you that your life is not yours alone—it is mingled with your parents, and with all those who came before you and will come after. But it is mingled with others, too, just as their lives are mingled with still others. In this way, we are all part of one another.”
The baby, growing cold and uncomfortable in the morning air, squirmed and gave out a growl like that of a kitten or a cub. The king smiled and returned the child to the woman holding the swaddling cloth; she gathered the infant once more into the soft folds and returned it to the king. Turms placed his hand on the infant’s head and said, “Our hope for you is that you will grow to be strong and virtuous in spirit and deed, and that whether the length of your journey through this world is short or long, it will be a boon to you and all those around you. Learn well, little soul, so that the knowledge and wisdom you gather on your way can strengthen and sustain you in the life to come.”
Turms raised his eyes and asked Arthur, “By what name will this child be known?”
Arthur’s mouth framed the word Benjamin—a name he had decided on that held some resonance for him. Curiously, his tongue uttered, “Benedict.”
The king nodded. Taking the infant’s curled fist in his, he dipped the tiny hand into the water, and then pressed that little fist to its chest. “From henceforth you will be called Benedict.”
Xian-Li glanced at her husband and mouthed the question, “Benedict?”
The ceremony was completed, and Turms handed the child back to its mother. The two women attendants took up the bowl and knife once more.
“Wait,” said Arthur. “I meant to say Benjamin.”
Turms’ smile grew broad, and he put back his head and laughed. “And yet you did not.”
“But—” Arthur started to object.
“It is done, my friend,” the king told him. “And it is right. The name you have given is what was chosen for him. All is as it must be.”
Arthur gave in to the decision with rueful acceptance. They all walked back to the palace to eat a celebratory meal in honour of the newly named infant, retracing their steps along the sacred way, passing the silent tombs. They mounted the steps and, upon reaching the top, the rising sun broke above the horizon, for a moment dazzling them. Arthur felt as if, having spent the night in the tomb, he was rising to new life.
On the way back up the hill, Xian-Li leaned close to her husband. “Why Benedict?” she wondered. “What does it mean?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” confessed Arthur. “Blessing or blessed one, I think—something like that.”
Xian-Li smiled and held the infant up before her to look at him. “He is our blessing,” she decided, and the awkwardness of the mistake dissolved. In that moment, the world settled into place once more.
CHAPTER 14
In Which the Truth Cannot Be Ignored
A few scrawny cats and a beggar scrabbled among gently smouldering heaps of rubbish. A swirl of black vultures circled overhead in lazy loops, keen-eyed for anything dead or dying. The naked sun slammed down like a hammer upon the poor anvil that was Kit’s throbbing head, smiting through the thin cloth of his sweat-soaked turban. “My kingdom for a straw hat,” he muttered, blinking in sunlight so hot it dried his eyeballs in their sockets.
An endless avenue of pale, human-headed sphinxes stretched before him, its end lost in the shimmering heat haze. Somewhere in that wavering mirage lay the ruins of one of the ancient world’s wonders: the Great Temple of Amun. It was somewhere in the temple complex at the end of the avenue, Kit had been informed, that he would find the man he had come upriver to meet. Squinting his eyes against the glare bouncing up from the white-paved street, he started walking. After only a minute, he was wishing he had not been quite so hasty in rejecting Khefri’s suggestion that he hire a donkey for the journey. “It’s a straight shot to the temple, right?” he had said. “How bad can it be?”
To take his mind off the heat, he tried to imagine why Wilhelmina had been so insistent that he meet this man. What did Young know that could help them? He also wondered how much Wilhelmina had told this fellow about the quest they were conducting, and consequently how much he might risk saying. That, Kit decided, would be the first