Authors: Kathryn Le Veque
Allahaba’s
eyebrows rose. “Does the museum believe you have stolen something?”
Fox exhaled
sharply and shook his head. “No,” he said flatly. “But I made a big mistake
when I first arrived in Cairo yesterday. I went to see a colleague at the
museum that I once dated. She helped me figure out the first part of the
papyrus, which refers to the Ape’s Claw or, as we figured out, the Five Fingers
of the Ape. But this woman still apparently has feelings for me, which makes
her wildly jealous of Morgan and apparently wildly curious as to my purpose
here in Egypt. Whoever came to your shop, I have no doubt she sent him, which
means she’s been watching Morgan and I for the past two days. She knows where
we’ve been and who we’ve talked to. That’s why he came to you; my guess is that
he was going to try and find out what you knew about me.”
Allahaba shook
his head in disapproval. “She will get nothing out of me, my friend,” he said.
“But… the papyrus. I never did know the full translation other than what my
grandfather told me. Did you translate all of it?”
“I did,” Fox
nodded his head, “but it’s full of clues, like a puzzle, and I was hoping you
could help. That’s really why I came to see you yesterday before we were
sidetracked with the beautiful ring you gave us. Do you remember when I asked
you about the mythical city of Ranthor?”
“I do.”
“Clues in the
papyrus may lead to it. Would you be willing to help us follow the clues?”
Allahaba smiled.
“As Fanny and my grandfather did?” he bobbed his head. “I would go to the ends
of the earth, Fox. Moreover, I feel as if I should help you since you are
marrying my cousin. We must keep this in the family.”
Fox grinned,
winking at Morgan as she sat quietly and sipped her tea. The case containing
the papyrus was leaning against the wall and he collected it, putting it on the
table top and releasing the fastens. When he finally peeled back the cover and
removed a piece of soft cotton cloth that was covering the papyrus, the beauty
of the amazing artifact suddenly came to light.
Allahaba stared
at it, his dark eyes glittering as he beheld the papyrus that broke up his
grandfather’s marriage. He’d only heard of it until this point and as he gazed
at the still-vibrant artwork, he was indeed entranced.
“Now,” Fox stood
over it with his hands on his hips; he hadn’t brought his reading glasses so he
squinted as he inspected the papyrus. “I’ve already translated it and it says
’Isis,
Lady of Heaven, Favored of The Gods, may she be given eternal life by the Gods
whom love her. May she find peace within the bosom of the Most High, from the
Claw of the Apes, ten days as the sun sets to the Holy City of Ranthor which
lies deep to the east in the arms of the Syene, to the Fingers that Reach to
the Sky. May she know grace and divine protection, our Holy Mistress, foremost
Lady of the West, as she Rests in the Shelter of the Sun.”
Allahaba stared
at it a moment longer before collecting his seat, most closely scrutinizing the
lettering, the materials. He shook his head in wonder.
“This is a
magnificent artifact,” he breathed. “I’ve seen many papyruses but never like
this one. It’s truly beautiful.”
Fox nodded in
agreement, his black eyes riveted to the papyrus. “Since you can translate
hieroglyphics better than I can, you can confirm my translation.”
In Allahaba’s
business, the advanced knowledge of Egyptian history, hieroglyphics and
hieratic was imperative. The truth was that he was much faster at deciphering
hieroglyphics because he’d learned at a very young age from his grandfather. It
was, literally, his second language and as Fox and Morgan watched in silence,
Allahaba began to read.
“
’Isis, Lady
of Heaven, Favored of The Gods, may she be given eternal life by the Gods whom
love her
,” he read softly
. “’ May she find peace within the bosom of the
Most High, from the Claw of the Apes
….” His head came up and he focused on
Fox. “And you said you have already figured out where this is located?”
Fox nodded.
“Near the ancient border fortress of Amada.”
“That’s south of
Lake Aswan, south of Abu Simbel.”
“Right,” Fox
picked up his coffee cup again, making sure it was well away from the papyrus.
