Close Up the Sky (38 page)

"He has
nothing else, my lord," said the guard.

Memhotep resumed
his seat and looked at the items before him. He picked up each in turn,
examined it, and laid it back down. "What are these?" He pointed to
the magazines and pager.

"I mean no
disrespect, my lord, but they are things that would have no meaning to you. I
cannot explain them."

"So you
say." Memhotep leaned back in his chair and scrutinized Matt for several
long seconds. At last he spoke. "I was just informed that a madman who was
similarly clad was recently captured while attempting to rob the temple of
Amen, and was subsequently banished by the pharaoh. Are you aware of
this?"

Matt was shocked. He
stepped forward and placed his hands on the bench. The guard jerked him back
and twisted his arm behind his back. Pain shot through his shoulder. Memhotep
waved him off. The guard released him, but stayed close by.

"Answer my
question," Memhotep said in a calm voice. "Do you know this man?"

He had seen
Williams and Summerhour only a few hours before, so the man to whom Memhotep
referred must surely be Edward! It was now even more imperative that he somehow
manage
to escape and get word to the others.

"He is one of
the men I am seeking," he answered. "I must find him, my lord. I beg
you to help me. The lives of many people depend upon it."

Memhotep seemed to
consider that for a while, then spoke to the guard next to Matt. "Take him
to the guard room and bind him. Wait there and see that no one comes near him
until you receive further orders." The guard took Matt by the arm and
tried to pull him around.

"No!"
Matt shouted. "You don't understand! You have to listen to me." He
jerked free of the guard's grip and lunged toward Memhotep. The magistrate
stepped back out of harm's way while the other guards jumped forward to help
subdue the prisoner. Matt struggled with all his strength, but they overpowered
him and pinned him down.

During the
confusion no one noticed Nessif stealthily pick up the magazines and pager and
slip them into his robe. While the guards were struggling with Matt, and
Memhotep's attention was diverted, he walked into the anteroom and vanished.

"You've got
to listen to me!" Matt shouted at Memhotep.

"Take him
away," Memhotep ordered the guards. "And remember, he is not to be
harmed and no one is to speak to him!"

They dragged Matt
through the back door and slammed it shut behind them. Memhotep turned to the
remaining guard. "Inform the captain of the guard to advise the pharaoh
that another of the black-clad madmen has been captured, and that I await his
instructions."

After the guard
left, Memhotep returned to his bench and sat down. He did not enjoy being
involved in such an unusual case. His expertise was in handling simple cases of
theft or assault, and sometimes the occasional murder. He knew he was not
qualified to pass judgment on this stranger, and for that reason decided to
send the case up to Ramses himself. He was aware that the pharaoh had banished
the other intruder, but he had no real knowledge as to why. These were
dangerous days, and it paid to play it safe whenever possible. If Ramses did
not wish to pass personal judgment and returned jurisdiction to him, he would
simply sentence the stranger to death as a demon from the west bank. After all,
he had the testimony of the desert brigand that the man had come from the
bowels of the earth and had used magic to destroy his tribesmen. At the thought
of Nessif, he turned and scanned the room. The Morruk was gone. He glanced down
at his bench. The objects that had been taken from the prisoner were also gone!
Memhotep stood up and smoothed his linen robe. He felt hot blood rise to his
cheeks at the thought of Nessif stealing the objects from right under his nose.
He considered alerting the guards, then decided to let it pass. It had been his
experience that thieves eventually got exactly what they deserved anyway. Besides,
it had been a long day and he was growing hungry. His wife would be waiting to
serve his supper and continue their celebration of the feast of Amen. He could
already taste the delicacies she would have ready for him. Satisfied that he
had made the correct decision, he gathered his effects and went out the door.

