19

Long after midnight, the captain set sail for the locks at Esna. Anne and Michael sat up on deck watching the banks of the Nile slide by in the light of the full moon, finally alone.

They talked companionably for a long while, avoiding serious topics, shy now that the barrier between them had been lifted. Around half past two, Anne couldn’t contain her yawns any longer. “I guess I should get to sleep. Tahir says we’ll reach Luxor midmorning, if we get through the locks immediately.”

“What new adventures does he have planned for us?”

“He said something about searching for instructions in the Hathor temple. Time for bed. See you in the morning.”

☥☥☥

Anne woke late. She pushed back the cabin curtain and looked out. They were approaching a large town. When she arrived in the galley, Tahir and Michael were in their familiar position, heads together, talking. The cook handed her a heaping plate and a cup of tea. She sat at the counter next to Michael.

“Welcome to Luxor,” Tahir said. “As soon as we dock, I want to head to Abydos. It’s a bit of a drive.”

“Another initiation?” Anne asked.

“Osiris,” Tahir answered, “and then Dendara, into the crypts. It will be a long day.”

They docked at the end of a queue of boats, the yacht dwarfed by the cruise ships. Once the gangplank was stretched to the next boat, they walked up and through a series of ships, each brimming with tourists. Arnold and Bob each took one of Anne’s elbows and escorted her through the crowd.

“They’re just as interested in Michael and Tahir,” Anne whispered to Arnold.

“Dr. Abernathy won’t skin my hide if they get hurt.”

“I will,” Anne said sweetly.

Tahir had rented a van to accommodate them all. Even so, the ride was long and dusty, but Tahir entertained them by answering questions. Most of it was about the finer points of Egyptology and the many mistakes of academics. Anne listened with one ear and watched the countryside unfold—the plots of crops, date palm fields, children riding donkeys. Tahir explained how the Khemitians hadn’t told the Greeks the truth about many things because the Greeks were conquerors, trespassers in their land. The same was true in so many other places. Then he explained how the hieroglyphs still weren’t interpreted correctly.

“Wait a minute,” Anne interjected. “What about the Rosetta Stone?”

“Even that is based on the Greek. The Rosetta Stone contained three languages—hieroglyphic, demotic, and Greek. So Champollion’s translation was still based on the Greek’s understanding of the symbols,” Tahir explained. “Schwaller was correct in his claim that the hieroglyphs had layers of meaning.”

“Like ancient Hawaiian,” Michael said.

“Exactly,” Tahir said, getting ready to expound further, but they had arrived.

The van turned down a dusty street crowded with low buildings. The temple stood pristine at the end of this ramshackle street. No gaily colored booths here, just yellow brick houses, local shops, and more dust. Tahir bought tickets as usual, then led them toward the temple.

Two men sitting on the front step, dressed in long, white gallabiyas, stood up and opened their arms. “Tahir Nur,” they shouted.

Tahir hugged and kissed the two men ceremoniously on both cheeks. They spoke together for a while, then one man said to Anne, “He is my uncle.”

Anne had heard this claim at almost every temple. “So you’re like George Washington?” she teased Tahir.

Tahir’s forehead wrinkled.

“The father of your country.”

He laughed. “Let’s go.”

Anne was preparing herself for the initiation, but Tahir began to talk as he went. The two guardians followed behind, listening intently. “This temple was built about six thousand years ago. The actual power spot is in the ruins to the north.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask about the Holy of Holies,” Michael said. “What ceremony was used to create the power spot?”

Tahir laughed. “Humans do not create the Holy of Holies, the Earth does.” He sat down on a stone just inside the temple walls. “These sites are built around naturally occurring power places on Earth. Each spot has flowing water, natural crystal, and volcanic rocks. For thousands of years, people came to these spots to energize themselves. All could come; there were no restrictions. But as people began to fall out of consciousness, when Amen began, some tried to control these places out of fear. First, they erected a wall around them and declared that only some could come in. All the others had to stay outside the wall.” He leaned over and drew a square in the sand with a dot in the middle. “But this wasn’t good enough for the new priests, the Hanuti.”

“Hanuti means priest?” Anne asked.

