Lost in Amon

Chapter Two

The Pond of Love

Part One

I knew I was risking my life by entering the thousands-of-years-old shrine, but I honestly didn't care. I would die happily if it meant I got to see inside. I couldn't help feeling as though this was the moment I had been waiting for my entire life. I spent seven years studying, and all of high school before that, just dreaming of the day I could come out here and see this world myself; see the rich history and the blinding brilliance of ancient Egypt. And here I was, walking through the shrine of Amon-Re, finally seeing what I'd always dreamed of.

I followed the line of explorers, five of us in total, all walking single-file down the narrow hallway. I carefully placed my foot in the same spot as the person in front of me. We weren't worried about setting off some booby-trap (although I felt very Indiana Jones thinking that) we were worried that the floors could be weak. Although a lot of Egyptian tombs do have "safeguards" to stop thieves, they're not traps and usually they don't even work. And, most of the time, the tombs were already raided by other Ancient Egyptians anyway. Just to be safe though, we only walked on the pre-tested stones, each of which had been marked with a chalk circle by those who tested them earlier.

Inside was similar to what I expected, but better in every way. While I knew it would be made of stone and was likely going to have hieroglyphs and art painted across the walls, I wasn't prepared for it to be so...magnificent. The ceilings were higher than I thought possible for a building still half-sunken in sand. The pigment on the walls told stories of the past, each growing more brilliant as we proceeded.

We believe Amon started as a small, local deity, until he somehow became entwined with the sun god, Re, forming Amon-Re. He became so powerful that Ancient Egyptians believed he was the King of Gods, and that all other gods were simply pieces of him, like small branches from a main tree.

I strained my eyes to see the stories highlighted by the beam of my headlamp. The stories on these walls...they told a different tale. They told the story of a silent god, a hidden god, who floated between worlds and offered aid to both humans and deities. He was a silent king, who ruled from the shadows. And it seemed like the Ancient Egyptians loved him.

Salma was somewhere near the front of the line, but I was glad to have some distance from her. Salma would have explained every rock to me if I'd been near her. I wasn't against learning (on the contrary, that's why I was working for Salma in the first place), but I just wanted to appreciate this. Take it all in.

After what felt like two minutes but was probably much longer than that, we made it to what I assumed was the centre of the shrine. The walls opened up slightly and our headlamps revealed a square room, with a dark hallway branching off to the right. Piles of gold and pots of fermenting fruits were stacked in front of a large statue, whose top half had crashed to the floor and broken long ago. The legs below were very male, but the head on the ground had ram-like horns. The group spread out cautiously. We all stepped lightly, worried about potential dangers or that we'd damage something historical.

I moved closer to the statue, whilst a couple spread out to peek at the hallway entrance. I could tell Salma was watching me—making sure her assistant didn't do anything stupid, probably—as she chatted to the team leader. I inspected the statue, looking for anything written or hidden at its feet. There was a pile of material placed neatly at the base of the statue. I knew what it was without touching it, and the small bones poking from the edge of it confirmed my suspicions. It was an infant. Possibly sacrificed to appease the gods, or maybe placed there because the parent's hoped it could be saved by Amon-Re.

I moved around the statue, inspecting the broken ram's head often used to depict Amon-Re. The head lay on one side and had a pair of large horns curling around it. It was amazing, looking at its large size and the small details carved into the stone and knowing it would have all been done by hand, piece by piece until this monument was made. I wonder how many people were left alive in the world that could make something like this? How many people can still carve marble like Michelangelo did? It couldn't be many.