Chapter 14: Atlantis, About 426 A.F. (A.F. = After the Flood)

The seaman loaded his few possessions and his family onto the crowded boat. His wife smiled at Boy, the last to enter, as she made room for him beside her.

Out at sea, the boat began its incessant rocking, a "quiet sea" for an experienced hand, but very unstable for a land person. Boy was queasy for some time, fearing he may embarrass himself in front of the seaman and his family. Soon, however, he learned to quiet his stomach by breathing in whenever the boat dropped and exhaling on the rise, to prepare for the next descent.

He wasn't sure how much of his newfound comfort came from the actual breathing exercise and how much from merely having some task to distract his mind. He also settled himself to the sea motion by moving his upper body opposite to the boat's motion, much like riding a horse, and fixing his gaze on the horizon. The seaman had not told him any of this; he had learned this from his own analysis of the situation. Actually, he could possibly get to like the sea!

His revelry was disturbed by a distant rumbling coming from the West. The last cries of Atlantis!

Not more than five minutes later, the horizon began to rise slowly. Boy stared at it curiously, then he understood. "Tidal wave!" he shouted.

"What do we do?" asked the terrified seaman.

"I remember reading something about heading threatened boats into the tidal wave, to avoid swamping them."

"Into or away, don't make no difference to me!" shouted the frightened seaman.

"No, it has to be toward the waves! The bow sits higher in the water than the stern!"

The seaman shot an embarrassed look at his wife, for he should have thought of that without saying anything. Then he turned the boat quickly around to face the terror rapidly approaching them.

The wave gently lifted them up. "This doesn't seem so bad!" Boy congratulated himself. But as the boat broke over the crest of that wave, he saw the seaman staring in terror. He looked also, and saw it... Several more tidal waves approached behind this first one, some of them bigger than the one they were on.

The boat plunged down into the trough between the waves. Shadowy darkness covered them as the wave intercepted the setting sun. The brow of the boat bit into the water at the bottom of the trough, inviting the seas into the boat. Boy roughly grabbed the seaman's wife and his largest child, pulling them to the rear of the boat to counterbalance the boat away from the overflowing seawater.

As quick as thought, the boat righted itself, but the seawater passenger rushed to the back of the boat, threatening to bring in more water over the stern. Boy wordlessly taught the seaman's family to bail with their hands cupped together. The boat was almost half full of water, with more leaking in on all sides. Hope was not to be a companion on this journey.

On the way to the top of the next wave, their fortunes improved for the first time, and the boat drained rapidly, shooting half of the water out the back of the boat.

They were better balanced in the boat for the next trough, taking in less water than before, but the stiffness of the cold and the tiredness from the frantic bailing was setting up their muscles.

Trough after trough they fought discouragement and the persistent seawater. Each crest was a victory and a reprieve, before plunging back into the shadowy desperation below them.

Finally, the seventh wave passed, and the sea was again relatively calm. Boy then realized that he had not thought of his breathing exercises the entire crisis! The immediate task at hand, survival of all in the boat, had absorbed his attention and kept his mind focused. Now he felt a confidence that allowed him to be at the mercy of the mighty ocean, not as a fearful beginner, but an equal, almost.

The boat had taken a beating, and they had to bail even after the waves disappeared beyond the horizon, to make the boat seaworthy again, but the seaman's family and Boy were now seasoned seamen, having survived their first threatened shipwreck at sea.

Chapter 15: Eastern Kingdom Port City

The seaman dropped Boy off at the wharf of the Eastern Kingdom with a hearty hug of an old friend, and perhaps even a tear in the eye.

Boy wandered the wharf area searching, but not knowing for what. The people were very rude and spoke a rough strange language. Boy was quite homesick for Master and his civilized, but destroyed, homeland.

Suddenly, a stranger grabbed his telescope and started to run with it. Boy almost lost him in the crowds. Madly he tore after him. The distance between them grew less and less. Boy thanked God that he did not have just an historian's legs.

The thief glanced back frequently now, tiring, and with fear in his eyes.

Boy had to run around a large group of laughing and shouting seaman who were playfully wrestling with each other and...

The thief was nowhere to be seen!

Boy looked frantically in all directions through the crowd, but could not see the thief anywhere. He jumped up and down to get a better view over the heads and hats of the crowd, to no avail.

He hated this foreign world even more, and himself, for being so careless. In his eyes now, everyone in the crowd became an accomplice of the thief and he hated the whole nation.

Then, he caught a familiar object out of the corner of his eye. His telescope! About ten feet above him on a ship alongside the wharf, the thief was boldly showing his stolen treasure to others on the ship.

Boy raced up the gangplank onto the ship, thrust his way through the small gathering around the thief and grabbed hold of his telescope. The thief would not let go, jabbering in his strange language to the onlookers.

Boy shouted back, using seaman language, hoping someone in the wharf area could understand that he was the rightful owner of the telescope.

