In the Nile's Emerald Depths, ch 7
Welcome to the modern age. Well, at least, nearer the modern age. Fast-forwarding a little more than 3000 years, and here we are...
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Leora appreciated her uncle fully for his generosity. Few could say their relations could assume guardianship over them so interestedly. Horace was positively absorbed in his niece's rearing. Having no children himself, he showered her with attentions. She was groomed to be intelligent, poised, and observant-no large feat, as she already had these traits, and tutoring only increased the potential. Advice was often issued to her over the dinner table and accepted politely. Horace took his duty as guardian with great seriousness. In his career, he was the type of man who, when setting out to do something, always went in with the intentions of being the very best, producing quality work. He approached rearing young women the same way. He hired a French governess, gave Leora full run of his stables, entertained her with funny stories of his work. His niece indeed found tales of his digs amusing.
But living them out? Ah, perhaps not.
Horace thought it might be a very diverting expedition for his niece-how many young women could say they had participated in an archeological dig at Thebes? He very much hoped she would follow in his footsteps, become an Egyptologist- - - the field was slowly opening to women. Horace congratulated himself on the plan, assured his niece would thoroughly enjoy the experience.
The niece in question wasn't nearly as enthused. Leora indeed like that idea of participating in excavation, seeing mummies and pyramids, Yet, that was an idea. The practice…? But she did not protest, instead smiled, nodded, and ordered herself a new trunk and wardrobe appropriate desert garb. Madam DuBois, Leora's governess, was to accompany them, though with little pleasure. Young ladies of quality did not go traipsing around the Egyptian desert.
Horace was determined. And so, the party set out for the two-month dig. The group held approximately twenty. Madam and Leora were the only women.
They shared a spacious tent which contained several Persian rugs, a copper tub and rice paper privacy screen, crystal oil lamps, two cots, and a very nice card table. It was reasonable comfortable, though Madam turned her nose up to it. Leora settled rather nicely, setting up her trunk's travel wardrobe, and arranging the collection of books she brought. She was under the impression, when packing, that she would require a good deal of reading material.
In the evenings, the women ate around the campfire at the center of camp, with the workers. Most were native, quiet men, filled with an appreciation for their homeland (and the paycheck its historic locale could offer). Leora slowly picked up a feel for the general tone of their language-she was quite interested in languages, and hoped to someday study them.
The expedition was, at times, dreadfully dull. While entire parts of the day were spent inside the tent, Rainier was often only allowed out to paint, or observe some intense bits of work. She did not perform these archeological tasks herself, unfortunately. To her great displeasure, she was treated quite like a China doll: breakable, stiff, special. Women were a rarity on the expedition site. She was respected, certainly, but not enough that unsupervised visits to the worksites were encouraged.
It was not her uncle's first time in Thebes. Some eight years back he had recovered a mummy ages away in the recently-discovered Ahm Shere. Though toppled, in utter ruin, there were things to be found. It was a glorious place, and Horace had found quite a few treasures before coming across the mummy. The fellow had been identified as a Thebian priest. With great pride, the Egyptologist had returned the fellow to his temple, constructing a special glass-topped coffin to house the ancient corpse. It was his pride and joy, the crown jewel of his accomplishments. The newspaper clipping of the ceremony was with him always. Tucked in the upper inside pocket of his jacket. When she was younger, Leora would often ask for it, opening up the yellowed paper, smoothing the creases, running her fingers along the faded ink.
Only recently had his research identified the mummy as a disgraced priest of Seti I's reign. It was all quite exciting. The poor fellow was in horrid condition-the raiders would moved him left in a soon-to-be collapsing temple in Ahm Shere. Horace retrieved him on a weekend dig.
On the morning of their second day, Horace accompanied the pair of women on their introduction to "his" mummy. Leora already knew quite a bit about the mysterious corpse-Horace told her volumes. Madam was less interested, complaining of the sand. She was becoming quite a tedious bother, always fretting, or disapproving of the landscape in some manner. Her charge found it tiring and dull, a raincloud where she sought sunshine. Leora was doing all she could to make the best of the situation; Madam was in no way helping.
As they walked through the ruins, Uncle Horace started a monologue regarding the architecture of the period, the fall of the city, his most recent ventures. Leora only half-listen, as she was busy observing the hieroglyph pictures with a keen interest. The pictures themselves were quite lovely, but it was the words that enchanted her. Every so often, a word or two would stand out. "Water." "Sun" "City." Simple words. Some Horace had taught her, others she just knew. Her favourite always jumped off the stone- - - "Mouse."
