LESSON 11
DARKNESS

FROM THE JOURNAL OF LADY CLARISSA HAMILTON

The night before our departure from Serâbit el-Khâdim, Lord Hamilton was in a highly-strung, depressed mood, and quite the worse for drink. This was understandable when one considered that my husband had devoted twenty years to the excavation of this mountain, only to be locked out when he was on the verge of a major discovery.

In the middle of the small section of the site we’d managed to unearth, my dear Mr Hamilton had taken to the mountain with a shovel. He dug by lantern light, determined to make use of every hour he had left to excavate.

We’d seen all our fellow archaeologists depart in the past few weeks, and all our hired hands had left to find new work. Only a couple of guides and the camels kept us company in the barren wilderness in those last few days.

I stood there and watched my husband dig for some time that evening, but he was unaware of my presence before I made it known. I asked him what he hoped to achieve at this late hour of our stay in the Holy Land. He was certainly in no fit state to stumble into a potentially precarious situation. And even if he did manage to find the key to unlock the mysterious door we’d unearthed, we had to leave by noon the next day or we would not have enough water to comfortably sustain us for the journey back to civilisation.

‘If I find something tonight then we will bloody well ration—’

My Lord Hereford was not given the chance to finish his sentence, for as he slammed the tip of his spade into the earth, the soil gave way beneath him and he disappeared from my sight.

Fearful for my husband’s wellbeing, I went forward and dropped on to my stomach to call into the dark abyss. My cries resounded in the space that opened out below the hole that Hamilton had fallen through. I knew he was alive; I could hear him coughing.

Fortunately, the drink had relaxed him and small piles of soft sand on the floor of the chamber had also cushioned his fall. He hadn’t broken any bones, which was a great relief indeed, considering our imminent departure. Hamilton requested that I tie a lantern on a rope and lower it down to him.

He had landed in a room filled with hieroglyphs—the walls and the square central pillar were covered in them. The floor was entirely covered by fine white sand, and both doorways leading out of the chamber were collapsed and blocked. When Hamilton bent down to dig into the floor, he realised the substance that covered it was not sand. It felt like ash to the touch, and yet it was as white as snow. The tiny particles were so fine that they began to rise and dance toward the lantern flame. When he held his hand down close to the powder, it was attracted to his skin. ‘Must be the heat,’ he’d concluded, then was flabbergasted at the sight of his lantern slowly levitating toward the ceiling.

When I heard my husband chuckling, I leant over the hole to see what amused him.

‘Boo!’ Hamilton stuck his head through the ground and startled the life out of me.

I squealed at the unexpected apparition and then laughed with relief as I recognised my husband. ‘How did you get up here?’ I had been wondering if I was going to have to wake our guides to hoist Mr Hamilton out of the hole he’d dug for himself.

‘I’m floating!’ he announced with a chuckle. He hoisted himself out of the hole to sit on the side and dust the mysterious powder off, so that he wouldn’t float away into the stratosphere. ‘I believe I’ve had a revelation regarding the key to our mysterious door.’

‘Evidently,’ I concurred, as his lantern floated into my grasp. I looked at him, confused as to how this could be happening.

‘This powder reacts to heat,’ he said, laughing at the simplicity of the solution. ‘I strongly suspect that the sun will open the door for us.’

The next morning we were up with the sun. We had covered the gaping hole in the mountain with a boulder after withdrawing several buckets of powder from the chamber—the last thing we needed was for the sun to heat, and float away, all the mysterious powder.

Since uncovering the entrance door in the side of the mountain, we had noted how the mysterious substance used in its construction was heated to extreme temperatures during the day. So our plan was this: wait for the door to heat up and then we would cast this powder over the metal—even if it didn’t all instantly stick to it, the door was the hottest thing in the immediate area and the particles would surely be attracted to it. Our theory was that once the sun baked the powder the door would lift right out of its frame.

If we did get the entrance open, there was every reason to believe that it would be dark inside. We had our guides prepare some torches for us. For this they used rags, doused in an absolutely foul-smelling oil, which were then bound tightly to the top of a stake—not only did the oil burn well and slowly, the locals swore that the scent kept the insects at bay too.

And so we waited for the day to heat up and here in the Sinai one did not have to wait very long.

I stood by, shaded under my umbrella, while Mr Hamilton tossed buckets of powder over our mysterious round entrance into the mountain. As anticipated, we lost very little of the powder to the hot breeze. Exposed to the morning’s heat, the tiny granules began to emit light, glistening like snowflakes in the full gaze of the sun. Like nails drawn to a magnet, the light specks settled upon the mysterious metal doorway.

‘So far so good.’ Hamilton came to stand beside me and bear witness to what eventuated.

The metal of the doorway did react with the particles, but not in the way we’d expected. Instead of lifting the door out of its frame the powder began eating into the metal, reducing it to pure light, until nothing was left inside the black circle of hieroglyphs that marked the perimeter of the entrance.

At this point our guides begged us not to enter, and requested that we all leave at once.

