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Roark shifted from boot to boot. While he appreciated art, he preferred action. Let’s get moving. “So, best guess, it’s buried with him. Where do we find Alexander’s tomb?”
The museum curator resettled glasses on her nose. “Records are sketchy on the subject. His body moved around. A lot. After he died in Babylon, a free-for-all ensued, various entities fighting for his corpse, touting the advantage of one burial site over another. Should it be Babylon, Aegae, or the Siwa Oasis? Anyway, the caravan with his remains was hijacked. That reminds me. I have a ceremonial coin, probably more a medallion, to show you. It may help in your search.”
They trailed the Egyptian historian to an ancient collection on the third floor of the museum where she pointed at a display in a case. “Look.” Amani whipped out a magnifying glass.
Indigo brushed aside the tool, her sharp Aeternal eyesight needing no enhancement. She bent to examine the object. When finished, she stepped away to let Roark study the coin.
He gave Amani his most charming smile along with a wink. “May I hold it?”
She snorted. “Not likely.”
So much for shoulder-to-shoulder contact with the curator or breathy sighs. He was slipping.
Indigo shot Roark a sharp glance, shaking her head, obviously understanding him too well. Her gesture directed him to avoid using Aeternal tricks on the human.
Chastised, he said, “Tell us about it, Amani.”
“It depicts the pharaoh Ptolemy I Soter. As you can see, instead of the usual crook and flail, he holds a sword.”
“So what? I assume blades were common in his day. What does this have to do with Alexander and Blood’s Kiss?” asked Indy.
“Some claim Ptolemy was the illegitimate son of Phillip II of Macedonia, which would make him Alexander’s half-brother. Perhaps a myth, but it is true he accompanied Alexander on campaigns, even commanding troops.”
Indy shrugged. “I still don’t see the connection to our hunt.”
With an eye roll to suggest she was dealing with idiots, Amani continued, “He was the man who highjacked Alexander’s corpse as it was on its way to Macedonia, bringing the remains to Memphis. It is said later they were moved to Alexandria where a tomb had been constructed. Though archaeologists excavated a likely site, the body found there was not Alexander’s. Just another antiquities puzzle, something which makes my job exciting.”
Exciting?
Roark didn’t see the appeal. Looking through one sand-filled tomb after another, never really knowing whose bones you were disturbing. Not his idea of a good time. But there you go. He’d rather be on horseback fighting blade to blade beside Alexander or in bed pumping into a certain delectable witch.
“It is not unimaginable that Ptolemy might have taken Blood’s Kiss from his half-brother’s body rather than burying it with him. If so, the weapon would be significant enough to appear with him on a commemorative coin,” said Amani, pointing to the case.
Once more, Indy studied the artifact. “Could be.” She leaned closer, a hair’s breadth from the glass, her eyes narrow. “If this guy snatched the blade, where would we find it now?”
“Do you think the sword could be buried with this Ptolemy?” asked Roark.
“It could be interred with him. If so, your search is doomed. Texts say the ruler was entombed in this city in the royal necropolis which has never been found,” said Amani.
Tired of the musty museum, endless speculation, and mind-numbing antiquarians, Roark snapped. “We need suggestions rather than roadblocks. Are you saying the trail ends with Alexander’s sculpture and this artifact?”
Amani shrugged. “Yes, unless…” She paused, Roark was sure for dramatic effect, but his glare encouraged her to pick up the pace. “…unless he passed it down his line. The pharaohs in the Ptolemaic Dynasty, his successors, would have valued this weapon, a legacy from Alexander the Great. I realize this is a hunch, but such is often the case when solving ancient puzzles.”
Indigo sighed as her fingers rested on Roark’s arm. Her touch was possessive. Oddly, he didn’t mind. “If Alexander owned Blood’s Kiss, tradition says it would be buried with him, but we are unlikely to find his tomb. Next best guess because of the coin, Ptolemy I Soter may have taken it from the warrior’s cold, dead hands. If it went to the afterlife with this guy, we are again SOL. So we are left with the pharaoh’s descendants. A stretch.”
Amani held up a finger in warning. “But your only chance. A reminder, if you find this sword, it is the property of Egypt. Also, you need a permit to excavate. These things take time.”
“Sure. We’re all about your laws,” mumbled Roark, earning a poke in the ribs from Indigo’s elbow.
“Because I am excited about your search for Blood’s Kiss, I put out a call to Egyptian historians. One contact had a vague recollection of a bas-relief on a temple wall which depicts Cleopatra VII with a sword.”
“Wait a minute,” said Indy. “The Cleopatra?”
“Yes, Julius Caesar and Marc Antony’s love was the daughter of Ptolemy XII, known as Auletes, the flautist.”
Amani’s gaze turned dreamy-eyed, her attention no longer on the sword, how to find it, or his body, probably lost in the haze of historical musings. Or so he imagined.
She chewed on the tip of her thumb. “The reign of the Ptolemies was filled with patricide and fratricide. Brother and sister married, producing offspring. Of course, other intrigues were gruesome. During…”
