***
Egypt 1934
While, in the year 2003, Amber Davis lay on her bed reading, Ardeth Bay lay on the pallet in his tent fuming. He could not accuse the entire camp of invading his privacy, but there was no mistaking that his journal was gone. Well, what he had composed as a journal, of sorts. He never bothered to obtain a bound book of empty pages. He found whatever was available at the time and wrote down his jumbled thoughts as they surfaced. Each time he added a page, he would fold it, remove the false bottom of his only keepsake, and place it with the others. As far as he knew, no one had any idea that he did this, so who would know to take them?
Frustrated, he had scrawled out a threat and a plea and placed it in the hiding place the previous night. When he checked it the next morning, his note had vanished. He was completely at a loss as to how it was happening and he wondered, knowing he would probably never find out, who had taken his most private writings.
Just as he sat up to go out amongst the people and join his family for dinner, his Second-in-Command, Hashir, ducked into his tent. "Your mother is wondering if you will be joining them soon?"
Ardeth nodded as he ran his fingers through his long black hair. "Aiwa. Tell them I shall be there shortly."
Hashir nodded and left the tent. Ardeth's eyes swept the interior of his tent and silently cursed the thief. Inwardly, he prayed they would return what was his.
***
A gasp or a thousand later, Amber stared at the pile of pages that lay beside her on the bed. She had discovered the author was a man, a warrior, and sometimes, a poet. His name was Ardeth Bay and he claimed to be descended from those who guarded the Pharaoh. He was true of heart and spirit. His pure goodness and strength lived and emanated through his words. He battled to save humanity, never receiving any credit or reward from those whom he saved.
She wondered, at first, if the man was mad. A Med-jai? A Warrior for God? Protector of the Pharoah and all that the gods had created back in the ancient days of Egypt? Her heart beat furiously in her chest. It was so very fascinating and yet, so unbelievable.
Her eyes fell to the threatening note that she had not left with the professor. How could he know they were gone from their hiding place? It just...cannot be real. She didn't know how long she stared at the pages, but the longer she did the more guilty she felt. Slowly, painstakingly, she folded each page and stacked them neatly. She separated the translations; those she would keep. Keep? Was she actually thinking that once she put these pages back into the false bottom of that chest they would disappear? Sadly, she did.
She retrieved the leather cord that had bound them and tied it around the folded pages. She left the bed and padded the short distance to her desk and pulled out a piece of paper and her favorite pen. She stared at the blank page for the longest time, unsure what to write. Finally, the words formed and she jotted them down and placed the sheet inside its matching envelope, sealing it.
Amber placed that note on top of Ardeth's pages and carefully placed them all inside the false bottom. Her eyes didn't leave the bundle the entire time the plank closed down, covering them. Even through the old wood, she could see them; they were imprinted into her mind. Although it seemed so farfetched and something straight from the Science Fiction Channel, she knew in her heart that when she awakened the next day, the letters would be gone.
--
Ardeth yawned and stretched his tall frame, relieving his taught muscles of their sleep. His bones crackled and popped as he stood and straightened himself. He dressed quickly in his robes and glanced briefly at the small chest as he made his way to the tent flap. He paused a moment, wondering if he should take the time to check his hiding place. He shrugged, thinking it was probably a wasted effort; nevertheless, he kneeled before it. He opened it slowly and pushed aside the various contents until his finger slid into the tiny indentation that allowed him access to lift the panel. He pulled it upward, allowing him to see inside the hollow bottom and his heart skipped a beat when his eye fell upon the bundle of papers and the envelope that sat upon them. He lifted them out and closed the false bottom as well as the chest.
Moving to his pallet, he sat comfortably while he contemplated the small square of an envelope. It was the palest shade, a soft rose color. He fingered it momentarily before opening the flap. He had not put this envelope in the chest. It frightened and intrigued him at the same time. Slowly, he extracted the slip of paper from inside and unfolded it. The writing it contained was English, and he was thankful that he had taken the time to learn the foreign language in its written form.
Mr. Bay,
I must apologize for your missing documents, and the remainder of them shall be returned to you at the soonest opportunity. Please, let me explain.
You see, recently my grandfather had given me a most unique chest as a gift. It is adorned with the most unique carvings. They appear Egyptian, but I cannot be certain. At any rate, I happened upon the false bottom of this chest, and in it found your journal that you believe was stolen.
If you find your pages and this note, you must understand that I did not steal them. They were contained in the false bottom of the beautiful chest that is now in my possession.
Tell me...did you make this chest? It is quite lovely and I hold it very dear to my heart.
Now, about your journal. You see, I cannot read Arabic, which is what my grandfather and I believed was the language in which the journal was written. Therefore, I took the pages to a College Professor friend of Pappy's and he agreed to translate them for me.
I know you must think I have invaded your privacy, and I guess I have. For that I do wholeheartedly apologize and pray for your forgiveness. I shall retrieve the remaining pages tomorrow and return them to you the same way in which I returned these.
It is my hope that they do find their way back to you, where they belong. Again, I do pray that you will not hold this against me. I did not intend to do any harm.
With regards,
Amber M. Davis
PS. It is the year 2003. I know that is difficult to believe, but it is the truth. Nearly three quarters of a century has passed since your journal was written. I, too, find that amazing.
Ardeth stared at the paper as if in a trance. The year 2003? It was impossible. Was there some sort of time displacement held within the confines of his wooden chest? No, surely not. It was unfeasible. A vortex centered at the bottom of a wooden box? Insane. And yet, he held the proof in his hand, did he not? Half of his journal had reappeared in the false bottom, as well as a note from this stranger claiming it was the year 2003. He was completely at a loss.
He fingered the letter for a few moments more before placing it and his journal into a leather pouch. Setting the pouch inside the chest, but not in the false bottom, he made his way from his tent to get a start on his day. He had been informed the previous night that he was to come before the tribe's Elders the next day and he feared he knew the subject of the meeting was one he would not be receptive to. As Chief, he was duty bound to appear before them, but that did not mean he had to agree with them or accept their decree.
He took a deep breath as he turned his face toward the sunlight. The desert sun was death to the unprepared, but to his people, it was part of their makeup. At times, he felt as though he fed off it and somehow it was where he gained his strength. Releasing his breath he joined his family for the morning meal and then he would face the Elders.
***
To be continued...