folded over the paper, writing upside-down.
“I was reading
the first line of the papyrus,” he told her. “’Isis, Lady of Heaven, Favored of
The Gods, may she be given eternal life by the Gods whom love her. May she find
peace within….’ That’s as far as I’ve gotten.”
Morgan looked thoughtful.
“So Isis is mentioned in the papyrus,” she murmured, more to herself. “Fanny’s
journal says the same thing.”
“It’s not
unusual,” he told her, looking back to the ancient scroll in front of him.
“Isis is a fairly common theme throughout Egypt, in any setting; life, death,
birth, sickness. She’s kind of the catch-all goddess to pray to.”
Morgan thought
on that for a moment. “Oh,” she could feel her eyes droopy again and yawned.
“Let me ask you something, Dr. Henredon; do you think that the Egyptian gods
were just made-up deities or do you think that at one time, long ago, they were
real people, maybe the first real Egyptians, and just became deified over the
centuries?”
He stopped what
he was doing and looked at her. “The same question could be asked about Jesus. Was
he a figment of overactive imaginations or was he a real person who simply
became deified over the centuries?”
“I think he was
a real person,” Morgan answered. “But I’m not sure if I believe he was the son
of God. Maybe he was just a really charismatic rabbi.”
He smiled
faintly. “It’s possible,” he said. “But if you said that to my mum, she’d have
you boiled in oil.”
Morgan grinned.
“I would never say that to your mother,” she said, then paused. “Or my mother
for that matter. She would spank me.”
Fox chuckled,
turning back to the papyrus. “It’s my personal opinion that Osiris and Isis and
Seth and all the rest of them are probably made-up deities,” he said. “No hard
evidence that they were actual people exists. And if evidence did exist, it
disappeared long ago.”
“Kind of
cynical, aren’t you?”
He continued to
smile, wriggling his eyebrows as he refocused on the papyrus. “Maybe.”
She watched him
go back to work, studying the shape of his nose, the square cut of his face. He
had amazingly smooth skin, the typical English rose complexion, and even though
his black hair was neatly slicked back with gel, the ends of the hair suggested
there was a wave to it. All in all, she couldn’t see anything about the man
that was imperfect. As she continued to watch him, lost in thought, Laura
entered the library with two steaming cups in her hand.
“I thought you
might like some tea,” she went straight for Fox as Morgan sat up from the
couch. As she set the cups down, she noticed the papyrus, the journal, pencils
and a writing pad, and she frowned. “My daughter isn’t forcing you to decipher
this now, is she?”
Morgan walked
over to the table, collecting her cup. “I am not,” she insisted, looking at
Fox. “He wanted to. He begged me.”
Fox’s chuckles
returned. “Yes, I did. I begged.”
Laura shook her
head, eyeing her daughter. “Morgan….”
“Really, Mom,”
she insisted, putting her arm around Fox’s massive shoulders, laying her cheek
on the top of his head and smiling like the Cheshire Cat with her massive
dimples. “He begged me. He told me he wouldn’t leave until I let him.”
Fox could have
sat there with her arm around his shoulders for the rest of his life. He put a
hand up, capturing the hand on his shoulder and squeezing it. “Your daughter is
very gracious to allow me to do this, Mrs. Sherburn. It’s no trouble at all.”
Laura didn’t buy
it for a moment. “You will call me Laura,” she told him flatly, looking at her
daughter, who still had her cheek on the top of his head. “And as for you, it’s
getting late. I’m sure Dr. Henredon has to go to work in the morning.”
Morgan wasn’t
going to budge. “I can’t let him leave,” she told her mother. “I’ve chained him
to the chair and I don’t know where the key
“I was reading
the first line of the papyrus,” he told her. “’Isis, Lady of Heaven, Favored of
The Gods, may she be given eternal life by the Gods whom love her. May she find
peace within….’ That’s as far as I’ve gotten.”
Morgan looked thoughtful.
“So Isis is mentioned in the papyrus,” she murmured, more to herself. “Fanny’s
journal says the same thing.”
“It’s not
unusual,” he told her, looking back to the ancient scroll in front of him.
“Isis is a fairly common theme throughout Egypt, in any setting; life, death,
birth, sickness. She’s kind of the catch-all goddess to pray to.”
Morgan thought
on that for a moment. “Oh,” she could feel her eyes droopy again and yawned.
“Let me ask you something, Dr. Henredon; do you think that the Egyptian gods
were just made-up deities or do you think that at one time, long ago, they were
real people, maybe the first real Egyptians, and just became deified over the
centuries?”
He stopped what
he was doing and looked at her. “The same question could be asked about Jesus. Was
he a figment of overactive imaginations or was he a real person who simply
became deified over the centuries?”
“I think he was
a real person,” Morgan answered. “But I’m not sure if I believe he was the son
of God. Maybe he was just a really charismatic rabbi.”
He smiled
faintly. “It’s possible,” he said. “But if you said that to my mum, she’d have
you boiled in oil.”
Morgan grinned.
“I would never say that to your mother,” she said, then paused. “Or my mother
for that matter. She would spank me.”
Fox chuckled,
turning back to the papyrus. “It’s my personal opinion that Osiris and Isis and
Seth and all the rest of them are probably made-up deities,” he said. “No hard
evidence that they were actual people exists. And if evidence did exist, it
disappeared long ago.”
“Kind of
cynical, aren’t you?”
He continued to
smile, wriggling his eyebrows as he refocused on the papyrus. “Maybe.”
She watched him
go back to work, studying the shape of his nose, the square cut of his face. He
had amazingly smooth skin, the typical English rose complexion, and even though
his black hair was neatly slicked back with gel, the ends of the hair suggested
there was a wave to it. All in all, she couldn’t see anything about the man
that was imperfect. As she continued to watch him, lost in thought, Laura
entered the library with two steaming cups in her hand.
“I thought you
might like some tea,” she went straight for Fox as Morgan sat up from the
couch. As she set the cups down, she noticed the papyrus, the journal, pencils
and a writing pad, and she frowned. “My daughter isn’t forcing you to decipher
this now, is she?”
Morgan walked
over to the table, collecting her cup. “I am not,” she insisted, looking at
Fox. “He wanted to. He begged me.”
Fox’s chuckles
returned. “Yes, I did. I begged.”
Laura shook her
head, eyeing her daughter. “Morgan….”
“Really, Mom,”
she insisted, putting her arm around Fox’s massive shoulders, laying her cheek
on the top of his head and smiling like the Cheshire Cat with her massive
dimples. “He begged me. He told me he wouldn’t leave until I let him.”
Fox could have
sat there with her arm around his shoulders for the rest of his life. He put a
hand up, capturing the hand on his shoulder and squeezing it. “Your daughter is
very gracious to allow me to do this, Mrs. Sherburn. It’s no trouble at all.”
Laura didn’t buy
it for a moment. “You will call me Laura,” she told him flatly, looking at her
daughter, who still had her cheek on the top of his head. “And as for you, it’s
getting late. I’m sure Dr. Henredon has to go to work in the morning.”
Morgan wasn’t
going to budge. “I can’t let him leave,” she told her mother. “I’ve chained him
to the chair and I don’t know where the key
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