Desert Rhapsody - Chapter 41

Chapter 41

The camel pressed forward without stopping, yellow sand stretching as far as the eye could see. After a night’s rest, it looked all right, no longer as terrified as it had been when they were forced to abandon it last night. Snorting, the mount leaped over drainage channels and stone paving, swept past spring pools and date palms. Their target was far too conspicuous. People carrying goods on their heads dodged aside, while soldiers poured out of the temples in every direction, shouting as they tried to cut them off. The city had been grand and tranquil, but now ripples of chaos spread through it. Curses and commands rang out everywhere. From wherever they stopped, towering city gates seemed to extend in every direction, and after a few random turns, it was impossible to tell where they were.

Abal knew a little Egyptian, and in a place like this, under circumstances like these, he was surprisingly in his element. Riding the camel, they brazenly seized a scribe-or at least, he ought to have been a scribe-who was carrying a clay tablet. He wore a white linen kilt and lapis lazuli and turquoise ornaments. The clay tablet hit the ground and shattered to powder. Trembling, he was hauled up onto the camel by Abal and slung behind them as they rode off. The former bandit chief, now Governor of Bakum, was never lacking in weapons. Even in yesterday’s frantic situation, he had not forgotten to swipe a knife and keep it on him. It was dull, but good enough. In front of their captive, he hacked the man’s ornaments apart with one slash. With Jiang Yuan steering the camel, they completed a brief interrogation while fleeing.

“&*@@#?”

“Th-Thebes!”

Jiang Yuan understood that pronunciation at once. She turned her head and asked, “Is the Ghost City by the Nile River?”

Abal lowered his head and thought for a moment. “Near Luxor!”

Abal was not much of a scholar, but Jiang Yuan understood immediately. Thebes had been destroyed by war and earthquakes long before the common era. Even more than a century ago, when the people of Arabia had just conquered Egypt, legends of its splendor still circulated along the Nile River. But with the passing of time, an abandoned, ruined city would naturally become a Ghost City. But… the era was wrong! The gem came from Memphis, from Lower Egypt. Why were they in Thebes? In Khufu’s time, Thebes did not even exist yet! She asked, “Ask him which pharaoh is ruling now!”

Abal raised his brows and repeated the pronunciation of “pharaoh” to her. The scribe’s face was deathly pale. With the two bandits gripping him by the neck, he was manhandled like a chicken. Jiang Yuan could not wait any longer. Frowning, she said, “Ramesses?” She listed them one by one. “Tutankhamun? Akhenaten? Khufu?” Not one of them got a reaction. Jiang Yuan said, “…Amun-Ra?”

The scribe’s face filled with terror, and he began praying loudly. Abal casually stripped off his little kilt, yanked off a handful of ornaments, then threw him down and let him roll bare-assed through the sand. The camel leaped over a clear spring, splashing water all over their faces.

“The camel can’t run anymore. We’ll find another one.” He reached an arm across Jiang Yuan’s waist and pulled the camel around a corner. This was a marketplace square, the ground covered with goods on display. Abal dropped low against one stirrup, and when he straightened again, he had scooped up a bolt of cloth and thrown it over Jiang Yuan, covering her from head to toe.

They found another secluded spot, set the camel loose, and fled on foot in the opposite direction. Jiang Yuan told him there was no need to keep asking. Since they knew they were not in the age of the pyramids, which pharaoh was in power did not really matter. She had only wanted to know what era they were in. Thebes seemed very prosperous, so it could not be during a major famine. Egypt worshiped Amun and Ra, and she estimated the time as the New Kingdom Period-roughly two thousand years before the Abbasid Caliphate, beginning around 1700 BCE.

Abal did not understand all that BCE business, but he understood the number. “Two thousand years ago?” He raised his brows. “We’re two thousand years in the past? My dear Jia Nan, you aren’t joking, are you?”

“Or would you rather hear that this is a curse of the Ghost City, that it created all sorts of illusions and is only waiting until it has toyed with us enough before swallowing us alive?” Jiang Yuan calmly asked in return.

Abal laughed. “As expected of the clever Jia Nan. With you here, nothing is too difficult.”

