Murder Most Egyptological (A Mrs. Xavier Stayton Mystery Book 3) by Robert Colton Page A
Authors: Robert Colton
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have to travel to the next world and be judged by forty-two gods before Osiris welcomed them to the afterlife …”
“Did Osiris have the head of a jackal?”
“Oh no, that is Anubis. Now this fellow, Anubis, he saw to it that the heart was weighed, and if it was in balance, you went on your journey; if you were wicked, then you’d be eaten by Ammit, a god with the head of a crocodile, the front legs of a lion, and the back quarter of a hippo!”
I gave a gasp and said, “Mr. Warner, you are going to give us nightmares.” I patted Lucy’s hand and said, “We prefer to hear more about the Valley of Kings rather than the bizarre beliefs of the ancients.”
Sandy couldn’t repress his chuckle, but he went on to say, “So sorry, ladies. Well, the workers cut these long shafts down into the limestone …”
As we listened to what turned out to be a rather dull lecture on rock cutting, punishment for forcing Sandy to abbreviate his tale of the Egyptian Afterlife, we crossed out of the lush flatland and onto the parched earth along the base of the Theban Hills.
The air grew warmer, and I wished we had bought two of the fans sold at the kiosks outside of the Winter Castle. We could only roll down the windows so far, because a gritty dust was kicked up by the sedan.
The road ended in a large car park atop a plain. All manner of vehicles were scattered about. While there were no camels, a great number of donkeys were led about. I patted down the pleats of my skirt, eager to see if our design was as functional as we hoped.
We had no sooner stepped out of the sedan before a flurry of movement took me off guard. When the dust settled, I saw that three men stood before us, each with a rickshaw behind him.
Pointing at the donkeys, I remarked, “I thought we’d be riding one of them?”
Sandy’s smile was growing less charming to me, as he replied, “Oh, blast to that. No, this is far more comfortable.”
Lucy did not share in my disappointment. “I thought they only had rickshaws in the Orient.”
“Oh no, now you find them everywhere,” Sandy replied as he ushered us each inside a small open carriage. A second later, I was tipped backward for an instant, and then we took off.
Sandy, in the lead contraption, called back, “Of course, these chaps can’t get us there the whole way; we will have to do a spot of climbing ourselves.”
I was pleased to hear that; luckily, Professor Kinkaid hadn’t used my funding to build his team an escalator.
Pointing to our right, Sandy said, “That’s where they are working on the remains of a very large temple; of all things, they think it was built by an Egyptian queen. The next king was none too pleased, seems he had her name and image chiseled off of the place.”
I called out, “The fate of Queen Hatshepsut is proof that chauvinism isn’t a new invention.”
Sandy had no chipper reply to my statement.
Up we went, and as our altitude increased, the air grew dry and warm. The path upward was bumpy, and I suspect we would have been more comfortable on a four-legged creature than atop large wheels that found the stray jagged stone unyielding.
Reaching the summit of the path, between a narrow crease in the hills, we had a moment to gaze across the golden brown labyrinth of narrow chasms below.
After a second spent in awe of God’s beautiful world, I was jerked forward and nearly tumbled out of the little carriage.
“Well, ladies, we aren’t far now. Of course, there is an easier way to get to Kamose’s tomb, but this is the quickest.” He reached an arm out, keeping Lucy and me a step behind him. “Now, mind you, there is a cliff just up ahead.”
Indeed, just a few feet ahead, the stony ledge we stood upon came to a dramatic end. A series of crude steps had been carved into the face of the ridge; they led down to a landing and then to another set of
“Did Osiris have the head of a jackal?”
“Oh no, that is Anubis. Now this fellow, Anubis, he saw to it that the heart was weighed, and if it was in balance, you went on your journey; if you were wicked, then you’d be eaten by Ammit, a god with the head of a crocodile, the front legs of a lion, and the back quarter of a hippo!”
I gave a gasp and said, “Mr. Warner, you are going to give us nightmares.” I patted Lucy’s hand and said, “We prefer to hear more about the Valley of Kings rather than the bizarre beliefs of the ancients.”
Sandy couldn’t repress his chuckle, but he went on to say, “So sorry, ladies. Well, the workers cut these long shafts down into the limestone …”
As we listened to what turned out to be a rather dull lecture on rock cutting, punishment for forcing Sandy to abbreviate his tale of the Egyptian Afterlife, we crossed out of the lush flatland and onto the parched earth along the base of the Theban Hills.
The air grew warmer, and I wished we had bought two of the fans sold at the kiosks outside of the Winter Castle. We could only roll down the windows so far, because a gritty dust was kicked up by the sedan.
The road ended in a large car park atop a plain. All manner of vehicles were scattered about. While there were no camels, a great number of donkeys were led about. I patted down the pleats of my skirt, eager to see if our design was as functional as we hoped.
We had no sooner stepped out of the sedan before a flurry of movement took me off guard. When the dust settled, I saw that three men stood before us, each with a rickshaw behind him.
Pointing at the donkeys, I remarked, “I thought we’d be riding one of them?”
Sandy’s smile was growing less charming to me, as he replied, “Oh, blast to that. No, this is far more comfortable.”
Lucy did not share in my disappointment. “I thought they only had rickshaws in the Orient.”
“Oh no, now you find them everywhere,” Sandy replied as he ushered us each inside a small open carriage. A second later, I was tipped backward for an instant, and then we took off.
Sandy, in the lead contraption, called back, “Of course, these chaps can’t get us there the whole way; we will have to do a spot of climbing ourselves.”
I was pleased to hear that; luckily, Professor Kinkaid hadn’t used my funding to build his team an escalator.
Pointing to our right, Sandy said, “That’s where they are working on the remains of a very large temple; of all things, they think it was built by an Egyptian queen. The next king was none too pleased, seems he had her name and image chiseled off of the place.”
I called out, “The fate of Queen Hatshepsut is proof that chauvinism isn’t a new invention.”
Sandy had no chipper reply to my statement.
Up we went, and as our altitude increased, the air grew dry and warm. The path upward was bumpy, and I suspect we would have been more comfortable on a four-legged creature than atop large wheels that found the stray jagged stone unyielding.
Reaching the summit of the path, between a narrow crease in the hills, we had a moment to gaze across the golden brown labyrinth of narrow chasms below.
After a second spent in awe of God’s beautiful world, I was jerked forward and nearly tumbled out of the little carriage.
“Well, ladies, we aren’t far now. Of course, there is an easier way to get to Kamose’s tomb, but this is the quickest.” He reached an arm out, keeping Lucy and me a step behind him. “Now, mind you, there is a cliff just up ahead.”
Indeed, just a few feet ahead, the stony ledge we stood upon came to a dramatic end. A series of crude steps had been carved into the face of the ridge; they led down to a landing and then to another set of
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