Hamilton refused to leave; the guides refused to stay.

‘I know the way to the Suez Canal blindfolded.’ Hamilton insisted that if they wanted to leave they should do so. ‘I release you from your duties…go, with my blessing.’ He looked at me, and I know I did not appear as confident at being left without a guide as he would have liked. ‘You trust me, don’t you, Mrs Hamilton?’

If I had answered in the negative, I would have found myself on one of those camels, accompanying our guides home. ‘I married you, didn’t I?’ was my reply. The way I saw it, I should give my husband confidence in our relationship or I would defeat the point of my staying. If I was going to die out here, at least I would meet my death in the arms of the man I loved. Deep down, I knew Hamilton would get us home as he promised, for it was not in his nature to fail. ‘Besides,’ I pointed out, ‘the inscription around the door did specify that a woman had to enter this shrine first, so for a change, Mr Hamilton, you cannot do without me.’

The love and admiration on his face filled me with such joy of being! ‘I should never be able to do without you, my dear.’ He took my hands in his and kissed them both. ‘You are a once-in-a-lifetime partner. Praise god I didn’t allow you to pass me by.’

My husband was far too charming and handsome for my own good; my family had always said so. He could talk me into anything, and I had followed him to the ends of the earth just for the pleasure of his company.

I had to take a break from reading; I couldn’t see for the tears streaming down my face. ‘This is so romantic.’ I gasped for breath and blew my nose. ‘No wonder Ashlee wanted to marry Lord Hamilton. I want to marry him too.’

But it wasn’t Lord Hamilton who had me in tears—it was Clarissa, loving her husband so much that she would stay in a barren wilderness with him. It can’t have been easy for a woman in her day and age to adjust to life in the Sinai, and then to accompany Hamilton into an unknown ancient shrine showed exceptional courage. The Egyptians went to great lengths not to have their sacred places looted or defiled. Going through that doorway could be fraught with danger and possibly booby traps.

I blew my nose again and attempted to steady my breathing.

It had been very interesting to read that the powder found on-site had opened the entrance without needing to be blended with other ingredients, which seemed to indicate that the substance had already been transmuted into the Bread of Life. And perhaps it had still been glowing and levitating things when Petrie uncovered the site in the early twentieth century, but the information might have been deliberately omitted from the record of Petrie’s excavation.

‘I was right about how the powder affects the door though.’

I was also thankful to discover that the foul-smelling insect repellent I’d found in the back of the red book, along with Albray’s stone, was not meant to be applied to one’s body. Still, I wondered why it was important enough to include in the family inheritance. Surely modern insect repellents would prove more effective than the smoke from a roughly-made torch?

I carried the tissues with me back to the desk in case I needed them, and having made a fresh cup of tea, I continued reading the Hamiltons’ account of Serâbit el-Khâdim.

FROM THE JOURNAL OF LADY CLARISSA HAMILTON

So, there we were—two little people on a big mountain, in the middle of a huge desert, and we were about to enter a place that had not been open to the world in god knows how long.

Torches lit, we approached the opening, and drew a deep breath.

A steep path of red gold, the like of which we had never seen before—or since—provided a walkway down a tunnel leading into the mountain. We descended slowly, in awe, as it was all perfectly preserved. The entire length of the passageway was lined with gold into which hieroglyphs were inscribed in straight lines that passed overhead from one side of the tunnel path to the other.

The silence inside the tunnel was unnerving, as was the smell of stale air that became increasingly overwhelming the further down we travelled. The entrance into the mountain was still within our sight when the tunnel ended, although the daylight fell well short of being any aid to us. Here, the skeletal remains of a warrior greeted us. The bones sprawled across our path were clad in chain mail and still clutched the weapons that had failed to save his life.

‘Well, it would seem this tunnel has been opened in the last six hundred years at least,’ commented Hamilton, having looked over the body to assess the era to which it belonged. ‘This fellow belonged to a breakaway French faction of the Templar Knights…he bears the emblem of the Order de Sion.’

‘Why did these knights split from the original chapter of the Templars?’ I thought this might have some relevance as to how the knight had come to meet his end in this place.

Hamilton explained to me that the purpose of the Crusades was to seek the sacred relics of the Holy Land on behalf of the church and to protect them from the infidels who were not of the faith. The Templar Knights were a breakaway faction formed from within the upper echelons of the crusading knights; for the discoveries and contacts they made in the Holy Land caused this elite group of knights to think twice about surrendering the relics and secret doctrine they discovered there to the church. The Templars took measures to hide their discoveries, including the formation of an inner order of the Templars, known as the Order of Sion, whose existence was kept a secret. The Templars became the public face of the order, that by all appearances still supported the church’s cause in the Holy Land, whilst the Order of Sion saw to the concealment and protection of ancient relics, places and doctrine. Many of this secret order of knights belonged to the disinherited Judaic line of kings who had settled in the Languedoc area at the time of Jesus Christ. When the church began the Albigensian Crusade and sent crusading knights to wipe out the Cathar heretics who were suspected to be hiding the Templars’ treasures, the Templar Knights’ loyalties were tested, for they could not stop the slaughter for fear of having their loyalty to the church come into question and a charge of heresy brought against their entire order—still, the following century that was exactly what happened. Thus the Sion knights were called in to retrieve the sacred relics and spirit them away to safekeeping. It was speculated that some of the treasures were returned to their shrines in the Holy Land.