“Originally, the ones who handled the dead, but when the priests became businessmen, I apply this term to them all.” Tahir paused, then said, “After the wall, they built the courtyards and pylons.” He drew this in the sand. “The common people were not allowed in here either, only the ‘great’ Hanuti. After that, they built the walls and outer gate, and only the priests could come into the temple. The people were allowed into the courtyard on holidays, but only outside the temple.” He drew a temple enclosure in the sand. “And so religion was born.” He scowled. “In Aten we do not need religion. Everyone is equal. We are the same consciousness.” He looked from Anne to Michael. “This is part of our work, peeling away the layers, returning the power spots to everyone.” He stood and walked toward the first pylon of the temple, then stopped and pointed up. “The infamous helicopter.”

“Helicopter?” Anne asked.

“Some of the New Agers think this is a helicopter,” Michael explained.

Anne craned her neck to see the carvings Tahir was pointing to. They were at the very top of the column, difficult to make out. She moved her head from side to side. “I can see it.”

Tahir shook his head. “But the other side is not the same. I think it’s a fraud.”

“But aren’t you a New Ager, Tahir?” she teased.

I am a Now Ager. Now is the only time there is,” he declared.

Michael shrugged at Anne when Tahir turned away. She smiled back. Apparently Michael had a different opinion about the glyphs. They followed Tahir into the temple, down the right-hand side, then into one of the rooms.

Anne stopped and gaped. Never had she seen such beautiful work. The walls gleamed with soft blues, greens, and golds. Perfectly preserved carvings of the Neters peopled the walls of each of the small rooms. Now she recognized some of the scenes. In one, Sekhmet held out her necklace to Osiris. In another, Thoth, holding two staffs topped with snakes, held an ankh to Osiris’ nose while Isis held his hand.

“Stages of his life,” Tahir explained, as they walked from room to room.

Next the conception of Horus was depicted, Isis hovering above the prone body of Osiris, a swallow. Horus stood behind the scene, witnessing his own begetting. Anne could imagine life here, gracious and unhurried among these beautiful, softly glowing walls.

Halfway down the south side of the temple, Tahir took another turn and walked down a long hall decorated with a carving of some sort of long barge. He made no comment, but walked out into the sun and down a slight hill. A set of stairs led down into another temple, this one like a basement to the first. They could only go so far. The floor was covered in water.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“The Osireion,” Tahir said. “What does it remind you of?”

Anne considered the huge blocks of granite poised atop equally large granite pillars. “Stonehenge.”

Tahir nodded his approval. “Michael?”

“I always thought it looked like the Sphinx temple.”

“Good,” he said. “You both see more than the Egyptologists. They think this was built at the same time as that.” He pointed behind him at the temple they’d left.

“Not possible,” Michael declared. “I’ve always thought this was older.”

Tahir patted Michael’s shoulder affectionately. “Good boy. The architecture is completely different. This temple”—he pointed down—“is over fifty thousand years old. It has been around for almost a full cycle, just like Tefnut.” He turned and put his finger to his lips. “Now we walk.”

They scrambled over more sand after the old mountain goat, as they’d affectionately dubbed him. Anne’s calves were aching before he reached a wall. The guardians opened the gate and they all walked to the back of another ruin. The group sat in the sand and joined hands. As Tahir chanted, Anne felt the familiar spiral of energy spread through the site, but she didn’t see anything. Michael had suggested she not try so hard, so she relaxed and enjoyed the energy, trusting that the initiation was working. Her crystal, tucked safely away, tingled slightly as if to reassure her.

They walked back to the van through the crowded village, much to Arnold’s chagrin. As always, the children rushed up to them, looking for gifts, and Michael gave out many pens. One little boy kept coming back for more and more. “Ah, a serious scholar,” Michael teased. The boy just smiled, not understanding.

They piled back into the van and started the drive to Dendara. Anne sat snug against Michael. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, resting. She kept seeing a bright white light. She opened her eyes, thinking the sun must be on her face, but the van had tinted windows. She closed her eyes and the glow reappeared. Suddenly, she realized it was Michael’s astral body she was seeing. She relaxed against him, allowing the glow to resonate with her own energy. The drive took two hours—too fast for Anne.

The temple of Dendara stood in an even more remote site, the beautiful remains next to a few scattered houses. As soon as they arrived, a group of children ran up to the van with cat’s eyes woven from colorful yarns for sale.

Tahir intervened. “When we are finished.”

The children ran off toward the guardians who were approaching.

Arnold looked around. “I’m starving,” he announced. “Isn’t there anyplace to eat?”