“As I told you,
Khmsh
ʼ
Şāb
ʻ
Mn
ʼ
Ābl
, or Five
Fingers of the Ape, is an ancient burial ground for the soldiers who manned the
fortresses along the upper Nile. It’s a canyon with five small offshoots, like
fingers. They ancients used to call it Five Fingers of the Ape which, in my
professional opinion, can also translate to ‘Ape’s claw’. So we’ve figured out
the first part of the text.”
“I agree,”
Allahaba said, looking back to the text to continue reading. “‘
Ten days as
the sun sets to the Holy City of Ranthor which lies deep to the east in the
arms of the Syene.’.”
Fox interrupted.
“That’s where we are at present,” he said. “I’ve mapped out ten days travel
from the Five Fingers of the Ape, using the angle of the sun around 2000 B.C.,
basically around the reign of Mentuhotep II, and figuring about twenty miles
per day takes us about ninety miles northwest of Aswan.”
“How did you
figure the angle of the sun?” Allahaba wanted to know.
Fox shrugged.
“Because we know that the tilt of the earth’s axis was more severe at that
time. Right now, the earth sits at about a 23.4° axial tilt. Four thousand
years ago, the list was variable at about 28.26°, which caused it to rise at a
more severe northeasterly direction in ancient times, or at about a 75° angle
on the eastern horizon. Using that guideline, I plotted a two hundred mile
course from Amada and ended up in the Arabian Desert; specifically, in the
Manjam Hamsh
wilderness area.
That’s the closest I can come.”
Allahaba thought
on that information a moment, his gaze moving back over the ancient papyrus. He
fixated on the last row of hieroglyphs. “Syene,” he murmured. “
Syene
.
Does that not ring a bell, Fox?”
Fox’s brow furrowed.
“It does, but I can’t place it. I’ve heard it before but I can’t find it in any
of the reference material I have. Why? Have you heard it before?”
Allahaba nodded
faintly, closing his eyes as he struggled to recollect where he had heard the
term before. “When I was young, we had a woman that worked for my mother who
was Bedouin. I seem to recall…,” he suddenly slapped the table, startling
Morgan into almost spilling her tea. He smiled apologetically at her as he
returned his eager focus to Fox. “There is an ancient caravan trail in the
Arabian desert used by the Romans to transport precious stones from their mines
near the Red Sea. Fox, do you not recall this? It runs from Edfu all the way to
the Red Sea.”
Fox’s face
suddenly lit up. “Yes, I do,” his dark eyes were wide as recollection dawned.
“The road was old even in ancient times. When we were in Edfu, we were focused
on the Temple of Horus so I really didn’t have the time to do any research on
the ancient road but I do remember that from what I’d read, it was several
thousand years old even before the Roman’s used it. They used to call that
road the….”
“Synethium,”
Allahaba interrupted him, excited. “It is a Romanized name for the existing
name of the road and the region, but the Bedouin who still live there call it
the Syene. They have for thousands of years.”
“Bloody Hell,”
Fox suddenly stood up, energized, running his fingers through his black hair.
His wide eyes came to rest on Allahaba. “I feel like the biggest idiot in the
world; I worked near that road for three years. The Manjam Hamsh wilderness is
just to the south of the road, inland by about eighty miles. I’ve been using
Aswan as a major landmark when I damn well should have been using Edfu.”
Allahaba was
perhaps more excited than Fox. “It would make sense that a caravan road
thousands of years old would cross near the Wilderness,” he said
enthusiastically. “If Ranthor was in the Manjam Hamsh wilderness, then perhaps
the Syene is even older than we’ve ever believed. It could be one of the oldest
trade routes in existence.”
Fox and Allahaba
just stared at each other as if something so monumental had occurred that they
could hardly process it. Morgan, having sat silent as the men conversed,
watched the two faces for a moment before setting her teacup down.
“So you think
Ranthor is in that wilderness?” she asked either one of them.
They both turned
to her, Fox speaking first. “It makes sense,” he told her.
“Are we going
there?”