‘And how is it that you know so much about these supposedly secret brotherhoods?’ I had always suspected that my Lord Hamilton belonged to such an order himself, although of course he would not speak of it.

He smiled, and gave me his typical response. ‘Oh, I read.’

‘So our friend could have returned a sacred relic to this place, and then been trapped here?’ I suggested. ‘The question we should ask ourselves is how he became trapped.’ I looked back to the open exit in the distance.

‘Look here.’ Hamilton was down on his haunches inspecting the neck bones. ‘This man was beheaded…almost.’ The bone had held firm, but a mighty gash to the front of the neckbone revealed much. ‘The blow would certainly have been enough to kill him.’

‘Thank you for that insight, my love.’ I moved around the knight, and as my torchlight illuminated the huge room before me I caught my breath.

Continuing on from the entrance where we stood the red-gold path led through a round chamber, and at the far end was a large, golden arched door. In the centre of the room was a round platform, and two red pathways passed in opposite directions through it, forming a crossroads. Concentric rings, built in sandstone, radiated out from the central platform. The first ring from the centre formed an empty canal a few feet in depth. The next ring was wide and level with the height of the pathway: at each of its four quarters was an ornate pillar dedicated to a different Egyptian goddess. These mighty pillars supported the bulk of the domed ceiling, which sparkled like gold wherever the torchlight flickered upon it. The next ring was another canal, a little wider and deeper than the first. The final ring ran around the wall of the round chamber and was a plain stone pathway. Directly beside where we stood at the entrance, a large lever extended from the floor; we decided not to investigate its purpose just yet.

‘This has got to be the find of the millennium,’ Hamilton muttered under his breath as he gazed up at one of the four pillars. This particular one depicted Isis.

‘That’s probably what our knight friend thought,’ I commented as I passed my husband on my way to the central platform. ‘And yet, I feel sure he didn’t cut his own throat.’

‘No point in being alarmist, Mrs Hamilton.’ He followed me to the central platform to investigate what lay at the east and west ends of the red crossroads.

The chamber was so large that all we could make out from where we stood was that each path led to a darkened entrance, beyond which we could see nothing from this distance. One entrance was adorned with red pillars, the other with white.

‘Wait here,’ Hamilton instructed, heading off toward the red-pillared entrance. As he drew closer, I noticed the glyph for ‘fire’ inset above the doorway. As he passed into the small room beyond the pillared entrance, there was a cry of pain, but it was not my husband who cried out.

From the annexe emerged a dark spirit, moaning in unearthly agony. I gasped when I realised it was headed straight for me, whereupon it immediately changed course and followed the outer path around the wall toward the exit passage. When my fear ceased to drown out all my other senses, I realised I could hear footsteps and that it was no spectre I was viewing, but a human being wearing a long hooded black cloak. As the intruder escaped the chamber, I ran to see what had become of my husband.

‘Hamilton!’ I screamed, demanding a response if he could give it.

‘Don’t panic,’ he said, sounding preoccupied.

Through the red-pillared doorway was an annexe and there I found Hamilton inspecting an ornately decorated tablet inset in a plinth. ‘This appears to have held something of great spiritual import. “This Fire ignites the wisdom and strength of the Gods”,’ he read. ‘And see here…there is a small hollow which is obviously meant to hold something.’

‘That man was a thief, do you think?’ I asked. Then I noticed my husband’s arm was dripping blood. ‘Oh, my lord, you’re wounded!’

Hamilton explained that our surprise guest had wielded a sword to make a path to the door and had nicked my husband when he failed to move aside fast enough. He insisted that I not fuss, as it didn’t hurt.

‘Do you think he slipped in here before or after we entered?’ I queried, as Hamilton made for the central chamber.

‘Judging from his adverse reaction to the light of my torch, I’d say he’d been down here a while.’

‘How is it possible that anyone could survive in this place when it has been buried for centuries?’ I appealed, practically running to keep pace with Hamilton as he made for the white-pillared doorway.

‘I wish I knew,’ he replied as we approached the white annexe, above which was inset the glyph for ‘star’.

Inside the small room, inserted in the hollow in the top of another ornately decorated plinth and tablet was a small vial of unique beauty. It was filled with a fine white substance, much like the powder we’d used to get the exterior door open. The longer we stood staring at the treasure in the torchlight the brighter the substance inside seemed to glow.

Hamilton leant down to translate the glyphs on the tablet: ‘From this Star flows the eternal powers of the goddess’. Hamilton stood and reached for the vial, but it would not release from the stone tablet in which it was imbedded. ‘There must be a trick to it.’ He looked to the door, torn as to what to do next. ‘I should go after him.’

