been the first to speak with the one god. Legend also told that the one god had promised Abraham’s progeny a return to their tribal lands in the north. So Moses convinced the elders that the time of the prophecy had arrived. And under the cover of darkness, the Israelites abandoned their villages and rendezvoused with Moses at the Sinai.”
“And the exodus began,” she muttered.
Cohen nodded and his nervous eyes began scouting the shrine. He waved a couple of the robed men closer.
Cohen managed to chuckle. “Those were not Akhenaton’s armies that pursued Moses and the Israelites. Those soldiers were dispatched from Memphis by Akhenaton’s coregent, Smenkhkare—a malevolent schemer who supported the priests of Amun, a snake who had even had an affair with Akhenaton’s wife, Nefertiti, and fathered her son.”
“
“That’s right. But that beautiful, iconic Egyptian queen was a very treacherous woman.” His eyes pinched tight. “With six daughters and no heir to his throne, Akhenaton had been so elated to have a son, he never suspected his wife’s infidelity.”
Cohen considered stopping here but felt compelled to finish the story. After all, the woman deserved to understand the necessity of what was to happen next.
“But Nefertiti’s ambitions had only just begun,” said Cohen. “After Moses successfully fled Egypt, Nefertiti conspired with Smenkhkare to kill her husband by poisoning. Smenkhkare then attempted to erase Akhenaton’s name from dynastic history—the deepest insult to an Egyptian pharaoh. For in the remembrance of the name, the spirit lived on. Akhenaton’s new capital city was abandoned, his cartouches scratched off temples and tombs . . .” He sighed. “And to honor Smenkhkare and restore honor to the priests of Amun, Nefertiti changed her son’s name from Tutankhaten, ‘the living image of Aten,’ to Tutankhamun, ‘the living image of Amun.’ ”
This took a moment to sink in. “Wait. You mean King Tut?”
Cohen nodded. “And only a year after murdering her husband, Nefertiti poisoned Smenkhkare too, so that Tut’s true paternity would remain a secret. Naturally the boy inherited the throne in Thebes. Then Tut became Nefertiti’s pawn,” he scoffed. “God’s retribution eventually did come, though it took almost a decade. The priests of Amun turned against Tut and his manipulative mother. Both were assassinated. An ironic twist of fate, wouldn’t you say?”
Charlotte didn’t answer, though the story was indeed reminiscent of a Sophoclean tragedy.
“Without the treasures of Aten, however, even the priests of Amun could never return the kingdom to its past glory. Egypt was never to rise again.”
“And how do you know all this?” she had to ask.
“The most profound knowledge is not found in books, Charlotte. That is why legacies are so vital to humanity. The written word deceives. The most awesome truths—the most
Now she was sensing that Cohen’s patience had run out. But she needed to try to keep up the charade. She pointed to the glyphs. “And what does all this say?”
“That is the story of God,” he reluctantly replied, more abrupt now. “The origins of the universe and creation. It is also a warning given by Moses about what resides within the Ark, how it should be feared and respected. And see there?” Centered on the Ark’s front side, he pointed to glyphs representing a feather, sun disks, water, and an ibis—all framed within an oval outline. “That is Akhenaton’s royal cartouche. His seal.” Charlotte regarded the Ark with equal doses of fear, reverence, and skepticism.
Another low-flying helicopter made the cupola rattle. Cohen’s anxiety visibly deepened.
Eyeing the Ark again, she fished for another question. “And the two angels on the lid? What are they?”
His reply was curt: “Each is a depiction of the winged female goddess that embodied the harmony of creation: Ma’at. But that is enough, Charlotte. It is time to proceed. Kneel before the Ark,” Cohen urged her in an appeasing tone. “Then I want you to remove the lid.”
She took a step back and held up her hands. “You’re a good storyteller. I’ll give you that. But I’m not on board with this whole end-of-times thing you’ve got going on here—”
“I’d hate to have to drug you and pull your hands like a puppet,” he soberly replied. “After all that we have gone through to get here . . .” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “One way or another, the Ark is going to be opened,” he flatly stated. “After all that you’ve sacrificed, and after all the hidden truths I’ve just shared with you, wouldn’t you like to be awake to see with your own eyes the secrets of the universe? Wouldn’t you like to see what Moses carried off from the Egyptians? Don’t you long to know that everything that has happened to you has had a purpose—a divine design? Do you think God is in you by accident?”
She didn’t know what to say. Her reluctance was starting to dissolve.
“You must be very curious as to what we’ve protected for so many centuries, no?”
Perhaps he was right, but she could tell that his curiosity easily trumped hers. The guy was practically jumping out of his skin. If this was the real deal ...
Then, as she looked back at the lid, a plan began unfolding in her mind. “Fine. Let’s open it.” Now she was the one going all-in at the poker table. However, the real question loomed large: was
Cohen’s face softened with a smile. “Handle it carefully,” he reminded her.
This wasn’t the first time she’d been asked to open Pandora’s box. Granted, the Vatican’s approach had been more pragmatic. As she eased down onto her knees before the Ark, her heart was jackhammering behind her breastbone. Now she began a silent prayer of her own. She could feel the rabbi drawing close behind her to watch over the ritual, and the final part of her plan fell into place. “Won’t this be too heavy?” she asked, hesitating and