Fox looked at
Allahaba. “I believe so,” he replied. “It’s smack in the middle of nowhere, but
I believe we should check it out and see if we can find any signs of
civilization.”
Morgan cocked
her head. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but haven’t most, if not all,
archaeological sites been pretty much picked over in Egypt?”
Fox shook his
head. “Not even close, love. There are sites and rumors of sites all over the
place. I’ve never heard of anyone doing any excavating in Manjam Hamsh. Have
you, Al?”
Allahaba shook
his head. “There are Roman ruins along the trade route between Edfu and the Red
Sea and there is some commerce and civilization still there, but I do not
believe anyone has excavated Manjam Hamsh. There is no reason to.”
“Until now,” Fox
lifted a black eyebrow at him.
Allahaba looked
at him, nodding his head faintly. “Until now,” he agreed.
“Are we
excavating, then?” Morgan wanted to know.
Fox sat down
next to her, rubbing his eyes wearily. His eyes always got tired when he read
without his glasses. “Maybe a little, just to see what we can see,” he told
her, putting a big hand on her knee affectionately. “But presuming that Ranthor
is in the area, there’s still the last part of the puzzle.”
Allahaba looked
back to the papyrus. “…
to the Fingers that Reach to the Sky. May she know
grace and divine protection, our Holy Mistress, foremost Lady of the West, as
she Rests in the Shelter of the Sun.”
Fox leaned back
in his chair and gazed up at the ceiling in thought. “Any ideas on that?” he
asked Allahaba.
The man gazed at
the papyrus as if it would give him just one more clue that would solve the
mystery. “I will have to think.”
Fox laced his
fingers behind his dark head as he continued to gaze up at the white painted
ceiling, deep in thought. “Have you ever heard of anything referring to fingers
that reach to the sky?”
Allahaba shook
his head. “No.”
“Not a monument,
tomb or town?”
Again, Allahaba
shook his head. “I have not,” he replied. “But it sounds to me as if it might
be a mountain of some kind, something that would reach to touch the sky. Or
perhaps a pyramid, an artificial mountain, that is no longer standing?”
Fox suddenly sat
forward in his chair, his expression wrought with concentration. “Back in the
days of the pre-dynastic reign of the Gods, there were no pyramids,” he said,
reasoning out his thoughts. “Those didn’t come until a thousand years later.
But there were mountains, natural ones. That would have been the highest point
in Egypt at that time and there are plenty of mountains in the Red Sea hills
where the Manjam Hamsh wilderness is. In fact, when you look at them, they do
look like fingers that are reaching for the sky. So what… what if the papyrus
is talking about a mountain?”
Allahaba nodded
eagerly, following his train of thought. “It would make sense,” he agreed. “The
tallest mountain in the region is Mt. Nuqrus where the Romans used to mine
gold. In fact, the area surrounding the mountain still has a small population.
Back in ancient times, it used to be one of the resting places along the trade
route. The ancients used to call it….”
He suddenly
trailed off, looking as if he was about to choke. His eyes bugged and he looked
at Fox with such shock that Fox instinctively grew concerned.
“What’s wrong?”
he demanded. “What did it used to be called?”
Allahaba took a
deep breath; he had to. He was stunned with something he should have thought of
before. He couldn’t believe it had just occurred to him now.
“It was a
resting place, a small oasis, for caravans along the Syene trade route,” his
eyes reached out imploringly. “The ancients used to call Mt. Nuqrus the Shelter
Mountain.”
“Oh, my God!”
Morgan suddenly burst, hands to her mouth. “The Shelter of the Sun!”
Fox snapped his
head to her, the dark eyes intense with realization. They just stared at each
other a moment until Morgan suddenly bolted from her chair and threw her arms
around Fox’s neck. He held her tightly, listening to Allahaba’s low laughter.
“If Isis’
resting place is there, it would make complete and utter sense,” Allahaba said.
“It would be the highest point around, a sacred mountain with sacred gold and a
small oasis. Where better to spend eternity than at Shelter Mountain?”
“Fingers that
touch the sky,” Fox murmured. “The Shelter of the Sun.”