Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
IN THE SHADOWS OF THE ANCIENT GODS . . .
When Hattie boarded the coach for the Philae Temple Light Show, she found herself alongside Sylvie and Ezra once more.
It pleased her to have befriended the pair.
The magic of cruising, she thought, lay in strangers being drawn together, where friendship often blooms in a new environment.
In her cruising days with Hugo, they too had enjoyed camaraderie on board, sometimes with brief acquaintances, and others, longer-lasting.
As the coach trundled along, Hattie remembered how she’d met Hugo during his lengthy stay at Jo’s delightfully eccentric hotel, Boomerville, tucked away at the foot of the rolling fells in Cumbria.
She smiled as she thought of the retreat, which welcomed guests of a certain vintage, who enjoyed filling their days with creative writing, wine appreciation, art and excursions that somehow always ended up in a pub.
Business had thrived, not least thanks to Hattie’s uncanny management talent of discovering more unusual diversions.
Her crowning achievement was the Sessions with the Shaman, held in a tepee in the garden.
It soon had a waiting list as guests gathered eagerly to sit and sip the Shaman’s mysterious concoctions.
What was in them remained unasked, but participants reported seeing colours more vividly, hearing music when there was none, and rediscovering a sense of youth and wonder that they hadn’t felt in years.
No one left the tepee without a smile on their face as they danced their way back through the garden to their rooms.
Staring out of the window, as the darkened streets of Aswan slid by, Hattie recalled that it hadn’t taken long for her to delight in Hugo’s company, and it was after one such session that he proposed. Hattie, without hesitation, said yes, and so began their two blissfully happy years together.
‘I can’t wait to see this temple,’ Sylvie interrupted Hattie’s thoughts. ‘Did you know that the temple originally stood on Philae Island and was moved?’
‘Moved where?’ Hattie asked.
‘When the Aswan dams were built, there were floods, so in the 1960s, to save the temple, they dismantled it and relocated it to Agilkia Island nearby.’
‘How clever.’
‘It sure was, a massive feat, and this evening a theatrical light show will bring the temple’s history to life.’
Hattie was delighted by Sylvie’s enthusiasm for Egyptian history. It spared her the need to check the guidebook, purchased from a persistent vendor as she boarded the coach.
They soon arrived at a quay and disembarked, running the gauntlet past a line of stalls where traders insisted that a scarab would bring them luck and a plastic pyramid was an essential souvenir.
Sue and Sam guided the guests to motorboats clustered at the water’s edge, and everyone hurried aboard, ducking beneath low beams before settling onto carpet-covered benches.
‘My goodness, it’s busy,’ Hattie said as she sat, sardine-like, her back facing the water.
‘Today is an open day, which means that visiting Egyptians can see the temple show for free,’ Sylvie explained. ‘I think it’s a great thing,’ she added and smiled at a family seated on an opposite bench.
Following close behind Sylvie as they clambered off the bobbing boat, Hattie looked at the ankle-length kaftan that she’d lent Sylvie.
Unfortunately, Sylvie’s luggage hadn’t turned up on their arrival in Aswan and Hattie’s garment, borrowed for the evening, fell shorter on Sylvie.
Suddenly, a sharp wind whipped the fabric about her knees, clinging just enough to protect Sylvie’s modesty.
But the gown had caught on the side of the boat, and Hattie closed her eyes as she heard a tear.
Another favourite outfit ruined!
‘Gee, Hattie! I’m so sorry,’ Sylvie wailed as she bunched the torn fabric in her hand, ‘but I have a needle and cotton in my cabin, and you won’t even notice the repair.’
‘Accidents happen, it’s fine.’ Hattie patted Sylvie’s arm. ‘Please don’t worry.’
They waited in a long line, and the temple seemed unreal, lit only by moonlight shining on the vast columns ahead. Slowly moving forward, to wait for the light show to begin, Sue and Sam gathered their group in a large, cobbled area that filled with expectant visitors.
‘It’s very dark in here,’ Sylvie said and gripped Ezra’s arm. ‘You’d think there’d be lanterns or something to guide us.’
‘No health and safety to speak of,’ Hattie muttered and looked around. ‘Nor anywhere to sit.’ She wondered how long the show would last and hoped there was somewhere she might perch.
Sam appeared, his smile lighting up his face. ‘Looking forward to it?’ he asked.
‘Er, what exactly is it?’ Hattie asked.
‘You’re about to hear a narration, accompanied by music and sound effects,’ Sam explained.
‘There won’t be any performers. Instead we will walk slowly through the temple ruins while lights create shadows and voices bring the story of Isis and Osiris to life.
