imhotep!" Ardeth exclaimed.
Seth's voice echoed Ardeth. "Imhotep," he snarled. The clouds gathered themselves into the angry face of Seth.
"I have come to assist the Daughter of the Waters. You will be safe. I have seen this much, Ardeth Bey," Imhotep replied as a sharp cry sounded--a female's voice in pain. The belly of Nuit opened and a torrent of rain poured down into the wadi. Instantly, the wadi flooded and the two men raised their arms, trying to shield themselves from the huge tsunami that bore down upon them.
"My son," Nuit's voice, weak, started to say but her words were cut off by Seth.
"My brother shall die!" Seth roared, laughing as he fought with his mother, draining her belly of water.
"You shall be safe. I have cleared the waters around you and you shall be able to breathe," Lostris said, her melodious voice filling Ardeth's ears. And Ardeth hoped that her words were true.
"Pharaoh Tamose, lend me your power as a God-King of Egypt," she said. A golden light flashed, and instead of being engulfed in the tsunami, the two travelers found themselves swimming effortlessly and time seemed to slow. Seth's laughter died down, and disappeared entirely.
In his mind, Ardeth saw himself as a newborn, his skin still damp from the womb waters. He smiled. His mother was singing a lullaby as she nursed him, a lock of her hair brushing his cheek. Her long fingers stroked his thick dark hair--"unusual for a baby to have a full head of hair at birth," he thought.
"Her name is Khuta, Ardeth Bey. She is your remote grandmother and she named her son Ardeth," Imhotep's voice said, startling Ardeth.
"Ardeth is an unusual name. My grandmothers told me my name has not been used since the time before the 17th Dynasty, according to the scrolls the scribe keeps," he told Imhotep.
"Your scribe is correct. Khuta wanted a new name in honor of a new place to live. Are you displeased with her choice?"
"Not at all," Ardeth replied softly. In his vision, Khuta looked up, and her eyes grew wide in surprise. She stopped singing and whispered, "Ardeth, my son." Ardeth wasn't surprised to see the scars on her face; to him, Khuta was made more beautiful by her disfigurement.
The vision faded and Ardeth heard Martin say "And I love you, Mummy," and Ardeth knew that Imhotep had give Martin his own vision.
Lostris and Imhotep spoke together, their voices blending well. "We have placed you as near the shore as we can and you are a half a day's hike from the Great Green." A contralto male voice joined in--Pharaoh Tamose, Ardeth suspected--"We can not hold Seth back much longer. The Gods of Egypt are watching over you," the voices faded out as the rain stopped suddenly and the sky cleared to a bright enamel blue. The water in the wadi receded just as suddenly, leaving drying puddles in the deep riverbed.
Ardeth now found himself face down in a fast-drying puddle of water. He got up, wiping water from his face, and looked for Martin. Martin was already standing, looking around. He was shaking his head, trying to clear his ears of water.
"Did I hear them correctly? That we are only a half a day's desert hike from Tripoli?" Martin asked, his voice soft, full of wonder that he was able to swim in the raging water, and full of wonder that he'd been able to talk to his mother.
Ardeth nodded, and replied just as softly. "The Gods always protect when they can. A half a day's hike is not so bad." He looked at Martin. "Did you find your mother?" knowing Martin had never known his mother in this life, for she had died soon after his birth.
Martin nodded, the tagelmust already half dry in the searing heat. Ardeth shaded his eyes and looked at the sun, judging the time. "Then come, let us go. We shall be in Tripoli by nightfall," he told Martin. "We no longer have our supplies of food and water, so we shall have to hurry," he finished.
Far ahead in the distance, the Mediterranean sea glinted green, beckoning the two travelers.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
INTERMISSION I
It's night
All is calm
The birds
Still send
Some cries
to their comrades and
To the sun
Night has come
Like a curtain that is drawn
Slowly, slowly.
Night is born
Words on a black cloud
Here is the moon
And in the rooms
They sleep with glimpses
Of dreams in their eyes
--Fanny Ben-Aris, age 9 (concentration camp inmate, displayed at Yad Vashem, Museum of the Holocaust, Jerusalem)
to be continued in Book Two: The Liberation of London