‘No, please…’ I urged my husband against it. ‘You have no weapon and what happens to me if you are killed? No find is worth our lives.’

‘He has no transport out of here.’ Hamilton was horrified, and he ran to prevent our unexpected company from stealing our lifeline back to civilisation—and our water.

I ran after Hamilton for part of the way, and felt some reassurance when he retrieved the sword from the dead warrior at the entrance to the tunnel. ‘Stay with the Star,’ he suggested more than ordered.

‘Be careful,’ I begged as Hamilton disappeared up the tunnel and out of my sight. ‘I’ll just hope that there aren’t any more nasty surprises down here,’ I added quietly.

The huge central chamber felt rather ominous without my husband’s presence and I moved back toward the white-pillared annexe to watch over the Star as requested.

I wonder what triggers the release of the vial? Now, there was something useful I could do. I smiled when I thought of the lever and hurried back to the tunnel entrance to see if I could shift it.

The lever only went one way, down, and when I shifted it into position, the sound of running liquid reached my ears. I moved quickly to see clear liquid pouring into the empty canals via holes that sat below the level of the walkways. My heart leapt for joy, thinking the liquid was water. When I reached down to dip my hand into the flow, the liquid felt oily and smelt nearly as bad as the insect oil used in our torches. I hurried back to the lever and raised it, and the liquid ceased to flow.

Disappointed, I wandered back to the white annexe to take another look at the Star vial.

As I stood wondering why the vial wouldn’t release, I touched it and it floated up into my grasp. I chuckled, rather pleased with myself, until I heard the rising hum of a swarm of insects. It sounded rather like locusts, but as the din intensified I realised it was not an airborne swarm: the sound was more like a scratchy scampering. ‘Scarabs!’ My heart filled with dread as I approached the annexe opening and saw masses of beetles swarming into the canals. I could have attempted a dash to the tunnel, but at the rate the canals were filling I wouldn’t make it past the crossroads.

‘That’s what the liquid is for!’ I threw my arms up, frustrated that I’d solved the puzzle too late. I tried placing the Star vial back in its setting, but that didn’t stop the advancing army of bugs. When the beetles began to overflow onto the red pathway I climbed up on the tablet’s plinth.

To my great surprise the beetles did not enter the annexe, but continued to pile up beyond the doorway. Maybe they couldn’t sense me if I wasn’t standing on the ground? I lowered a foot to the floor, but still no reaction.

‘Clarissa!’ Hamilton rarely called me by my first name—he was fearful for me indeed, and I him.

‘Hamilton! The lever!’ I cried and ran to the door, from where I could see Hamilton wielding his torch around his feet.

‘The locals are right about this repellent. It does keep the bugs at bay,’ he joked, having shuffled his way to the lever.

Just the sound of the mechanism being thrown was enough to send the beetles into an even wilder frenzy.

‘I suspect the liquid is—’ Before I could say ‘flammable’, my husband had lowered his torch to meet with the liquid pouring into the outer canal and fire erupted all through the canals in the central chamber. Seemingly blinded by their own fear, the scarabs fed themselves to the flame in their panic to escape it. The next thing I knew, Hamilton was running down the red path, between the walls of fire, toward me.

As soon as he reached me, my husband hugged me for dear life.

‘I’m fine,’ I assured him, holding up the Star vial. ‘I got it out.’

‘So I gathered.’ Hamilton glanced at the chamber, ablaze, beyond the annexe. ‘How much would you like to wager that we need the Fire vial to get the next chamber open?’

Sadly, I had to back his theory. ‘Time to depart then.’ I took hold of his hand, having had enough adventure for one day.

We decided to take the vial with us, in case the thief returned and stole it too. If fate would have it, perhaps we could track down the other vial and return both to this mount in the not-too-distant future? On the way out of the chamber, my husband returned the sword he’d borrowed from the dead knight and thanked him for the loan.

It wasn’t until we were outside once again that Hamilton hit me with the bad news; the thief had taken half of our supplies, and two of our camels. Our guides had packed the animals ready to depart this afternoon, so all the thief had to do was climb on and take off. The camels loaded with our supplies had been tied up to our riding camels.

I didn’t even ask Hamilton what we were going to do. I knew he intended to make the journey anyway. He saw himself as a bit superhuman and arguing would prove a waste of energy. Besides, what choice did we have but to try and make our way back to civilisation?

My husband joked briefly about sprinkling some of the levitating powder on a carpet and flying me home, only he had to confess that he could not think of how one would steer such a transport. Still, it was a good giggle in an otherwise very sobering moment.

The sun was low in the sky and we were considering leaving before dark to make the most of the cool night, when the most unusual sound met our ears—it was like metal buckling under great pressure. The sound emanated from the entrance we had opened that day, and before our very eyes the entrance to the tunnel was reconstituted into the metal door that had originally barred our entry.

