Written in the Ashes (48 page)

While they marveled at the visual treasures of the temple, a door on the far side opened and a flood of bodies rushed in and found seats along the wall. Apparently the oracle required an audience. Alizar chuckled to himself at the vanity of the gods. The populace of Siwa was surprisingly quiet and reverent for such a large group, taking seats on the floor behind the columns to leave the center of the temple open as a playing field. When it seemed that everyone in the entire oasis was present, the temple door closed and out from behind one of the columns stepped Omar-the-Goat clad in full-length white ceremonial robes. On his head he wore a pair of gilded ram horns, richly ornamented with emeralds and other precious stones that curved around his narrow face and shoulders. He carried a long staff in his good hand, not dissimilar to the caduceus of Hermes, and approached them guided by two bare-chested young boys who led him forward by the elbows.

Alizar gestured for the others to keep silent, and stepped forward to address the ceremonial hierophant, a small wooden chest in his hands that he pulled from his rucksack.

Silence. Alizar and Omar-the-Goat bowed to each other respectfully. The remoteness of the oracle had made it all the more appealing to consult, but now, looking into the tired face of an old man, Alizar hoped they had not made the trek in vain. He held out a heavy black obsidian jar to Omar-the-Goat.

Hannah held her breath.

Omar-the-Goat unscrewed the lid, dipped a finger into the jar and withdrew it covered in a viscous amber liquid.

Hannah smiled. Honey.

The priest accepted the gift and bowed.

When Alizar finally stepped back, there was an uproarious chatter, and then preparations for the ceremony began. The complex rituals alone lasted well into the night, for there were offerings to be made, goats to be slaughtered, joss sticks to be burned, all precise rules to be followed. Hannah rested, knowing her moment to present the tablet was near.

Everyone was tired of sitting by the time the ceremony began. Their knees and low backs ached. Their bellies growled. Only Alizar and Gideon seemed completely unaffected by the demands of their bodies; the Nuapar were known for their ability to wait, poised like cats that sat in alert stillness beside a burrow for hours until the moment of attack.

Deep into the night, a long line of two dozen bare-chested men strode out from behind the walls in long white skirts and stood beside the golden barge, which had been hung with votive cups of silver and oasis fruits.

Then there was a commotion.

A regal woman of Egyptian descent appeared behind them dressed in long striped robes of white and gold, her bare arms covered in bangles, her striking eyes belonging more to a falcon than a woman. Hannah gasped at her beauty and evident power, completely overcome with awe.

Alizar bowed, and the others followed.

“I am Queen Khamissa of Siwa,” said the woman. “Who addresses us?” Her eyes scanned the men before her. Alizar nodded to Hannah, who stepped forward, lifting the satchel from her shoulder.

Hannah knelt and bowed before the queen, holding the linen that concealed the broken half of the Emerald Tablet in her outstretched arms. “We have been sent by the Pythia at the Oracle of Delfi, and from Kolossofia Master Junkar on the island of Pharos in Alexandria, to collect the other half of the Emerald Tablet. Without it, our city is falling into ruin.”

The queen reached forward and nodded in assent. “Thank you, slave.” She took the bundle in her arms like a child and slowly unbound it. As she came to the green stone, her eyes were lit from within as though by a flame. “The gift given long ago by the oracle of Amun-Ra to Alexander.”

And then she held it aloft, the gleaming half of the Emerald Tablet, for all to see. The crowd fell completely silent. Even Gideon and Alizar stood with their mouths agape.

“But tell me, what has happened to it?” asked the Queen, her long finger tracing the jagged edge. “Who would dare to break the Emerald Tablet of Hermes Trismagistus?”

Hannah lifted her head. “We do not know, we were only told to seek the other half of the tablet here.”

The queen grew very still. “I do not have knowledge of it. I invite your master to pose his question for the Oracle of Amun-Ra.”

Hannah found her feet and looked back to Alizar. There was a silent exchange of information between their eyes, and then Alizar spoke. “Let the girl pose it.”

The Queen nodded.

“In humility, I address the Oracle of Amun-Ra to hear my words,” said Hannah. “Our people and traditions are threatened by the growing power of the Christians. We have come in desperate times to beseech the oracle of the ancient god Amun-Ra to present to us the location of the missing half of the Emerald Tablet.”

In the light of several hundred flickering candles, the queen and the hierophant, Omar-the-Goat, nodded. Then she stepped aside and he lifted his arms. The priests behind him removed his long robes, revealing a white kilt beneath; his arms, chest and ankles were bare except for several large ornamental gold cuffs. Around his neck hung the perennial ankh strung on a dozen strands of rare turquoise beads.

Omar-the-Goat stared straight ahead, his empty white gaze never faltering as the priests hoisted him up onto their shoulders and passed him into the barge. Then they took their places beside the gleaming golden boat and lifted it onto their shoulders. They spun to face the center of the temple, and then the hierophant began to recite a long list of prayers and invocations as the priests who held the barge remained stiff in their places.

Then slowly, the hierophant rose to his feet, the golden ram horn headdress casting massive twin spiral shadows on the wall behind the barge. There was a gasp in the crowd as the people hid their eyes.

