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PART ONE
Tell-El-Amarna, Egypt, 1897
"Love is most nearly itself when here and now cease to matter." -T.S. Eliot
The first stars were lighting the night sky by the time Daniel arrived back at
the expedition house. He was late - hours late. Hardly a good impression to make
on General Hammond's friend and, more importantly, a potential sponsor for this
season's excavation.
Daniel found he couldn't fault General Hammond for withdrawing his patronage,
even though it left the excavation, and Daniel himself, in the most difficult of
circumstances.
The drought which had struck at many of America's western states was taking too
great a toll on the rancher's finances to allow him to continue to support what
was after all merely a cherished hobby of his late wife. His retrenchment was a
matter of necessity; he had his little granddaughters to provide for, as well as
his many employees in Texas. Daniel could only admire General Hammond's
generosity in sending this old military friend of his to Egypt in the
expectation he would provide for his pet archaeologist.
It touched him, to not be forgotten when the general had so many more important
matters to tend to.
He knocked politely on the sturdy wooden door to the house, dutifully extending
the requisite courtesy, but walking into the house without waiting for a
response, wryly aware his home for the past year could soon belong to the
stranger who was visiting it for the first and possibly the last time.
"Hello?" he called as he made his way down the narrow hallway opening out into
the central courtyard of the house. Squat and ugly when viewed from the
exterior, inside General Hammond had spared no expense to secure his comfort and
that of his guests. Amarna House boasted a large, well-appointed drawing room
which was open its entire length to a small, fragrant garden bordered by several
bedrooms, a bathroom, offices and storerooms, the kitchen and servants quarters.
"Colonel O'Neill?" Daniel called again as he walked cautiously from the garden
into the elegant drawing room. The dining table was set for two, the lamps
spilling light over the pianoforte and the comfortable furnishings, colour
glowing in the heaped cushions of rich silk, the fine woollen carpets underfoot
and the leather bindings of the many books.
Wondering if he would have to go to the lengths of searching through each room
of the house for the absent O'Neill, Daniel took a moment to polish the lenses
of his spectacles, ruefully aware his handkerchief was the only clean article he
possessed. He was already terribly late for his appointment, but perhaps there
was still time to wash and dress for dinner? Which would give more offence,
tardiness or...?
"You're late," a cool, authoritative voice drawled from immediately behind him.
Startled by the unheard approach, Daniel quickly turned to find himself facing a
tall, well-favoured man some years older than himself, with close-cropped roan
hair, deep brown eyes and a tanned, wintry face. "Sir?"
"Jack," Colonel O'Neill corrected, a blinding smile warming his face as Daniel
shyly shook his proffered hand. "Dr. Jackson?" he enquired. "Daniel," he amended
smoothly, taking the liberty of Daniel's given name before he could make a
reply, neatly hooking his elbow to lead him over to the gleaming mahogany dining
table.
Looking cautiously at Colonel O'Neill's casual attire - the man was in his
shirt-sleeves rather than evening dress - Daniel felt better about his own
disarray. General Hammond had been very particular in his ways; the influence of
his dear wife, he claimed. Daniel had always taken the time to change for dinner
on the all too frequent occasions he had been unable to convince his employer he
was more comfortable in his tent at the site, near the men. Regrettably, the
general's wish had been perforce Daniel's command.
As would this man's be, if he chose to invest in the excavation a little of the
fortune he'd reputedly made prospecting in the Klondike this past year.
"What did George tell you about me?" Jack gave vent to his curiosity as they
took their seats.
After a year in General Hammond's employ, Daniel was growing more used to the
directness of Americans than he had been, understanding there was no intent to
be rude or ill-mannered in the entirely too personal questions they were wont to
ask.
"He told me a little of your history," he replied politely. "In his letter of
introduction, General Hammond wrote that you were a Colonel with the 6th Cavalry
regiment and saw a great deal of action in the Indian Wars. In Arizona and
against the Apache tribe, I believe?"
Colonel O'Neill was staring at him, a distinct gleam of amusement in his eyes.
"You're very polite," he explained carefully in answer to Daniel's questioning
look. "Precise." The colonel continued to eye Daniel thoughtfully. "Proper."
"No more so than any gentleman," Daniel suggested diffidently, surprised by this
observation.
"I guess that explains it, then. I'm not a gentleman," Jack promised him with
surprisingly solemnity. "I'm a retired soldier and speculator. I have to warn
you that no one is more surprised than I am I got out of the Klondike with more
than the shirt on my back."
Though Daniel would be happy to enquire more closely into these fascinating
adventures when he got to know the colonel better and could be sure he wasn't
encroaching, he would certainly keep his silence on some of the exceedingly
personal matters General Hammond had tactfully disclosed to him in his letter.
It was the general's considered opinion Colonel O'Neill's risky speculative
venture in the great Gold Rush arose directly from the tragic death of his young
son more than a year ago. O'Neill's grief had been compounded when his wife sued
him for divorce after they had buried their son. General Hammond had been
careful not to allude to the specifics of this separation but instead urged his
young protégée to think kindly of his old friend. Daniel hoped he was fair
enough not to pre-judge a man but rather to accept him on his own merits. Such
suffering and loss were not a matter for idle speculation or gossip. Whether the
colonel chose to discuss his family or not, Daniel would of course respect his
wishes. In either respect, he would not allow it to become a matter for
contention between them.
If O'Neill was restlessly searching for meaning in a suddenly empty life, it
might explain his presence here in Egypt, though Daniel felt the more likely
explanation was simply his obligation to General Hammond, always a good and
generous friend and benefactor.
"George told me about you too," Jack hinted broadly to Daniel as the flustered
cook and her young daughter arrived to serve their dinner of delicately spiced
chicken and rice.
Daniel thanked Mina and Nadia politely, pleased to see the colonel graciously
extended them the same courtesy. It was an attention Daniel had found to be
beyond his countrymen, for whom servants did not exist as individuals. They were
mere tools and ciphers to most, regarded as property by some. He didn't have
wide experience of Americans or particular knowledge of their bloody history,
but after seeing some of his countrymen at their worst, Daniel could only
respect a nation founded on the tenet of equality.
"You're an orphan?" Jack went on with their discussion as soon as they were
alone again.
