The Alexander Cipher Page 0,91
had returned to the fleet, they learned that Cimon had died on that exact day. Pindar had written a hymn of praise to the oracle and, upon asking it for the greatest luck available to humans, had promptly died. But perhaps the incident that had the greatest impact was the invasion of Egypt by the Persian king Cambyses. He sent out three armies: one to Ethiopia, the second to Carthage, and the third across the desert to Siwa. This third army had vanished without a trace, and the oracle had gained a certain awed respect as a result. “How did the oracle work?” asked Gaille.
“The priests carried the physical manifestation of Zeus-Ammon in a golden boat decorated with precious stones, while young virgins chanted,” said Elena. “The chief priest read out the questions of supplicants, and Ammon answered them by dancing forward or backward. Unfortunately, Alexander was granted a private audience, so we don’t know for sure what he asked or was told.”
“I thought he asked about his father’s murderers.”
“That’s one tradition,” acknowledged Elena. “The story goes that he asked whether all his father’s murderers had been dealt with, and that the Oracle replied that the question was meaningless because his father was divine and therefore couldn’t be murdered; but all the murderers of Philip II had been appropriately dealt with, if that was what he meant. Probably apocryphal, of course. All we know for sure is that Zeus-Ammon became Alexander’s favorite God, that he sent emissaries here when Hephaiston died, and that he asked to be buried here, too.” She picked up a pinch of soil, examined it momentarily, and threw it away.
“It must have been a terrible blow to the oracle’s priests,” said Gaille. “Thinking they were going to get Alexander’s body, then learning it was going to Alexandria.”
Elena nodded. “Ptolemy soothed their pain. According to Pausanias, he sent them a stele of apology and handsome gifts.”
Gaille climbed as high as she could safely go, then gazed all around. The landscape here wasn’t like Europe, where the hills and mountains had been thrust upward by geological pressure and time. This entire region had once been a sandstone plain high above, but most of it had collapsed. The hills that remained were simply the last men standing. She oriented herself north, Al-Dakrur to her right, the great salt lake and Siwa Town to her left. Ahead, the air was so clear, she could see dark ridge lines through her field glasses, many kilometers away. The sand in between was punctured by thrusts of nicotine-brown rock, some no bigger than small cars, others like tower blocks. “Where the hell will we even start?” she asked.
“All great tasks are just a large number of small tasks,” observed Elena primly. She spread a chart out on flat ground and rested a stone on each corner. Then she set up a tripod, screwed in a camera and telephoto lens, and began a rigorous study, taking a line from the Siwan Hill of the Dead, sweeping her camera to the horizon, then back again before adjusting it a hairsbreadth to her right. Each time she found a new rock or hill, she photographed it, then invited Mustafa and Zayn to study it through the lens. They squabbled for a while before making a mark on the chart. Each mark would mean a visit and a survey.
Gaille sat on a hump of rock and stared out over the desert, the breeze buffeting her back, whipping strands of hair forward into her eyes. It was unexpected, coming to an alien land yet feeling so at home. And she realized, almost to her surprise, that she was happy.
NICOLAS NEEDED SOMEWHERE PRIVATE to make the kind of phone calls that would secure Layla her medical treatment, so he asked Ibrahim if he wouldn’t mind his borrowing Ibrahim’s villa for the afternoon. Ibrahim was so eager to help that he drove him there himself. “You couldn’t excuse me for a few minutes?” asked Nicolas when they arrived.
“Of course.”
As ever, he first rang his father.
“Well?” asked Philip Dragoumis.
“I’ve found it.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure I’ve found the place. Whether there’s anything inside . . .” He explained what had happened, how he had seen the pictures in the books Gaille had asked Ibrahim to send down to her, and their significance.
“I told you she’d be the one,” said Dragoumis.
“Yes, Father, you did.”
“Well? What’s our plan?”
Nicolas told his father how far he had gotten. They discussed and refined his ideas, decided on the