In Jiang Yuan’s opinion, the one who found nothing too difficult was probably Abal. As they spoke, they broke into a beautiful stone house, knocked out the woman inside, and looted what little food and clothing there was: a few strips of cloth, several pairs of shoes, and quite a few ornaments made from broken colored stones. They briefly discussed their current situation. The actions of the bandits who had once threatened Abal into delivering the gem back to Memphis were worth considering. Why had they wanted to send the gem back? Perhaps that was the only way to change their circumstances. The urgent priority was to escape pursuit and find the gem.

As Abal took off his clothes, he complained, “The people here don’t even wear proper clothes. Disguising ourselves is far too hard.” Even if his facial features were similar, his scarred body was exposed, smeared with sweat and sand. With a small white cloth wrapped around his waist, his long legs were bare, his skin dazzlingly pale. He could only endure the pain and keep patting sand onto his body, using charcoal to blacken the places the sand could not cover. When he reached his abdomen, he fell silent for a moment.

Jiang Yuan poked his lower stomach. If she remembered correctly, this spot had originally been a set of firm abdominal muscles. But now they were incomplete, raw and blood-red. Expressionless, Jiang Yuan continued smearing charcoal over it. It still felt like skin to the touch, and it could be blackened as well, proving there was nothing unusual about it. Jiang Yuan asked casually, “Should we shave your hair off?”

He scoffed. “I don’t have lice. No need to shave it.” Imitating some of the Egyptians they had seen on the road, he recalled the motions and wrapped it the same way, tucking the cloth on both sides behind his ears. Then he said, “It’s more or less the same as the headscarf I usually wear.”
Then came Jiang Yuan. Once she took off her clothes, the skin she revealed was soft and delicate, so she could only play the role of a noble young lady. She let down her hair, scrubbed it clean, put on a headdress and jewelry, then gestured for Abal to use his knife to trim the ends even so they fell over her shoulders. Fortunately, her hair was black, so it could pass directly as a wig. The jewelry was pitifully shabby, but as long as they still had cosmetics, it would do. She removed her clothes, wrapped herself in a breast band and a tube skirt, darkened her eyeliner with charcoal, crushed turquoise with the knife hilt, mixed it with water, and painted on color. The excess was barely enough to rub over her nails. Abal even pierced her ears on the spot. She gave a low hum and frowned. “Be gentle.”

He replied, “Do you hear those footsteps? They’re almost here.” Jiang Yuan had yellow-toned skin, darkened further by years of wind and sun. Although she still looked different from the ancient Egyptians, she could pass at a glance. The cold weight swaying beside her cheeks made her uncomfortable. She was still thinking when she said, “We didn’t find any lip rouge.” In the next instant, heat and pressure tightened around her waist. She was pulled against a chest, and the man’s lips came down on hers.

Abal’s mouth was truly sharp, chapped and peeling, scraping Jiang Yuan’s lips until they hurt. Their tongues tangled for one brief instant, carrying the taste of blood and the rough grit of sand… and that kind of desire. Then they parted, exhaling heat that seemed to steam beneath the blazing sun. His rough fingers traced her mouth, then smeared the remaining dampness across both her cheeks. Jiang Yuan glared into those azure eyes. He looked utterly unfazed, his lips stained with blood, bright and vivid, his smile relaxed and smug.

“There. Now you have some, don’t you?” he said, as if he had discovered a new continent. “It looks rather nice, my noble mistress.”

Jiang Yuan flicked the whip in her hand. It cracked through the air, the lash tip matching the wounds on her new servant’s body perfectly. Expressionless, she said, “Get lost. You dirtied my clothes.”

She wore all of their weapons in conspicuous places. The gleam of iron could pass for silver and raise her apparent status. Then she cut the white cloth to a suitable size, wrapped it around herself, lowered her head, and walked out. Abal put the food in a basket, balanced it on his head, and followed behind her with his back bent. They still looked strange, but not so strange that people would run at first sight. Many people, seeing from afar the black hair exposed over her shoulders and the makeup on her face, hurriedly bowed and retreated to the side, not daring to raise their heads.