Tahir went to the back of the van and pulled out a large box. “Lunch.”

Michael and Arnold carried the box to the temple entrance and put it down. Anne dusted off a low stone just inside the mamisi and pulled out small white boxes, each containing chicken, cheese, and a roll.

“Well, at least there’s cheese,” Anne said to Michael as he inspected the fare. She counted. There were enough for the temple workers as well.

A hopeful dog trotted over to their picnic, his coat only patches on bare skin. Anne couldn’t eat anything with those pleading brown eyes watching her, so she ended up giving him her entire lunch. The dog gobbled it up, then turned to Michael, who cheerfully gave up his piece of chicken.

“Don’t give him the bones.” Anne took the leg and pulled the meat and connective tissue off, feeding the dog by hand.

After their meager meal, Tahir took Michael and Anne back to the gate of the temple and pointed up. “Do you see?”

Anne studied the arch of the gate. “It’s a scarab.”

“Yes, but what is different?”

She squinted in the afternoon sun, studying the scarab. Suddenly, she realized she was looking at the stomach of the scarab, not its back. “It’s upside down,” she said.

“Exactly, and what does that mean?”

She looked at Michael, who shook his head, meaning “he asked you, not me.” It came to her. “This is a place where secret teachings were kept.”

“Exactly.”

Tahir turned and walked back into the temple. They followed him. This time Arnold opted to wait with the guardians in the front, hoping to explore the shisha pipe one of the older children was bringing from the house, but their new four-legged friend followed them into the temple.

“We will do our initiation first, then go into the crypt.” Tahir touched his finger to his lips, a flicker of excitement in his green eyes.

Anne walked behind Michael. The rooms on their right were dark beneath the stone roof. She wondered what treasures were hidden there, but Tahir didn’t stop until he reached an empty room at the exact end of the temple. Here they formed a circle and, out of the soft receptive darkness, Tahir’s chant rose, awakening the stillness into vibration. This time the spiral took Anne back in time.

She heard the sound of girls’ laughter, the scuff of sandals on stone floors. A breeze from the west, moist with the promise of rain, lifted her now dark hair. Her vision expanded outward. Flowering trees draped their trailing limbs over the outer walls, promising fruit and perfume oil. On the north side of the temple, women walked down stone stairs into a lake, their colorful robes fluttering in the breeze like birds. From the top of a stone building, she looked out at an expanse of blue water. The sound of footsteps came from the stone steps below. Another woman emerged from the building and walked over to stand by her side. “Has he come yet?”

“There’s been no sign.”

The scene shifted. Now it was late at night. Listening into the darkness, she heard water dripping from oars, then a boat slide up on the shore. She ran quietly down a flight of stone steps, beneath the sacred wheel of stars, past teaching rooms, their carvings mute in the night, down more steps, then along a long corridor to the west end of the temple. She opened a small door and walked down to the river.

The dream, Anne thought, this is the dream. She looked up and found Michael’s eyes fixed on her. With a shock, she realized he was seeing exactly what she was.

In the past, he waited by the boat, wrapped in a dark cloak. She ran into his arms.

After a minute, the man who was also Michael pulled back and looked into her face. “It’s done,” he whispered.

She shivered against him.

“It was necessary.” He stroked her hair. “Meanwhile, you must guard these.” He placed something in her hand.

Anne looked down and saw three crystal keys. “The night is always so long,” she said.

“I will come again with the flood.” He bent his head toward her and she kissed him good-bye. He returned to the boat.

The woman turned and reentered the temple. In the present moment, Anne turned and followed the vision. She found a hall that led to the west end of the temple. At the end of the hall, the temple guardians waited, the grate pulled back from the stairs. She climbed down into a narrow passageway and crawled through, emerging into a narrow hall-like chamber. The walls were covered with scenes and text. Anne walked forward and saw the priests, with the elongated light bulbs and a baboon, holding up daggers. She turned back and walked past Michael who had followed her until she came to a relief of Sekhmet.

She stood and looked at Michael with shining eyes. “Do you remember? You brought them to me and I hid them here.”

“Yes, and now they’ve come back to us.” He gathered her into his arms. “And you have come back to me.” He kissed her lips tenderly at first, then deeper, past and present folding together into the eternal now.

When time began again, Anne realized Tahir was standing some distance away next to the opening of the crypt. She gently pulled away from Michael.

Tahir walked toward them.

