The Chase

The first light of dawn teased over the horizon with the burnt, red, reflection of the desert soil. Leaving while it was still relatively dark allowed the tiny caravan to cover a good portion of the somewhat flat, sand depression that lay in front of the hilly terrain west of the Ghard. They wanted to be well on their way across before the sun was too hot. Sadam stayed back with the three Westerners, who found camel riding a bit of a frustrating experience. Stone was somewhat used to it, but the professor was having a lot of difficulty, bouncing around and losing his control of the reins. He had absolutely no idea of how to handle the animal. Melanie fared a little better, copying Oura's style as best she could, with one leg hooked around the pommel and the reins held tightly in her hand. She gradually mastered the use of the crop to help steer the beast, which preferred to run in a straight line of its own choosing. The other two Bedouins galloped off, sitting as smoothly and comfortably as though they were at home in a chair, their backward glances filled with amused disdain for the others.

Their first stop, after passing through the olive groves and the scanty wheat fields, was at the eastern end of the Farâfra Oasis, where they paused to take a tea break and give a well received rest to the professor. It had taken longer than it should have, exposing them to the direct sun a lot longer than they'd planned. Sadam assisted in lowering the professor's camel for dismount, but couldn't prevent him from pitching forward, head over heels onto the ground. There was a flurry of concern for the older man; Massam berating his assistant for his carelessness while the others rushed to the professor.

"Dad! Are you alright?" Melanie worried, brushing the sand from his face and off of his clothes.

"I am now," he chuckled, "on solid ground and off that carnival ride."

"It'll be a little easier now," Stone sympathized, helping the older man to his feet, "we'll have to go slower over that rocky terrain."

Karl van Reagar stretched and massaged his shoulder, "Not slow enough to walk though I suppose."

"No. Not that slow." Stone and the others smiled, satisfied no real damage had been done, and went about preparing their fire for the tea break.

Oura made it a point to ask permission to take her tea with Stone, Melanie and the professor. Karl was happy to oblige, he felt that the more everyone was interested, the better. He produced the Canopic jar for her to examine and coaxed her into offering any opinions she might have about its origin.

"I'm afraid all I can offer is that it looks very old to me. I have seen similar objects in the museums and at some of the ruins near Asyut and elsewhere, but they were more ah, well, fancier."

"That's very good Oura," Karl said encouragingly, "that's exactly why we feel this is a particularly special find- because of its apparent age."

"What do you think Mister Stone?" Oura turned her large brown eyes on their guide and leaned forward attentively, letting them stray beyond him to Melanie, who stirred uncomfortably.

Stone shrugged, sipping his tea, "I can't add much to that. But it certainly has caused some excitement since its discovery." He gave a quick look from woman to woman. The contrast was intriguing. Oura's dusky, satin look, with large dark eyes that arrested your breath, peering over the filmy veil. Melanie's creamy, smooth textured skin. Her open, innocent look, disguising the tough, determined mind of a self directed woman. He sighed inwardly, reminding himself of his obligations.

Melanie set down her cup, maneuvering a little closer between Stone and her father. "Are you familiar with any of the history of the Old Kingdom kings Oura," she spoke up, hoping to draw Stone's attention away from the younger woman's charms. After Oura's comments in the hotel room, she thought she might invest a little more time in watching and learning about him herself.

"Not really," she replied, interpreting the reason for Melanie's question with a secret smile, "but if you ask Massam, I think he said once that Amin was full of legends and Egyptian mythology."

Karl's ears perked up and he shifted excitedly. "Really! Stone, ask him would you please. Any input is worth examining." Amin, Karl thought. How interesting.

Stone gave a carefree shrug and stood up, excusing himself. The two women followed him with their eyes as he sauntered across to the trucks where the Bedouins huddled over their sweet tea and dates. Oura turned her attention to Melanie, catching the melancholy expression just before their eyes met. Souring a little inside, she realized that they both were attracted to the man, and that Melanie held a distinct, cultural advantage. The three men returned to the group where Massam translated the professor's questions for Amin, who was pleased to be the centre of such attention.

"Amin says that one of his favourite tales about the Old Kingdom is of the great priest Akirfa del Qash."

Karl waved his hands impatiently, "Tell him to go on." The two men rattled off a stream of Arabic dialect to one another then Massam translated, "He says this priest, as a young man, served an ancient intellectual in the time of Khufu, or Cheops, as he's more popularly known. The man he served apparently had strong influence with the royals of the time, and was constantly included in their circle of social and business matters. The young priest, so the story goes, was very ambitious and stuck to his master like uh, I don't think the reference is appropriate." Everyone laughed and Karl assured Massam that they could guess quite accurately what he was trying to say.

