The God’s Guardian (The Pharaoh’s Promise #3)

Chapter Seven

He had sent Anu away.

The next morning, Bhas still didn’t know if he had done the right thing. His body certainly didn’t think so. He had lain awake for hours, aching with unfulfilled desires as he denied himself pleasure. Had he been punishing himself? Or perhaps he simply feared to learn that the act would not bring the fulfillment he had experienced with Anu.

They would see each other again tonight and he alternated between anticipation and apprehension.

At the library, he was finally able to relegate Anu to the back of his mind. Callius, freshly returned from an expedition to the tombs at Sais, spotted him as soon as he arrived.

“Come and see. I have some scrolls I think will help with the translation. Did you bring more of the hieroglyphs?”

They spent the morning poring over the papyri and cross-referencing obscure glyphs with snippets from the new scrolls. Bhas was relieved to see some matches but many of the cryptic symbols still eluded them. Callius reassured him they were on the right track and again warned him against a hasty translation.

At the lunch hour, they took a break to sit in one of Mouseion’s courtyards along with many of their colleagues. Bhaskar had brought bread and cheese, but he barely noticed what he was eating, his mind whirling with the possible translations.

“I heard you were robbed,” Callius said between bites of his own meal. “I hope nothing valuable was taken.”

“The papyrus with my original notes,” Bhaskar said. “But I had copies, so it was no great loss.”

“Thank the gods,” Callius said earnestly. “You’ve never said exactly where you found the original text.”

“Is that important?” Bhaskar asked, still reluctant to reveal the sundial.

“I believe you stumbled upon something of great significance,” Callius nodded with authority. “Other scholars will want to authenticate it.”

Bhaskar gnawed at his lip. Should he confide in Callius? He owed the other man a debt for his help, but the thought of sharing the sundial still seemed risky. While he was debating, Callius continued. “Not yet, of course. First, we will want to make sure of the translation.”

Yes, Bhaskar promised his conscience. When they finished the translation he would show Callius the actual inscription and they could discuss how it came to be on a decorative sundial. There was no reason to do so yet.

As if reading his thoughts, Callius leaned closer and lowered his voice, so the people nearby couldn’t overhear. “You are wise to be careful. You should be. Not everyone here can be trusted. Did you hear about the incident last year?”

Bhas shook his head.

“Two of our esteemed brethren wrote almost identical treatises on the Nile flood patterns. It was obvious that one had stolen from the other. They both accused each other and brought their complaints to the King and Queen.”

Bhaskar stiffened. He knew of course, that scholarly competition could be cutthroat, but he had not realized anyone distinguished enough to earn a place at the Mouseion would stoop so low. Hesitantly he asked, “What happened?”

“The Ptolemies exiled them both,” Callius said grimly, taking a slow sip of posca from his cup. “He would not tolerate their petty squabbles. You see, my friend, if you’re not careful, you might not even get the chance to prove your work. Others will try and claim it for their own.

“And it’s not just the scholars you should fear.” He cut his gaze meaningfully toward two muscular men standing near the entrance of the library. They were dressed in sand-colored shenti with wide leather girdles. Their bare chests gleamed in the sun. Each carried a staff of carved wood topped with an emblem of the sun and cobra—symbols of Osiris. Their posture was rigid and watchful, the muscles on their arms taut beneath the gleam of polished metal.

“The temple guard have been around here a lot lately,” Callius murmured. “Best steer clear of them.”

Bhaskar blinked, still not comprehending. “The temple guards? Surely, they are only here to protect sacred scrolls and assist the city guard.”

Callius let out a soft chuckle. “This is not your peaceful mountain shrine. Your hieroglyphs mention Ra-Osiris and the movements of the stars. Do you have any idea how precious that knowledge is to the temple?”

Bhaskar stiffened but said nothing, his gaze flickering back to the guards.

“Not that I’m asking where you got the inscriptions,” Callius added, holding up a hand. “But the temple will want to know. And the commander of the guards…well, let’s say he’s of Medjay descent, a line that once guarded the ancient Kings of Egypt. He’s ruthless when it comes to tomb raiders. Possession of new knowledge tied to Ra and Osiris might make you a target.”

“I have not raided any tombs!” Bhaskar protested, his heart pounding.

“Of course not,” Callius said soothingly. “But suspicion is all it takes with these men. Their commander—” He leaned closer, almost whispering. “—he’s relentless. Once they’re after someone, the truth becomes irrelevant. Best to avoid their notice altogether.”

The words arrived on an exhale of lamb and vinegary posca. Bhaskar’s stomach turned as Callius’s warning sank in. He looked down at his half-finished lunch, appetite lost, even as he told himself he had done nothing wrong.

