TEARS OF AMUN
by
Jordan Summers
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Jordan Summers on Smashwords
Tears of Amun
Copyright © 2003 by Jordan Summers
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
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Chapter One
Egypt, 1925
“Hurry up, Charlotte. Don’t dawdle.” Frustration pinched Victoria Witherspoon‘s voice until it squeaked.
“Coming, Mother,” Charlotte Witherspoon called out, hastening her step, hoping to avoid her mother’s ire.
Charlotte closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, as she pushed down her vexation. This same scenario had been happening every day for as long as she could remember with little variation. Victoria nitpicked, continuously chipping away at her until she felt the ruins surrounding them. Unable to deal with the pain, Charlotte squelched the hurt that twisted her insides. There was no sense dwelling on it.
Balancing her bag in one hand, Charlotte picked up her skirt to step over the fallen rubble that once was the great temple of Karnak. She’d made it a few yards further when her ankle wedged between two rocks and she tripped. The sack flew out of her hands as she tumbled forward. It was at that precise moment that her mother chose to glance back.
“For pity’s sake, Charlotte, do pick up your feet like a graceful young lady should.” Victoria’s hands went to her hips and she shook her head in disapproval. “How many times must I tell you?”
Charlotte felt heat rise to her face. “Sorry, Mother.” She pushed herself up off the ground, ignoring the diggers’ curious stares. It’s not like I did it on purpose, she wanted to say, but didn’t dare speak her mind. It would only make matters worse with her mother, the perfect Victoria Witherspoon, who never did anything untoward. Her mother’s manners were impeccable, her taste enviable, and she expected nothing less from her only daughter; which made it unfortunate since Charlotte took after her father Henry, a self-proclaimed, slightly clumsy bookworm. Despite being eighteen, a fact her mother refused to acknowledge, Victoria had a way of making Charlotte feel like an inadequate, somewhat dim child.
She brushed her hands on her skirt and picked up the sack she’d dropped. Charlotte opened the bag, taking a quick inventory of the contents. The book she’d borrowed from the lending library in London was still there, along with her brushes. She held her breath as she examined the brushes, looking for any sign of cracks or breaks. She let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness they were intact. Charlotte didn’t want to receive another lecture on carelessness. Assured she hadn’t lost anything she closed the sack and continued on.
Her parents had already slipped into one of the chambers leaving Charlotte standing at the entrance breathing stale air. Their minds were one-track when they were on-site. They probably wouldn’t even notice she was missing, not that the oversight was something new. Charlotte was quite used to being considered a nuisance. Instead of allowing her to stay home, curled up with a good book, her mother insisted she be at the dig. Anything to the contrary would be improper.
Instead of entering the tomb, she stepped back into the sunlight, blinking against the glare. Her parents would be in there for the rest of the day and probably into the night, making traces. Charlotte expelled a heavy breath, knowing she should follow them but unable to bring herself to do so. She was itching to delve into the book in her sack.
She spun on her heel and made her way around the ruins to a spot near some newly uncovered stairs. Huge sand piles hugged the sides of the staircase, like a giant hourglass that had been tipped on its side, making it the perfect hideaway. Charlotte sat on the highest step, drawing out the book. She cracked open the cover, a musty smell indicative of an old tomb wafted from the pages. Charlotte leaned forward and inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a second in delight. There were few things on Earth that struck her as close to the soul as the smell of a good book.
Methodically she thumbed through the thick sheets until she’d found her favorite spot. Photographs of papyruses dotted the page. Pharaohs gliding across the calm waters of the Nile came to life before her eyes, their bronze skin glowing against the white linen of their embroidered kilts. Charlotte’s gaze caressed the figures, focusing on one man in particular. His chest was bare and unusually broad for an Egyptian. His arms appeared strong, bulging with muscles. The man’s kohl-lined black eyes seemed to penetrate the very pages, demanding her attention, drawing her nearer.
Charlotte ran her fingers over the image. Goosebumps immediately rose on her arms. She knew she was being silly but for some reason couldn’t bring herself to stop returning to him over and over. She’d loved this man since she was fifteen years old, if it were even possible to fall in love with a painted image.