Anne bent down and pressed a stone next to the floor. The stone shifted revealing a small chamber. “This is where I hid the crystals long ago when I was high priestess here. Michael brought them to me and I put them here for safekeeping.”

Tahir bent down to examine the cavity.

“All three?” he asked

“Yes.”

They all knelt in the sand, Anne behind Michael, allowing the trained archeologists room to work. She peered anxiously over his shoulder.

“It looks like there’s a jar here.” Michael’s voice was muffled. “It’s large enough to hold a scroll.” He reached into his backpack and pulled out a pair of latex gloves. He turned to her. “Do you have anything like a soft brush in your pack?”

“Only a hairbrush.”

“Are the bristles plastic?”

“No, I think they’re natural.”

“Good, would you sacrifice it for the cause?”

Anne promptly dug her brush out of her pack and handed it to Michael, who painstakingly cleared sand from the jar. When at last the jar was free of the sand, he picked it up and inch by inch removed it from the hollow. He looked around. “What is the cleanest wrapping material?”

“We are taking it?” Tahir asked.

“We need a controlled environment to open this jar. By the looks of it, it’s at least two thousand years old and the scroll, if there is one, could be even older. It could disintegrate immediately if there is a breath of wind. The humidity should be carefully controlled. We really need a lab, but then we couldn’t keep the contents secret.”

“I’ll have to get permission from the keepers here.”

“I thought you were the head of your order.”

Tahir shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. These people are the descendants of the people who built this temple and made these scrolls. We must have their permission to remove anything.”

Michael nodded. “You’re right, of course.”

“I will go for them now.” Tahir stood and walked back to the opening, then squeezed through.

Michael sat back on his heels, looking at the jar in his hands.

Anne pulled a sweater from her pack. “Will this do?”

“It will cushion it somewhat.”

“Is there anything else in there?” Anne asked.

Michael turned back to the small chamber and started to brush the sand back grains at a time. On the third sweep, he knocked against something.

Anne pressed forward, her heart pounding.

Slowly, taking what seemed to Anne to be an exorbitant amount of care, he pulled out a granite tablet.

“Excellent,” Michael breathed.

“What’s on it?”

“I can’t really see, but if the scroll doesn’t hold up, this should help us.”

Michael handed the tablet to Anne, then continued brushing back the sand. After ten minutes, he was satisfied the hollow was empty.

By this time, Anne could hear the guardians talking amongst themselves, then footsteps sounded on the stone steps. Soon three temple guardians were crowded together with them in the narrow passageway.

Michael held out the granite tablet for their inspection.

Anne pointed to her rolled sweater holding the jar as Tahir talked animatedly. “They have given permission for us to take the jar and tablet. They understand our mission. I promised to return them when we have finished.”

“Of course,” Michael said.

“And to make a copy of the scroll if we can.”

Again Michael agreed.

“Let’s get back to the boat then,” Tahir said.

On the ride back, Tahir wrapped the granite slab in a piece of soft cloth and decisively put it away. “We’ll wait until we can pay proper attention.”

The ride seemed to last forever. Anne asked questions, but Tahir’s answers were monosyllabic. When they arrived at the dock in Luxor, they made their way as quickly as possible to the boat. Anne cleared a table in the common sitting area. Michael carefully placed the jar on it and Tahir took out the granite tablet.

“Close all the windows,” Michael directed Arnold, who for once obeyed him. “Now we’ll see what condition this scroll is in.” He took a penknife and ran it gently around the lip of the brown earthenware jar. Sand fell out. “Good, it’s fairly clean.” Then he began slowly prying the top off. After a few turns, he looked up at Anne. “In my suitcase I have a small jar of liquid. It’s got a museum label. Could you get it?”

Anne started to get up, but Bob was ahead of her. “I’ll get it,” he called over his shoulder.

Michael continued to turn the lid, then stopped again. “It’s stuck.”

Bob returned carrying a small vial, which he handed over to Michael.

“Thank you.” Michael looked around. “A cloth. I need a strip of cotton.”

Anne ran to her room and came back with the remnants of her old T-shirt. “Will this do?”

“Excellent.” Michael wet the cotton with the liquid, then moistened the exposed area under the lid. He waited a few minutes, and then tried the lid again. It started to move.

“How can you stand this?” Anne burst out.

Michael smiled. “Archaeology requires nerves of steel.” Finally, he raised the lid. “Pray,” he said.