Each member of Alizar’s caravan knew the story: Alexander the Great had visited the Oracle of Amun-Ra and the god had told him that he was the son of Zeus. When he returned from Siwa he had coins minted with an image of his profile crowned in laurel leaves. He went on to conquer more territory than any general that came before, all in his early twenties. Some said that the oracle also predicted his death, which came shortly thereafter. There were rumors that he returned to Siwa to die and be buried. The oracle had led Alexander to believe he was a god, and soon after the decree, he left the earth, immortalized as the most powerful youth ever to rule the shores of the Mediterranean. What had he seen in the temple of Amun-Ra? What had possessed him so powerfully after the ceremony that turned him from mortal conquests to immortal light?

Alizar stood patiently, his hands clasped before him as the golden barge began to sway. Omar-the-Goat, the last ceremonial hierophant of two thousand years, began to shudder and shake until his eyes closed, rolling back in his head. When his eyes opened again he was visibly, if only energetically, transformed. The old man was gone, his body occupied by the presence of the god, Amun-Ra. Whether he was acting, or the transformation was truly complete, the power that now emanated from his eyes was terrifying. The man-turned-god gestured demurely to the priests and slowly, the barge began its journey.

Hannah watched the unfolding scene in awe.

Accompanied by twelve singing girls wielding incense trays, Amun-Ra, perched proudly in the golden barge, ordered it onward as though they were crossing a mighty ocean, but then the god would capriciously lift an arm, bark several commands, and the entire entourage would change direction as though caught in the current of some invisible stream.

Hannah could not discern the meaning of the barge’s meandering. At one end of the temple stood two black pillars, a scene of darkness stretching between them. There was not a single candle flame, not even a window to let in the light, for between the pillars of darkness stretched oblivion, an eternal absence of life, the undeniable pull of death’s inescapable gravity. Hannah watched as the barge of the god wandered toward and then away from these two pillars, while at the other end of the temple stood quite another possibility. There between two golden pillars were fruits piled on fruits, glittering coins and endless staves of light bursting from the tips of dancing flames tied to cylinders of melting candle wax. There sat eight of the most beautiful children in the village, side by side, their faces framed by halos of golden light. But the golden barge of the god approached these pillars time and time again, only to recede from them.

This suspenseful dance of Amun-Ra went on and on, directionless but purposeful, as the god chanted the forward motion of the priests. Amun-Ra, like most oracles, was not quick to grant mortals the jewels of his sight. Alizar knew that gods of oracles were often tricksters, playful divas who both loved and served the humans who called them, teasing them endlessly with obscure advice. He prayed that Hannah’s sincerity would weigh favorably.

The night wore on for hours with the god coming no closer to a pronouncement. Hannah grew weary with the game, and ever so hungry, her belly pleading for sustenance. But then, the god marched with conviction toward the columns of light. Everyone sat up. Suddenly the entire temple was awake. Alizar did not even bother to wipe the sweat that poured from his brow.

But just as he neared the pillars of light, coming within inches of this hopeful decree, Amun-Ra turned fully around in his seat, lifted his staff, and ordered the priests to march across the temple.

The crowd sighed as if watching a sporting event. Some of the children had fallen asleep in the arms of their parents. It seemed an answer would never be reached.

Responding to this new direction, the priests turned, stooping slightly forward as they walked, perhaps as unsure as everyone else if the god would again change his mind.

But this time, the barge did not stop.

Hannah held her breath. Gideon squeezed her hand.

The god shouted his command, and as the priests knelt down, the bottom of the barge scraped against the stone floor.

Queen Khamissa of Siwa stepped forward and stood beside the barge. “An answer has been given.” And she drew an imaginary line with her finger from the front of the barge to the wall directly in front of it. There on the wall was an image of a pharaoh surrounded by kneeling priests offering fruits and riches.

“The other half of the Emerald Tablet rests in the tomb of Amen-hotep. You must seek it in Memphis.”

Hannah gasped as three fiery gusts of wind blew into the temple. In an instant Alizar remembered where they were. Outside, the first light of day illuminated the vast Egyptian desert as plumes of sand swept across the horizon.

They would have to leave immediately to escape the
Kahmsin
winds.

29  

As they trekked east through the desert, the hot breath of the
deadly wind began its attack, first in short bursts and then in blasts. Hannah and the men trudged across the broad dunes as the flurries whistled all around them, whipping the fabric of their
tunicas
. Sand stung their skin from every possible direction. Having narrowly missed the window of departure by waiting for the new moon in Siwa, the only option left for survival was the prayer that they might reach the Valley of Cheetahs in the east.

The sky darkened in a thick spray of sand, blocking out the sun. They tied ropes around their waists to stay together in the wicked gales. Their maps were useless. Even Alizar’s lodestone spun and spun with no indication of direction. Gideon attempted to shield Hannah with his body, walking directly before her. She tired quickly as much from fear as physical exertion, the journey depleting all her strength. She regretted her previous naivety. Why had she been so convinced that she should be the one to carry out the quest? Alizar too hung his head. The only choice before them was to keep walking.

After six days of sleeplessness and endless traveling, they were becoming less and less hopeful of ever escaping the desert. Near nightfall they entered a narrow canyon where the wind became truly capricious, constantly changing directions, spiraling around them, teasing them mercilessly. They huddled together in between the camels and wrapped a canvas tent around the bodies of the beasts in order to break the wind. There, in a cramped little pocket of relative calm, they slept fitfully, their bellies cramped from the mixture of salted meat and fruit, their muscles aching, their hopes nearly dead.