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“She stays, I go,” said Raven vehemently.
He’d vowed to shield her from any association with his dangerous life. He’d find a way to protect her from harm.
Protect her from him.
Chapter 4
Indy paced the length of her brother’s library the next morning. “You should have heard him, Edgar. ‘I forbid you,’ he barked, as if that would stop me somehow.”
“As if anyone could stop you,” said Edgar, exchanging an amused glance with his wife, Mari.
Indy performed a smart about-face and began pacing in the opposite direction. “I can assure you that his arrogant directives only added fuel to the fire of my resolve.”
“Naturally,” said Mari, with a shake of her auburn ringlets.
“Iwillgo to Paris and Iwillfind the sto... stolen artifact before he does,” Indy proclaimed. “Or die trying.”
Mari smiled. “That’s rather dramatic, don’t you think? Surely a treasure hunt across Paris between sworn rivals will be more thrilling than dangerous.”
“He seems to think there could be peril involved.” Indy’s hand moved to the hilt of the dagger in a holster by her side. “I’ve never shied away from difficulty.”
“You can’t tell us what’s missing?” asked Edgar.
Indy shook her head. “I was sworn to secrecy.”
A line formed between Edgar’s brows. “But you’ve been planning this expedition to Egypt for months now. Your ship is ready to depart. You’ve hired archaeological assistants and guards... everything’s in place.”
“The journey must be delayed. Would you mind terribly contacting the ship’s crew and arranging for paid vacation until my return? I don’t anticipate it will take more than a fortnight.”
The search for Cleopatra’s tomb without the Rosetta Stone’s clues would be pointless.
She’d arrived at her theory in a roundabout way that most antiquities experts might call naïve. She’d tried to put herself in Cleopatra’s slippers.
She must have read Shakespeare’sAntony and Cleopatradozens of times. There was a line about Cleopatra garbing herself in the habiliments of the Egyptian goddess Isis.
And the Greek biographer Plutarch wrote that Cleopatra wished to be known as “the New Isis.” Indy hypothesized that Cleopatra had thought of herself as the reincarnation of Isis, and Antony as the reincarnation of Osiris.
If her theory was correct, Cleopatra, believing herself to be a goddess, would have insisted on being buried beneath a temple, instead of inside a pyramid.
Indy had amassed a compendium of texts as well as steles, cartouches, and papyri, always searching for the namesCleopatra,Isis, and Osiris. And that’s when she’d found the map tucked between the pages of a lesser-known work by a Roman historian.
The person who had drawn the map had thought they’d discovered Cleopatra’s burial site. And the location and name of the temple fit with Indy’s theory—at least she was nearly certain they did.
She couldn’t risk asking anyone to help her verify her translation of the name of the temple. She needed to keep her suppositions secret for now. She must examine the hieroglyphs on the Rosetta Stone in person.
“Must be an important artifact if you’re giving up Egypt,” said Edgar.
“Perhaps it’s not about the prize, Edgar dear,” said Mari. “It could be about besting Ravenwood.”
Edgar stroked his wife’s hand. “Isn’t there a proverb about that, my love? Pride goeth before a fall, I do believe.”
“While I admit beating him to the prize will be satisfying,” said Indy, “it’s not the primary reason. I require the... artifact... for my research. If a private collector purchases it, it could be lost forever. I’ll never let that happen.”
She resumed her pacing, her mind unspooling the possibilities.
Whoever had taken the stone was highly organized and efficient. They must have a vast network of trusted hirelings at their command. They’d either stolen it for profit or for political gain.
She didn’t care a straw whether the stone ended up being displayed at the British Museum, at the Louvre, or back in Egypt. Some might say that was a nearly treasonous thought. While she was a loyal British subject, she was on the side of history above all else.