She’d even gone so far as to imagine their life together, what it would feel like if he held her in his arms, pressed his lips to hers. Would his lips be firm or soft? Wet or dry? Charlotte knew if she’d mentioned her infatuation with the picture, her mother would remind her that she needed to get her head out of the clouds and meet a nice young man to settle down with.
That would take your fanciful notions away tout suite. Really Charlotte, sometimes I wonder where your head is…
Her mother didn’t need to be standing in front of her for Charlotte to be able to hear her admonishing voice clearly in her mind. She glowered. She knew there wasn’t much chance of meeting someone suitable on a dig site in Thebes. All the eligible men she’d met seemed far too wrapped up in trying to make the next big discovery to even notice she was there. Not that Charlotte cared. She wasn’t interested in anyone but the commanding man in the picture.
“If only you were real,” she muttered under her breath, running her fingers lovingly over his still form.
She glanced down at the script under the papyrus. The Egyptologist who’d written the book had believed the figure in the depiction was King Amasis, but had put a side note at the bottom explaining his lack of evidence and all around uncertainty.
“Little help you are.” She laughed.
Ever since Charlotte had learned his name, she’d had a vague sense of dèjá vu, but couldn’t understand why. Once again she could almost hear her mother tsking in disapproval. Charlotte closed the book and put it aside, picking up her brush in its stead. It was time to get to work. At least if her mother wandered by she’d appear to be busy. The air settled around her, hot and oppressive, as she dusted away debris from the half-exposed step with a swish from the brush in her hand.
It had been three years since Mr. Carter and Lord Carnarvon had uncovered the find of the century, Tutankhamen’s tomb. She’d been relegated to this small area of Karnak along with her parents, lesser known explorers who strived for one thing only: the preservation of Egyptian history. While the true Egyptologists were free to delve into the Valley of the Kings.
She stopped, laying the brush down at her side. It wasn’t fair. Her parents had been here just as long as Howard Carter, if not longer. They should have been the ones to stumble upon such a treasure.
Charlotte sighed and went back to work, burrowing deeper into the sand, pushing thoughts of Tutankhamen from her mind. She had made three more swipes when her hand struck something hard beneath the sand. Her breath seized and her heart thudded wildly in her chest. Her vision narrowed to where her hand lay still against the hidden item. With trembling fingers, Charlotte carefully cleared the area. The sounds around her muted as she uncovered a small wooden case.
At first glance, it didn’t look like much. Perhaps a toy left behind by a child, or a worker’s tool kit, long buried in the unforgiving sand. Upon closer inspection, Charlotte changed her mind. She leaned back and glanced around the pile of sand to make sure none of the nearby diggers had observed her making the discovery. All eyes were upon the tasks at hand as they rhythmically worked with picks, buckets, and shovels.
Charlotte stood, wiping the dust from her hands. She slid the item, along with her brush and book into her sack and made her way to the sacred lake of Karnak. In the late morning, the area tended to be deserted. She’d be able to examine her find before taking it to her parents. Perhaps it would be good enough to garner them the recognition they deserved and get them moved to a more prestigious area to dig. Surely if Charlotte accomplished that, her mother would finally see her worth and begin to love her. She sighed. First she needed to confirm its authenticity or her mother would never let her live it down.
Walking over the fallen stones, Charlotte rounded the columns along the path, her heels clattering over the rocks. She stared at the ruins for a moment, wishing it were possible to see the temple at Karnak in its full glory. The sun, golden in the sky, shined brightly on the water ahead, twinkling and radiant. It was the perfect spot to uncover her treasure. Charlotte glanced at the glass-like surface, shielding her eyes, so that she wouldn’t misstep. The area was empty, except for an occasional goose or two that called the Nile valley home. She found a cleared spot near the water’s edge and sat.
Sweat trickled down her neck and under her white blouse. Her eyes once again sought the promise of cooling water. The still liquid, tempting in its calmness, called out to her. Charlotte grumbled and ignored it. She couldn’t go swimming in the sacred lake. It was forbidden. Her mother would be appalled that she’d even considered it. Besides, it was probably full of crocodiles.