He tried to put Callius’s words out of his head, but they burrowed like worms through his thoughts for the rest of the day. He found himself looking over his shoulder and viewing with suspicion anyone who came too near as he and Callius worked. The imposing guards seemed to be around every corner. After the attacks, Bhaskar had found them comforting, but now their eyes seemed to follow him everywhere.

He finally shook his unease late in the day as he gathered his scrolls. He still had not taken time to purchase another large satchel. Any of his own scrolls he wanted to reference at the library he carried in his arms. Today he had brought enough that they had become awkward. No more putting off shopping. Maybe he and Anu could stop along Canopic Street and find something.

Anu, who had requested they spend another evening together even though Bhaskar had turned him away. He had not pouted, nor grown angry, nor left without speaking. Instead, he had asked if Bhaskar would like to have dinner with him again, and then smiled, slow and satisfied, when Bhas had agreed.

The smile had done wicked things to Bhaskar’s insides. He spent the night reliving their heated kiss on the roof and trying not to read too much promise into that smile. His intellect said it was too soon to feel so deeply, but his heart paid little heed. As he left the library and started home, anticipation finally edged out his apprehension.

Anu filled his thoughts—his quiet reverence as they traced the constellation of Osiris, the ridiculous thick curl of lashes around his dark eyes as he gazed down at Bhaskar, the heat of his kiss, and then…that smile. If he smiled like that again, Bhas would not send him away tonight.

Deep in his dreams of Anu, even the noise of the city around him faded. He was vaguely aware of the chatter of crowds around him, the music of a lyre coming from a nearby tavern, the rumble of cartwheels, but he paid the noise of the city no mind until a chorus of urgent shouts rang out. He looked up to see a frenzied horse galloping down the street pulling an empty chariot that careened wildly.

People screamed and sprang out of the way. Bhas began to run, but stopped as one of his scrolls fell from his arms. He turned back to retrieve it, but someone grabbed him and yanked him to the side of the street.

He watched in horror as the pounding hooves and rumbling wheels bore down on his precious scroll. Just as he thought it was lost, another sound blended with the noise of the racing chariot—the softer rattle of tumbling dice. A falcon swooped out of the sky diving straight for the horse. The animal reared up, pawing at the air in terror, before the bird banked to the side and disappeared over the rooftops.

The stallion pawed the air again, then his hooves thudded down onto the street and he stood, shaking and panting, but otherwise calm.

Bhas looked frantically for the scroll and spotted it just behind the horse, miraculously unscathed but barely a hand’s span in front of the chariot wheels. He tried to rush forward, only to be barred by a staff thrust in front of him.

“Stay back, you fool.”

The staff was lowered, replaced by the imposing form of a temple guard, who glared down at him. He fell back, but when the horse stomped its hooves and the chariot wheel nudged the scroll, he tried again to dart forward.

The guard seized him and pulled him back. He kept a firm grip until the city guard arrived. One of them took hold of the horse’s bridle and spoke soothingly to the animal. Another examined the chariot, running his hands over the wheels to check for damage. The temple guard holding Bhaskar called out, “You there—grab that scroll before you have to explain a dead scholar.”

The scroll was retrieved and brought to the temple guard who finally released his grip. He eyed the scroll with interest before returning his attention to Bhaskar. “Is this scroll worth your life?”

Bhaskar quaked under the stern gaze and searched his Egyptian for a respectful title. “For my research, Imakhu.” He held out his hand. “Please?”

The guard studied him, then the scroll. Callius’s warnings echoed in Bhaskar’s mind, and he was thankful the papyrus with the inscription was safely tucked inside his clothing.

Finally, the guard placed the scroll in his outstretched hand. “You have the luck of the gods, Sesh. Go in peace.”

Shaking, Bhas rearranged his armful of scrolls, bowed, and made his escape. As he replayed the incident in his mind, he felt less lucky and more haunted. How had a temple guard happened to be there? Why had he taken so much interest in the scroll? His face seemed oddly familiar. Bhaskar’s earlier unease returned. Had the guard been following him?

He worried all the way home, but not even a stampeding stallion could dampen his anticipation at seeing Anu again. He stacked the scrolls on his desk and hastily tidied himself. He had just finished making himself presentable when he heard Anu’s voice in the courtyard below. He looked very fine in his usual white shenti. Tonight he had added polished stones at his earlobes and he carried a small sack. When he heard Bhaskar approach, he came to him immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Anu’s gazed raked over him, as if looking for damage. “I heard what happened in the street today.”