They leaned closer.

“Don’t breathe on it.”

They obediently sat back.

He looked inside the jar and his shoulders dropped.

“What?” Anne cried.

Michael spread clean brown paper on the table, then tilted the jar, pouring out dust and small fragments of parchment. Michael carefully sifted through the fragments using soft-tipped tweezers. After a full five minutes, he sat back, eyes closed. “Nothing.”

“Then we’re lost,” Anne said.

“It is a disappointment, but it is not the end. This is older still.” Tahir unwrapped the granite tablet and started to pore over the hieroglyphs. After just a few seconds, he said, “Here is the djed pillar, the symbol for Michael’s crystal.”

Anne saw a forked staff topped with what looked like a jackal’s head.

“But mine is topped with the Star of David,” Michael objected.

“Originally, it must have been the djed, the backbone of Osiris,” Tahir said. “Later they put the symbol for the sacred formation the six keys must form to open the site.”

“Formation?” Anne asked. “You mean we stand in a star shape?”

Tahir nodded, then went back to his study. In a few minutes, a smile lit his face. “The ankh is on the opposite side at the top. And here’s the lotus at the bottom.” Tahir’s voice crackled with excitement. “The first triangle.”

“Okay,” Anne said, “yours has the ankh, but mine is topped with the fleur-de-lis.”

“Which was originally the lotus. Sekhmet carries the lotus staff,” Tahir explained.

“What does it represent?” Anne asked.

“The opening of consciousness,” he said, still squinting at the tablet.

“I thought the djed pillar was traditionally associated with the was and the ankh,” Michael said.

Tahir nodded, still not taking his eyes off the granite. “Here is the was.” He pointed to a glyph below the djed.

“I’ve seen many Neters carrying the was,” Michael said.

“What is a was?” Anne asked.

“A scepter with the head of Set. It symbolizes mastery over duality,” Tahir explained. “And here is Seshat, across from it.” His forehead wrinkled.

“Seshat?” Michael leaned over to see for himself.

“You didn’t expect that? What is Seshat?” Anne asked.

“Who,” Michael corrected her. “Seshat is the Neter of form.”

“I thought that was Khnum,” Anne said.

“Khnum forms the human body,” Tahir answered. “Seshat takes the sound of her consort, Djehuti, and reflects to him the form those sounds create.”

Anne looked from Tahir to Michael, completely lost. “We haven’t gone to those temples,” she said. “Does this mean the ceremony won’t work?”

Tahir didn’t answer, but sat staring at the granite, lost in thought.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” Michael whispered to her.

Silence descended on the group. Michael watched Tahir intently.

Finally, Tahir shouted, “I’ve found it. Nefer. The glyph completing the second triangle is Nefer, harmony.” He clapped his hands together.

Anne saw an oval with a long cross stuck in the top.

“Nefer?” Now it was Michael’s turn to frown. “Doesn’t that mean ‘beautiful’ or ‘good’?”

Tahir shook his head. “Again the Greeks. Nefer means ‘harmony.’ You see . . .” He gestured for Anne to come closer. “In this case, the was represents Djehuti.”

“Djehuti is better known as Thoth, the one who brought the symbols. He’s often depicted carrying a scribe’s tool,” Michael said.

Again Tahir shook his head. “But this is later. Sound comes before symbol. Djehuti creates the sacred sounds.”

“Oh.” Anne was beginning to see. “And Seshat, the feminine, gives them shape.”

“Exactly!” Tahir grabbed her arm in his excitement. “The sound creates the form, and the two together . . .” He raised his hands into the air. “. . . harmony, creation of balance.”

Michael was still frowning.

“Look,” Tahir said, “look at the glyph. It represents the lungs and larynx. The source of the sacred sounds in humans.”

“Oh, my,” Michael said.

“Sound opens the Hall,” Tahir said. He turned back to the piece of granite. “Now, what are these?” Around the original six symbols stood the forms of Neters. “Sekhmet, Ptah, Isis. These are the principals supervising our triangle.”

Anne rocked back and forth, trying to contain her excitement.

“Horus?” Tahir held the slab directly under the light. “It is rubbed off. “Hathor definitely, so it is likely Horus. And the last is gone completely.”

“Oh, no,” Anne said.

But Tahir was smiling. “We have discovered the directions for forming the key. It is a great triumph. The rest will take care of itself.”