Abal told her to keep walking toward the square. “Let’s go back and see what’s happening.” Besides, the way out of the city was in that direction too. There were still plenty of people gathered in the square, arguing noisily. The camel had already been caught and led over. Abal listened for a while, then told her, “They’re arguing about using the camel to compensate for that bolt of cloth.” A mocking smile tugged at his mouth. Although camels were the main mounts in the age of Arabia, they seemed rare here. Someone was even trying to climb onto the camel and learn how to ride it. Jiang Yuan frowned.

“We should have taken off the saddle earlier.”

Abal looked at her. “Why?” She said, “Maybe they don’t know how to ride horses or camels yet.” They should not change history. At the very least, they should try not to.

“My dear mistress,” Abal murmured, reaching his conclusion. “Sometimes you really are foolish.”

They were squeezed into the square by the crowd and watched calmly. It seemed the Egyptians of this era truly did not yet know how to ride horses. A horse-drawn chariot brought over that youth. The others were bald men in white robes, and Jiang Yuan understood that they were probably priests. The youth leaped down from the chariot and walked toward the merchant who had been robbed. Everyone in the square knelt and kissed the ground. Jiang Yuan and Abal knelt too. Her covering slipped, and Abal even helped tug the white cloth down for her so she would not stand out so much.

“Where did the two criminals who robbed your goods go?”

That strange language still carried from afar, yet Jiang Yuan was surprised to find that she could understand it. The merchant’s answer that followed, however, let her know that not everyone could. But why that youth? She pressed her forehead to the ground and wondered, while the voice continued to reach her ears. “Then give it to me. I will grant you two gold coins as compensation for the goods you lost.”

The youth turned around and loudly announced to the people, “They are still in Thebes. They have not escaped! Send more soldiers! They are minions sent by the Devil. We will catch them and offer them to my mother and wife, and to the great Amun and Ra!” The people shouted his name.

“Thutmose! Thutmose!”

He leaped back onto the chariot, and the crowd made way for him. When the vehicle passed beside Jiang Yuan, she could feel the youth’s gaze sweep across her back. She kept her head pressed to the ground and did not lift it. The chariot and its retinue passed, and the square erupted into noise once more.

They got up and continued on foot. It was nearly afternoon now, the sun sinking westward. Perhaps they should find a safer hiding place in the city and lie low for a few days. Thebes was vast and filled with temples; that should not be difficult. Along the way, Jiang Yuan even saw some people whose features clearly marked them as foreigners, from Arabia, from Syria, from the north of the peninsula. But here they were called “Bedouin, Mitanni, Babylon, Hittite, and Assyrians.”

As usual, Abal looked at her. Jiang Yuan used a twig to draw a simple map on the ground and roughly explained the ancient and modern regions to him. He tilted his head, rested his cheek on his hand, and watched her with great interest. Seeing him like that, Jiang Yuan knew his mind was full of bad ideas. Before he could speak, she sealed his mouth directly with the whip.

Fine. Those expressive blue eyes and that raised brow, along with his dangerous, meaningful smile, said “just you wait” to her. They continued forward. Abal was truly experienced at this. Keeping close to the city wall, he soon reached a deserted place: a small slope with a three-story building on it. The building’s door was half-open, and there was no one at the entrance. Abal turned back and gave her a look. Jiang Yuan immediately and shamelessly slipped inside, breaking in without the slightest pang of conscience.
The small building was secluded and quiet, as though no one was inside. They climbed the steps and found food and water, along with empty rooms. The view here was not particularly good. They were halfway up the mountain; looking down, they could see a stretch of houses, while behind them lay the shadows cast by countless temples and shrines. Jiang Yuan paused for a while in one room. It was filled with papyrus and stone tablets, with sunlight streaming in through the wide-open doorway and drying them through. As far as the eye could see, there was only the endless city.

They were about to leave the room. When they reached the doorway, Abal’s foot suddenly stopped, and Jiang Yuan stopped with him. They both heard the sound of staggering footsteps from the rooftop. A figure flashed past immediately after.

Abal had already drawn his blade, but he stood still. After a moment, he quietly stepped aside. The stumbling footsteps did not stop. They continued downward. Jiang Yuan held her breath and watched as an old man draped in linen, clutching stone tablets in his arms, his eyes lifeless, tottered down the stairs and brushed past her. Abal tugged her, and the two of them went straight up to the rooftop.