T
aylor, Summerhour, and
Williams waited in a small anteroom for their audience with the pharaoh. It was
dark outside, and a cool breeze from the river drifted through wide openings
that served as windows in the
stone walls
. All three
were dressed in contemporary clothing and possessed no modern equipment, except
for Williams. He had insisted on keeping the long steel knife he always
carried. He wore it beneath his robe, strapped to his left leg just below the
knee. Both men wore L-suits beneath their robes, but Taylor's attire was too
revealing to wear one. She was dressed in a sleeveless white gown split down
both sides from thigh to ankle. A green sash held the garment tight around her
waist, and a low neckline revealed the cleavage of her breasts. Small
triangular pieces of jade and silver decorated her sandal straps, and a narrow
silver band held back her hair. Her green eyes were masked by brown contact
lenses.

She had been
jubilant when Summerhour had told her the story of Matt's arrest and
imprisonment. He and Williams had to restrain her from going directly to the
prison to gain his release. She had made it clear that as far as she was
concerned his rescue was paramount, even more than the recovery of the
stellarite, and that she intended to use whatever means were necessary to bring
it to fruition. The argument had raged for almost an hour, finally ending in
agreement that the best course of action was to secure the assistance of
Nefertari to gain his release.

The queen had met
them personally when they arrived at the palace and had escorted them to this
room, located directly off Ramses's formal receiving hall. When Taylor told her
that Matt was a prisoner in the city jail, Nefertari had promised an immediate
investigation. It had been more than a half-hour since she had left them, and
they were anxious for the pharaoh's summons. They all remained standing, even
though the room was furnished with comfortable sofas and chairs. Summerhour had
been pacing near one of the windows since Nefertari's departure. Periodically
he would stop, shake his head as though rejecting some mental dilemma, then
resume. Taylor stood with her back against a wall, eyes downcast,
face
blank. She looked almost like a frozen goddess,
unmoving and unseeing. No one had spoken for quite some time, and the silence
was beginning to wear on Williams's nerves.

"Wonder
what's taking so long," he said just to break the monotony.

Summerhour stopped
pacing and blew out a breath. "I guess we're not the only ones on
tonight's schedule."

He had barely
spoken the words when a guard opened the door and summoned them. They were
ushered into a large rectangular room, richly decorated with painted columns
and exquisite furniture. It had a high vaulted ceiling, and long horizontal
windows cut into one of the walls provided a panoramic view of the city below. There
were no curtains, so the evening air was free to circulate through the room. The
floor was made of black polished stone that reflected light like a mirror. It had
grown dark, and the view from the windows was breathtaking. The lights of the
city were visible all the way to the river. Unlike modern cities that showed
steady fluorescent light from their windows, those of Thebes displayed the
golden glow of oil lamps and cooking fires that scintillated like thousands of
fireflies. Beyond the houses lay the Nile, its surface gleaming silver from the
moon, just edging above the skyline. Miles beyond the river the desert tapered
off to a string of low hills, purple in the dwindling light of day.

A dozen soldiers
clad in white loincloths stood in a row against the opposite wall. They wore
the customary cloth headdress of Egypt, with tails draped forward across their
shoulders. Silver bands bearing the cobra diadem of the royal guard held the
headdresses in place. Each man held a spear angled away from his body at arm's
length. A circular dais rose from the floor at one end of the room, and at its
center was the golden throne of the Pharaoh of Egypt. The pharaoh stood at the
foot of the dais speaking with two men who wore the armor and polished helmets
of high-ranking military officers.

Taylor had seen
the king many times, but no matter how often she saw him, his regal bearing
never failed to impress her. Unlike the guards, he wore only a loincloth and
sandals, his head bare and bald. She knew Ramses was in his mid-fifties, but
the muscles of his chest and arms were still smooth and powerful. Nefertari
stood at his side, listening to the conversation. When the queen saw Taylor and
the others standing at the opposite end of the room, she smiled and spoke to
the king. Ramses glanced in their direction,
then
continued his conversation with the officers. After a few moments the men
placed their fists against their breasts in salute and departed.

