The Heretics Treasure

Chapter Forty-Seven

It was after ten by the time Ben and Kirby got back to Claudel’s villa. The Frenchman greeted them at the door, peering nervously out into the night as if he expected Kamal to return at any instant. ‘Did you get it?’ he whispered.

‘We got it,’ Ben replied. ‘Now let’s figure it out.’

Claudel led the way to a large comfortable study with a broad desk, three chairs and a sofa. It took Ben a few moments to transfer the image of the throne papyrus to Claudel’s laptop and set up a feed to the big TV screen on the wall. The map lit up the screen in bright high-definition detail.

‘What happened to the original?’ Claudel asked.

‘Don’t ask,’ Kirby replied quietly, shaking his head.

The three men started studying the map in detail. ‘That’s the same hieroglyph text as was inscribed on the chamber containing the first treasure,’ Claudel said, pointing to a block of symbols. ‘This part is the glyph for Amenhotep’s name.’

‘Hold on,’ Ben interrupted. ‘Amenhotep was Akhenaten’s name, before he changed it.’

Kirby shook his head. ‘That’s true, but it also means “Amun is at peace” or “Amun is content”. The phrase and the name are interchangeable, depending on context.’

‘The full meaning is “Amun is content; the Heretic of Amarna shall be denied, the treasures restored to their rightful place”,’ Claudel said. ‘Which I don’t think leaves any room for doubt. Congratulations, gentlemen.’

‘Fine,’ Ben said. ‘Now let’s figure out where this bloody treasure is.’

Over the next hour, as the two experts pored over the papyrus, scribbled notes and stopped occasionally to consult a thick dictionary of hieroglyphics, they gradually puzzled it out. Eventually, Kirby got up from the desk and sat heavily on the sofa with a sigh of relief. He wiped sweat off his brow and flapped the notebook in his hand. ‘Let me read you what I’ve got. I’m paraphrasing, but here goes. “From the home of the Kingdom of Kush, follow the path of Sah as he sails to his rest. Twelve hours of march will lead you to the horizon. Pass through the teeth of Sobek, and you will discover. The Heretic shall be denied.”’

Ben couldn’t make sense of it.

Claudel smiled. ‘It’s quite a clear set of directions. Let’s go through it. The Kingdom of Kush was an ancient civilisation dating back to 2000 BC, or even earlier, in what was then the land of Nubia, down the Nile to the south of Egypt. They lived in the shadow of the ancient Egyptians, and in many ways tried to emulate them. By Wenkaura’s time the Kingdom was all but dead, but an educated man like him would have known that its capital was a once-great city called Kerma that lay close to the third cataract of the Nile. That’s the first step.’

‘From there you follow the path of Sah as he sails to his rest,’ Kirby cut in. ‘Not as obscure as it sounds, if you know what to look for. The ancient Egyptian god, Sah, was named “the glorious soul of Osiris”. But he was also an astronomical symbol, the personification of the star constellation known today as Orion.’

‘The ancient Egyptians always envisaged the motions of celestial bodies as boat journeys, sailing across the sky,’ Claudel added. ‘Thus the place of Sah’s rest would be the point where Orion sets.’

‘In the west,’ Ben said.

‘Correct.’

‘So from the site of the ancient city of Kerma we need to head due west,’ Ben said, frowning. ‘But for how far? Twelve hours of march isn’t exactly a precise distance. It could vary hugely.’

Kirby shook his head. ‘Actually it’s a fairly specific measurement. The ancient Egyptians used the term an hour of march to signify a distance of 21,000 royal cubits. One royal cubit is about twenty inches long. It was the standard measurement used for everything from laying out street plans to building pyramids.’

Ben did some quick sums in his head. ‘Then an hour of march equals about eleven kilometres. Which means the papyrus is telling us to travel a hundred and thirty or so kilometres west from Kerma.’ He reached for a heavy volume that lay on Claudel’s desk, and flipped it open. It was a book of ancient maps. He leafed through the pages, stopped and studied it closely. Ran his finger down the path of the Nile, from Giza southwards to Thebes, and then further down past Aswan, deep into what had once been the land of Nubia. It was a long, long way downriver to the ancient city of Kerma. He ran his finger westward from that point, and imagined the kind of landscape there. Nothing much would have changed in thousands of years. It would be an arid wilderness of desert and rock, stretching over a vast area.

Claudel seemed to sense his thoughts. ‘What perplexes me is the lack of a precise physical landmark or orientation. We’re simply told “head for the horizon”. That strikes me as very vague.’

‘Show me the glyph for horizon,’ Ben said.

Claudel pointed it out on the screen. ‘Here. The word is denoted by the setting of the sun in a U-shaped cleft in the rock.’

Ben thought for a second. ‘What if it had a double meaning? What if Wenkaura was describing an actual physical location?’

Claudel considered the idea. ‘In what way?’

‘Perhaps a rock or mountain, with a cleft formed like this.’ Ben waved his hand in a U-shaped gesture. ‘Into which the sun settles as it sinks in the evening sky.’

‘It’s possible,’ Kirby said. ‘Definitely possible.’

‘Though you won’t know until you get there,’ Claudel added.

‘Which leaves the teeth of Sobek,’ Ben said. ‘Who or what is Sobek?’