"My parents died when I was young," Daniel explained stiffly, unhappy with this
intrusive questioning and the circumstances forcing him to at least appear to
tolerate it. The loss of his parents was an intensely private matter he was
still after many years unable to discuss with even the most sympathetic
listener, a wound he wouldn't have touched, certainly not by a man he'd known
for a matter of minutes.
"I'm sorry," Jack told him, surprising him with an oddly knowing sincerity. "So
your grandfather sent you packing off to school?"
Daniel had no desire to discuss his grandfather's pragmatic arrangements for his
care with a man who would no doubt be as disapproving as General Hammond had
been of what he had deemed to be Daniel's 'abandonment'. The general's opinion
of English public schools was little better than his opinion of the long-absent
Nicholas Ballard. Daniel also had no wish to offend the colonel, at least not
before the man had committed himself to patronage of the excavation, so he chose
diplomatically to keep his silence. "I prefer not to discuss it, Colonel, if you
please," he disclaimed.
"Jack," Jack invited persuasively, choosing to let the matter of his question
rest. "We'll get along a damn sight better if you'll just bite the bullet and
call me Jack. After all, we're going to be spending a lot of time together," he
added with a grin.
"We are?" Daniel blurted out in a mortifying lapse of decorum, a rush of
relieved gratitude washing his face with heat.
"Sure we are!" Jack agreed heartily.
"You're interested in archaeology?" Daniel asked eagerly.
"I'm interested in-" Jack bit off his words abruptly. "In protecting my
investment in you," he went on smoothly after a moment.
"Oh," Daniel subsided, disappointed and uneasy. If the colonel didn't care for
history or the connection of modern man and culture to history and the distant
past, an individual of his intelligence and vigour would take little pleasure in
the mundane challenges of methodical excavation. If Daniel had had any
possibility of securing financing elsewhere, he would in all honour have refused
the colonel's patronage, for there would be little return for O'Neill personally
on his generous investment of time and funding.
A little disturbed by the inequity of their arrangement, Daniel found himself
hoping that in time Colonel O'Neill would change his opinion of Daniel's
vocation. After all, even the practical General Hammond had finally fallen
victim to the romanticism of archaeology.
Though he wasn't a man to need or seek out the company of others, nevertheless
Daniel was interested in the colonel, who was so very different from himself or
anyone he'd known. He was pleased at the opportunity to become acquainted with
O'Neill and his fascinating history, perhaps even in time to befriend him.
A nagging suspicion of selfishness on his part led him to speak up.
"I'm grateful for your generosity, of course," he began to give voice to his
concerns, choosing his words with care. "I do question, though, if your decision
isn't too hasty. Could we not agree that you will take the time to look at the
site with me, to decide whether archaeology interests you and is worthy of your
time?"
Jack smiled at him approvingly. "That's a fair offer, Daniel, and given your
circumstances here, a generous one. Still, I've given you my word and I won't
break it."
It was of course impossible to challenge a man's honour. Daniel was left with
nothing to say except his thanks.
"Plus, there's no way in hell I'm leaving a boy like you out here all alone with
a war raging right next door in the Sudan and civil unrest here," Jack informed
him tactlessly. "I don't know what Hammond was thinking."
"I beg your pardon?" Daniel snapped, honestly offended by this condescending
officiousness. "I'm not a child, Sir!" he argued indignantly.
"No-oo," Jack drawled, looking at him strangely, his eyes glinting amusement.
"I'm well aware of all your amazing academic accomplishments, Daniel. George was
full of them. If you can give me your word becoming a Doctor of Philosophy at
the ripe old age of twenty-three doesn't mean you spent your entire life with
your nose in a book, then I'm happy to take it."
Very annoyed he couldn't refute this aggravatingly pejorative judgement about
the place of reading in a man's life, Daniel chose instead to argue an arrogant,
unworthy assumption by his new employer. "My foreman Kasuf and his men are
completely loyal," he insisted heatedly. "The men of Abydos are experienced
diggers, much sought after for their invaluable expertise. I assure you there
has been no nationalist trouble in their encampment or in el Hagg-Qandil, the
village where I recruited the local workers whom Kasuf and his men oversee."
Jack shrugged dismissively, looking sceptical.
"I'd advise you to accept my judgement on this, Sir," Daniel insisted firmly.
"You know nothing of Arab culture, nothing of the people, their customs or their
language, their religions. The locals are desperately poor, their co-operation
and obedience to my orders guaranteed by the wage we - you," he caught himself
up awkwardly. "You can pay them."
"I have no respect for a man I have to buy."
Daniel gritted his teeth, prudently turning his attention to his neglected meal
until he could disguise his irritation at his arrogantly overbearing patron.
"We're very different, Daniel," Jack observed mildly after several minutes of
uncomfortable silence. "I've lived my life in the saddle, many miles from the
company of civilised folk, oftentimes bored to the point of insanity, sometimes
fighting: hard, bloody, brutal battles, no quarter asked or given. I don't trust
easily, but I promise you I do trust well."
"That's fair," Daniel conceded respectfully, grateful for Jack's honesty. He
could accept that war changed a man at the core, hardened him. It seemed he
would have to have faith in Jack's intelligence and wait for him to meet Kasuf
and the other Abydonians before the man would admit Daniel was right about them.
He understood now it would take time for Jack to trust any of them and he would
have to make allowances for a reticence the colonel had clearly learned through
long, perhaps bitter experience.
"If you seem like a boy to me, I guess it's because you're young and untried by
any standard I know," Jack observed thoughtfully. "A scholar who went straight
from school to read classics at that fancy university in Oxford, then came here.
To me, it looks like you've chosen to bury yourself in the past. You haven't
seen anything of the world, Daniel, you haven't lived."
"You mean I haven't killed," Daniel riposted, offended by the colonel's low
opinion of his worldliness but once again unsure how to counter the accusation
of naïveté, which seemed to occur with annoying regularity in any discussion of
the flaws in his character.
"Maybe," Jack admitted reluctantly.
"I would dispute willingness and ability to kill as a measure of any man, but
confess I'm not a pacifist," Daniel explained stiffly. "I don't blindly follow
any man or doctrine. Too much occurs that should be questioned but passes
unheeded, or worse, is accepted, too much power is assumed and wielded by those
who are the least accountable members of our society. I may be realistic about
my ability to effect change in others, but at the very least, I try my utmost to
not allow my beliefs to blind me to the truth. I can effect change in myself."