“Oh! The horse.” Bhaskar waved the incident away. “Don’t worry, the guard retrieved my scroll and it’s completely unharmed.”

“I’m not worried about the scroll. I heard you were almost trampled.”

“Oh.” Bhaskar considered. “But I wasn’t.”

“You were very lucky. If someone hadn’t yanked you out of the way, you might have been killed.”

“Yes!” Bhaskar said, happily. Until now he had not realized he might miss being Bhaskar the Lucky, at least where his scrolls were concerned. “It was great luck! Are you ready to go? Are we in a hurry?”

Anu looked like he might say something else, but instead just shook his head. “We have only ourselves to please. Why?”

“I need a new satchel, one big enough to carry my scrolls. If we have time, I hoped you might suggest a merchant.”

“There are several in the Agora that will have what you need. If we hurry we can be there before they close for the day.”

They walked west, away from the Mouseion and toward the western gate. After a few furtive glances around to see if there were any temple guards who might be following them, Bhas relaxed. He had not been to the Agora, which was even more lively than Canopic Street. In addition to shops and stalls, there were various performers including musicians and poets. Between the columns of one of the colonnades, two young philosophers debated loudly, trying to sway gathered onlookers to their side.

Anu took Bhaskar to a purveyor of leather goods where he found a new satchel with a sturdy strap, one that would be hard for a street thief to cut with a knife. After that, they strolled along the colonnade with the other Alexandrians, many of whom seemed to have no purpose except enjoying the evening or displaying themselves. Anu stopped at several stalls to shop, collecting a small flask of wine, bread, cheese, and other items which he placed in his sack.

After leaving the Agora, they continued west, the crowds thinning as they moved closer to the city’s edge. Bhaskar half-expected they might be going to Anu’s lodgings, but they passed through the western gate and headed toward the outskirts of Alexandria.

Anu turned off the main thoroughfare, leading them down a quieter path that curved gently along the city’s edge. Soon, they reached a massive stone archway carved with faded hieroglyphs and symbols. The arch stood in the side of a high stone wall and two temple guards flanked the entrance, their eyes watchful but impassive. Bhas trembled a little to see them, but they made no move to bar entry to the area beyond the arch and only gave Anu a respectful nod as they passed.

“What is this place?”

The necropolis,” Anu answered. “The City of the Dead.”

“Burial grounds?” Bhas looked around with interest. The necropolis looked more like another city. He spotted many Greek columned structures mixed in with Egyptian-style monuments, some carved into the very rocks of the hillside. Anu appeared to have a destination in mind, and they finally stopped in front of one of the rock-cut structures. It was not as massive as some of the mausoleums, but there was a small, carefully tended garden at the entrance. Anu led him to a stone bench in the shade of a large Persea tree. Nearby, lotus flowers floated in stone basins, perfuming the air. Beyond the walls of the necropolis, the city of Alexandria rose in all its grandeur, but the noisy streets seemed far away. Here in this tiny oasis was only the scent of lotus and the rhythmic call of a hoopoe.

“I thought we might dine here.” Anu hesitated. “I find this place peaceful, but if you are unnerved we can return to the city.”

“Are we allowed to be here?” He hadn’t made a study of Greek or Egyptian burial practices, although of course he knew of the great tombs of the ancient pharaohs.

Anu’s gaze wandered to the carved doorway of the tomb, as if seeking someone within. “The dead will not mind.”

Bhaskar indicated the bench. “Then let us eat.”

Anu sat as well, leaving a little space between them so he could set out the contents of his sack. Before beginning his own meal, he gathered a few choice pieces of fruit and bread. With reverence, he approached a small stone shrine beside the doorway of the tomb, its surface etched with images of Osiris, the god of the afterlife. He carefully arranged the offerings on the altar and whispered a soft prayer before returning to sit with Bhaskar.

“This place is special to you.”

“Our ancestors are here. Last night you showed me Osiris in the stars. Tonight, I wanted you to understand why he is sacred to us. In Egypt, death is not an ending, but a transition. The necropolis is sacred because it holds the bodies of those who are journeying to the afterlife. These houses for our dead are filled with everything they might need for the journey through the Duat: food, clothing, and treasures. We preserve the body through mummification so the soul can recognize it when they are reunited.”

Bhas pondered, trying to understand a culture so different from his. Death as a transition was familiar, but he had been taught that the body was irrelevant.

“What happens then?”

“In the Duat, the souls of the departed are judged. Those who lived justly are guided through the afterlife by Osiris, the god of the underworld, to the Field of Reeds, a paradise where they will live forever.”

The words of the raving old man returned to him. “So, Osiris offers eternal life?”

