PROLOGUE
Near Alexandria, March 1887
Sweat and sand mingled and dripped into his eyes, clouding his vision. Fielding Grey, the Viscount of Eldon, swiped an already damp rag across his mud-streaked face. There was never anything easy about crawling into a cave or digging up a tomb. Or excavating a temple, which was what he was doing now.
The grit and grime didn’t matter. Nor did the object he sought. All that mattered right now, as Fielding squeezed himself into a small antechamber lit only by the lantern in his hand, was the huge sum of money his client would pay him once he found what was left of the Great Library of Alexandria.
The royal library had once been the largest in the world, housing such treasures as Aristotle’s private collection. By royal mandate, Ptolemy II had stormed ships to confiscate any books or scrolls on board to add to the library. Legend had it that the library was destroyed by Julius Caesar’s command, but most claimed warning had come in time to relocate the vast collection.
More than sixteen months of research had finally led Fielding here: the Temple of Isis on a small island off the coast of Egypt and not far from Alexandria.
He jumped to the ground of the antechamber, the sound of his feet slamming onto the stone floor echoing through the room. The two Egyptian men he’d paid to assist him entered next carrying more lanterns. The new light shone about the stone room, illuminating hieroglyphics. The colored drawings depicted several versions of Isis nursing Horus, as well as a full-grown Horus.
Fielding walked the length of one wall, running his hand against the cool stone. There would be a lever or a loose stone, something that would take them into the next hidden chamber. But he felt only smooth brick beneath his palm. He knew he needed to go down as deep as possible. The remains of the library would be hidden there; in particular the rumored secret writings of Socrates, a prized possession in Aristotle’s collection. These writings were what the man who’d hired him was specifically interested in.
A six-inch black scorpion scuttled over his boot, trying to find a way into his pants. Fielding kicked his foot out, causing the offending insect to fly across the room. His assistants jumped simultaneously and huddled together against the wall.
“We need to go deeper,” he told them in their native tongue. He wasn’t fluent, but he knew enough from previous digs to get by.
The two tanned men nodded but made no further movement.
Looking down, he noted a slight groove in the sand where he’d kicked away the scorpion. “Hand me the water.” He reached out his arm and one man, the braver of the two perhaps, stepped forward to give Fielding the canteen.
With his boot he moved additional sand away, revealing more of the groove. He knelt and poured a small amount of water into the crevice. The liquid bubbled with the sand, turning light brown, and then it thinned out, leaking somewhere below. Fielding scraped more of the sand aside and pressed his ear to the floor. Then he poured more water, this time a greater amount.
It disappeared into the crevice, and Fielding could hear the drips landing somewhere far below them.
“There is another chamber beneath this one,” he told his assistants. “Look around for a way to open it.” He pointed to the two men, who still stood pressed against the wall. “Shuffle your feet around; move the sand away from the stones.”
When they still hadn’t moved, he said to them, “And stop being so bloody afraid of a curse. This is a temple, meant to welcome people for worship.” He didn’t add that the closer they got to the legendary library, the more likely it was they’d run across some danger. People went to great lengths to protect items of value from treasure hunters like himself.
Another scorpion crawled across the sand-covered stone floor, making its path toward one of Fielding’s diggers. The man jumped over the creature, landing hard on a stone to his right. Suddenly, the entire floor shifted, leaving huge gaps between the stones. The offending insect fell through the opened floor. Fielding grabbed onto the wall to his right.
“No one move,” he warned.
For several seconds they all stayed motionless. Gingerly, Fielding took one step forward and then another. His third wobbled enough that he leaned into the wall, and when he did a loud click sounded behind it and the floor below him gave way.
He cursed loudly as he fell several feet into the chamber beneath them. He landed with a painful thud, the lantern he’d been holding shattering next to him, dousing the light. He could barely see the glow of his two assistants’ lanterns above him.
“Throw me down a torch,” he yelled.
They did as commanded, but the unlit torch landed somewhere to his left, swallowed by the shadows. Briefly he tried to feel for it, but remembering the scorpion was down here with him stilled his hand.
“Lower one of the lanterns on a rope so I can see.”
The lowered lantern shed enough ambient light around the room for him to find the fallen torch. He quickly lit the thing, and warmth from the fire soon heated his face. A quick cursory glance around the room showed two more torches hung on the wall. He lit them both, and the room filled with a soft glow.
There was a tunnel going off to the right, which warranted exploration. Whether he found his client’s ancient library or not, whatever he found down here would fetch a pretty price.
“Lower the rope back down so I can climb up when I’m finished.” Neither of the men answered him, but the rope once again dropped to hang through the hole into which Fielding had fallen.
There were more hieroglyphics in this room, but instead of being painted on the walls, they were carved. Fielding inhaled deeply, the chalky chilled air filling his lungs. The tunnel proved smaller than he’d anticipated, and he found he would have to travel through it on his hands and knees. Not an easy task when one needed to carry a torch at the same time.
Carefully he set out down the tunnel, clumsily crawling on three limbs while he held the torch in his right hand. He was halfway into the narrow space when he realized the tunnel might not be complete. With his left hand, he tested the space directly in front of him, gauging the strength of the stone, but it held firm.
He inched forward, noting the darkness in front of him grew increasingly blacker. It was several rapid heartbeats before he could see the tunnel continued past a considerable gap in the stone.
He was getting close. Someone had gone to extreme measures to protect whatever was on the far end of this tunnel. He crawled to the edge and peered down into a rock-walled chamber that dropped off into darkness below.