"Well. Very well," he continued, glowering at Amin who stared back blank faced. "His ambition smothered his mind with visions of becoming a royal himself, and he did everything he could to be ingratiating. Of course nothing he did would ever enable such an act, so he turned his attention to his master's only son, the young Hasramus. He planted the seed of his ambition early, and as the young boy attained manhood and became married, he had come to believe he was of royal heritage. Of course by this time his father had died, and since his mother had already died in childbirth; there was no one else in the household except Jeoph to refute Akirfa's claim. Jeoph was Hasramus' only son, by an attendant to the court, who was sent away after the birth. "

At the mention of Hasramus and Jeoph, Karl sagged back against the truck; his heart pounding like a bass drum in his ears, his mouth working silently. Massam turned back to Amin and went through another long exchange for translation. When he began to speak again, Karl just sat staring as though stricken.

"Hasramus was so filled with his own importance he set about treating his father's property and people as though he truly were a king. With Akirfa goading him on, the two of them built a little empire completely outside the realm of the true ruler of the time. When he was finally near death, he had amassed so much wealth from his slave population that he demanded a royal tomb be erected and that he be given a king's burial. Akirfa couldn't have been happier. With only Jeoph to succeed Hasramus, a situation the priest had considered carefully, he envisioned the entire 'kingdom' falling to him."

"Sounds like quite a guy," Stone snorted.

"Don't forget this is just a story," Melanie said dismissively.

"Shh! Let him go on." Karl was sat forward, his voice flat and distant. He ran a dry tongue over dry lips as he searched Amin's face for some kind of trickery.

Massam looked about and when they were quiet, he continued, "Hasramus of course, had an army, and this army went out and recruited all the able bodied males to begin the building of the tomb. A pyramid, which was what he wanted, was inconceivable in the time he had remaining, so Akirfa convinced him that a Mastabas of the most glorious design could be erected over an underground tomb, after he was buried. He would be accompanied by selected servants, property and art, enough to ensure a fitting passage to his seat with the gods. Hasramus' vanity finally gave in to the magnificent picture his priest had painted, and went to his death fully pacified."

"This is a pretty comprehensive tale for a piece of myth," Melanie suggested, struggling to her feet and stretching her cramped legs.

"The inclusion of detail is exactly how myths endure ," Massam declared, "these tales are repeated over and over until they are as complex and familiar as your own nursery rhymes."

"Maybe we should save the rest for our next stop," Stone suggested, checking the sun and his watch, "we've still got a ways to go." He caught the look of relief that crossed Melanie's face, before instructing Massam to bring the camels and break camp. "By the way professor, what the hell is a mastabas?"

It took a moment for Karl to register, and he removed his glasses, polishing them slowly as he looked up at Stone."Oh, it, uh, it's usually a rectangular superstructure. It was built over excavated tombs." Regaining a little composure, he continued in a more normal voice, "Customarily, it contained a number of small rooms, such as a chapel or the like. As time passed, more rooms were added and covered in art with scenes depicting the occupant and all his creature comforts."

"Sort of a fancy type crypt?"

"Sort of." Karl stared across the campsite at the three Bedouins.

*****

Sergeant Rafiman sat comfortably in the driver's seat of the Rover, puffing contentedly on one of his cigars as he listened to Surri describe the information he had discovered in the streets of El Minya, about Max Baeder. The Asyut police had confirmed the arrival of the white foreigner in an open top jeep. They had kept him under discrete surveillance and provided all the information as to his last known whereabouts, including his activities while in the city, along with the promised photograph. Rafiman's face grew stern as the implication of the addition of two local thugs hit home. The other tidbit that Surri had picked up about Baeder's interest in the group of archaeologists only added to his consternation. He reflected on whether or not the old man Kabbar might have thrown some light on this rumour of buried treasure. Rafiman ordered Surri to radio Idfu and advise the Captain that they were requesting permission to pursue Baeder for a little while longer. He hoped that the brutality of Baeder's suspected crimes would sway the Captain to grant that permission. This kind of opportunity came by too infrequently to pass up.

The two policemen decided to be optimistic, and outfitted themselves for an extended period of time in the desert, while they waited for a reply. He was ecstatic when it came. The Captain of Idfu Station was ordering them to continue with their pursuit until further notice, and after a hearty meal and a good sleep, they took up the chase.