Martha slumps beside me inside the arena. We both remain conscious, but are feeling light-headed. The tomb we’ve invaded is cold, dark and musty. I feel through my pack and bring out two light sticks so we can see.
“Light sticks? You knew all along this was going to happen,” Martha says.
“It was a hunch. And for the record, after spending days in a small dark tunnel, I developed a bit of a fear of the dark, so I don’t go anywhere without light sticks anymore. All the pieces just made sense. Who else would know where to find me to steal the staff and return it with the coordinates of the time machine carved into it? Then, when the carving on the wall read ‘
I knew you were coming too.”
“You got all that from 
“Sure. 
are your initials and 
are my initials, written from right to left, of course, as an ancient Greek would have written it.”
“Yes, of course. If it was written from left to right, then it wouldn’t make any sense at all. Honestly, Cephas, I just spent a lifetime inside your brain and I still have no clue how you put pieces together like that.”
“Simple logic. Anyone except an Egyptologist would think it was just another hieroglyphic and an expert would think it was done by tomb robbers when Alexander the Great conquered Egypt. Speaking of tomb robbers, I see something I’d feared. The assassins are the ones who took the jewels and gold from the mummy case. I’d hoped you and I were the tomb robbers. This is going to be a lot more difficult without some form of money.”
“You keep saying ‘assassins.’ How do you know there are more than one?”
“I didn’t know it at the time, but I met them. They were dressed in Egyptian clothing, which they must have stolen when they arrived, and had scars on their arms and faces. I thought they had survived a plague or something, but they must be scars left over from having all of their enhancements quickly removed to travel safely through time.”
“This is giving me a headache,” Martha says. “If you escaped them the first time, then why did we have to come back at all?”
“The only reason I escaped them is because you and I are going to go save me. It’s in both my past and my future, so to speak.”
“Definite headache. Let’s get out of here and get some fresh air.”
“Not yet. I need to send both myself and Albert a message first.”
I cross the room to the small jar sitting in a recess in the wall and break its seal. It’s full of some sort of ointment. I can’t help but laugh as I splatter it onto the wall to leave the stain that I’ll see in two thousand years to give myself the idea of using the urn. From my pack, I retrieve a pencil and paper to write a note to Albert so he knows we arrived safely.
Thankfully, Martha doesn’t ask about the contents of the note.
“I broke the wax seal on the urn, so I’ll need to melt it back into place to help preserve the paper. Can you find a torch that still has some life in it? Or maybe some cloth so we can make one?”
Martha finds a useable torch that was left behind by the tomb builders.
“How do you plan to light it without a thermal igniter?”
“As Albert said, use ancient technology to solve an ancient problem.”
I smile and bring a small paper booklet out of my pack.
“What’s that?”
“It’s called a book of matches. Brill keeps a small museum of artifacts found at Capon Springs, so I stole it. These must be one hundred years old. Let’s hope they’re still good.”
The first three matches crumble to pieces when I try to light them, but the fourth sputters to life and is enough to light the torch. I melt the seal and place the jar back into its recess. We have no way to extinguish the torch, so we take it along with us. The stairs that will crumble at some point in the future are still usable, so we make our way to the pivoting door which was left wide open by my would-be assassins.
“I guess nobody told them to leave things as they found them.”
We close the door and I use my knife to carve the Greek letters in the soft sandstone in the wall. We walk down the narrow hallway until we reach the Princess Chamber. It, too, has been robbed of its gold. One favor the assassins have done for us is that they had to do some digging to escape the tombs. As we walk out of the tomb, I’m glad this time the work is done for me, until I realize Martha and I will need to rebury the tomb entrance to ensure it goes undiscovered until 2020.
We only need to do a minimal job. The entrance itself is hidden in the rock face and the natural process of sand drifts forming has already begun, but just barely. Over several thousand years, many tons of sand are going pile up in this area, burying much of the Sphinx and this tomb entrance alike.
“Our first priority is food and water,” Martha says as we finish moving sand.
I open my pack and toss her an old metal canteen and an apple.
“I have a ton of water purification tablets and a complete med kit, but not much food. More importantly, I have these.”
I produce my ancient toga and tunic, and reproductions in her size.
“Where in the world did you find a toga for me?”
“Brill’s Granddaughter, Ginny, made it for me. I told her I wanted matching outfits in case you and I ever went to a costume party together. I couldn’t get you reproduction sandals, so we’ll need to cover your shoes as best we can. I’m going to do the same thing. It’s hard to run fast in sandals. We’ll also need to cover these modern packs. We can use our clothing to make them look like cloth bundles.”
“You just said you didn’t know I was coming until you read the carving on the wall, and yet you conveniently have a toga made in my size?”
“I’d hoped that when I got into the arena you’d volunteer to come.”
She pauses for a long while.
“So, we’re all set to go to Jerusalem and save you?”
