Curse of the Pharaoh: A Brock Stone Adventure

19 The Cruise

The PS Sudan was a 236-foot-long side-wheel steamer with two veranda-lined stacked and a wheelhouse on top. Her elegant cabins and suites featured private bathrooms with hot and cold running water in each cabin. Built in Scotland in 1915, she was first launched on the Nile in 1921 and could cover more than one hundred miles a day traveling upriver. Up to eighty passengers could live in luxury as they cruised upriver past ancient pyramids and other sites of cultural and historical significance.

Trinity and Constance were immediately taken by the ship and its amenities. The ice between Constance and Alex finally thawed, and Trinity pretended the incident at the club had never happened. They spent their days enjoying cool drinks on the veranda and taking in the sights.

As they moved south of Cairo, the desert gave way to patches of green. Water buffalo and cattle grazed along the palm-lined riverbanks. Crops of wheat, alfalfa, and sugar cane reached long, green fingers out into the arid desert landscape. Stone was struck by the contrast between the lush riverbanks and the parched hills in the distance.

“What’s buzzin’, cousin?” Alex plopped down in a wicker chair beside Stone.

“Trying to relax, but I can’t seem to get my mind off Kauketos. We’re nearing the end of the voyage and we still have only a vague idea of where it is.”

Alex scratched his chin with the tip of his hook, frowned thoughtfully. Then his face brightened. “We should ask Professor Wainwright!”

“Who is he?”

“An archaeologist, old fellow. He’s been working in Egypt for decades, even worked under Howard Carter on the Tutankhamun dig. Trinity interviewed him this morning.

Trinity had pitched to her editor the idea of an Egyptian travelog, making the trip at her own expense. With Egyptomania in full swing back home, the editor loved both the idea and the chance to get the annoying “girl” reporter out of his hair for a while.

They found Wainwright seated on the lower veranda, chatting amiably with Trinity and Constance. He was a slender man with thinning white hair. His dapper suit and posh accent made an odd match to his deeply tanned skin. Trinity introduced Stone and Alex, and Wainwright invited the men to join them.

Wainwright was a fount of knowledge about Egypt, particularly the sites along the river. He explained that he took this cruise once a year in memory of his late wife, who had loved these river voyages.

“Last year I met an author, Agatha somebody, who was writing a mystery novel set on board this very ship. She said she might include me as a character.” Wainwright told them.

Stone gradually nudged the conversation in the direction of yet-undiscovered archaeological sites.

“Have you heard of a site called Kauketos?” Stone asked.

Wainwright frowned. “That’s odd. Few have even heard of the place, yet you are the second person this week to ask me about it.”

“Was it a man named Kane?” Stone asked.

“It was a blonde woman named Fischer. Lovely lady.”

Stone exchanged glances with Trinity. Fischer and Kane were two sides of the same coin.

“What did you tell her?”

“Very little, I am afraid. I told her it is associated with the legend of the Night Queen and it is somewhere in the Western Desert.”

“Have you ever seen one of these?” Stone showed him the ushabti.

“May I?” Wainwright took the ushabti and gave it a thorough examination. “It appears to be authentic and quite rare. Interesting.” He frowned, tugged absently at his chin whiskers. “This reminds me of another legend associated with the Night Queen. According to the story, the Night Queen built her temple atop the ruins of Sobekopolis — the city of Sobek, the crocodile god. It sits on the underground lake that birthed Sobek. It is from those waters that she drew her power.”

“Forgive me,” Constance said, “but why would the city of a crocodile god be out in the desert?”

“Long ago, the Sahara was underwater,” Wainwright said.

“This ushabti is a crocodile,” Stone said. “Could it have come from Sobekopolis?”

“Possibly. I have seen one other in my lifetime, and it was found in the Western Desert.”

“Can you narrow it down for us?” Trinity asked.

“The man who found it was quite mad. All I could get out of him was three or four days west of Luxor, in the Cavern of the Three-Headed Serpent.” He handed the ushabti back to Stone.

“Thank you,” Stone said. “One more question if you don’t mind.”

“Ask away. Egyptology is my favorite subject. I can talk about it all day.”

“It is my understanding that during the process of mummification, certain organs are placed in four canopic jars.”

“Correct.”

“Have you ever heard of the heart being placed in a fifth jar?”

Wainwright sat up straight. He appeared alarmed.

“The Egyptians believed the heart, rather than the brain, was the source of human was the source of wisdom, knowledge, emotion. and memory. A person’s very essence was contained within, so it was always left with the body so that the deceased could live in the afterlife.”

“Why would the heart be removed?” Trinity asked.

“To prevent the deceased from moving on to the afterlife.”

“I don’t understand,” Alex said. “Why not let them face judgment? An evil person will be punished, good will be rewarded.”

Wainwright gazed thoughtfully at the shoreline sweeping past them.

“I can only think of one reason the heart would be preserved — so that the person can someday be brought back to life.”