"George said you were an idealist."
"Perhaps." Daniel didn't care to be so neatly labelled, as if he were an exhibit
in a museum, any more than he cared to see himself or any person robbed of their
individuality by the unthinking narrowness and rigidity of others. It frustrated
him so few people seemed to share his feeling for the past. Were they not truly
the sum of all those who'd lived before them? Understanding of the past paved
the way to better understanding of the too often difficult present and a future
Daniel was sometimes moved to fear.
"I didn't say I fault idealism in a man," Jack reproved him. "You know, I'm not
sure I was ever as young as you are," he suggested insultingly, with a rueful
twinkle which failed to soften Daniel's ire. "Not when I grew up first in
Chicago, then later out on the frontier, in Minnesota, but even I'm proud to
admit it ideals founded my country." He smiled at Daniel. "I have to say it's a
real pleasant change not to have to apologise for my existence or my country's
ideals to an Englishman."
Daniel blinked at this sweeping condemnation.
"They're either weeping for the fate of the poor, ignorant savages we
slaughtered or demanding to know why we didn't slaughter every one of the
murdering heathen bastards when we had the chance," Jack explained helpfully.
"I don't have that kind of arrogance or hypocrisy," Daniel retorted
dismissively. "English history is more replete with opportunistic conquests,
imperialist slaughter and jingoistic rhetoric than with ideals. Pragmatism and
vainglory are a poisonous mix, hardly qualifying the English to judge the
actions of any other nation."
"George said I'd like you," Jack snorted amusedly.
Considering the barrage of criticism Daniel had been subjected to in the space
of a few minutes, he was forced to wonder how the colonel behaved towards those
he didn't like. "Thank you, Sir," he replied doubtfully.
"I know that to be on first name terms with you properly," Jack drawled with an
aggravatingly sarcastic emphasis, "I should have been introduced to you in your
cradle, but I'm insisting. Jack. Not Colonel, sure as hell not Sir, just Jack."
"Is that a diminutive for Jo-?" Daniel began.
"Jack!" Jack roared, goaded.
"Very well," Daniel conceded. "I prefer Dr. Jackson," he added innocently,
failing to resist the urge to annoy the col- Jack - just a little.
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind, Daniel." Jack attacked his meal with gusto
and a few bitter animadversions on the quality of cavalry rations. When he could
eat no more of the spiced rice, he collected up the bowl of fresh fruits and
drew Daniel over to the smallest of the several sofas placed about the room,
sitting comfortably shoulder to shoulder with him while they shared sweet
grapes.
"May I ask if you're aware of my professional reputation?" Daniel enquired
conscientiously, feeling honour-bound to ensure Jack was fully conversant with
all the pertinent facts before he handed over the funds.
"You may ask anything you like," Jack encouraged him, "but this time the answer
is no. What reputation?"
"Archaeology is a new science," Daniel replied enthusiastically. "My particular
interest is in philology. The science of language, its historical development,
the study of culture through ancient texts."
Jack looked at him politely.
"My studies have had occasion to bring me into conflict with other
philologians," Daniel confessed. "Also the Director of Antiquities." He
considered a number of somewhat tempestuous encounters in reflective silence for
a moment. "Both of them."
Jack choked slightly on his peach but waved an encouraging hand for Daniel to
continue with his narrative.
"Monsieur Loret appears as rigid and avaricious as his predecessor, Monsieur
Maspero. His concern is to cram the Bulaq museum full of artefacts without
thought to the consequences - the valuable evidence destroyed by what is
tantamount to vandalism," Daniel accused the absent Loret with more heat than
was strictly polite even with provocation. "Admittedly, M. Loret has cause for
concern with the cunning, persistent predations of the indefatigable Budge -
Keeper in the Department of Egyptian and Assyrian Antiquities at the British
Museum," he explained fluently. "The man has a wholly deserved notoriety for
buying or otherwise acquiring every blessed antiquity in the land which isn't
secured, smuggling them past the authorities and out of the country!"
Jack paused in his search for the best of the apples, looking suitably shocked.
"Budge appears unconcerned with the illegality, immorality or irresponsibility
of his actions."
"That rat bastard!"
Heartened by this colourful colloquial pronouncement, Daniel accepted several
juicy dates. "Such activities encourage the native dealers to continue to strip
tombs and dig sites of their artefacts, rendering moot attempts to deduce from
their placement and function insights into life and culture in the ancient
dynasties. Instead, important historical evidence is heaped in dusty glass cases
to be ogled by the credulous masses while M. Loret continues the sanctions
imposed by his predecessor. Native dealers and the villagers who supply them are
imprisoned and on occasion tortured for engaging in their illicit trade while
Budge proudly displays his spoils and accepts accolades for his scholarship he
has not earned," Daniel grimly informed Jack. "This trafficking benefits no one
but the museums, private collectors and Budge!"
"I take it you've discussed your views with Budge and Loret and the others?"
Jack asked sympathetically.
Self-consciously smoothing the dusty fabric of his trousers over his knees,
Daniel sighed.
"I can see where all this will make you real popular in Cairo," Jack remarked,
grinning at him.
Daniel was inclined to be philosophical. His alienation from many of his
influential peers had carried personal consequences he hadn't expected but had
learned in time to live with. "If you wish - that is to say, if you prefer a
scholar of note and sound reputation," he suggested with difficulty, finding
himself to be quite choked with mortification. "Any site which has been honoured
by Flinders Petrie's attentions would draw-"
"I'll stick with you, thanks," Jack hastily refused this generous sacrifice. "No
buried treasure?" he asked sadly.
"We are concerned with the application and refinement of scientific method in
excavation and the systematic documenting of evidence," Daniel rebuked him
repressively. "I hope this season to uncover artefacts which will shed light on
the reign of the elusive Khuenaten and his fascinating monotheistic religion. So
little is known of this man condemned by history as a heretic and failure, so
much of what is known is mere supposition, conjecture and sensationalism."
"Whoah, there!" Jack held up a firm hand. "Why don't we start with the basics,
huh? What's my contribution here?"
Daniel felt this was self-evident.
