Steven Saylor - Raiders of the Nile

“But wouldn’t it be better to-”

“Shut up, Ujeb! No more arguing! You must do as I say. Now let’s get to work.”

I moved to join in the effort. Then I saw the smear of blood-my blood-on the corner of the crate, and almost fainted. The sight of Ujeb’s bloody sword had hardly affected me, yet the sight of my own blood made me ill.

Artemon pushed me aside. “Go on ahead, Pecunius. You’ll only get in the way. Return to the ship.” He grunted as he put his shoulder to the wagon. “Tell Mavrogenis we’re on our way, and to have everything ready.”

My head pounded. The wharf seemed to sway beneath my feet. I made my way to the doorway he had indicated and walked down the long hall. How was it that Artemon, so boastful of planning ahead for every contingency, had failed to foresee the obvious complication of a passageway almost too narrow for the wagon?

I shook my head, thinking that Artemon was not half as smart as he wanted the others to think.

I reached the end of the long hallway and saw, to my left, the end of the passageway through which the wagon needed to go. Artemon was probably right that it would be easier to pull rather than push the wagon, using ropes tied to the yokes.

I was about to hurry on when I heard something-a rustling noise, then the clanking of metal, then a sound like muffled voices. Where did the sounds come from? With its high, raftered ceiling, the acoustics of the customs house deadened some sounds and caused others to echo. I looked above me, and thought I saw a movement amid the rafters.

Was some frightened clerk hiding up there? Or did the sounds come from some chamber hidden in the walls around me? The blows to my head made everything uncertain.

I hurried on-not running, because running caused a painful pounding inside my skull-but moving as quickly as I could.

Away from the others, finally on my own, I suddenly realized that Artemon had just given me my best chance to escape from him. I had only to find a hiding place and stay there until the Medusa sailed.

But where was Bethesda? Ismene had told me that under no circumstances should I reboard the Medusa. Did that mean that Bethesda, too, would have left the ship while the raid was taking place? Or had Ismene given me a serpent’s advice, acting on Artemon’s behalf and scheming to separate me from Bethesda forever? The throbbing in my head made it impossible to think clearly.

I decided to return to the ship. Without knowing Bethesda’s whereabouts, I had no other choice. If I hurried, and if she was in the cabin, perhaps I might somehow be able to see her before Artemon and the others arrived. Despite the pounding in my skull, I ran all the way.

Captain Mavrogenis saw me approaching and lowered the gangplank. He scowled at the sight of my bloody face.

“What news, Roman?”

“They’re on their way. They’ll be here any moment.”

“All went well?”

“They have what we came for, but a lot of men died.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t see blood on your sword.”

“I missed the battle. I was struck on the head-”

“But Artemon is well, yes?”

“Artemon is unharmed.” I stepped past Mavrogenis. He called to his men, telling some to ready the cargo hoist and others to prepare the sail.

Djet was nowhere to be seen. I crossed the deck and stared over the water at the Pharos Lighthouse and the harbor entrance. In a matter of moments, Artemon and the others would arrive, the treasure would be loaded, and the Medusa would be on her way.

I turned my gaze to the cabin at the stern. All the men were busy. No one was guarding the door. I quickly walked toward it, my heart pounding. I put my hand on the latch. The door was unlocked. I pushed it open.

The cabin was dimly illuminated by light that leaked from small, shuttered windows set high in the walls. The room was more comfortably furnished than I had imagined. There were hanging lamps, cabinets, rugs, and sleeping couches. But there was no one inside.

I stepped out of the cabin. Mavrogenis was standing nearby, his hands on his hips, overseeing the hoisting of the sail. I grabbed him by the shoulders of his tunic, taking him by surprise. He was a big man, but I lifted him clear off the deck. His face went pale and his eye grew wide. The power of the Furies possessed me.

“The girl!” I shouted. “Where is she?”

“What girl?” he sputtered.

I shook him violently. “You know who I mean. The girl who was in the cabin with Metrodora. Where is she?”

He pointed toward the customs house.

I let go of Mavrogenis, ran to the gangplank, and hurried down, just in time to meet Artemon and the others arriving with the wagon.

A rope for pulling the wagon was slung over Artemon’s shoulder, and he was soaked with sweat. He had led the others at a furious pace. They dropped the ropes and staggered away from the wagon, gasping for breath. Ujeb looked ready to collapse.

Men from the ship hurried down the gangplank and pushed past me. They readied the hoist that would lift the crate from the wagon onto the ship.

The madness that had possessed me began to fade. My head throbbed with pain. The wharf seemed to sway. If I ran toward the customs house, would anyone bother to pursue me? Artemon had said that any man could leave the ship if he wanted.

For a moment, I was too dizzy to move. I could barely stand upright. I found myself staring at the crate in the wagon. I noticed something very odd about the crate.

“This is not the same crate,” I said, so quietly that only those nearest heard me.

Among them was Ujeb, who cocked his head. “What did you say, Roman?”

“This is not the crate that we took into the Tomb of Alexander. This is not the crate that was in the wagon when I came to my senses.”

“What? That’s impossible!” Ujeb made a rude noise with his lips. “I’m the one who makes stupid jokes here, Roman, not you.”

“It’s not a joke.” Others had overheard and were paying attention to me now, including Artemon, who had a very strange look on his face.

I stepped closer to the wagon. “When the stone struck my head, I fell into the wagon. I struck the corner of the crate, here.” I touched the place with my fingers. “There was blood on the wood, and plenty of it. My blood. The sight of it made me queasy. Yet now … there’s no blood at all.”

Artemon shook his head. “You’ve mixed up the corners, Pecunius.”

“There’s no blood on any of the corners. See for yourself.”

Ujeb frantically circled the wagon. “He’s right! The Roman is right! What does it mean?”

“It means nothing,” said Artemon. “This is the wagon and this is the crate that we took from the tomb.”

I shook my head. “No, it can’t be. Something strange has happened. Look inside the crate.”

“The lid is nailed shut,” said Artemon. “We don’t have time for this. Soldiers may come at any moment. We’ll open the crate after we sail.”

“No, we must open it now!” cried Ujeb.

“He’s right,” said Captain Mavrogenis, watching us from the rail of the ship. “Open the crate, Artemon. Quickly!” He tossed an iron crowbar to Artemon, who deftly caught it but shot a furious look at the captain. They locked gazes for a moment. Then, his jaw rigid, Artemon jumped into the wagon and set about prying off one of the planks of the lid. I winced at the cracking of wood and the shrieking of iron nails.

Artemon tossed aside the plank. The very bottom of the sarcophagus was revealed, the part that was molded to show the outline of feet within. By the light of the late-afternoon sun, I saw the shimmer of gold and a cluster of emeralds that sparkled with green fire.