‘Praise the heavens we got out by sunset.’ I realised how easily we could have been trapped, and the knowledge shocked me to the core.

‘Indeed,’ Hamilton agreed. ‘We should leave before our luck runs out and a sirocco blows up.’

‘Don’t even joke about it,’ I warned him, as the odds were against us surviving the journey as it was. Still, we had beaten the odds many times before.

As our two remaining camels carried us down Mt Serâbit, we had no idea that it would be the last time we would ever be permitted to return there. And although I suspected that the journey home would be taxing, I did not expect that it would cost me my life!

Anyone reading this journal must now be asking, ‘But how did Lady Hamilton pen this memoir if she perished on the journey home from Mt Serâbit?’ Since I have raised the question, perhaps you have guessed the answer. Nevertheless I will tell what I remember.

Two days short of the closest well, our water was all but gone and our camels were dehydrated. We’d kept the water for our own consumption, praying that the camels’ bodily stores would maintain them until we reached a water source. They were now too weary to carry us. We freed them of everything that was not essential to our journey home. Except for our tools, books, food, water, personal papers and a few little treasures, we left all our other possessions in the desert.

When the weaker of our two camels collapsed later that day, I pitied the animal and envied its release. Even under my umbrella, over which I had draped a long piece of fabric, the heat was relentless and I was burning to a crisp. My lips were so blistered that it was agony to wipe my tongue across them, and the whole of my body itched from the heat rash that was irritated by my tight clothes and perspiration. I had never felt so wretched and weak.

The first rule of desert travel is to never allow your mind to wander, as this is the first sign of submission to heat exhaustion. One day from water when I was seeing mirages everywhere, I knew I was fading, but I said nothing to Hamilton, who had taken less food and water than I had.

I recall reaching the point where I could not take another step. Dizziness overcame me and beyond that, I draw a blank.

Thus, I leave it to my husband, Lord Hereford, to recount what followed.

My wife was not dead when she collapsed, but I knew the reaper was not far afoot, for either of us.

I also knew that the well was only hours away—all I had to do was keep walking.

If I placed my wife on the camel, I knew it would collapse too. The only thing for it was to carry Clarissa. I wrapped her in the fabric that had been over her umbrella and bundled her up in my arms.

The first few steps were the hardest, but then my body seemed to resign itself to carrying the extra load. My throat was too parched to whistle or hum a tune, but I replayed symphonies in my head, told myself stories, and asked myself archaeological trivia questions. Anything to keep my mind active and stop it wandering.

As the sun hung low on the horizon, my pace had slowed considerably and, for the first time in my life, I doubted my ability to press on.

Then, by the blessing of all the gods, the camel began to pick up its pace and I knew the well must be near; this sign was enough to spur me on to our saving grace.

Despite my wretched state I don’t think I’ve ever drawn water faster. After gulping a few mouthfuls and splashing my face, I rushed to revive my wife, only to find that she had passed away in my arms en route.

No pulse, no breath and no spirit—Clarissa was an empty shell and the soul I loved so well had fled this wretched torment that I had led her into. My want of fame and prestige in my chosen field of endeavour had been the death of her, just as many had predicted it would be.

I thought the journey had extracted all the water from my body and yet I cried a river and wailed out my pain into the dark desert night. I cursed the gods for their cruelty in taking her from me when all I had ever done was to seek the truth on their behalf. And what had I to show for my loss?

Angry about what it had cost me, I pulled the Star vial from my pocket, looking about for a good rock to smash it against. The recollection of something my wife had asked me, back in what I now thought of as the Star-Fire Temple, stayed my hand.

But how is it possible that anyone could survive in this place when it has been buried for centuries before we found it?

I had suspected since I’d discovered the powder with strange gravity-defying properties, that it was the fabled Bread of Life, manna or ORME, also known as the Holy Grail. This substance was said to have major regenerative properties. But could it bring the dead back to life?

‘From this Star flows the eternal powers of the goddess,’ I muttered under my breath as I took up my wife’s dead body to administer some of the glowing, floating powder onto her tongue, and then closed her mouth. ‘Let us see just how eternal those powers are.’

Nothing happened and I feared that my love was lost forever. I leant forward and kissed her goodbye.

Clarissa’s body gave a great heave; she gasped for breath and opened her eyes. When she spotted me, she smiled. ‘We made it.’ She held a hand to my cheek, proud of me, and I lapsed into tears of relief and joy.

‘We did.’ I held her tightly, inwardly vowing that I would never again risk her life for my own professional vanity.

I was absolutely howling by the time I finished the account, my tears dripping on the handwritten text and smudging the ink. ‘Oh dear.’ I blotted tears from my eyes with one tissue and used another tissue on the book. When I was satisfied I’d blown the page dry, I closed the big green journal and pushed it aside.