"Apart from the money," Jack acknowledged witheringly, a fugitive spark of
amusement in his dark eyes.
"Would it be fair to say you have no interest in archaeology, no experience of
excavation and no demonstrable aptitude in the application of scientific
method?" Daniel enquired politely.
"It would be," Jack decided after giving this some thought.
"General Hammond's visits to the excavation site were infrequent," Daniel
informed his patron suggestively.
"I'm used to commanding men in the field," Jack countered promptly.
Not my men, Daniel thought tartly. "Kasuf is a very experienced foreman," he
reminded Jack of their earlier discussion with quiet insistence. "He and his men
are from Abydos, the site of-"
"So I'll supervise you," Jack interrupted, smiling charmingly. "That way, you
can teach me everything I need to know to supervise everyone else."
Daniel had a number of comments he wished to make on the subject of Jack's
specious logic but refrained. He felt an introduction to the many glories of
Amarna would be more effective in achieving his aim of preventing Jack from
interfering in his excavation. Naturally, he needed to place the site in its
proper historical, cultural and theological context for his patron to fully
appreciate the worth of his donation to its study.
Where to begin?
"From the earliest of times, Egyptians believed in the immortality of the soul,
the indestructibility of the human personality," Daniel benignly lectured Jack.
"The Egyptian monarch or pharaoh was believed to be a God. He was an aspect of
the totality of power in society and in nature. In those early Egyptian
dynasties the land and the people were considered to be his property, controlled
by him through his priests, generals and agents."
Daniel paused just long enough for Jack to begin to think the lesson was over.
Then he went on.
"Early in the fourth millennium - before Christ - there were indications the
Egyptians tried to protect and preserve the physical remains of the dead and to
provide them for use after death, food, clothing, tools and other funerary
offerings. Such was the strength of their belief in the afterlife, elaborate
tombs and inspiring pyramids were constructed."
Daniel glanced at Jack to see how this was being received.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I've had one heck of a day!" Jack announced
heartily, rising smartly to his feet. "Let's say we turn in and pick this up
again at the breakfast table?" he suggested.
"I'll be travelling to the site in the cool before dawn breaks," Daniel informed
his employer amicably, pleased by how quickly he'd bored him. Well, not pleased,
precisely. He would infinitely have preferred Jack to be an enthusiast, someone
who would appreciate - share - his passion.
"I'll see you then," Jack said firmly, standing in front of Daniel until he too
perforce stood.
Daniel wanted to ask again why Jack was so interested in both financing and
participating in the excavation. Sadly, he didn't have the luxury of refusing
what he sensed was an act of charity rather than of genuine patronage. Thus far
the only thing to hold Jack's fleeting attention was Daniel himself. He puzzled
over this as they made their way through the fragrant flowers and bushes in the
garden, though he was no nearer to understanding Jack when the man bid him a
pleasant good night and left him at his bedroom door.
With his errant employer's likely impact on Kasuf, the Abydonians and the
orderly running of his excavation heavy on his mind, Daniel distractedly removed
his spectacles and stripped off his scuffed, heavy work boots and grubby
trousers, ruefully surveying the damage to his clothing. Mina was sure to scold.
For all its pleasures and excitements, excavation was fearfully hard on one's
wardrobe.
He poured some water into the china bowl set on top of his bureau, washed his
face, neck and hands thoroughly, then conscientiously brushed his teeth before
tumbling gratefully into the big, comfortable bed. It took him a few minutes
more to spread and tuck the mosquito netting, one task which could never be
neglected no matter how exhausted he was from the day's work. Daniel plumped his
pillow and lay down, intending to think how best to keep Jack occupied and out
of the way. He found himself distracted from plotting by the quiet sounds of
Jack moving around in the master bedroom next to his, not so tired, it seemed,
as he claimed.
Daniel was smiling over this when he fell asleep.
Jack stood silently, staring watchfully down at the slim, graceful form of the
sleeping boy, his outline blurred by the netting draped over the big brass bed.
Daniel was on his side, his long legs comfortably curled, an arm resting on the
curve of his narrow waist, a hand tucked neatly beneath the pillow, shining fair
hair spilling over his perfect face. The thin white shirt he still wore rode up
to bare enticingly a fine, muscular thigh, his smooth skin burnished by the
silvery light streaming in through the small window set high in the wall above
the bed.
Beautiful, beautiful boy, Jack thought, still stunned by the electric impact of
profound blue eyes, lighting with shy pleasure as they met his. He didn’t want
to believe he'd fallen in love so fast. At sight, for God's sake! It was easier
for him to think about how much he wanted to bed Daniel, wanted and needed it
badly, the unexpected, complicated surge of desire shaking him from his bitter,
hard-won inner balance.
Jack was starved for physical intimacy; it fuelled in part his restlessness, and
Daniel wouldn't be the first boy in his bed. He had lived too long on the
frontier and cared too little for isolation to be overly concerned with either
Christian condemnations or the expectations and damnations of others. He'd
learned long ago to take his pleasures where they came.
The rest, though, the shock of gladness, of feeling, of recognition, almost,
this was harder for him to explain away as anything but love. He was not used to
people touching him so deeply and no one he could remember had ever touched him
so quickly as Daniel.
A simple financial arrangement to help out an old, respected friend and
comrade-in-arms, then he moved on south to hunt, that was his plan. Always to
move. Jack had been terribly careless, Charlie had died because of him, Sara had
buried their boy and their marriage both, and he hadn't stopped moving since.
A friend - a lover - was the last thing he'd expected to make of George
Hammond's scholarly stray. He hadn’t been prepared to find a clever, passionate
idealist, filled with charm and gentleness. An innocent.
Jack had to be out of his mind to even contemplate seducing a shy,
straight-laced English virgin. He was still here though, quietly watching Daniel
sleeping as deep and heedless as a child. Willingly embracing his insanity.
He hadn't looked for this, not for being drawn so strongly to a boy. The sticky,
frustrated fumblings of his youth were nothing. They were a lifetime behind him,
literally a world away. Jack had grown into a man, and not always a good one,
but he'd never brought an unwilling or inexperienced partner to his bed. It was
only with his wife he'd sought more than the physical act. No one had been led
to expect or hope for anything more from him.
He had never thought to have so much feeling for someone his own sex.