She removed a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her forehead. The white linen came away with a smudge of dirt across it. Charlotte scowled. Nothing stayed clean in the middle of the desert. She tucked the now soiled linen back up her sleeve and removed the wooden box and her brush from the sack.
The box was no larger than a thin loaf of bread. She gently blew away the sand covering it. The cartouches were well worn, but still clearly visible in their gold inlay. Charlotte stared in wonder, turning the box this way and that, studying the craftsmanship. The wood felt rough against her fingertips from the sand’s harsh treatment.
She looked for an opening. There didn’t appear to be one. It certainly hadn’t belonged to a commoner. The gold was a dead giveaway. Had a thief dropped it while trying to make his escape? It wouldn’t be the first time priceless artifacts had been found discarded in the sand like rubbish. She shook her head in disgust.
Charlotte picked up her brush and proceeded to clear away the last remnants of sand until she was able to read the inscription. Her eyes widened as the words on the box came to life in her mind.
Through the sands of time
By the pharaoh’s breath
When the waters rise to highest depth
Then the veils will thin
For two worlds to see
A fated love that must once again be
He who gazes upon the one wearing the Tears of Amun
Shall go on to rule the kingdoms of Egypt
She almost dropped the box as she read the last words. It didn’t sound like a curse, but it certainly sounded ominous. She set the box down, taking a moment to catch her breath. Who had owned this and what were the Tears of Amun? She’d never heard of them, even though her parents had taken care to teach her about all of the legends and pharaohs that existed in ancient times.
They’d pounded everything Egyptian into her head, until she could read and write Hieratic, Demotic, and Hieroglyphs. Charlotte could also speak Arabic, Coptic, and even a little Ancient Egyptian; although she was unsure whether her pronunciations on the latter two were correct, since they had been virtually extinct for over a thousand years. She picked the box up again to examine it further. The words inscribed on top floating through her mind like an apparition, a ghostly voice from the past that spoke directly to her soul.
Her mother and father had warned her about curses, although they didn’t believe in them personally. Charlotte wasn’t so sure. Howard Carter had lost several men who’d been there to open Tutankhamen’s tomb. Whispers of a curse had spread like wildfire throughout the campsites. She shivered at the thought of bringing misfortune to her family. Maybe she should put it back.
Charlotte jumped as something splashed in the water, her hand automatically flying to her heart. It took her a second to spot the culprit. A duck paddled around the center of the lake, unconcerned with her presence, quacking away. She laughed, the nervous sound grating to her own ears. Why was she so jumpy? It wasn’t like she’d done anything wrong.
Sweat was now pouring off her. She told herself she’d just go to the water’s edge to wet her handkerchief, then come right back. Charlotte stood the box on end. A latch she hadn’t noticed before slid free, releasing a golden necklace. It dropped onto the ground with a heavy thud. Her breath caught as the sun hit the precious metal and sparkling red stones inlayed in the gold. They were drop shaped like tears and as crimson as blood. Charlotte ran her fingers over the gems. Rubies…the Tears of Amun.
Charlotte heard footsteps and immediately grabbed the necklace, slipping it over her head before someone could spot her. Hanif, one of the workers, stepped from behind a column, his slight body drenched in sweat. She waved to him. Hanif smiled back, white teeth flashing against bronze skin. The man turned silently, as if realizing he’d intruded on her private space. Once again she was left alone with her thoughts and her precious treasure.
It was only after he departed that Charlotte noticed her head was spinning. The gold and jewels around her neck seemed unusually heavy, weighted. The necklace heated her skin, eclipsing the warmth of the day. Lightheaded, she stumbled to the water and pulled a square of soft linen from her sleeve. She knelt down near the edge to dip her handkerchief. Unable to reach the surface, she inched closer. The rock near the shore crumbled, toppling her headfirst into Karnak’s sacred lake. The air was knocked from Charlotte’s lungs as she hit the water.
The lake was hot, stagnant from lack of current. As she struggled to break the surface, Charlotte felt as if a thousand hands were tugging her from below, preventing her from gasping much needed air. She opened her eyes. Her movements slowed as she watched the light from the sun fade and reappear over and over again until it became a blur. Surely her mind was playing tricks on her due to lack of oxygen. She blinked as her body became weightless. She was drowning.