Why was I so emotional? Well, besides the truly romantic tale, knowing that Albray’s bones lay in this mount had me feeling rather at odds. I’d been greatly upset to learn that he’d been almost beheaded, and if my knight’s claims proved true, it had been by the hand of my current employer. In Ashlee’s tale, Albray speculated that Hereford had released Molier from an imprisonment of some kind. Hereford’s tale certainly confirmed that he had let something or someone out of the Star-Fire Temple when he’d opened it, but had that entity been Molier?

‘My head hurts,’ I decided.

Trying to follow the tale of this site with an open mind was extremely taxing to my logical brain. When I blocked out possibilities as unrealistic, nothing seemed to make sense, but if I just accepted what I was reading, then the pieces of the puzzle fell into place with ease. Needless to say, at this moment my mind felt like it was exploding! Was this why science had failed to explain some of the greater mysteries of the ancient world, because it wouldn’t look beyond the realms of the logical to explain the unexplainable? How could one ever seriously hope to explain the unexplainable employing this method?

‘Mia? I hear you crying. Are you all right?’ Andre asked from outside of the tent.

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ I assured him.

‘May I talk to you?’

I placed the large journals in a suitcase, out of sight, leaving only the normal reference books on my desk. ‘Sure.’ I gave him leave to enter, as I had been quite antisocial since my arrival here.

‘Learning anything interesting?’ He came in and took a seat.

‘I’m making progress.’ I put the kettle on. ‘Tea?’

Andre declined, and I knew he had today’s episode in the cave on his mind. ‘Why do I get the impression that you know more about this excavation than you are telling me?’

I thought to deny his claim, but that would only make Andre suspicious and more curious. ‘Because I do know more than I am saying,’ I confessed. ‘Or rather, I suspect many things that a little more research should clarify. I’m just waiting until I am more confident about my theories before I share…that is all.’

‘Is that your polite way of telling me you plan on locking yourself away again tomorrow?’ Andre smiled; he knew me too well.

I shrugged. ‘That depends on how soon you want your answers?’

Andre cocked an eye at me, thinking me evasive. ‘And Akbar was aiding you with your research?’

He finally arrived at the reason for his visit. ‘Well nobody knows the local history like the locals,’ I said, trying to fob him off lightheartedly, but Andre would not allow it.

‘Did Akbar threaten you?’ He put forward his concern to me plainly.

I considered the question carefully before responding. ‘Quite the other way around, I should think.’

‘I can dismiss him,’ he offered, ‘if he makes you uncomfortable.’

‘He does not,’ I insisted. ‘We just had a misunderstanding.’ Yes, the man had threatened to chop off my head and throw my body off a cliff, so why was I defending him now? Because Akbar knew something; perhaps something I didn’t know. If I had him dismissed I’d never find out. ‘But it’s sorted.’ I shrugged.

Andre nodded as though he didn’t quite believe me. ‘Then, why were you crying just now?’

A good question and the true answer was too bizarre to convey. ‘I was just reading a romantic note that my new man left in one of my books for me to find.’ It was a good lie and it reinforced my boyfriend fabrication. ‘I guess I miss him.’

’Aw,’ Andre sympathised, holding wide his arms. ‘Hug?’ He may as well have just said, ‘Sex?’

‘I told you, Andre, I’m fine,’ I replied, downplaying my emotional state. ‘I’ll be reunited with him soon enough.’ My heart welled to bursting when Albray came to mind, and though I’d known all along that I could not have him, the thought of him as just a pile of bones shattered my sensibilities and I burst into tears once again.

‘Oh, Mia, forgive me, I did not mean to upset you.’ Andre stood and gave me a purely platonic hug and it was nice, but when I noticed Albray watching us, I immediately pulled away. The hurt I saw on Albray’s face was as exciting to me as it was devastating.

‘I shall leave you in peace.’ Andre sensed my wishes. ‘Just call if you need anything.’

I nodded in acceptance, and looked at Albray when Andre departed. ‘What is the matter, Albray? You seem upset.’

I’m not upset, he insisted, straining to lower his thought conveyance to a believable tone. I was just surprised to learn about the man in your life. You have not mentioned him before.

I was amused by the mistake. ‘There’s nothing between myself and Andre. Not from my side anyway.’

I’m not talking about Andre. He rolled his eyes. I refer to this man who had you in tears just now…the one you miss so much? He endeavoured to jog my memory, as I must have appeared stumped.

‘Oh, him.’ My gut fluttered with butterflies as I summoned the courage to tell him the truth. ‘I was talking about you, Albray.’

Now he appeared stumped, but pleased nonetheless. But I have not gone anywhere…why were you crying?

I swallowed hard. Every time I imagined his bones I got teary. ‘I read Lord Hereford’s account of opening the Star-Fire Temple.’

Albray seemed disappointed with my topic of inquiry. I knew it ran contrary to his wishes.

‘I learned that you died here,’ my lips began to quaver under the stress, ‘and that upset me. I don’t know why.’ I couldn’t see the expression on his face, because my eyes had filled with tears. I reached for my tissues. ‘I mean, I know you’re dead, but…’ I bowed my head before confessing that I was falling in love with him all the same. When I could finally see Albray again, his expression was sympathetic, although he was at a loss for what to say.