A simple man, Jack felt it was right he should take time to be a friend to
Daniel, show him respect for his principles and the delight he took in his
sweet, serious nature. He would make it clear to Daniel there was a choice for
him here, if he could take it. It was the right and fair thing for a man to do
for his friend.
Only then would he teach Daniel to kiss, to touch, to take pleasure in loving as
no properly repressed, guilt-ridden English gentleman should. He would be
tender, opening Daniel up to love.
Unable to fathom the strength of his reaction to the boy, Jack stood staring
down at him a moment more, then left him in peace. There was a greedy ache low
in his gut it was too soon to share with him. Jack knew nothing of the boy's
heart, if Daniel could care for him the way he hoped, or even if he could as a
friend be receptive to Jack's desire for him.
Jack wanted everything he and Daniel could give each other, but his own hands
would have to do for now.
"Tell el-Amarna is the modern name given to the city of Akhetaten, built around
1350 BC by the Pharaoh Khuenaten. It was the heart of a sacred tract of ground
between Thebes and Memphis dedicated to the cult of the sun, the Aten," Daniel
said softly, standing close to Jack, staring up with shining eyes at the high
cliffs looming above them, surrounding the city.
Looking around at dryness and dust, Jack could only wonder at the vivid
imagination Daniel was gifted with, to be able to see so clearly in his mind's
eye a past buried deep in the dirt. He was beginning to understand what it was
that drove the staid English to this mania for all things Egyptian. Under all
their prim, proper behaviour and stuffy manners, people like Daniel Jackson were
romantics.
"Khuenaten strove to unite all the people of Egypt in worship of Aten as the
only true creative force in the universe," Daniel interrupted Jack's musings. "Aten
represented both the God or the spirit of the sun and the solar disk itself," he
explained.
His indulgence rapidly evaporating, Jack gritted his teeth against the
relentless tide of facts Daniel seemed to consider essential for him to commit
to memory before he would allow him to even set foot in the dig proper. He
hadn't been lectured so ruthlessly since his days at West Point, which he
figured was exactly what young Dr. Jackson had in mind. He didn't know why
Daniel was so set on keeping him away from the dig, but it only fuelled his own
determination to stay right by his side.
"Khuenaten didn't ask his people to take their God on faith, but rather to trust
the visibility, tangibility and undeniable reality of the sun."
Suppressing a sigh with difficulty, Jack had to admit Daniel was succeeding in
making him feel every minute of his advanced age. He'd always believed he'd
earned the respect of the officers and men under his command. Green ensigns,
troopers and lieutenants of Daniel's age who looked up to him and strove to
emulate the tall tales of his exploits the veterans told around the camp fires
or as they whiled away long days in the barracks.
Dr. Jackson didn't hang on Jack's every word or look to him for approval. He
hectored Jack just as he or any seasoned sergeant would have done with some
tenderfoot who lacked the sense to come in out of the noonday sun. Daniel's
wilfulness and stubborn independence irked Jack considerably even if he did have
a sneaking admiration for those very qualities in a man. In fact, if Jack didn't
have his heart set on the boy, he'd be of a mind to teach him a lesson or two in
respect for his superiors.
He looked around the small expedition camp without enthusiasm. "I've spent too
long under canvas," he remarked idly, and was surprised once again by the ready
understanding which seemed so much a part of who Daniel was.
"I think that's why General Hammond built the house," Daniel confided
tentatively, as if he expected a rebuff. "He spent too many nights apart from
his dear wife and family when he was with the army and again when he was on the
trail with his cattle. He likes to have his people around him."
Jack knew and shared that same need but didn't feel this was the time or the
place to discuss it. One night, maybe, when he had Daniel to himself. The boy's
sensitivity was very attractive to Jack, maybe too much so. Even with his wife,
there'd always been a need to explain what he meant which made the effort to
talk about himself too much to sustain. It had been easier on him to keep his
silence and listen to Sara talking of her many small, domestic concerns.
Charlie's schooling, the gophers eating their way through her kitchen garden,
whether to buy the blue cloth or the green for her Sunday dress.
He guessed he hadn't given Sara much of a choice, when he wouldn't talk about
the hard, clear memories that robbed him of sleep night after night in the all
too brief times he was home with her. He'd hurt Sara with his silence, he knew
that. She'd wanted to help him and couldn't, understood she wasn't allowed, that
he set her at a distance. There was too much bad in the man he was, too much
wrong he'd done. Jack had been loath to rob Sara of her peace and her pride in
him, so he'd held his tongue. It was easier on both of them.
Harder memories than those of war had stolen his sleep since. His grief at
losing Charlie and then Sara too had near killed him, but the passage of time
had blunted his fury and self-hate, his memories even, forcing him slowly to
live and feel again. Jack wondered if that was what this was, this strange rush
of feeling for Daniel. A natural thing, quickly felt and maybe as quickly
recovered from. He couldn't know if all the things he was feeling would endure.
"Jack?" Daniel prompted him delicately. "Sir?"
Restlessly, Jack prowled away from Daniel without answering, leaving him
floundering and flushing at the snub, hovering uncertainly outside the large,
neat tent he used as his office. Moodily Jack stared around at the arid plain,
the broken-down ruins and the stark cliffs towering on all sides, the sky
streaking with gorgeous colours above. Sometimes, it felt to him as if he'd
spent most of his life trying to beat into submission a land and people who
didn't want him and weren't worth near what they cost him.
"Where is everyone?" he asked impatiently, consciously shaking off his
preoccupation as he came back to the tent to follow Daniel's sensible example
and put on his Stetson, looking strangely exotic next to Daniel's sober
broad-brimmed straw hat.
"Kasuf and the men are at prayer," Daniel explained quietly, looking alertly
towards the Abydonian encampment.
Jack stole a moment to admire him, unseen. His archaeologist wore tight-fitting
khaki breeches tucked into stout brown leather boots which reached to his knees,
a collarless white shirt with sleeves rolled - daringly, he imagined, for Daniel
- to the elbow, beneath a trim khaki waistcoat. He looked so good, his slim form
so perfectly framed, Jack was fighting a terrible urge to just take hold of him
and kiss some sense into him.
"La E Laaha Il Lal Laa Muhammadur Rasul Lullah," Daniel quoted respectfully.