“It’s not going to be easy. We have no money to buy passage on a ship.”
Martha smiles sheepishly.
“That’s not entirely true. There’s something else from Jocie’s estate I’ve been carrying around that I should have given you earlier, but I didn’t. I guess I didn’t want you to have anything that would remind you of her.”
Martha fumbles around in her pack, then pulls out Jocie’s enormous gold cross.
“That’s a lot of gold,” I say.
I turn the heavy cross over and over in my hands while we walk towards the river. The Nile seems much closer than it was in our time frame and I wonder how many times the river’s path has changed over two thousand years.
“Are you sure you don’t mind giving up the gold cross?” Martha asks. “It’s the only keepsake you have left to remember her by.”
“It’s just a thing. Besides, she was a movie star. She would have loved the plot device. Here, take it off its chain and wear the chain around your neck - but keep it hidden.”
As we approach the river, we both stop short at the sound of voices. They’re speaking in the local Egyptian language and I don’t understand a word.
“Cover your head as best you can,” I say. “You can bet they don’t see many blondes around here.”
When we creep closer, we see two men at the edge of the Nile, haggling over a basket of fish. The one who I take to be the fisherman has a small boat filled with nets that has been pulled onto the shore, while the one I assume is the buyer has a barge-like vessel anchored just a few meters from shore. There are two boys on the barge, sorting fish and laying them out to dry.
“That barge could be our ride to the nearest town,” I whisper to Martha.
“How are you going to talk to him?”
“I’m hoping he’ll know a little Greek or Latin. He seems to be a businessman, and Greek is the language-of-trade in the cities.”
“How will you pay him? It’s not like you can get change for the cross.”
“I have no idea,” I reply.
When their transaction is finished, the fisherman shoves off and moves back upstream, and Martha and I emerge from the reeds.
“Hello. Do you speak Greek or Latin?” I say in Greek.
“Some Greek.”
“May we ride on your barge?”
“You ask?”
“We ask.”
“Strange Romans.”
“Strange?”
“Romans don’t ask. Romans tell.”
I start to laugh and so does he. I guess laughter is a universal language.
“Ride?” I ask.
“Yes. Cross.”
He points to the opposite shore.
“Cross,” I agree.
We all wade to the barge and I help Martha get on board. Our barge captain hauls up a stone anchor and starts to pole us away from the shore. He yells something in Egyptian to one of the boys, but before the boy can move, I grab a second pole and help.
“Strange Roman.”
I’m surprised at how far into the Nile we’re able to use poles. I thought the river would get deep within a few meters of the bank. When we do hit the deep channel, our host secures his pole on the deck and moves to a crude rudder device, then expertly catches the currents to move his craft towards the other side.
With no job to do, I spend some time looking around. The lowlands near the river are well-ordered farmland, enriched by the annual floods of the Nile. I can see irrigation systems and, higher up, beyond the Nile’s reach, I can see small houses, barns and livestock. More importantly, I see the outskirts of a small city. Here and there, you can see ruins of older buildings that were probably built in the heyday of the Pharaohs. Someday, a great modern city of glass and steel is going to sit about here.
We reach poling depth at the opposite shore and I do what I can to help. I want to get off this barge and around the protective influence of Romans as quickly as possible. We reach a small dock that’s little more than a series of poles connected by thin, wobbly planks, and the boys begin to offload baskets of fish. The barge captain pays us no heed as we exit his craft and follow the boys towards the town.
The boys lead us to a central marketplace that’s bustling with activity. People are selling all manner of things, but haggling seems to stop as Martha and I pass. I haven’t heard a word of Latin or Greek spoken. Invading armies have a tendency to conquer a city and take all the gold; then leave it to its own devices if the remaining citizens stay well-behaved. It appears the Romans conquered and left, though they probably show up every year to collect taxes.
“Back to the river,” I say to Martha. “We need to find merchants who can take us down river, to Alexandria. Try not to speak and do your best to look submissive, but if you see a staff that could be used as a weapon, grab it.”
Martha nods.
When we reach the river, I see what I’m looking for: a ship with a mast and sails. Although you could row against the current, the fastest way up the river is to catch a favorable wind and sail there. This ship is most likely owned by a merchant who comes up river to trade, and then takes the goods to the larger sea ports like Alexandria. The ship is too far off shore to wade to it, but onboard I can hear something that’s music to my ears, sailors speaking in Greek.
“Ahoy!” I yell in English and then feel like a complete idiot.
“Maybe you should try ‘arrgh, Matey!’ next,” Martha says.
I can’t help but laugh. I may know several ancient languages, but ancient sailor lingo is not among them.
“Where’s the captain of your vessel?” I ask in Greek.
“What’s it to you? We owe no Roman taxes.”
“I seek passage for myself and my servant.”
There’s muttering on the deck as they discuss the idea.
“What do you offer for passage?”
