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

Chapter Eleven

By morning he would have traded his revered mother for fresh water and a piece of fruit. When light broke, he had been given stale bread. He had been forced to make use of the bucket in the night. No one came to empty it and the stench was a constant reminder of his humiliation.

Despair gnawed at his gut alongside hunger.

He sat across the room from the thin sunbeam cast on the wall and spent his time calculating the orientation of the room and the hours of the day by its trajectory.

He tried not to think about his future.

He did not send for Anu.

Around the lunch hour, he heard the guards in the passageway again. He expected another crust of bread from the jailers, but instead the door opened to reveal a temple guard and city guard. They gestured him to his feet. When the armored city guard reached for Bhaskar, the other man growled, “The scholar can walk on his own,” and Bhaskar was left in peace instead of being prodded and shoved like the last times. Anu’s doing?

He wondered if he was to be interrogated. Or his case was to be reviewed. Or Anu would come again to taunt him with what might have been and dangle promises of freedom in front of him.

Instead, he was shown to a larger room than the night before. A plate of fruit sat on the table and a pitcher of water. The heavy door shut behind him with the same, solid thud, but this time, it opened again almost immediately. He spun around and his legs almost failed him.

“ Pravar.”

The little man hurried forward, embracing Bhaskar and supporting him before he crumbled.

“Bhaskar-ji, Bhaskar-ji. It’s okay. I am here now. Did you think I would abandon you in the street to those…” He paused, glancing back at the closed door. “…foreign brutes?”

“I thought you were a dream,” Bhaskar said, tears suddenly hot on his face. “Are my parents well? And my brothers? And Savitri?”

“They are well, I left them all in good health,” Pravar said soothingly, “but of course they miss you. Your father still leads the faithful in daily prayer, and your mother lights the lamps each evening, praying for your safety. Raghav has taken to his duties at the shrine without hesitation. He instructs the shishyas in the Vedas now with as much patience and skill as I ever did.”

Bhaskar doubted that. Pravar had taught all of them. “And the twins?” he asked eagerly.

“Devanand has grown a handspan at least since you left. And Savitri,” Pravar shook his head fondly, “tried to stow away in one of my trunks when I set out.”

“But Pravar, how are you here? In Alexandria?”

“Your parents sent me, of course. Did you think they would let you wander the world alone? Look at the trouble you landed yourself in,” he chided gently.

With that, all his worries returned. He slumped. “Pravar, what am I to do?”

“First,” the little man said, “come and eat. I have some experience of prisons and the food is never adequate.” He sliced open a sweet melon, handing Bhaskar a wedge and pouring him a cup of clear, cool water.

What experience could Pravar have of prisons? But this was not the time for such questions. Bhaskar bit into the melon and gulped down the water with gratitude.

“Now,” Pravar said. “Do not worry. You will not spend another night in this place. The only formality left is an interview with a representative of one of the temples. Osiris, is it?”

Bhaskar nodded, too stunned to make sense of what was happening.

“They are sending a man named Anpu who should be here soon.”

The melon turned to dust in Bhaskar’s mouth. “Anpu?” he asked faintly. Surely the similarity in the names was a coincidence.

“Yes, the commander of the temple guard. I understand you met him last night. Just maintain your innocence and I’m sure he’ll be reasonable,” Pravar continued blithely. “You are Acharya Vasudeva’s son. No one would accuse you of smuggling.”

“Of course.” Bhas placed the melon back on the table, unable to force down another bite.

Pravar left a few minutes later, promising to return and collect him as soon as he was released. When the door opened again, Bhaskar braced himself, half hoping and half dreading to see Anu’s face.

But it was not Anu who entered.

Not Anu. Anpu.

Anpu of the Medjay , Commander of the Temple Guard, Protector of the Sacred Tombs, Steward of the Temple of Osiris.

A guard had recited all his titles, and Bhaskar could see the truth standing in front of him.

Anu wore a plain white shenti and a single ram’s head pendant on a cord around his neck.

