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

Chapter Nine

The next day there was no doubt—the number of temple guards at the library had increased. Everyone was talking about it, not just Callius. Even Eratosthenes pressed his lips together when the guards passed, clearly unhappy with their intrusion.

Bhaskar decided to spend the day working on calculations to support the heliocentric theory. The library had a copy of On the Sizes and Distances of the Sun and Moon by Aristarchus of Samos. Despite the constant work of the librarians, the scroll lay under a light layer of dust and when he unrolled the papyrus it resisted, stiff from disuse. Though still intact, the ink on the exposed sections had begun to fade unevenly, as if it had been left undisturbed for years. Despite his groundbreaking work, Aristarchus was obviously not widely referenced here.

Two scrolls discussing the work of Philolaus of Croton were in better condition, but they mostly reviewed his Pythagorean philosophy rather than any application to celestial movement. Once again Bhaskar missed Andros, whose skill in complex geometric calculations would have been invaluable.

Doggedly, he continued searching until he found a scroll by Eudoxus of Cnidus on planetary motion. Though geocentric, Bhas thought the principles could be adapted to a heliocentric model. Then, he uncovered a second scroll detailing Apollonius of Perga’s work on conic sections. If he combined Eudoxus’s geometric framework with Apollonius’s advanced mathematics, he might be able to reconcile the retrograde motion of planets with their solar orbits. When Callius found him, his table was covered in diagrams and calculations.

The historian sat next to him, leaning over as if to examine everything. “You’re not working on the translation today?” he asked softly.

Bhas shook his head. “I have not spent enough time on my primary work. We have come to a standstill anyway. I thought a day of mathematics might allow my thoughts to find new direction.”

“Good, good.”

Two guards approached their table, eyeing the scrolls and messy notes with unsubtle looks. Callius waited until they had passed to continue. “Do you have your papyrus and our notes?”

Bhas nodded without looking up.

“I have an idea for the final portion. I have a friend who studies the writings of the ancient priests. With your permission, I’ll take our work to him.”

“Can he not come here?”

“He lives outside the city and does not travel. Anyway, he and Eratosthenes…do not get along. Better if I bring the papyrus to him.” Callius tapped his fingers on the table consideringly. “You took to heart the stories I told you. That is good, my friend. You are wise to be wary. But I won’t let the inscription out of my sight. This man knows nothing of astronomy. There’s no overlap. If anything, I am the one who should worry. But even if he were to betray us and take credit, at least we would gain his knowledge. What good is hoarding the inscription if we can’t unlock its secrets?”

Still Bhas hesitated, reluctant to hand over their hard work, but Callius was right. What use was it if they couldn’t finish the translation? He glanced around to see if any guards were still present, then chided himself. When had he become so paranoid?

Without giving himself time to reconsider, he reached into his satchel and drew out the papyrus where he had copied the inscription as well as the pages with his notes. He handed them all to Callius, who quickly placed them in his own bag.

“How long do you think your friend will need?”

“If he recognizes the glyphs, not long at all. I will set out tonight and hopefully return within the week.” Callius gestured at the table. “Anyway, it appears you have plenty to keep you occupied. Wish me luck, my friend.”

Time stood still. In the distance the dice tumbled.

Bhaskar ignored them. He did not need the gods to always meddle. Anyway, there was nothing to fear. He still had the sundial. “Travel well, Callius. May the stars guide you safely home.”

Callius clasped his shoulder, then picked up his bag and made his way out.

Bhas returned to his calculations, but his excitement over Eudoxus and Apollonius had faded. He had failed to make a note of a significant passage and couldn’t find it again, even though he was sure he was in the right scroll. He solved one of his new calculations three times and got three different solutions. Inevitably, he found his mind wandering back to Anu.

Last night, he had glimpsed a deeper side of Anu, one that he hadn’t suspected. Again, he went over the many things he didn’t know about his lover. Most glaringly, where he lived and what he did with his days.

The only explanation he could find was that Anu might be impoverished. Their outings were always well-planned and enjoyable, but now he noticed how little Anu spent. He spoke warmly of his family but withheld details, just as he did about himself. Was he embarrassed by his circumstances? Bhas had never been poor, but he knew those who were faced challenges and even disdain. Likely they made many hard choices every day. Yet Anu was clearly intelligent, with some degree of education. He spoke with deep respect for the gods and had strong convictions about what was right and wrong. He said he had seen a different side of the world. What had he experienced, and what scars had it left?

This might even explain Anu’s anger over the tomb raiders. If he had few possessions himself, the thought of losing them, even after death, might trouble him deeply.