You know, even if I had survived this place, I would still be dead. He tried to make light of my hurt. I think that a large part of the problem is that you’re exhausted. I should leave you be and let you rest.

I nodded, a little irked that he didn’t even think to question why his death would upset me, or perhaps he knew and wanted to avoid the subject. I waved him to leave and turned away to hide the tears welling anew.

Albray was quiet for a time, but I knew he hadn’t left. Are your feelings the reason you won’t carry the stone with you?

I shot around to face him, a little startled by the accuracy of his claim. ‘It seems you can read my thoughts anyway.’ I brushed the tears from my face quickly. I had made it fairly plain how I felt and if he didn’t feel anything for me, I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself any longer.

Albray seemed to feel a little awkward, as if juggling some weighty decision in his mind. The power of the stone works both ways, you realise.

Not for me, I grumbled, although admittedly I hadn’t really tried to master this psychic skill I was supposed to have.

Only for you, he corrected adamantly, and then he seemed annoyed at himself for pushing the issue. It is not for me to thrust psychic experience upon you, only your will can get you what you want in this world.. . Albray seemed to want to say more, but decided against it. Would you dismiss me for a while? he requested out of the blue.

My first thought was that he wanted to escape this emotional discussion; he had warned Ashlee that when it came to affairs of the heart he was useless. Then it occurred to me that he was still pining for his priestess, who, he’d confessed to Ashlee, was the love of his life. ‘If that is what you wish.’ When he nodded, I retrieved the stone.

You will keep the stone near, in case you need me? he asked rather timidly.

I gave a nod, although I could hardly wear the amulet in case Albray discovered how deep my feelings for him had really become. I dismissed him and immediately placed the stone aside. ‘What is it about humans that makes us want more desperately that which we cannot have?’

I’d had enough soul-searching for one day and my bed beckoned. I turned off my study light. I shoved the stone underneath my pillow, so that it would be close at hand but not actually touching my person as I lay down to sleep.

For someone so tired, my mind was awhirl. Every sound outside my tent now seemed amplified, although there was not much to hear. A few people were still laughing and talking in the mess tent. The moaning sound of camels carried on the breeze from afar and then I heard shuffling footsteps that stopped just outside the tent’s entrance—maybe two or three people.

I sat up to listen harder. ‘Is someone there?’

‘It is only your faithful servants, goddess,’ came the reply, which shocked me to the core.

Goddess! I moved to the flap and opened it, whereupon Akbar and his two associates bowed low to the ground before me. ‘Please get up,’ I begged them in a whisper, and although slow to comply, they did. ‘Can I help you in some way?’

‘It is we who are here to help you,’ Akbar informed me. ‘You are a daughter of Isis and we are sworn to protect you.’

‘I don’t need protection,’ I emphasised, ‘as you clearly saw this afternoon.’

Akbar disagreed. ‘The very fact that you are in the employ of C & M warrants additional precautions.’

‘Why do you say that?’ I was curious to hear his reason. ‘You are in the same company’s employ.’

‘But I am not a daughter of Isis,’ he argued.

‘I would appreciate it if you would stop calling me that.’ I feared that even our whispered voices would carry far in the silence of the night. Admittedly I was interested to know more, but my brain was already filled to overflowing for today. ‘Please, could we meet and discuss this tomorrow afternoon, perhaps?’

‘Of course,’ Akbar agreed. ‘A good night to you, princess.’ He bowed.

It was an effort not to roll my eyes in frustration. ‘Just call me Dr Montrose if you must persist in addressing me by a formal title,’ I suggested. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

I entered my tent and made for my bed, but when I did not hear the men move off, I stuck my head out the tent flap to see them all seated with their backs to me.

‘Dismissed, guys,’ I added, hoping they’d take the hint.

‘You cannot dismiss us from our duty,’ Akbar said respectfully.

‘Then make like spies, and watch over me from afar.’ I pointed to the horizon.

‘Understood,’ Akbar conceded, and I immediately closed the flap.

Again I heard no movement, and I really started to lose my cool. ‘I said—’ I lifted the flap and to my great amazement, I found them gone. ‘Christ, what a night!’

I threw myself on the bed, and landing on my stomach my hand swept under the pillow to meet with the stone I had hidden there. Where did Albray go when I dismissed him, I wondered? Where did he go when I didn’t dismiss him? All I really knew about his life was where he’d met his end. He seemed to know everything about me and I knew nothing about him. ‘Not a very fair exchange,’ I considered. ‘I don’t even know his last name.’ It seemed Albray made an art of not giving too much away about himself. ‘But why?’ I pondered, unable to resist fiddling with the stone at my fingertips.

I had never before had a dream that I felt so completely involved in. Nor had I ever been so aware of dreaming in full, glorious, technicolour! The vibrancy of the provincial landscape through which I walked engaged me totally. I could smell all the sweet scents of spring flowers in the fields, hear the birds, feel the sun on my skin.