“Yes, but only if their heart is pure. When people pass through the Duat, their heart is weighed against the feather of Ma’at, the goddess of truth and justice. If their heart is lighter than the feather, they are granted eternal life. But if it is heavy with wrongdoing, their soul is devoured by Ammit, the devourer of the dead.”

Anu’s gaze returned to the altar. “That is why this place is so sacred. It is not just where our ancestors rest—it is the gateway to eternity. We guard it fiercely, for disturbing the dead can disturb the balance of the afterlife itself.”

Bhas gazed around. He tried to see the tombs as Anu did, sacred resting places, but the idea of preserving human remains unnerved him. They should be properly cremated, signifying the return to the elements. Keeping the body bound to the soul seemed unnatural, but maybe the Egyptians would think transcendence of the soul just as strange.

“A man at a party told me Osiris could grant eternal life, but he talked as if he wouldn’t die.”

Anu shook his head firmly. “A perversion. All men die and their souls pass through the Duat for judgment. There are always cults who will make any claim for a donation. Don’t be seduced by their lies.”

Bhaskar relaxed, happy that Anu did not think as Agappius. He couldn’t imagine anything more unnatural than defying death. Whatever truly happened in the afterlife was for the gods to decide.

After that, their conversation moved to more general matters. As they continued their meal, Bhas discovered Anu had two brothers. The older lived in Memphis and the younger in Thebes. They had a little sister whom Anu spoke of with affection and exasperation. Bhaskar had the impression she was a beauty, and thus a source of concern to her protective brothers.

He told Anu about his own sister, Savitri, his little brother’s twin, who would disappear into the surrounding forests whenever she could escape. She claimed she went to commune with the birds. Bhaskar suspected she merely wanted a respite from their mother’s vigilance. Or perhaps she thought to scare off any potential suitors with tales of her wildness.

With some hesitation, Bhas asked Anu about the pendant around his neck. The stone was very dark, almost the same color as the skin it nestled against, with a few simple lines etched into it to represent a horned animal. “Is it a ram? I did not know the ram was a symbol for Osiris.”

Anu touched the stone briefly. “This? This is from my grandfather, long before I dedicated myself to the temple of Osiris. He told me it was for protection, a way to call on the strength of the Kushite god Amun. The ram was sacred to him —fierce, resilient, and wise. My grandfather was all of those things.”

“And he gave the pendant to you, rather than one of your brothers? He must have seen those traits in you as well.”

“I believe he said I was rash and needed the protection.”

“You?” Bhas had never met a man who seemed less rash.

A small, secret smile tugged at the corner of Anu’s mouth. “Lately, I have felt myself very rash,” he murmured.

Then he turned the subject firmly. “And what of you? Are you making friends in our city?”

Bhas told him about Callius and Euryleon. “I do not know if we are friends, yet. Callius and I are working on a translation. He is very kind to share his knowledge with me. Euryleon…” He trailed off, not sure how to describe how he felt around the philosopher. Anu seemed to understand some of his thoughts.

“Euryleon has a wide acquaintance and surrounds himself with interesting people, but his circle is always changing.”

“I did meet a very nice merchant captain at his party, but he is doubtless on the sea most of the time.”

“Has your friend who owns the house returned?”

“Not yet. Andros is still settling his family affairs.” Bhas hoped he didn’t sound as forlorn as he felt at the mention of his sponsor. It had been Andros who had convinced him to make the journey and then he had been called away before they could meet in person.

“And what of Hemhat?”

Bhaskar shook his head, amazed that Anu remembered his friend from his journey. Did all these questions have a deeper purpose? Was he trying to determine if Bhaskar’s affections were engaged elsewhere? He had not exactly asked, but Bhas responded with what he hoped was reassurance.

“Hemhat is in Rome by now. We did not expect to see each other after we left the Nile. I would welcome him if his travels brought him through Alexandria, but I do not expect it.”

After they ate, they strolled through the grounds and Anu pointed out inscriptions carved into the tombs—the story of Ramesses leading his armies into battle and the symbol of Ma’at’s feather. Further along, they passed the tomb of a high priest of Osiris draped in offerings from the devout. The air grew cooler as the sun descended, the sky shifting from gold to a dusky purple, casting long shadows across the tombs.

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, they turned back toward the city, passing through the western gate and up Canopic Street. Once again, they stood at Bhaskar’s gate. The now-familiar scents of jasmine, frankincense, and sandalwood filled the air. Bhaskar was relaxed from the wine and food, but not so relaxed he took this moment for granted. His heart quickened.

“Will you come up? I will show you more constellations.”

Anu smiled.