The Forbidden Tomb

68

The team stared at the diagram of ancient Egypt that had been superimposed over the image of the dome. It was simply uncanny how perfectly the markings matched the cities. The precision of the priests who had carved the dome was staggering, and all of it had been done without the sophisticated equipment available to modern cartographers.

‘Can you center the map on western Egypt?’ Manjani asked.

As the image shifted, the group could see that only one of the two dots in the desert aligned with a known city. It was nestled among a cluster of small lakes near the Libyan border. The other dot stood by itself, only a few miles away.

Manjani pointed at the city between the lakes. ‘This is Siwa. To the east and west, it is bordered by saltwater lakes. To the north and south, it is surrounded by desert. It is an isolated city hemmed in on all sides by hostile environments nearly incapable of supporting life. And yet Siwa thrives because the land is riddled with more than one thousand freshwater springs.’

Sarah chimed in. ‘Are we talking about a few hundred nomads who have settled near a water source, or something more substantial?’

‘Considerably more substantial,’ he replied. ‘Siwa is home to roughly twenty-five thousand people, and most of them are farmers. Despite the salinity of the nearby lakes, the soil in Siwa is perfect for growing olives and dates. And not just a few trees here and there, but thousands of trees, covering considerable acreage.’

Garcia typed furiously on his keyboard. A moment later, a colorful photo of an olive plantation in the Siwa Oasis appeared on the screen, showcasing hundreds of squat, bushy trees, each with dangling green fruit. ‘There are approximately seventy thousand olive trees in the region, and more than three hundred thousand date palms.’

McNutt whistled in amazement. ‘Wow. That’s a lot of martinis and…’ He turned toward Sarah. ‘What do I do with dates?’

‘Disappoint them?’ she joked.

Cobb smiled. ‘Let’s move past their agriculture and focus on what’s important. What’s the connection to Alexander?’

‘Plenty,’ Manjani answered. ‘After establishing his plan for what would become Alexandria, he then set out westward across the coastal road toward Libya. This was not a march to battle — he had left his army behind and was accompanied by little more than his close friends and local guides. This was a quest to better understand his destiny. He traveled along the coast until he reached Amunia, then he turned south, toward Siwa.’

Garcia grimaced in confusion as he entered the locations into his computer. ‘Hold up a second. This guy is the greatest conqueror the world has ever known, and yet he travels the long way to reach Siwa? Why would he do that?’

To illustrate his point, he put the map of Egypt back on the screen. First he drew a western line from Alexandria to Amunia — modern-day Mersa Matruh — then continued with a southern line to Siwa. ‘I mean, the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, right? So why travel two sides of the triangle when he could just cut diagonally across the desert?’

McNutt rolled his eyes. ‘Let me ask you a question. Have you ever schlepped across a desert? And before you answer, sneaking across the US border doesn’t count.’

Garcia shook his head. ‘No, but—’

‘Well I have. More than I care to remember. And if you’re walking the wrong way in the Sahara, it’s brutal. Traveling north and south is fine, but trying to go east or west is a royal pain in the ass. It’s just an endless cycle of climbing up the face of a dune, then tumbling down the other side. Up. Then down. It’s a fucking grind.’

Manjani agreed with McNutt’s assessment. ‘Imagine nearly three hundred miles of that same routine. I grant you that Alexander was already well traveled and understood the rigors of such a lengthy journey, but this would have amounted to a seemingly insurmountable challenge — even for him. The alternative, while longer, allowed the group to travel a level path between the dunes.’

‘Oh,’ Garcia replied sheepishly. ‘Well, then I guess that does make sense.’

Manjani started again. ‘He went south toward Siwa, seeking an audience with the renowned Oracle of Amun. The oracle was revered in Greece, where its edicts were widely known, and it is presumed that this reputation is what drove Alexander to visit the temple. It’s unclear as to what he was hoping to hear, only that he was determined to hear it. Many believe it wasn’t so much Alexander’s determination that brought him to the oasis, but that he was guided there by divine intervention.’

Papineau spoke up. ‘Dr Manjani is referring to a number of events that hindered Alexander’s trip to Siwa, and the miraculous ways in which he overcame these obstacles. First, the king ran out of water in the middle of the desert but was saved by a sudden, torrential downpour. It was followed by a sandstorm that disoriented his guides. Amazingly his life was spared when a pair of ravens descended from the sky to lead him in the right direction. Although some historians argue that it was snakes, not birds, that led him through the desert, the point of the fable remains the same: Alexander was meant to reach Siwa, even if it took a little help from the gods.’

Manjani nodded in agreement. ‘When he finally reached the oasis, Alexander was immediately taken to the Temple of the Oracle — a magnificent edifice built atop a natural acropolis that rose above the surrounding ground.’

Garcia flashed a picture of a crumbling ruin on the video screen. ‘We’ll have to take your word on it because the years haven’t exactly been kind to the temple.’

Manjani smiled. ‘Trust me, in the time of Alexander, the Temple of the Oracle would have been the focal point of the area. If there was one thing that drew people to Siwa, this was it. It would have been cared for above all other buildings, immaculately prepared for those who had traveled great distances to commune with the spirits.’

Cobb was familiar with the influence that these spirits could wield. Whether it was Joan of Arc leading the French army into battle or Kevin Costner building a baseball field in Iowa, there were plenty of people willing to do irrational things when asked by a higher power. Given what Alexander had already accomplished, Cobb wondered what message was possibly worth the journey for the Macedonian king.

‘What did the oracle tell him that was so important?’

Manjani smiled. ‘Alexander learned that he was a god.’

Sarah rolled her eyes. ‘How can you just become a god? I mean, not to sound metaphysical, but isn’t that something you’re born into? As in, you need to have a deity somewhere in your family tree.’

Manjani nodded. ‘You do, and he did — if his mother is to be believed. From the time of his birth, Alexander’s mother, Olympias, maintained that he was not the son of King Philip the Second. She claimed that he had been sired by a god in the form of a serpent. Alexander took her word on it and began living his life in accordance with his divine lineage, even though he harbored many doubts. But those doubts were erased on his trip to Siwa.’

‘Erased how?’ she asked.

‘Before Alexander was admitted to the temple to talk to the oracle — which was actually a large statue of Amun — he first met with the High Priests of Amun, who welcomed him in his familiar Greek. As non-native speakers of the language, they blessed him not as their son — “paidion” — but rather as the son of god: “pai dios”.’

Sarah scoffed at the notion. ‘One slip of the tongue and Alexander became a god? Is that all it took?’

Manjani shook his head. ‘The linguistic confusion was only the beginning. After consulting with the oracle, Alexander emerged from the temple alone and immediately renounced his mortal father. He also proclaimed that he wasn’t a son of a god, but rather a son of the god, Amun. The high priests supported his declaration and heralded his divine provenance, forever linking him to the king of kings.’