"As you will see straight ahead, the temple! It is situated near the center of the city, adjacent to the palace. Note the smooth columns, tapered, the stairs- - - -how even!" Horace beamed, utterly delighted with the ancient's ingenuity. "Brilliant mathematicians, eh, Leora? Shows in their architecture."
"Yes, uncle," his niece replied politely.
"Yes, my girl, the vast knowledge of the ancients," he sighed as they started up the stairs. Leora was careful to watch her step, knowing the nature of old stairways. At the very least, she wasn't troubled by any skirts- - - -trousers, trimmed and fitted to her figure nicely, giving her legs plenty of freedom, and serving as prevention against tripping. Madam did not approve.
"I say, you could learn so much…we all could! Math, sciences, language, astronomy, philosophy, herbal studies, medicine! A wealth of knowledge. Tell me, my girl, are you keeping a journal? Something to show your children, you know, a bit of sport. Show them their old mum wasn't all fluff and stuff in her day, no."
"Of course. I've already painted some very nice water colours of those fountain ruins you showed me yesterday."
"Very good!"
They had by then reached the columns. The doors of the original temple were gone. An empty hole stood in its stead. There Horace paused the group. Leora smoothed her blouse, knowing another monologue was on the way. The governess stood stiffly, mood already defeated by the blistering heat, though it wasn't yet nine in the morning.
"Ladies, I must warn you that this particular specimen is…how shall I say…gruesome. Time and ill conditions have been hard on him, rendering a graphic figure. I know of your sensibilities, Madam DuBois. But do not fear- - - "
"I assure you, sir, there will be no fainting on my part," Madam said primly, cutting across her employer.
With that, they were lead inside. Upon entering, Leora was stunned to see polished floors, torches, lit and burning, lining the walls. A gurgling fountain stood beside a pair of huge doors across the hall. The scent of sandalwood and myrrh lazed through the air, overwhelming the young woman. She could hear the faint drone of prayer.
Then she opened her mouth, blinked, and the scene melted to ruins, her uncle and governess beside her. Grasses rose from the cracks in the tile, sunlight streamed in from the barren sky revealed by a crumbling ceiling. Sand had accumulated in the corners. It was ruins.
She decided it was the heat. Playing with her mind.
The group crossed the long hall to what Horace called the "temple house." Again, there were no doors, just a gap. "Near the back alter there is a vestibule," Horace explained. "Where the idol of the sun god Ra resided. As small worship sanctuary, you see. This was were the priests and the wife of Ra would pray daily."
Madam asked, "Wife? For a statue?"
"You must remember, they thought it embodied their god, as a sort of…channel. Yes, he had a wife-sometimes several. But it was the primary wife that lead the ceremonies, and performed most wifely duties."
A look of confusion and disgust crossed over the governess's face before the Egyptologist hastily explained the offerings of food, prayer, and incense.
"The idol would have been the primary focus. Well, that's long gone, so we put the chap in his stead. Probably spent a lot of time here, I would imagine. Here's the alter…watch your step now…."
They were soon in the vestibule. A large sandstone coffin took up a majority of the space. Leora's eyes were drawn to a small clay pot near the foor of the coffin, filled with lotus. Fresh, dew-covered blooms. Neither Madam nor Uncle made any comment, but it was still a curious sight to behold in Leora's eyes. After all, who left flowers for a man who had been dead three thousand years?
Horace stepped up to the dais. "Ladies, may I present the High Priest Imhotep."
Cautiously, the pair of women approached. The second Leora's eyes graced the horrid visage, she gasped aloud. Madam instantly flew back, entirely disgusted.
Leathery brown flesh with a sticky sheen of rot, an ever-grimacing mouth. A single eternal shriek contorting a wretched face. The mummy was as terrifying as Horace had warned them. Nevertheless, the girl was transfixed. By shock, disgust, fear, and something…something…more. Though frightening, the three-thousand-year-old man was also somewhat intriguing.
Inadvertantly, Leora pressed closer. The glass seemed to rippled as she moved, like the effect a stone had when toss upon a peaceful pool. Once more, the heavy scent of incense overpowered her. But neither of the adults appeared bothered by the smell.
"Well, my dear?" Horace peered at his niece across the threshold.
"He's…a curiosity," Leora finally managed. "Do they all look so…angry, Uncle Horace?"
He chuckled. "I must admit, there is some degree of discontentment to ever specimen, but we believe our fellow suffered from a rather violent death. Punishment, at the hands of a king."
"Oh. Yes. Of course."
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So, um, I just graduated from high school. Reviews would be a most excellent gift. And feedback is always appreciated. Question, comments, critiques, I take 'em all.