Anpu’s shenti had a border of intricately stitched gold thread. He wore a headdress of fine blue linen adorned with a ureaus, the serpent symbol worn by elite members of society. The snake signified Wadjet and the protection of the pharaohs. Precious jewels glittered at his ears, and a broad, beaded collar covered his shoulders and upper chest, marking his high station. Thick gold bands circled his biceps and wrists.

In place of Anu’s serviceable cudgel, Anpu carried a gold staff encircled with hieroglyphs and topped with an emerald-eyed cobra. Bhaskar’s heart shrank in his chest as he took in the details of Anu—Anpu’s—appearance.

This was the dreaded Medjay, the warrior the pharaoh himself had tasked with protecting ancient artifacts, the man who terrified Hemhat more than the thieves he served.

At first, he could see no trace of Anu in the stranger before him. Then his eye caught sight of the familiar pendant, its cord wrapped several times around Anpu’s wrist below the thick gold bands.

Anu… Anpu …stared at him, as unreadable as ever.

Bhaskar could find nothing to say. In his head shone a great white light; a buzzing filled his ears that drove out every thought, every feeling, except despair.

“Bhaskar,” Anu greeted him, his voice formal. “Bhaskar the scholar. Bhaskar the Astronomer. Bhaskar of India. Such simple names for the newest colleague at the Mouseion. But do you know what names I heard today?”

Bhaskar shook his head, but he already knew what came next.

“Bhaskar The Lucky.”

He tried not to flinch at the soft words.

“Bhaskar of the Badrinath Shrine. Bhaskar Acharya Vasudeva’s son. Bhaskar Son of India. Bhaskar Of the Gods?”

His voice rose on the last words and Bhaskar, who had felt himself shrinking more at each title, finally felt moved to protest.

“That is only a tale spread among the peasants in the mountains.” Or mostly only. “They do not have the entertainments of the city to distract them from such fables.”

“And do you number Samrat Dasaratha Maurya among these ignorant peasants?” Anpu wondered. “King Ptolemy has received letters from the court of the Samrat begging him to extend every courtesy to Vidwan Bhaskar, the son of Rajaguru Vasudeva, revered advisor to the Empress.”

Rajaguru was an exaggeration. His father held no such official title. Or maybe he did; the Samrajni had made pilgrimages to the mountains more than once to confer with both his parents and make offerings at the shrine. She was a shrewd and educated woman, but perhaps it suited her own motives to spread the tales about his family’s heritage.

“The court of the Samrat acknowledges you as a Pandita and a Devarshi, and you are to be considered an envoy of the Samrat’s wisdom.”

He was now a Devarshi? He didn’t know whether to be thankful or appalled that his parents, who extolled humility, had gone to such lengths on his behalf. Certainly, it would mean he was unlikely to be executed for the theft of the sundial—for which he must be grateful—but he would never be simply Bhaskar the Astronomer here again.

“Am I still under arrest?” he asked tiredly.

“No,” Anu said shortly. “You are a treasured envoy of India under the protection of the Emperor himself. How could you be under arrest?”

“Then I may go home?”

“No.”

“But—”

“You are a guest of The Ptolemies. Your belongings will be moved into the palace complex.” He gave a sharp smile. “You will have a bodyguard.”

“I don’t want a bodyguard.”

“You have been attacked more than once since entering the city as witnessed by a high-ranking official. As of now, you are too important to die in the streets. You will have a bodyguard.”

Bhaskar stared at him. “ You told them I was attacked?”

“And now I am your bodyguard.”

“But you are Commander of the Temple Guard ,” Bhaskar said bitterly. “The king will pick from among the city guard or someone in his household. You may go back to your death god. This task is beneath you.”

Anu’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I requested the honor. Perhaps I volunteered out of the high esteem in which I hold our friendship…my star.”

And oh —it was not fair . How could he want to melt at Anu’s words even when they were uttered with the coldest sarcasm?