Fear surged through her, giving her an added boost of adrenaline. Charlotte broke the surface, sputtering and coughing, trying to rid her lungs of Nile water. Reaching out with both hands she grasped the rough stones near the water’s edge. Her hat was gone, leaving her curly brown hair plastered to her back. Her clothes hugged her like a second skin. She brushed a hand over her face, ridding her eyes of water. Geese honked overhead as they flew by.
Charlotte blinked again as she pulled herself out of the lake enough to sit on the stone edge. She scanned the area, a frown upon her face. Once again she wiped at her eyes while her mind struggled to decipher what she was seeing. The columns in Karnak were aligned with intricate painted carvings at the base, no longer crumbling and worn. She stood to get a better view. The stones that she’d carefully maneuvered around to get to the sacred lake had been smoothed into level walkways. A wall rose up in the distance marking the entrance into the temple area. Charlotte reached over and pinched her hand.
“Ouch!”
Her flesh turned an angry pink upon contact. Well at least she knew she wasn’t dreaming. Was it possible that she’d drowned and gone to heaven? She glanced out at the lake and saw craft upon the Nile in the distance. They didn’t look like the normal boats used by modern Egyptians. They appeared to be longer, thinner. Dark-haired people dressed in white linen stood at the ends of the vessels steering them through the black water.
“This can’t be…it isn’t possible,” Charlotte muttered to herself. “I must have hit my head on the bottom.” She closed her eyes, resting her head in her hands. Perhaps if she sat here long enough the world would right itself and return to normal. “Wake up, Charlotte. It’s only a dream.” A cough coming from behind one of the nearby columns jolted her back to reality. She stood quickly.
“Hanif, is that you?” she called out.
There was no answer.
“Hanif, I’ve had a terribly bad day. Please show yourself.” Her voice quivered.
A brown hand appeared to the side of the column. Charlotte released the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding and waited for Hanif to appear. Instead, the most striking man Charlotte had ever seen stepped from behind the column. He wore a white linen kilt with embroidery at the top around his slim hips. The material hung down to his knees, leaving his well-developed calves exposed. His slightly slanted dark eyes were lined with kohl like the ancient Egyptians depicted in carvings. Like the carvings, his face was a work of art, sculpted with high cheekbones and full lips, squaring into a firm chin.
Charlotte frowned. He looked familiar.
His chest was wide and heavily muscled. Gold bracelets with blue scarabs crowning the tops encircled his wrists. A gold necklace bearing the shape of three flies encased his throat. Hair of the blackest night hung to his shoulders and had been ornately braided. Charlotte instantly recognized the necklace as a sign of bravery. Why was he wearing it? And who was he?
His black eyes heated as his gaze locked onto the front of her shirt. Charlotte watched the rise and fall of his chest, the rhythm mesmerizing, as his fire took hold of her. She glanced down to see what held him so captivated.
The white of her shirt had turned transparent from the water. The Tears of Amun were clearly visible through the garment, along with her rosy nipples, which had taken that moment to bead under his close scrutiny. Charlotte sucked in a surprised breath and covered her breasts with her hands.
For a moment more, his gaze lingered then slowly returned to her face. When his eyes met hers, he smiled. The simple act melted her insides. She knew in that instant why he seemed so familiar.
He was the man from her book.
The same man she’d spent countless hours gaping at like a schoolgirl suffering from her first crush—except he was real. It wasn’t possible, was it? Had she wished so hard, he’d come true?
Charlotte felt heat start at her toes, rise along her legs, over her knees, gravitating to the apex between her ample thighs. If he could do that with just a look, what would it feel like if he touched her? The scandalous thought entered her mind, sending warmth flaring to her face. She knew without the aid of a mirror, she was blushing.
Her dream man stepped forward. Charlotte hadn’t noticed the harpoon in his other hand. She glanced over her shoulder at the water. There was nowhere for her to escape. Her eyes once again found his. He paused, then frowned as if reading her thoughts. He set his weapon down. Charlotte forced herself to smile, willing herself to keep calm as panic warred with excitement.
Why panic over the fact that my fantasy man has come to life from the pages of a book? It happens all the time. Yes, and Mother thinks I’m the perfect daughter.