"There is no God besides Allah, and Muhammad, peace be upon him, is the
messenger of God." Daniel came forward to stand at Jack's side, looking
earnestly across at him. "The Abydonians are Muslims, Jack, the villagers I
hired from el-Hagg Quandil are Copts, Orthodox Christians. The two faiths are
allied in their battle to win independence and democracy in Egypt, but the
alliance is at all times fragile, especially out here, so far from the city, its
police and politicians. The Copts have suffered a history of oppression,
violence - even systematic pogroms - dating back to 65 AD. There have been
frequent clashes and even outright rebellion against the dominant Muslims. The
tensions are always there, simmering beneath the surface."
"I take your point," Jack snapped in justifiable irritation. "It could take me
months to understand all of this. It's not like I never had to do it before,
Daniel. How easy do you think it was keeping the peace among the Apache?"
Colour rose in Daniel's cheeks. "I apologise," he said at once, his soft,
refined voice stifled by yet another snub. "It wasn't my intent to embarrass
you, only to inform."
Already regretting his sharpness, Jack turned to face Daniel and took hold of
his shoulders. "If you want to help me, Daniel, don't keep telling me what I
don't know and can't do," he ordered in a friendly voice, finding it no hardship
at all to gaze into those brilliant blue eyes, soft now with apology behind the
lenses of the absurd spectacles. "Show me what I can."
"We're excavating the Great Temple," Daniel confessed excitedly, his handsome
face lighting up as he took Jack at his word. "The deal Budge struck with the
antiquities dealers stripped Amarna of its famous Tablets a decade ago, but
Flinders Petrie returned to survey the site in 1892. He was able to methodically
excavate the Royal Palace, as you can see." Daniel pulled away from Jack to
gesture energetically towards the low-slung ruins.
Jack stared obediently at the heap of broken-down walls and trenches, trying to
look as if it made sense to him, as if he was interested in what he was seeing.
He wished for a moment he could see what Daniel saw, the possibilities of the
past, he guessed, not the present realities of dull dirt and digging. He was a
pragmatist, though, a man who dealt in oftentimes harsh reality. It was easier
for him to express cynicism than idealism.
"Mr. Petrie found a very beautiful fresco," Daniel went on, his enthusiasm
muting when Jack didn't reply. "The Princesses Fresco. The style of Amarna art
is," he glanced quickly at Jack. "Is unimportant for now," he said more quietly
still.
"The men are coming," Jack commented, aware his lack of response had
disappointed Daniel and he'd lost an opportunity to win his confidence which the
boy wouldn't rush to offer him again.
"Ahlan wa sahlan, Dr. Jackson!" a joyful voice called.
"Ahlan bik, Kasuf," Daniel greeted the man warmly as his shoulders were clasped
and a kiss ceremoniously placed on each cheek.
Jack found himself being scrutinised by a man many years older than him, with a
strong, dignified face and thoughtful dark eyes. Kasuf wore both beard and
turban, with loose flowing robes which looked far more cool and practical than
Daniel's formal attire or even Jack's comfortable old denims.
"Kasuf speaks excellent English," Daniel praised his foreman, looking
meaningfully at Jack. "Kasuf, this is Colonel O'Neill, our patron. He takes the
place of Hammond-effendi and is his friend, in his trust."
"Col-o-nel," Kasuf enunciated Jack's rank carefully.
Mindful of Daniel's quick, frowning glance, Jack smiled and extended a hand to
Kasuf. "O'Neill," he suggested.
"O'Neyer," Kasuf repeated.
Good enough, Jack thought.
"Kasuf's son Skaara is among the best of our men, Jack," Daniel told him, his
arms absently crossing to wrap around himself as he stood off to the side,
keenly watching all that went on between Kasuf and Jack.
"I look forward to meeting him," Jack said warmly.
"You share Hammond-Effendi's great love of our past?" Kasuf asked him, sinking
down to squat on his haunches.
When Daniel smoothly copied Kasuf, Jack decided they weren't likely to get any
real work done before noon and obediently hunkered down to parley.
"I don't," Jack responded readily, refusing to insult either Daniel or his
foreman with an outright lie. "But I begin to understand the fascination," he
added warmly, smiling benignly at his archaeologist. He had his reward as the
tight lines at Daniel's mouth smoothed out. "I'm willing to learn," he promised.
"That is good," Kasuf praised him. "Listen to Doctor Jackson," he warned Jack
sternly. "To me and to my men also. That is better."
"I was a soldier. We always learned by watching the veterans," Jack replied
easily.
"You have fought a great many battles?" Kasuf asked, his dark eyes bright and
inquisitive.
Jack was amused to note Daniel wasn't entirely immune to the romance of the
Cavalry either. Eyes eager, he was leaning so far forward, Jack was surprised he
didn't fall on his face. "It seems I've fought half my life," he replied
straight-forwardly, showing Kasuf that courtesy. "Not always winning."
"Did you have respect for your enemy?"
"I was taught it," Jack admitted dryly.
"In these battles you lost?"
Jack nodded eloquently. "Also in the way the Indians led their lives, their laws
and customs, the way they and the land were one. It was part of them, in their
blood." He looked at Daniel as he spoke, enjoying the spark of admiration he
saw. "The land we drove them off."
There was no point prettying up a bloody, ugly conflict, not to himself when
he'd lived it, as a much a part of him as the land was to the Indians, and
certainly not to a young man who cared very much for the truth. Having Daniel's
respect mattered to Jack, more so maybe because it would be granted to him for
the man he was, not for the things he'd done.
"It is man's way to covet and to take that which he covets," Kasuf commented
cynically.
A truer word was never spoken, Jack thought, unable to resist stealing another
swift glance at Daniel. He wondered if a better, less bitter man would have left
the boy in his innocence, if it was weakness or strength to not want Daniel to
be so alone, so closed off to other people.
"We go now to the dig, Doctor?" Kasuf asked Daniel.
"We do," Daniel agreed, rising gracefully to his feet.
"These Copts are lazy," Kasuf told Jack disapprovingly as he began to lead them
towards the cliffs. "Always they have something to complain about."
"The villagers are good workers," Daniel contradicted with a weariness
suggesting he and Kasuf argued about this particular sore point all the time.