‘Sobek was the Egyptian crocodile-headed god of water,’ Claudel replied. ‘As to what the reference means-’ He shrugged. ‘It’s obscure.’

‘With my luck it probably means we’ve got to navigate a croc-infested river,’ Kirby said, shuddering.

Claudel gave a grim little smile. ‘There’s only one way to find out the truth. You’re just going to have to wait and see.’

Ben returned to his book of old maps. He tapped the page with his finger. ‘Now, if I’m not mistaken, these directions are taking us smack bang into the middle of the Sudan.’

Claudel looked grave. ‘It looks that way to me, unfortunately. One of the most unstable and dangerous places in the world. You’d be travelling into the Sahara desert, towards the Darfur region. The war there may be over for now, but there are still a great many rebel groups operating across the area, clashing with Sudanese military forces and posing a major threat to travellers.’

‘Wonderful,’ Kirby said. ‘African war zone, man-eating crocodiles, certainty of death. Piece of cake.’

‘How could Wenkaura have transported the treasure that far?’ Ben asked Claudel, ignoring Kirby. ‘It seems impossible.’

‘The ancient Egyptians were able to cover huge distances,’ Claudel explained. ‘New discoveries have shown they ventured far deeper into the desert than previously thought. They were also extremely adept at river travel. It’s quite feasible that Wenkaura and his helpers could have transported a large cargo that distance. Remember that as early as 3350 BC the Egyptians had mastered the art of sail.’

‘See these two guys here?’ Kirby said, pointing out two figures on the screen. ‘These are the deities Osiris and Hapi. Wenkaura would have added them in as good luck charms to bless the journey of whoever went to reclaim the hidden treasure. Hapi was the river god, patron of the Nile. And Osiris was the god who ordained the river’s annual inundation. It seems to me he’s suggesting that the voyage be undertaken when the Nile is in flood, to allow swift navigation and the use of a vessel with a deep draught.’

‘Like a cargo ship,’ Ben said.

Claudel nodded. ‘Which is a sign that they could have been carrying a very great deal of treasure.’

‘Probably could have been done in just a few weeks, give or take,’ Kirby said.

‘We don’t have that long,’ Ben replied. ‘So I need to get moving fast.’

‘Sudan is extremely difficult,’ Claudel warned. ‘The country is a military regime, and the soldiers who patrol the border in heavily armed jeeps will tend to shoot first and ask questions later. Not to mention the risk from rebel groups running riot across northern Sudan. Westerners are major targets for robbery and kidnap. Even crossing the border legally can be a nightmare. Security’s tight. You could take the train to Aswan and from there a twenty-four-hour ferry across Lake Nasser to Wadi Halfa. But the border is seething with police and you’d need to procure all the necessary papers to get in. As well as mandatory yellow fever, typhoid and cholera inoculations.’

Paxton’s deadline was never far from Ben’s mind, and he thought about it again now. He couldn’t afford the slightest delay. He shook his head. ‘I’m not sitting it out in Cairo for five days waiting to get rubber-stamped by some petty bureaucrat. And I won’t be going through any checkpoints.’

‘Hey, what happened to “we”?’ Kirby asked.

Ben turned to glare at him. ‘You’re not coming. I go it alone from here. You’ve done your bit.’

‘You’re kidding,’ Kirby said, outraged. ‘I have to go, too.’

‘Think about what you’re saying. You want to drive into hostile territory with me. A million acres of wilderness, armed border patrols chasing us, militant Bedouin groups everywhere, fresh from the Darfur conflict.’

Kirby swallowed. ‘Yes.’

‘Look at you. You couldn’t even climb out of a window. You almost died climbing a few stairs.’

‘What if you still need me? What if there are more things to decipher? How do you know this map isn’t just going to lead to another clue?’

‘He’s right,’ Claudel said. ‘You just don’t know what to expect.’

Ben sat in silence for a while, mulling it over. He sighed. ‘Then I don’t have much choice. We leave as soon as possible.’

‘What about me?’ Claudel asked.

‘What, you want to tag along as well?’

‘Certainly not,’ the Frenchman said. ‘I told you, all I want is out of this whole thing. I’ve had enough. But I don’t want to be here when Kamal gets back. You said you were going to take care of him.’

‘I will. But my business comes first. When it’s done, I’ll take care of yours. That was the deal.’

‘So what am I to do in the meantime?’ Claudel asked.

‘Have you got a friend in Cairo whose wife you haven’t slept with?’ Ben asked him. ‘That’s where I’d be heading, if I were you. That, or leave the country. Take a long vacation. Anywhere but here.’

Claudel thought about it. ‘Very well. I think it’s time I paid a visit to France. I have a sister in Lyon. I’ll leave early in the morning. You two are welcome to stay the night here.’

Ben shook his head. ‘No stopping. We still have time to catch the night train to Aswan, and from there we’ll drive south across the desert towards Abu Simbel and then the Sudanese border. Say a five-, six-hour drive if the roads are reasonable.’

‘More running around?’ Kirby moaned. ‘Why can’t we just fly to Abu Simbel in the morning? I’m knackered.’

Ben nudged the bulging holdall with his foot, and felt the weight of the weapons and ammunition inside. ‘Because I think there could be an issue with taking this stuff through customs, and I have a feeling it’s going to be needed.’