’ He smiled again. ‘The temple was devoted to the goddess Isis and is believed to be the final burial place of her husband Osiris.’
‘Ah, I see,’ Hattie said, but didn’t really see at all.
‘Very simply,’ Sam continued, ‘ancient Egyptians embalmed their dead and placed them deep in tombs beneath pyramids, surrounded by wealth. The believed that the soul would return from the underworld to find the body preserved and ready.’
‘Ready for what?’ Hattie asked.
‘So that the dead could live again on earth.’
Hattie wondered if she should have placed a flagon of cider beside Hugo in his coffin, or some of the awards from his successful cider-making business. Anything to return him to her for a few more precious hours.
‘Here they will live under the rule of their beloved Osiris and his queen, Isis.’ Sam continued. ‘The narration tonight is my wife’s favourite. She finds it somewhat hypnotic while wandering around.’
Hattie was puzzled and looked through the dimness for an accompanying spouse. ‘Is your wife here?’ she asked.
‘Good heavens, no.’ Sam laughed. ‘She lives in Bristol and hasn’t been to Egypt for a long time. We’ve been divorced for years.’
‘Your wife is your ex-wife?’
‘Yes, apologies. Force of habit,’ Sam replied. ‘I still catch myself calling my ex, my wife.’
Music began, and as the crowd moved forward, Hattie thought she saw shapes where walls should have been. Already, the experience felt eerie. There must be several hundred folks here, and with hardly any light, they would need to take care.
‘Keep close,’ Sam whispered to Hattie. Turning to the group, he said, ‘If you get lost, call out and wave.’
The narration began, and to her surprise, Hattie recognised the rich, deep tone of the late actor Richard Burton, telling the tale of the temple, accompanied by actress Judi Dench’s voice.
As the darkness pressed in, light occasionally shone on the temple walls, lighting up carvings from many millennia ago, while the solemn narration droned on.
Close by, Hattie overheard Ezra tell Sylvie that a place so spooky was bound to carry a curse.
Hattie wondered, once again, why the idea troubled him so much.
It wasn’t just superstition; the thought of a curse seemed personal to Ezra, as though the mysterious tombs and temples mirrored something in himself.
Was there a fear that whatever lay buried, once uncovered, might unleash circumstances he couldn’t control?
But when the moon slipped behind a cloud, Hattie stared at the sky as the darkness pressed closer and she imagined angry ancient gods looking down at mere mortals trespassing on their sacred ground.
Ezra might be right.
They reached an open forecourt, and Hattie almost tumbled, as people jostled into the space, shoulder to shoulder, feet shuffling on stones worn smooth by centuries of wear.
‘I would feel happier if there were a few barriers or even some light to guide us safely,’ Sylvie whispered as Judi Dench’s voice rose in the darkness. ‘This excursion doesn’t feel organised.’
‘A few seats wouldn’t go amiss . . .’ Hattie replied before Richard Burton drowned her out.
With bodies pressing closely together and the sound and light show showing no sign of ending, Hattie had no idea what Richard and Judi were talking about and wished she’d bothered to read her guidebook for more clues.
The crowd moved forward again until they reached a large space with rows of stone benches. There was a rush as people pressed forward to find a seat, but – given the size of the crowd – many were left standing, including Hattie, Sylvie, and Ezra.
The narration continued, and beams of light played over a section of ruins and half-seen hieroglyphs. Hattie was stifling a yawn when she suddenly felt a warm hand snake around her waist, fingers probing.
‘Still enjoying it?’ Sam whispered.
The it now in question became uncomfortably clear, and Hattie didn’t like Sam’s familiarity, here in public, despite the dark. Reaching out, she angrily removed his hand.
Attraction didn’t grant permission.
Sam’s face remained absorbed in the light display, but Hattie felt certain she caught a suggestive wink before he moved off.
‘Bloody cheek,’ she mumbled and stepped well away from the guide.
It wasn’t that she didn’t find him attractive. She did. But Sam had assumed that she would welcome his sudden advance, and that assumption quickly cooled her interest. She remembered something he’d said when she’d asked about his job.
The rewards are excellent . . .
Had that meant hitting on middle-aged tourists?
The crowd had shifted and begun to stand, and Richard and Judi’s voices rose loudly, echoing off the ancient stones. As the last blaze of light suddenly went out and the narration swelled to a deafening finale, Hattie closed her eyes, wanting to plug her ears with her fingers.
‘What did you think?’ Sylvie asked excitedly, grabbing Hattie’s arm. ‘Weren’t Richard Burton and Judi Dench just great?’