"They work well when I am there to watch over them," Kasuf retorted superbly,
calmly taking the credit.
Behind Kasuf's proud, rigid back, Daniel grimaced at Jack. "They're too poor and
too much in need of the wages we can pay them to give anything but
satisfaction," he explained quietly.
Kasuf snorted. "How many times have the head man and that priest of theirs come
to you with their bleeding hearts and their tales of trouble and misery in the
village, Doctor Jackson?" He sniffed disparagingly. "Many times."
Jack looked interestedly at Daniel.
"How many times have I agreed to pay them more than what was agreed?" Daniel
riposted, apparently feeling he had a point to make to Jack here.
"Sometimes you show the good sense Allah gave you," Kasuf admitted grudgingly,
"and not the soft heart."
"I think those were two insults disguised as compliments," Jack decided,
grinning as Daniel scowled malignantly at the back of Kasuf's turbaned head.
"The young master is a great scholar," Kasuf pronounced smoothly, "but he would
try the patience of Mohammed himself."
The foreman and his young master continued to bicker amicably as they led Jack
towards the gathering men, the ground ahead of them already beginning to dance
and shimmer as the sun rose to beat down on them with almost physical force.
Jack took Kasuf's point. He was making his esteem and affection for Daniel clear
for Jack to see. It was a none too subtle warning that if Jack crossed Daniel,
if he hurt the boy, he would have Kasuf to deal with. Jack wouldn't fault the
man's protectiveness, however inconvenient it might prove to be. His private
affairs with Daniel were not Kasuf's concern, but to keep the foreman on his
side, he would make it clear he had Daniel's best interests at heart.
This was the truth, after all. Jack had no intention of hurting Daniel, just of
helping him to live a little.
Reflecting on the very brief time he'd known the colonel, Daniel found himself
unable to reconcile the illogic of seeming to want Jack to be near him yet at
the same time away from the excavation. Daniel was reluctant to bore him, or
perhaps reluctant to see Jack bored by the endeavour consuming his every waking
moment. He couldn't afford to be distracted, but wasn't sure quite what it was
that distracted him so readily, if it was Jack's larger-than-life, consuming
presence or simply his own innate response to the man.
Securing Jack's good opinion seemed to matter to Daniel more than he felt it
should. His interest in Jack was merely a personal matter, after all. He would
readily admit to being drawn to the man and hoped in time to make a friend of
him. He considered General Hammond a friend, yet his presence or absence had
never disrupted the dig or Daniel's ability to concentrate. Jack had the power
to affect both and Daniel was at a loss to understand why this should be.
His priority should be the orderly running of his dig, not the enjoyment he took
in Jack's stimulating company. He seemed to be having difficulty keeping this in
mind.
Aware his attention had drifted shamefully while Jack stood good-naturedly
fahddling in the time-honoured tradition with the intrigued Abydonians gathered
closely around him and Kasuf, Daniel decided it was past time to get the men to
work. He issued a series of brisk orders, very conscious of having Jack's
fascinated eye on him as his men cheerfully went to do his bidding, laughing and
enjoying a joke or two as they went. Daniel hoped Jack took note of the men's
good spirits. It was as he'd stated. There was no unrest among the Abydonians,
and where they led, the cowed locals followed.
"I find the presence of an Abydonian man in each sector of the excavation
steadies the unskilled work-parties from the village," he offered in
explanation.
Kasuf bowed, gratified by Daniel's merited praise. "I will check on that boy of
mine," he suggested, waiting for Daniel's quick nod of approval. "He leads the
men who are excavating the King's House this season," Kasuf informed Jack, his
casual tone imperfectly concealing his pride over the honoured position granted
to Skaara by Daniel, despite his youth.
"You are both a great help to me," Daniel acknowledged at once, unstinting in
his approval. "I could not be without you, not when we have so much to
accomplish this season."
"Then it is best we begin now, young master," Kasuf chuckled, blandly ignoring
the active lead he'd taken in the extended grilling of their exotic new American
patron. "You wish me to continue the search for the temple walls this day?"
"Please." Daniel turned to direct an assessing stare to the south. "Continue the
trenches in the sectors to the north, Kasuf," he decided.
Kasuf inclined his head in ceremonious acknowledgement.
"There is a quartzite stele - still standing! - which I believe forms part of a
great temple to Aten," Daniel enthusiastically explained for Jack's benefit.
"It's inscribed with ancient hieroglyphics which describe in detail the
programme of food offerings in the temple."
Jack seemed quite impressed by this revelation.
Taking heart, Daniel leavened the exciting news with a caution. "However, my men
and I have been unable to locate the boundaries of the temple. The only
structure we've uncovered near the stele appears to be a pen, perhaps for
livestock which were sacrificed to Aten. I found coprolites," he added vaguely.
"I confess this site is challenging my assumptions about temple construction,
for it appears to be unlike any other discovered."
"How so?" Jack asked encouragingly.
"There is great uniformity in design," Daniel replied readily, smiling at this
evidence he was beginning to engage his patron's interest. "With each temple
fronted by a massive pylon gateway leading into an open peristyle courtyard
where the common people would congregate to worship, giving them a sense of
belonging to the temple complex. The outer courtyard serves a transitional
purpose, forming an interface between the outside world and the sanctified
regions deeper within the temple. The commoners weren't allowed to know anything
of the religious mysteries and so could penetrate no further into the temple.
The open peristyle courtyard would lead into a hypostyle hall, with repetitions
of the courtyards added behind that over time."
He decided to leave detailed explanations of peristyle, hypostyle and other
glories of ancient Egyptian architecture until later, perhaps at dinner. The
type of column affected the purpose as well as the construction and style of
each courtyard. There was so much to discuss, so much for Jack to learn which
would be of help if he was determined to assist in the excavation. Daniel didn't
want to tell him too much at once!
"We haven't found any structures near the stele," Daniel announced, cutting to
the heart of their difficulty.
"So we dig," Kasuf observed dryly.
"There is an avenue which leads past the palace from the small Aten temple we
excavated last season." Daniel gestured sweepingly from north to south as he
spoke, mapping the imaginary road for Jack. "The small temple naturally is
oriented towards the east," he mused, frowning. "The greater temple must share
the orientation."
"Naturally?" Jack questioned, abruptly finding his voice again.
