‘And that ties them to the Mahdi as well, especially Gordon,’ Aysha said. ‘Gordon was a real maverick, an iconoclast, not very good at taking orders, something he shared with Kitchener. But in Gordon’s case his iconoclasm extended to his religious views as well. The evangelical movement liked to claim him as one of their own, to see him as a devout crusader who had gone to Khartoum to confront the Islamist threat, but in truth that was far from Gordon’s own attitude. His view of religion was very inclusive, and his focus was on the common tradition from which Islam and Judaeo-Christian beliefs sprang: the same God, many of the same prophets, a similar take on the idea of a messiah. He knew that the Mahdi had visions of Jesus as well as of Muhammad, and that he shared Gordon’s fascination with the Old Testament prophet Isaiah. And both men would have had an interest in Moses, and the origin of the idea of the one God.’
‘Which brings us neatly back to Akhenaten,’ Jack said. He pulled a small paperback book out of the side pocket of his combat trousers and tossed it to Hiebermeyer. ‘Have you ever had a go at reading that?’
Hiebermeyer looked at the cover and raised his eyes knowingly. ‘Moses and Monotheism, by Sigmund Freud. Yes, I have attempted this. A great deal of psychobabble, but the kernel of it contains some sound ideas.’
Jack grinned. ‘I had a look at it on the plane on the way here; I’m glad I’m not the only one who struggled with it.’ He turned to Costas. ‘Freud was putting his own particular spin on the well-established theory that the pharaoh of the Old Testament Book of Exodus was Akhenaten, and that it was he who was associated with Moses and the idea of the one God. This theory gained real bite during the late Victorian period when archaeologists began to understand more about the cult of the Aten, the sun god Akhenaten tried to foist on Egypt at the expense of all the old gods. Because this vision of one God happens to Moses in the Bible as well, Freud toyed with the notion that the two men were really one, that Moses was Akhenaten. Personally I’d discard all that in favour of what you actually read in the Bible, which seems a perfectly plausible picture of a pharaoh and a Hebrew slave sharing the same vision.’
The baby cried, and Aysha quickly undid the cords and passed him to Hiebermeyer, who put down the book and began feeding him with the bottle she gave him, sitting awkwardly but with a beaming smile on his face. ‘I agree with Jack. We’re talking about real people, not some kind of mystical union.’
Costas grinned at him. ‘You’re a hands-on kind of guy, aren’t you?’ The baby coughed, spraying milk over Hiebermeyer’s face and neck, and Costas stiffened, looking past Hiebermeyer’s shoulder. ‘Can you handle a camel as well?’
Hiebermeyer tried to wipe his face on his sleeve, while shoving the bottle back in the baby’s mouth. ‘What do you mean, a camel?’
‘I mean, a camel.’ While they had been talking, the camel that they had first seen from the Toyota had loped over and was now craning its neck down so that its face was directly behind Hiebermeyer, its jaws chewing from side to side and its hooded eyes looking out indifferently, apparently disconnected entirely from the scene. Suddenly its tongue came out and wrapped itself around Hiebermeyer’s face, drooping down over his chest to lick up the milk and then withdrawing again. The animal licked its lips contentedly and backed off with a sigh. Costas guffawed, and Hiebermeyer spluttered, trying to wipe his face again while still holding the baby. Aysha quickly took Ahren from him, and Hiebermeyer got up and stumbled towards an open water barrel behind them, dunking his head inside and shaking it vigorously before returning, sitting this time a good few metres away from the camel. He blinked and wiped away the water, then eyed Costas. ‘Watch it, Kazantzakis. Next time it’ll be you.’
‘That camel’s become the expedition mascot,’ Aysha said. ‘The locals say it’s descended from a camel that was left here by a British officer during the Nile expedition, and that it’s still waiting for him to return. So we feel kind of sorry for it. And it’s taken a particular liking to Maurice.’
‘So I can see,’ Costas said, grinning at Jack.
‘I think it’s time you earned your keep as godfather,’ Hiebermeyer said. He went over to Aysha, carefully took the baby from her and gave him to Costas, whose expression had changed to one of frozen horror. Aysha passed him the bottle, and they all watched for a moment as the baby fed contentedly, his eyes closed.
‘You look as if you were made for it,’ Aysha said, then turned to Hiebermeyer. ‘Have you remembered our visitors?’
Hiebermeyer snorted with annoyance and looked at his watch. ‘I could do without them. When Jack and Costas have gone to kit up, I have to get to the excavation on the other side of the river and make sure everything’s shipshape there too.’
Costas looked dubiously at the river. ‘How do you get there? Swim? Watch out for crocodiles.’
Hiebermeyer shook his head. ‘We took a page out of the 1884 expedition. We rigged a cable across the river just like the ship’s hawsers used by the Royal Naval contingent to haul whaleboats up the Nile. One of those pictures from the Illustrated London News shows a cable laid across those two jutting rocks that formed the narrowest point of the cataract, now completely submerged. I use the one we set up to pull a boat over the pool below us to the other side.’
‘Who’s coming exactly?’ Jack asked.
‘We’re expecting a visit from the Sudanese Ministry of Culture. It’s a scheduled inspection, and I welcome that. Our team here is almost entirely Sudanese and I’d love to see this develop into a permanent programme. Ever since the Aswan dam construction this area has been written off by archaeologists assuming that the interesting sites have all been inundated, but as you can see, there’s a lot still to be found on higher ground above the river. Perhaps the programme could have IMU backing.’
‘I can certainly propose it to the board of directors,’ Jack said. ‘Especially if our dive produces good results.’
‘What I’m apprehensive about is the new guy they’re bringing with them. He’s been specially appointed to increase awareness of recent Sudanese history, especially the Mahdist period. As a historian, I have a lot of sympathy with the idea. The Mahdi was an extraordinary character, and the way in which the Sudanese people rose up in support of him, mainly fighting for their own independence from foreign interference rather than out of religious fanaticism, should be looked on positively as a basis for nation-building today. God knows, this place needs it.’
‘Has there been any progress yet?’ Jack said.
‘Things got off to a bad start when Kitchener desecrated the Mahdi’s tomb after the Battle of Omdurman in 1898; from then until the end of the Anglo-Egyptian regime in 1956, the Mahdist era was not exactly a focus for celebration. Even the period of Gordon’s rule quickly passed out of visible history, because there was so little left to look at and a great desire to sweep away the horror of that time and look ahead. The only significant building to survive the Mahdist destruction of Khartoum, the palace where Gordon was holed up, was demolished after the British returned in 1898. The only substantial other survivals are two of the river steamers that he used to make contact with the advance force of the British on the Nile. The Bordein was restored in 1935, the fiftieth anniversary of Gordon’s death, and was something of a tourist attraction until it fell into disrepair after the British left. One of the new appointee’s first jobs has been to oversee its restoration. He wants it to appear as it did when the Mahdi ruled Khartoum and took over the steamers for his own use.’