Of course, Bhas was not exactly wealthy either, but as a scholar of the Mouseion he enjoyed a certain status in Alexandria. He resolved not to pry. Over time, they would become more comfortable with each other and Anu would confide in him.

Rather than return to his work, Bhas propped his chin on his hands and imagined the scene: Anu confessing to being a stonemason or dockworker. Bhaskar would take him in his arms, assuring him that his trade was respectable, that he was smart and accomplished, and Bhaskar was proud to know him.

His imagination wandered further, conjuring endless ways to show Anu how much he valued him.

Or perhaps Anu would be eager to prove his worth—another set of thrilling possibilities.

Before he knew it, the rest of the afternoon had flown by without much work being accomplished. Still, he felt more content than he had in recent days. The final translation of the sundial still eluded them, but he hadn’t lied about needing a break. The ancient phrases had clearly been copied from a significant relic, and today, any thought of the ancients seemed too closely tied to his near-argument with Anu. It also had been good to make progress on his own theory, even if the calculations weren’t aligning as he wished yet. Tonight, he would see Anu again. They would go to the necropolis. Bhas would make sure to show appreciation for the Egyptian customs. He would not antagonize him with philosophical debates about the possessions of the ancient dead and Anu would grow to trust him more.

Even the increased number of temple guards couldn’t dampen his spirits, although their presence still made him uncomfortable. He kept a sharp eye for any who appeared to be following him.

As he walked home, he stopped in several shops. Anu had purchased their meal the last time they visited the necropolis. Bhas would buy food tonight and save Anu’s coin. He bought figs, bread, honey, and wine. After careful consideration, he splurged on herbed cheese and a handful of spiced almonds, making sure not to overspend in case Anu felt the need to reciprocate.

He had just stepped out of the final shop, when he heard his name called softly. He looked around, bewildered.

“ Hsst. Bhaskar .” The voice came from a narrow alley between two shops. Bhaskar took a tentative step closer, peering into the shadowy recesses crowded with carts and stacked crates. The voice sounded familiar, but he stayed within the sunlight and sight of nearby pedestrians—cautious after his encounters with Alexandria’s street thugs.

He was about to give up when a figure stepped from behind a stack of crates, gesturing urgently. “Bhaskar, it’s Hemhat. Over here.”

“Hemhat?”

“Shhhh. Quickly, get out of sight.”

Bhas hurried forward, but not without misgivings. He embraced his friend briefly before demanding, “Hemhat, what’s going on? I thought you were in Rome.”

Hemhat’s eyes darted past Bhaskar’s shoulder, searching the street. “Bhaskar, do you have the sundial?”

His heart froze as all his amorphous fears from the night before coalesced into cold certainty. “Hemhat, what have you done?”

“Bhaskar, I swear I didn’t know.” Hemhat wrung his hands.

“You were transporting stolen goods. You must have known.”

“I…I knew there was the possibility.”

At Bhaskar’s stern look he crumbled. “The strong possibility. But the money would feed my family for months and the danger was not so great. I made the trip once before and nothing happened. I thought this would be no different.”

“You stole from thieves. You gave me a stolen relic.”

“That part I didn’t know.” Hemhat insisted, his eyes pleading. “You have to believe me. I knew the items were valuable but all the rest were simply rich men’s trinkets. You were good to me. We won a small fortune that last night, and you didn’t take your share. I thought you would like the sundial—I planned to pay for it out of my winnings. I had no idea it was…special.”

He gave Bhaskar an anguished look. “You must believe me. I would never have involved you. I wouldn’t involve you now, but the sundial was meant for a specific collector. Bhaskar, I need it back. These people are dangerous.”

“It is from the tomb of one of the ancients, isn’t it?”

Hemhat nodded miserably. “It is priceless.”

“We must take it to the temple. They will return it to its rightful place.” Bhaskar tried to sound resolute. He ignored the part of him that did not want the sundial buried in an ancient tomb, never to see the light of day again.

At his words, Hemhat drew away, eyes wide with terror. “You would sentence me to death?”

“They will show mercy if you return it,” Bhaskar said. But Callius’ warning echoed in his ears. He was still a stranger in this land. He didn’t know what would happen if they went to the temple with their story. Even Anu had not denied that temple justice could be harsh. Perhaps the temple wouldn’t care who had taken it and only want to make an example of them.

Hemhat was trembling visibly. “Please, Bhaskar. Just give it back. I will take it to the collector and we will be done with it. I beg you; any other way is too dangerous.”