Daniel looked at him inquisitively.
"Why is it natural for the temple to face the east?" Jack elaborated patiently.
"Khuenaten's faith was based on worship of the Aten, the sun disk, and the sun-"
"Rises in the East," Jack chimed in to give the answer in tandem with Daniel,
breaking off to smile at him. "That almost makes sense to me," he grinned.
"You're exploring to the north because?" he asked invitingly.
"Because Petrie uncovered a number of lesser structures and dwellings to the
south," Daniel explained brightly, happy he truly was engaging Jack's interest.
"The Pharaohs lived deliberately remote from the ordinary people, distant
figures of worship and adulation to their subjects."
"Hence, north," Jack signified his understanding.
Staring at the palace, Daniel made a decision. "I'm going to map out additional
sectors to survey closer to this road, Kasuf. I want you to concentrate the men
on digging there when I'm done."
Kasuf frowned heavily over this.
"I fear we must abandon our preconceptions of New Kingdom temple architecture,"
Daniel proposed to his foreman and his patron. "Finding the stele still standing
naturally led me to first survey the surrounding area," he explained. "I begin
to question that. The placement of this road is significant, for the Great
Palace, the King's House and the Small Temple all border it. Each of these
structures possesses huge courtyards, Kasuf. Perhaps the great temple will too."
"That is so," Kasuf admitted.
"Khuenaten encouraged his people to worship him, not the Aten direct. The royal
family kept their distance, even to the extent of building a bridge to connect
the palace and the King's House across the road." Daniel turned excitedly to
stare at the palace ruins. "Petrie's excavation suggested a gate here in the
centre of the north wall," he observed thoughtfully. "It was in line with an
identical opening in the inner courtyard wall and in the main structure of the
palace. Perhaps the Pharaoh and his family had a processional route to the
temple?"
Kasuf and Jack stood shoulder to shoulder, respectfully and somewhat
apprehensively watching Daniel eagerly hypothesising.
"Yes! The road!" Daniel ordered decisively. "We'll begin with the area which
would form the axis for where the two buildings to meet, temple and palace."
"And here I was thinking you were just poking around in the dirt in the hopes of
finding something," Jack suggested provocatively, with an eloquent look at the
scenes of controlled chaos before them.
Kasuf snorted unkindly and left his young master to fend for himself.
"My men and I are methodically surveying the site, yes," Daniel informed Jack
with freezing emphasis on 'methodical'. He turned to lead his aggravating patron
towards the men working a little to the north of them. "There are no maps or
charts of the ancient city to aid our progress, so we must draw up our own maps
as we work." It occurred to Daniel that this was something he did need to
explain to Jack, as it was a simple enough process in which he could usefully
assist. "I divide the area to be surveyed into a grid. The corners of each
square in the grid are assigned a unique reference which is applied to both the
site map and to any artefacts recovered. The work-parties are allocated
systematically to dig test trenches in each of the grids. This way, I have a
complete record of all activity and findings on the site."
A West Point graduate, Jack had no difficulty in following the logic of this.
"Thus far, I've found the city to be buried beneath a thin layer of sand and
rubble, easily accessible. However, we must proceed carefully as the buildings
were constructed not of stone, but of shoddy sun-dried mud bricks."
"Which is why I don't see much of anything," Jack remarked, grinning at Daniel.
"The city was built quickly because Khuenaten wanted a virgin site, one which
had never been dedicated to the worship of any other God in the Egyptian
pantheon. He challenged the might of Amen-Re and his priests, but he failed to
win the people over to worshipping him in place of their gods. Even here, the
seat of Aten's power, Petrie found inscriptions to Amen-Re," Daniel explained,
slightly defensive on behalf of his site and the year of back-breaking,
immensely rewarding work he, Kasuf and the men had expended on Amarna. "His city
of Akhetaten was torn down after Khuenaten's death, excised from the land as if
it never existed."
Jack ambled willingly along at Daniel's side, looking about him with fresh eyes.
At least, Daniel hoped so.
"Why the urgency?" Jack asked at last. "You said you had too much to do this
season," he reminded Daniel.
"There is a momentum to an excavation, Jack," Daniel confessed with a sigh. "The
site will be overrun with a veritable plague of tourists when the comforts and
entertainments offered in Cairo begin to pall. They strip away artefacts as if
they have every right to them, destroying all I'm trying to accomplish here. How
can I learn more about the lives of these ancient people if I can't see what
they touched with their own hands?"
"You expect me to answer that?" Jack asked cautiously after a brief, pregnant
pause.
"No." Daniel's lips twitched at Jack's gusty sigh of relief, playfully
exaggerated for his benefit. "So many of the earliest archaeological expeditions
were focused on what could be retrieved for museums and the private collections
of the aristocratic patrons sponsoring the excavations," he complained bitterly.
"Buried treasure?" Jack interpolated.
"Exactly." It was Daniel's turn to sigh. "So much has been lost or stolen away,
Jack. Commonplace articles such as pottery are discarded as detritus instead of
being studied in the place they are found in order to begin to frame our
understanding of the daily lives of these ancient Egyptians. The archaeologist
is also in competition with the locals, who will invariably attempt to strip any
discovery of its valuables to sell to unscrupulous antiquities dealers."
"Is that what you meant by the Abydonian men being a steadying influence on the
locals?" Jack enquired thoughtfully. "They're not just supervising the work of
the locals but the people themselves."
"Precisely so," Daniel agreed, pleased by this continuing evidence of Jack's
ready understanding. "Any significant discoveries will have to be secured and
guarded while I record and study them."
"Why don't I just hire more staff?" Jack suggested jovially.
"You can't," Daniel denied hastily, colouring.
Jack raised an arrogant eyebrow. "I can afford a few extra pairs of hands to
help us - you - out," he dryly corrected Daniel.
"I wasn't commenting on your financial circumstances, Jack," Daniel miserably
corrected his patron, his face flaming. "I mean you literally cannot hire anyone
to assist me in the excavation," he announced with flat finality. He felt some
kind of explanation was called for but the truth was so mortifying he found
himself hesitating.
"Daniel?" Jack drawled his name with a certain insistence.
Daniel sighed mournfully. "They won't work with me."
| Part 1 | Part 2 |
Part 3 | Part 4 |
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