Ramses beckoned
for Taylor and the others to come forward. Taylor led the way with Summerhour
and Williams following. From the king's dress she knew the audiences he was
holding this night were of an informal nature. Nevertheless, as she reached him
she stopped and knelt on one knee. Summerhour followed her example. Williams,
not really knowing what to do, followed suit.

"Rise,
Taylor," the king commanded. When the three of them were standing, Ramses
spoke again. "I have not seen you since you chronicled the lives of the
Royal Family. Why have you not returned to visit us before now?" His voice
was deep and commanding, and his smile showed that he was glad to see her.

Taylor lowered her
head and placed her palms together in prayer position. “Forgive me, Your
Majesty. I was called to my own country soon after the chronicles were
completed, and many things have happened to prevent my return."

“I understand. Nefertari
has told me of your conversation with her." He looked at the two men
standing behind Taylor. "Who are these men? I do not remember them from
the days you spent with us."

Taylor stepped
aside and made a sweeping motion with her arm toward her companions. "They
are scholars from my country, Your Majesty. They have accompanied me to Egypt
to assist in finding the green stone that fell from the sky. May I present
Michael and Charles?"

Summerhour and
Williams bowed. Ramses gazed at them for a few seconds then said, "I bid
you welcome to Egypt." His words were meant only as formal recognition of
their presence and required no response, so none was made.

"May I speak
frankly, my lord?" asked Taylor.

"I will
listen, Taylor. But I also have many questions for you."

Taylor began
speaking in a low but firm tone. "Queen Nefertari has told me about the
stranger in black clothing who was banished from Thebes, and about the green
stone you gave to him as a peace offering to his people. He is the man we are
seeking, and the stone he carries is of great importance to us. I have asked
for this audience hoping that Your Majesty will assist us in finding him."

Ramses's eyes
moved over the faces of the three time agents. His penetrating gaze returned to
Taylor and rested there, as though trying to read her thoughts. "Come with
me," he commanded. She walked with him to one of the windows. Summerhour
and Williams came up behind them but remained at a respectful distance. The
pharaoh waved his arm across the city. "This is the city of Amen-Re,
greatest of all the gods. I have prayed to him many times hoping to learn the
answers to certain questions that have puzzled me for years. Now he has
answered me.” He turned and let his eyes linger on each of them in turn. “I
believe that either the destroyers or the saviors of Egypt stand before me at
this moment." He fell silent, apparently waiting for a response.

Taylor was
nonplussed. She looked at the king with a blank expression. “I do not
understand, my lord. The saviors or destroyers of Egypt?"

Ramses’s
expression was somber. "I mean that you, Taylor, and these companions of
yours, will either save my country and ensure its prosperity for a thousand
years, or you will sound its death knoll."

He walked away
from them and ascended the dais. Beside the throne was a small table that held
a polished wooden box. He lifted the lid, took something out, and returned to
where they were standing. Whatever he had removed was inside his balled fist. "I
want you to tell me who you really are, Taylor." When he opened his hand a
small, silver amulet fell to the end of its chain and dangled from his fingers.

Taylor's eyes
widened and her mouth fell open. She heard Nefertari give a little gasp. It was
the St. Christopher medal that Edward Leahy had always worn. She reached out to
take it but Ramses pulled it back. "I see by your expression that you have
seen this jewelry before," he said. "To whom does it belong?" When
she made no immediate reply, his voice became firm. "I am waiting for an
answer, Taylor."

Taylor
straightened to her full height, shoulders back. She knew it was time for a
partial truth. "It belonged to a man named Edward Leahy, my lord. He is
the man to whom you gave the Eye of Amen. The image on the disk is a servant of
our God," she said.

“So,” Ramses
responded. There was a tone of wonderment in his voice. He looked at the medal
for a few seconds, then back to Taylor. "And who is your god?"

"He is known
by many names, Your Majesty, but He is the God of all people."

Ramses cocked his
head and gave her a quizzical look. "The God of all people? Are you saying
He is greater than Amen-Re?"