The man continued forward slowly, making his way toward her until they stood but a yard apart. The detail of his clothing was unmistakable. Charlotte had never seen anything like it with the exception of Howard Carter’s finds and the book she’d borrowed from the library. She glanced to the ground where she’d left her sack before falling into the lake, but it was gone. She glanced at the lake, but didn’t immediately spot anything.
Charlotte looked back at her dream man. A shift of the wind brought his spicy scent to her. Awareness slammed into her body, making her knees weak. Her senses came alive, zeroing in on him. The juncture between her thighs started to throb and she had no idea why. Her nipples beaded painfully. It was as if his mere presence jolted her body awake from a deep, deep sleep. Charlotte fought the urge to move closer so she could inhale more of his delicious scent. Touch his bronze skin. He was even more handsome than she’d imagined. The picture had not done him justice.
What was she saying?
In all likelihood this man simply resembled the man in the picture. He couldn’t possibly be him. That man’s name was Amasis and he’d lived over two thousand years ago. Charlotte felt the back of her head, her fingers tangling in her wet locks. There had to be an injury somewhere. That was the only explanation for the changes in her surroundings. She gave up after a moment, unable to locate a wound.
If she wasn’t hurt, then she needed to figure out what had happened and where he had gotten all of the items on his body. She needed to authenticate what she was seeing, and then inform her parents of the find. Charlotte was sure her mother would have a thing or two to say about her appearance, but it couldn’t be helped. After all, she hadn’t planned to take a swim in the sacred lake. It was an accident, like all the other times...
She held out her hand. “My name is Charlotte Witherspoon.”
The man looked at her hand and then back to her face. When he made no move, Charlotte clasped his hand. His large palm enveloped hers, sending delicious tingles racing up her arm. His eyes widened but he didn’t pull away.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she prompted, before quickly releasing him. He certainly felt real enough.
Still nothing.
She blew out a ragged breath and ran her hand through her hair. Charlotte wasn’t sure why the man wasn’t speaking. Fantasies don’t talk, the little voice in her head chided. She dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand. She needed to focus, but it was difficult with his resemblance to the picture being so uncanny. Perhaps he refused to talk because he thought she’d turn him in for theft. Charlotte glanced at his necklace. For something over two thousand years old, it showed remarkably little wear. In fact, it looked almost new, along with the temple’s pillars, which was impossible.
“What is your name?” she asked in her best Egyptian tongue, the words stumbling from her lips.
His brow furrowed and then rose as he finally comprehended. “My name is Ahmose.” He pressed a large hand to his wide chest.
“Ahmose,” she repeated, letting the name play across her lips. Charlotte tried to ignore the way his taut skin was stretched in a canvas of hard muscle. “I like it.” She smiled. At least that answered the question at the back of her mind. He wasn’t the man in the picture. His name wasn’t common in Egypt, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. She brushed the thought away, deciding to examine it later.
Charlotte placed a hand over her breast, her erect nipple stabbing her palm. Surprised by her body’s strange reaction to the man’s nearness, she gulped and forged on, praying he hadn’t noticed. “I am Charlotte Witherspoon.”
He stared at her for a moment, his gaze caressing the rigid crests, as if they were still visible. Well so much for him not noticing…Her skin prickled. Once again his dark eyes sought hers, then his lips pursed as he tried to mimic what she’d said.
“Ch-aaarleete,” he said attempting to imitate the sound she’d created.
She nodded encouragingly.
“Ch-charlotte,” he said again.
“Yes.” She smiled.
Charlotte glanced over his shoulder at the temple of Karnak. Why wasn’t it in ruin? As the question ran through her mind again, her head began to swim. The temple was complete, not a stone out of place. It wasn’t just the nearby columns and walkways like she’d first assumed. There were no ruins in sight.
Several men rushed toward their location, weapons drawn, dressed exactly like Ahmose. Gone were the diggers and the workers her parents had hired.
There was no way this could be happening. The man standing before her wasn’t a dream. She’d already confirmed that by touching him and asking his name. Charlotte shook her head in denial as she stared at Karnak in all its glory. She was not back in ancient Egypt. It wasn’t possible.