Bhaskar’s resolve wavered. He couldn’t let Hemhat be harmed because of his decision. Reluctantly, he agreed. “Fine. But you must promise that you will not take such risks again. Leave Rome if you cannot free yourself of your master. Come here and I will help you find honest work.” How he would do so, he had no idea, but Hemhat didn’t deserve to be punished for trying to feed his family.

“I promise, Bhaskar. Anything you say. Let’s just get rid of this cursed artifact. Is it at your house? I will stay here while you get it. If the men seeking me find me before I have it…it won’t go well.”

Bhas hesitated. He was to meet Anu soon.

“Not tonight. Tomorrow meet me here at first light and we’ll decide what to do. Until then, keep yourself well hidden.”

Hemhat’s relief was palpable as he embraced Bhaskar. “Thank you, my friend. I will see you tomorrow. Until then, don’t draw any attention to yourself.”

Bhaskar glanced back as he stepped out onto the street. The shadows of the alley had already swallowed Hemhat. Down the street, two temple guards surveyed the crowd as they spoke on a corner. They glanced his way, and he hurriedly stepped away from the alley where Hemhat hid.

He resumed his trip home, trying to look nonchalant. He even went into a few more shops, although he didn’t purchase anything. When he came out of each, he glanced up and down the street. What did the men seeking Hemhat look like? Suddenly, everyone seemed menacing.

His good mood was destroyed, but as he walked one thing became clear. He must tell Anu what had happened. He had promised.

The thought brought a certain measure of relief. Anu would be angry, but he would know what to do. He was devout. Bhaskar remembered the respect the guards at the necropolis had shown him. Perhaps Anu even knew some of them and could persuade them to help. If nothing else, he would show Anu that he could be trusted to keep his word.

Turning into the more residential streets, he left the guards and crowds behind and finally stopped looking over his shoulder. Instead, he turned over in his mind what he would say to Anu. He resolved to admit his own culpability. The sundial had called to him from the first moment he saw it. He had not wanted to entertain a truth that meant giving it up.

His mood was grim as he turned the final corner onto his street and did not improve as he spotted a small crowd had gathered across from his house, murmuring amongst themselves. He quickened his pace. Then he saw where they were staring. His door stood unbarred and wide open, a sight unheard of in this wealthy neighborhood. He rushed forward. What else could have gone wrong?

Bursting inside, he found the servants clustered in the atrium, wide-eyed and silent. When he tried to question them, they drew away and cast their eyes upward.

He stopped speaking and let his gaze follow theirs. In the silence he heard heavy footsteps and the muffled sound of men’s voices upstairs. As he listened, something crashed to the floor. Thieves! Angry and frightened, he rushed up the stairs intent on driving out whoever was there.

At the top of the stairs, caution finally asserted itself. How was he to confront such dangerous criminals? He wanted to retreat, but the sounds were coming from his own rooms. He crept forward.

Just as he neared his doorway, a hand clamped down on his arm. He tried to jerk away, but the hand on his arm tightened like a manacle.

“I have him!” a voice shouted.

Bhas looked up to find himself gazing into the hard eyes of a city guard. He wore full gear with an iron breastplate over his tunic and iron helmet. Terrified, he struggled to break free, but the guard effortlessly hauled him into his own room where utter chaos greeted him. Two more guards were in the room. One rifled through the contents of his desk, scattering papers, quills, and ink like so much refuse. The other guard upended one of Bhaskar’s trunks, spilling its contents onto the floor. He picked up a small jar of oil, turned it over in his hand with a sneer, and muttered something in Demotic that drew a coarse laugh from the others. With a casual toss, he sent the jar crashing to the ground, where it shattered and spread its contents across Bhaskar's silks and linens, leaving dark stains as it soaked into the fabric.

“What is the meaning of this?” He meant his tone to be commanding, but his voice came out in a hoarse whisper. The guards didn’t even glance at him as they continued their destruction. He shook loose of the guard holding him. The man let him go but placed his hand on the hilt of his sword in a clear warning.

Powerless, Bhas watched as the guards continued to ransack the room. His precious scrolls, once meticulously arranged, now lay tangled on the floor amidst overturned inkpots and broken shards of pottery. His notes on celestial movements were trampled underfoot. As he watched, one of the guards picked up his bronze astrolabe, his most prized possession. After a cursory examination, he tossed it onto the floor where it landed amongst the rest of the detritus with a metallic clang.

Bhas sank back against the wall, his legs barely supporting him as he tried to comprehend this violation of his home. This was no mere search. It was a raid. What had he done to deserve such treatment?

But he was afraid he knew. This could only be connected to the sundial.