weren’t bad.
‘Bet you didn’t think to pick up my make-up when we left.’
‘Strangely, no.’
I tutted. ‘Can you find me some soot, please?’
He actually found some, reappearing minutes later with a smooth, soot-stained stone from an old cooking fire and a complacent smirk. I mixed a paste of soot and water and applied it around his eyes.
He wasn’t happy.
‘Relax,’ I said. ‘No one’s impugning your masculinity. All Egyptians wear make-up. Especially on the eyes. It wards off evil spirits and infections. You’ll attract far more attention without it, believe me. Of course, for a complete picture, we should be shaving our heads.’
‘What for?’
‘Lice.’
‘Where on earth have you brought me?’
‘And that reminds me, if you cut yourself at all, tell me at once. Before you start to fester.’
‘This eye stuff tickles.’
‘I’m so sorry. I’ll stop at once. Heaven forbid you should undergo any sort of discomfort.’
‘You can’t leave me with one black eye and one pink eye.’
‘You underestimate me.’
He sighed.
‘Actually, it suits you. You should consider it for everyday use.’
‘Just … get on with it, will you.’
I did my own eyes and we were set to go.
It was hot. Wonderful, glorious, bright, warm sunshine. Thank you, Aten. I began to see Akhenaten’s point of view.
We’d argued – sorry, had a discussion – over whether to activate the camouflage system or not. Whether the uproar caused by an Egyptian inadvertently walking into an invisible pod would be a greater or lesser risk than it being discovered by the Time Police.
‘Who must be at least two jumps behind us,’ I said. ‘We’ve got the Central Asian steppes between us and them.’
‘Mmm,’ he said, absently. ‘You’re right. We’ll leave it visible. If we have to leave in a hurry – and all past evidence indicates we will – then we’ll need to find it quickly.’
Not quite as reassuring as I could have hoped, but in my impatience to see the Heretic, I let it pass. I hopped from foot to foot as he made a slight adjustment to his tunic. ‘Yes, yes. You look very pretty.’
‘How’s your chest?’
‘What chest?’ I said, because everyone knows if you ignore persistent, throbbing pain then it goes away. Like toothache. And small children. And overdrafts.
We exited the pod to find ourselves face to face with a small donkey enjoying the shade. He showed no signs of alarm, merely shifting his weight and regarding us placidly, his ears drooping in the heat. I hoped for a similar reaction from the locals.
Inundation had already occurred and the waters were retreating, although not far enough for planting to take place yet. The ground was still sodden. Walking was difficult and large balls of mud soon attached themselves to our footwear. In the end, we took off our shoes and went barefoot. The feel of warm, thick, Egyptian mud oozing through my toes was actually quite pleasant. The air smelled rich and loamy. Large patches of standing water reflected the sky. There were frogs everywhere. In Biblical quantities.
To my right, the Nile glittered in the sunlight, bounded by muddy fields and the odd shaduf. If I turned my head I could see the desert and then the mountains beyond, hazy in the heat. I could even see where the fertile black land met the red desert land. The transition was quite abrupt. Washed linen was draped over bushes and hanging from tree branches. The ancient Egyptians were a very clean people. In front of us, dazzling in the bright sunshine, lay hundred-gated Thebes, the Egyptian capital.
I’ve been to Egypt, Greece, and Turkey, either working on archaeological sites or as a tourist visiting the ruins, and it always comes as a shock to see the buildings as they are meant to be seen. Intact. New. The crisp stonework un-eroded by the winds of time and painted in dazzlingly bright colours. I saw red, ochre, black, green, and, everywhere, that wonderful lapis-lazuli
‘Bet you didn’t think to pick up my make-up when we left.’
‘Strangely, no.’
I tutted. ‘Can you find me some soot, please?’
He actually found some, reappearing minutes later with a smooth, soot-stained stone from an old cooking fire and a complacent smirk. I mixed a paste of soot and water and applied it around his eyes.
He wasn’t happy.
‘Relax,’ I said. ‘No one’s impugning your masculinity. All Egyptians wear make-up. Especially on the eyes. It wards off evil spirits and infections. You’ll attract far more attention without it, believe me. Of course, for a complete picture, we should be shaving our heads.’
‘What for?’
‘Lice.’
‘Where on earth have you brought me?’
‘And that reminds me, if you cut yourself at all, tell me at once. Before you start to fester.’
‘This eye stuff tickles.’
‘I’m so sorry. I’ll stop at once. Heaven forbid you should undergo any sort of discomfort.’
‘You can’t leave me with one black eye and one pink eye.’
‘You underestimate me.’
He sighed.
‘Actually, it suits you. You should consider it for everyday use.’
‘Just … get on with it, will you.’
I did my own eyes and we were set to go.
It was hot. Wonderful, glorious, bright, warm sunshine. Thank you, Aten. I began to see Akhenaten’s point of view.
We’d argued – sorry, had a discussion – over whether to activate the camouflage system or not. Whether the uproar caused by an Egyptian inadvertently walking into an invisible pod would be a greater or lesser risk than it being discovered by the Time Police.
‘Who must be at least two jumps behind us,’ I said. ‘We’ve got the Central Asian steppes between us and them.’
‘Mmm,’ he said, absently. ‘You’re right. We’ll leave it visible. If we have to leave in a hurry – and all past evidence indicates we will – then we’ll need to find it quickly.’
Not quite as reassuring as I could have hoped, but in my impatience to see the Heretic, I let it pass. I hopped from foot to foot as he made a slight adjustment to his tunic. ‘Yes, yes. You look very pretty.’
‘How’s your chest?’
‘What chest?’ I said, because everyone knows if you ignore persistent, throbbing pain then it goes away. Like toothache. And small children. And overdrafts.
We exited the pod to find ourselves face to face with a small donkey enjoying the shade. He showed no signs of alarm, merely shifting his weight and regarding us placidly, his ears drooping in the heat. I hoped for a similar reaction from the locals.
Inundation had already occurred and the waters were retreating, although not far enough for planting to take place yet. The ground was still sodden. Walking was difficult and large balls of mud soon attached themselves to our footwear. In the end, we took off our shoes and went barefoot. The feel of warm, thick, Egyptian mud oozing through my toes was actually quite pleasant. The air smelled rich and loamy. Large patches of standing water reflected the sky. There were frogs everywhere. In Biblical quantities.
To my right, the Nile glittered in the sunlight, bounded by muddy fields and the odd shaduf. If I turned my head I could see the desert and then the mountains beyond, hazy in the heat. I could even see where the fertile black land met the red desert land. The transition was quite abrupt. Washed linen was draped over bushes and hanging from tree branches. The ancient Egyptians were a very clean people. In front of us, dazzling in the bright sunshine, lay hundred-gated Thebes, the Egyptian capital.
I’ve been to Egypt, Greece, and Turkey, either working on archaeological sites or as a tourist visiting the ruins, and it always comes as a shock to see the buildings as they are meant to be seen. Intact. New. The crisp stonework un-eroded by the winds of time and painted in dazzlingly bright colours. I saw red, ochre, black, green, and, everywhere, that wonderful lapis-lazuli
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