Ghazzi looked surprised to have been asked the question.
“I suppose anything is possible.” He shook his head. “But no, I believe that the gods of old are just one part of a grander fantasy.”
“And what of all this?” Baahir asked, motioning to the floor-to-ceiling hieroglyphs and pictographs. The questions were more for himself than Ghazzi. It was easier to work things out when conversing with someone other than yourself.
Ghazzi shrugged. “Forgive me, sir, but you are the expert, not me.”
Baahir liked Ghazzi. He was polite and honest.
So, Baahir provided his own opinion. “It was common for the kings and pharaohs of Ancient Egypt to believe themselves to be living gods, yes? I think that’s what we’re seeing here.”
“And that?” Ghazzi asked, pointing a gnarled finger at the oversized jar.
Baahir had an idea of what it was, but there had been no historical accounts, just a tall tale from his mother.
“It’s Anubis’ personal canopic jar.”
Ghazzi’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
Baahir shrugged, and his mind wandered. “That’s what my mother told me, anyway…”
“Your mother?”
Baahir nodded. “She was the real expert on all of this. No one knew more about Anubis than she did.”
Ghazzi glanced away, looking like he wanted to say something.
“Yes?” Baahir asked, curious.
“What do you think is in the jar?”
Oh… That wasn’t something Baahir expected Ghazzi to ask him.
He recalled what his mother told him and, in turn, recited it.
“My mother said that there was a sect of ancient priests that believed that the jar contained Anubis’ mortal soul.”
The local grinned. “His soul?”
Baahir knew it sounded asinine, but that’s what he had been taught. “Yes, his soul. My mother once found papers that spoke of the Book of the Dead, describing it as a hellish scroll made of human flesh and penned in human blood. Sadly, the texts were destroyed in a fire long ago.”
Baahir felt his chest tighten. The thought of a historical relic such as that being lost forever combined with an image of his mother’s beautiful face was too much. He cleared his throat. “It was said that Anubis — through supernatural means — removed his own soul and placed it inside a one-of-a-kind canopic jar constructed of a substance dubbed ‘hellstone.’ Legend says that the jar was supposed to be the only thing that could contain it.”
Ghazzi turned and faced Baahir. “If this is true, no matter how unbelievable it sounds, why would Anubis imprison his own soul?”
Baahir sighed. This was hard for him to repeat. His mother had been so sure of the reason that it scared him. What was strange was that it had never turned away his father. He believed his wife, but Baahir figured that was because he loved her deeply and supported her no matter what and nothing more. Zahra loved everything about the folklore. But to her, it was more cool than fascinating. That was the difference between Baahir and Zahra’s viewpoint of history. She was in it for the adventure. Baahir had dedicated his life to the consumption of knowledge.
“Legend says that, in order for Anubis to become a god, he confined his mortal soul, and that, if released, it would unleash a plague upon the world.”
Ghazzi’s smirk morphed into a full-fledged, gap-toothed, jack-o-lanterned smile. “A plague?”
He didn’t believe a single thing that Baahir was telling him, though Ghazzi had graciously allowed him to explain it without interruption or ridicule. Baahir had rarely ever repeated what his mother had believed in for fear of mockery. She had hidden her beliefs from the public, knowing it would have destroyed whatever professional standing she had maintained.
And if people found out that Baahir believed the plague story, his reputation would be tarnished.
Just like a credible historian chasing Atlantis or the Loch Ness Monster.
Baahir refused to ever become that, no matter how convinced his mother had been.
He tilted his chin up to the god, more specifically, the relic between his hands. “My sister has a jar similar to that, you know.”
Ghazzi looked back to the engraving. “She does?”
Baahir nodded. “It’s a family heirloom. After our mother died, Zahra begged our father to have it. She cherishes it.”
“Zahra?”
“Yeah, she works for the British Museum. She’s brilliant, but is also an adrenaline junky. The woman never stops.”
“And the jar?”
Baahir shrugged. “Last I saw, it was in her office.”
Speaking about the mythos of Anubis and his own family’s beliefs spurred something inside of Baahir. He stood with Ghazzi closely in tow. Baahir tipped his head back at the tunnel and spoke.
“Retrieve Abbas and Rahal. We’ll need their help if we’re going to open this thing and see if we’re right.”
Ghazzi smiled wide and excitedly headed off. Baahir knew he should call in proper reinforcements, but he wanted to see it through on his own. His mother had believed in all of this myth and legend, and he made it his personal mission in life to either prove her right or invalidate her work.
For better or worse, it would be the closure he needed.
He was a man of real history. As much as he loved his mother and respected her convictions, Baahir was a true academic. He had treasured his abbreviated time with her, but he had grown to not always agree with her. This whole story was just too wild — too outlandish — to believe.
Baahir valued Occam’s razor. The simplest solution is almost always the best.
The being who had portrayed himself to be Anubis was most likely just an intelligently gifted human being who had displayed psychopathic behaviors, alleging himself to be divine. He had been a person living in a dark time who possessed an understanding of a deeper knowledge, one that had often been confused with magic and witchcraft over the years.
In this case, the simpletons of the period had feared what would come to be known as science.
That’s what made the most sense to Baahir anyway.
The fact that there were some people that actually believed that Anubis had been real and, in fact, a god both concerned and terrified him. Then again, all religions seemed odd to Baahir. He was wholly agnostic, even before his mother died. An all-knowing entity that watched over the universe was too farfetched for him to have ever believed in. He could never grasp it. But if there was one thing that had always intrigued him, and gave him hope that it was all true, it was the idea of there being an afterlife.
Because Baahir would give anything to see his mother again.
Chapter 6
Baahir
Ghazzi returned in no time with both Abbas and Rahal. The prospect of opening the vault’s lid was too much for either man to ignore.
Baahir stepped up to the front of the stone lid with Abbas on his right and Ghazzi on his left. Agent Rahal was holding Baahir’s phone high above them, filming everything the device’s light touched. Baahir’s heart raced, as he was sure everyone’s was. This was history in the making.
“Ready?” Baahir asked, meeting eye to eye with Abbas and Ghazzi.
Both men nodded, sweat pouring down their faces. Baahir’s face was likewise drenched. The storm had brought an uncomfortable thickness to the air, and the lack of airflow inside the temple was brutal.
“Okay, Mr. Rahal, make sure you get everything.”
The fourth member of their party leaned in close and held the phone directly above the lid. Rahal was so close that he was practically pressed up against Baahir’s back. The Egyptologist didn’t care, though. He was too focused on the task.