Beyond the fields, I came to a garden with a lovely fountain in the centre. Seated on the surrounds of the water feature was a very beautiful woman. Her robes were scarlet red and her long black hair fell straight to the knees of her long, sleek body. Before her knelt a knight—my heart sank when I realised it was my knight.

I was not close enough to hear their words to each other, but clearly Albray was pouring his heart out to this woman who stroked his hair with comforting gestures.

This is Lillet, I acknowledged, and looking down at my own form I saw that I was still dressed in the dirty jeans and shirt I’d worn today. How could I ever hope to compete with such a goddess?

Clearly my thoughts had resonance here, for Albray looked at me, obviously horrified by my presence. ‘Mia?’ He stood and let go of his confidante’s hands.

I did not wait to be humiliated further. I turned and ran back into the fields beyond the garden. I heard Albray calling after me, but still I did not halt. I just wanted to wake up, but how did I accomplish that wish?

Albray suddenly appeared before me and colliding with him brought me to a halt. ‘Now that you are here, please don’t go,’ he said. ‘I really want to speak with you.’

‘Albray, you’re real!’ I patted his chest and shoulders with my hands, unable to believe it. Needless to say, my sadness vanished in my joy at this revelation. ‘I can touch you.’ I laughed nervously about my dream come true. ‘I am dreaming, aren’t I?’

Albray nodded, amused by my excitement.

‘And are you dreaming too?’ I wondered.

‘No,’ he uttered, easing a hand behind my neck to encourage my face closer to his. ‘I’m living.’

Our lips met and I died with delight.

A crashing sound woke me, and when I saw Andre I moaned in protest at being dragged back to reality. Now I wake up, I thought, noting the irony in my present situation. I then had the horrible realisation that I held Albray’s stone in my hand. I quickly placed it on the table by the bed—my knight had probably perceived my little fantasy about him and I just wanted to die.

‘Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you.’ Andre finished sliding my breakfast tray onto my desk. ‘You sounded like you were having too much fun asleep,’ he chuckled.

I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment. ‘Really? I don’t remember anything erotic.’ This wasn’t a lie—it was just a kiss that I didn’t even get to finish. So why could I not wipe the smile off my face?

‘He’s a lucky man, this new boyfriend of yours.’ Andre clearly didn’t believe my drawing-a-blank routine. ‘What did you say his name was?’

‘Albray,’ I informed, as I searched for a second name to give him. ‘Devere.’ That would do.

‘Albray Devere?’ He sounded most surprised. ‘That is a legendary name in France.’

‘Really? Why?’

‘Albray Devere was a famous thirteenth-century knight who came to the aid of the Cathars at the besieged fort of Montsègur.’

‘Did he die there?’ I asked. If he did, it certainly wasn’t my Albray…anyway, the name was just a fabrication.

‘Apparently not.’ Andre was enjoying filling me in for a change. ‘It is said that he aided two women to escape from the fortress the night before it was to be handed over to the crusaders who fought for the church. It is said that the women were carrying holy relics, which they speedily delivered to places of safekeeping.’

‘What kind of relics?’

Andre shrugged. ‘Some say they carried the genealogical charts of the Royal House of Judah, which had been stolen from the Roman authorities before they had the chance to destroy them. Other accounts say it was the Holy Grail, or the Ark of the Covenant, that was whisked away from Montsègur that night.’

Why was it that every intrigue in history seemed to lead back to the Holy Grail? ‘Well, obviously I am not dating that Albray Devere,’ I posed in jest. ‘Thanks for the tale nonetheless. I guess I’d better hit the books.’ I stood and scratched my head.

‘I’m off to Sharm el-Sheikh to meet up with our delivery of mysterious powder,’ Andre advised, and I snapped out of my daze. ‘I’ll be back early tomorrow. Do you need anything from civilisation?’

I shook my head. ‘I came well prepared, but thanks all the same, and have fun.’ I gave him a wave as he departed.

‘And if you have any trouble—’

‘I won’t have any trouble with Akbar,’ I assured, waving him to go and stop worrying. ‘I’ll be just fine…believe me.’

I was very excited to be returning to Ashlee’s world today—I could study and be with Albray at the same time.

Yes, I was obsessed, and even more so since my dream last night. His presence hung over me—a sweet blessing that made me smile each time I acknowledged its existence. ‘If only it had been real.’ I found myself drifting back into Albray’s enfolding arms, instead of finding my place in the text. ‘If I can at least touch him in my dreams I must be content with that, for it is far better than not at all.’ However, it was not truly Albray in my dreams, just my ideal of him and what I’d like him to say or do. ‘But I have never had so fine a dream before,’ I argued with myself, and then panicked. ‘What if it never happens again?’

I reached for my tea. The argument was too distressing, so I gave up on it. ‘Now,’ I inhaled deeply and out again, ‘where was I?’

I had come to the end of Susan Devere’s account of the incident at the Arsenal Library, and the tale resumed with Ashlee fleeing Paris.