“We’ll discuss it on your deck.”
I’m trying to sound like a demanding Roman citizen that they’d better work with if they know what’s good for them.
“Use the raft.”
The man points to a decrepit old thing that’s apparently available to the public. Martha and I pole over to the ship, though sometimes we spin in circles - much the crew’s amusement.
The ship is smaller than I first thought. If crammed full, it would have room for just a few metric tons of cargo and a dozen or so crew.
“We’re full. You’ll have to sleep on the deck,” a large, bearded Greek says.
He looks at Martha.
“But to pay for your passage, your servant can sleep below deck with me.”
The sun is positioned such that Martha’s face is lit, and her blonde eyebrows and lashes are visible. A few wisps of her hair have even managed to poke out. The Greek reaches out to pull back Martha’s hair covering, but she catches his hand. Before he knows it, she has him in a painful finger lock that puts him on his knees. The other men in the crew begin to laugh.
“I find it’s best not to touch the wild slave girls from northern Gaul,” I say. “This one obeys me only because she was given to me by her father.”
“You do not bed this slave?”
“Few men would survive the attempt.”
“So much for submissive,” I say to Martha in English. “Hiss at him when you let him go. It’ll add to the effect, now that you’re a wild slave girl from northern Gaul.”
Martha hisses and releases him. I should have known submissive would never be her style.
“Since this slave won’t pay for your passage, what will you give the captain?”
I reach out and expose the gold necklace Martha is wearing, and she hisses at me too, for fun.
“I have no coin. I’ll sell this necklace in Alexandria and pay your captain four pieces of silver.”
“Your slave wears your gold?”
“Would you like to try to take it from her neck?” I ask.
I smile and the crew laughs again.
****
The trip down the Nile, and on to Alexandria, is quick and easy. Twice, members of the crew look too long and hard at Martha’s blonde hair, and twice she hisses at them and they fall back into line. If that wasn’t enough, she insists she and I conduct combat training twice per day on the deck for all to watch. I fight quite well now, but I’m still glad Martha is on my team.
As promised, once we reach Alexandria, we take the gold chain to a Roman goldsmith and sell it. He’s impressed by the quality of the work and the purity of the gold, and pays us many times the value of the weight of the gold alone. I pay the river captain an extra piece of silver and he shows me a larger ship, with a skilled and honest captain, which regularly travels from Alexandria to Caesarea, a large port city in Israel built by the Romans. From there, we can either find a vessel that will take us south to a small port closer to Jerusalem, or travel with a caravan overland through Samaria.
Alexandria is an ancient marvel. Unlike the inland cities, Alexandria is a cultural melting pot due to its busy seaport. We see many Romans and Greeks, but also Turks, Persians, and central African tribesmen. There’s even a small Jewish population. I see no blonde heads other than Martha’s but, at least here, people of different cultures barely get a second look; so we walk freely through the city like two tourists, just taking in the scenery.
Late in the day, we go back to the goldsmith, this time to sell him the gold cross. We pried out all but one of the jewels with our knives and have stowed them in our packs for later use, if needed. The one jewel that wouldn’t come out looks like a ruby, though I don’t know if it’s natural or not.
When I show the goldsmith the cross, his eyes go wide.
“It’s too big to weigh on my balance scale and even if I had a bigger scale, I do not have enough coins to pay you its weight,” he says.
“Do you know anyone who would buy it?”
“Many of the powerful Romans here would like gold of this purity, but not in such an odd shape. It looks like a cross the Romans hang men on to kill them.”
And in a few weeks, this shape will change history.
“I could cut it up and buy part of it,” he offers. “For my labor, I get to keep the dust the saw makes. Deal?”
“Deal.”
He starts his cut to take off the top of the cross and leave a capital ‘T’ shape, but when he’s partway through, he gets an odd look on his face.
“The gold is hollow here, but no matter. It will melt all the same.”
He smiles and takes a closer look.
“Ah, I see. This is a place to hide things. Very clever.”
He starts to play around with the ruby, until a small compartment opens. A micro storage chip about the size of my thumbnail and a small piece of paper fall out.
“Yes, I forgot I put those things in there.”
I pick them up, as Martha and I exchange looks.
“The chip looks fine. Why didn’t it fry in transport?” Martha asks.
The goldsmith goes back to cutting, not understanding the odd language Martha and I are speaking.
“The gold must shield it somehow.”
“Read the note,” Martha says.
In small block print, the note reads:
“Jocie, had a wonderful time last night. What a fool Cephas was to reject you. Everything you requested is on the chip. Henry.”
“That chip could be important,” Martha says. “We need to go back to the Sphinx and put it into the jar for Albert to find.”
“We have plenty of time. Albert won’t open the jar for two thousand years. In the meantime, we need to protect it.”
I turn back to the goldsmith.
“Have you ever heard of a piece of gold jewelry called a locket?”