The roof was a terrace flooded with endless sunlight. Stone tablets and papyrus books were laid out to dry around them, along with two large jars of ink. Abal walked over to look, and Jiang Yuan pulled at him, but failed to move him. He tugged her instead, motioning for her to come see. On the stone tablet, two figures had been painted in simple colors-or perhaps it should be said, one human, and one heavenly being. A god. The human knelt on the ground, praying to the god. The pigment was still wet, only half finished, and even the clay had not yet dried. Abal pulled her sharply, and the two of them retreated into the shadow to one side. After a while, the old man appeared at the doorway again.

He could not see them. His eyes were clouded white. He had to throw himself onto the ground with intense concentration, almost pressing his nose against the stone tablet, before he could painstakingly apply the colors. The sun was fierce, and soon he was drenched in sweat, yet he kept copying without the slightest pause. At last, the painting on the stone tablet was complete. The aged scribe knelt on the ground, lifted it with both hands, and raised it high. In a hoarse voice, he cried out toward the sky again and again, until Jiang Yuan could understand him.

“Meretseger!” he wept. “Meretseger!”

He was begging the god to return his eyes to him. For a scribe, what a painful terminal illness cataracts must be. The old man beat his chest and sobbed in agony, then held the stone tablet high beneath the blazing sun and begged over and over, “Meretseger!”

The small building truly held nothing else except clay, papyrus, stone tablets, and water jars. Perhaps because this was the scribe’s workshop. Jiang Yuan tugged at Abal, and this time he obediently left with her to look for another place to stay. After they had walked for a while, he said, “…I once saw similar people in Alexandria. It seems people were no different two thousand years ago.”

Jiang Yuan said, “Birth, aging, sickness, and death treat everyone equally.”

Abal asked, “And what about you?”

“What?”

“I have seen people like that, so I am not surprised.” The Governor of Bakum said, “My dear Jia Nan, then why are you not at all surprised that we have come two thousand years into the past?” Jiang Yuan stopped, and so did he. Jiang Yuan lifted her head to look at him. Several years ago, she had only needed to look straight ahead to meet his eyes. The night they first met still seemed vivid before her. He had walked toward her, and Moonlight had flown from his shoulder and landed to one side. Abal lowered his head and looked at her, his expression careless, yet carrying that sharpness and danger that made him impossible to handle. He truly had not changed at all. If anything, the years had only made him more seasoned and smooth.

“Do you remember that medicine I took from you? Your strange iron block, your strange pieces of paper, your strange clothes.” His face held the hint of a smile that was not quite a smile, mixed with a casual sort of probing. Whenever he became like this, the blood-soaked chill buried in his bones seemed to seep out. Jiang Yuan looked at him quietly, calm only because she had grown used to him. She listened as he asked, “You are not surprised because you have seen people like this before? Seen a curse like this before? Or-” he asked, “have you experienced it yourself?”

Jiang Yuan did not have time to answer before chaotic footsteps sounded all around them. Wheels and hooves came with a rising chorus of neighs. They were surrounded by soldiers. Chariots rumbled over, bringing that young man before them. Jiang Yuan and Abal both looked up at him at the same time.

“We found you, Devil!” shouted someone who was probably one of his subordinates. It was truly laughable. Once, Jiang Yuan had been the Devil. Later, the jewel had been the Devil. Now the two of them together had become the Devil, surrounded and blocked off, their lives hanging by a thread. They had no idea how they had been intercepted, much less how they were supposed to escape. The young man looked at them coldly, his hand resting on the golden dagger at his waist.

He said, “Why aren’t you kneeling yet? Pay your respects to Prince Thutmose!”

I’m trying hard to speed the plot along.

For plot needs, there will be a tiny bit of deviation from official history.

For example, the old man who appeared earlier was actually praying near the Valley of the Kings. The era he was in was that of Amenhotep III, while the person you see here is from the time of Thutmose III’s son. That stone tablet of his has survived to the present day.

I’ll do a little info dump on Thutmose III’s achievements next chapter.

Going to sleep now, 8888.

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Thank you to the little angels who threw me Overlord Tickets or watered me with nutrient solution~

Thanks to the little angel who watered me with nutrient solution:

Lin Xiaotu, 5 bottles;

Thank you all so much for your support. I will keep working hard!