Suddenly, the onlookers began pushing and tearing at his clothes so that he lost hold on his telescope. Obviously, he would have to fight all of them.

Automatically, he took his hunter's stance, concentrating on breaking each man's hold on his person. Then, as each man drew close to grab him again, he struck out with his hands at vital areas of their bodies. He actually enjoyed this type of fighting. During his training, "lost-weapon" fighting had always drawn his interest because, as an historian, he never carried a weapon anyway.

Soon, his defeated opponents formed an angry, shouting ring around him, just out of his reach, but leaving no way of escape. Then, the men began to pick up poles and short stakes from the ship's tool chest.

The men, now outarming as well as outnumbering Boy, stopped their shouting and smiled viciously, with thoughts of revenge soothing their bruised pride. The ring tightened around Boy as he frantically looked for an escape. There was none!

---------------

A voice shouted from overhead and the evil-smiling men looked up to see who was calling.

Boy, sweating profusely from the exertion and the fear, retained his hunter's stance while a conversation took place between the men around him and the voice overhead. The thief apparently was responsible for most of the words spoken from the deck of the ship.

Boy located the source of the overhead voice, a man on one of the rope ladders leading up to the mast of the ship. Boy assumed the man had climbed up there to see the fight better.

Suddenly, all the men looked at the thief expectantly and all conversation stopped. The thief looked very awkward and confused, looking hard at the telescope as if he trying to decide what to do with it. Finally, he stuck an arm awkwardly through the string attached to both ends of the telescope. The sleeve of his coat caught on the string, preventing him for a while from getting his whole arm through the loop of string. Then, with an embarrassed smile, he tried to stand relaxed with the telescope hanging uncomfortably under his arm. The men all laughed at the thief.

The man on the ladder again spoke, and the thief reluctantly took the telescope off his arm, handing it to the man beside him.

Hand to hand, the telescope was passed around the ring of men until being placed back in Boy's hands.

Boy didn't know what to do. The ring of men did not open up, allowing him a path of escape, so he stood there uncertainly.

The man overhead spoke again, this time in seaman language, "Show us how to use this strange object!"

Boy understood now. Expertly looping the string over his neck, he assumed the star pose, a very stable position whereby a man could study even the smallest of stars without the telescope shaking in the slightest (the string was integral to this pose, making the telescope much more stable than if just handheld).

Aiming the telescope at a woman hanging out clothes more than a mile away, he made her appear to be on the ship with him.

Boy adjusted the telescope for the man next to him using the external sights on the telescope to pick out the laundry-woman.

Upon looking in the telescope, the man jumped back, as if socked in the eye. He immediately went to the edge of the ship to see where the woman he had seen in the telescope had disappeared to. He looked over the side to see if she might have fallen in the water.

One after another, each man repeated this strange search after looking through the telescope. Finally, one viewer understood that the real object of their search was over a mile away. After explaining this to the others, they all "ahh'd" in amazement.

Boy had proven who the telescope really belonged to.

After an hour of viewing many distant women, the telescope was respectfully handed back to Boy and the ring of men dissolved.

This gave deck space for the man overhead to come off his rope ladder. Now that Boy had time to appraise him more closely, he looked much different from the sailors who had been crowding the deck. This man's appearance hinted at wealth and education. His mustache and beard were freshly trimmed, and his muscles were well fatted, yet not corpulent. He obviously had an easy life, but not too easy. His clothes were expensive, made to last, but not showy. He shook and stretched his cramped muscles, for he had been clinging to his uncomfortable perch for over an hour.

Wordlessly taking the telescope from Boy's hand, he had his first turn at the viewing. He adroitly copied Boy's "star pose" and spied out the distant women for a few minutes.

While still holding the telescope, he said in seaman language, "You are truly an amazing man! You are a man of culture and education, yet you can fight off ten men, as long as they don't arm themselves. If you had a weapon, maybe you could still fight them all. You have marvelous and unearthly devices with you, that no one has ever seen! Who are you, and where do you come from?"

Boy told briefly of his Middle Kingdom home and its destruction.

"Ah! You come from Atlantis! I have always desired to go there! It is the Land of Fables!"

"It is too late, now. You should have gone earlier."

"Don't think I didn't want to, but few ever returned from that voyage. Those that returned spoke of a warlike people distrusting outsiders."

"Not all of us are warlike."

"Thankfully so. You say Atlantis was destroyed?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps that explains the strange storm we just had."

"Strange storm?"

"A storm without wind. Mighty waves, but a bright sun and no wind. Strange, very strange."

Boy realized the man had never seen a tidal wave before and merely nodded his head.

"You must come with me! I must get to know you better!"

"I cannot stay here in this country. I've been here only half a day, and already I hate it. The people are so primitive, unkind, and unlovely."

"I'm not from this country. I'm a merchant. My home is on the far edge of the great inland sea, to the east of here. We call it Kemet, because of the black mud on the banks of the great river there. It is the most civilized country in the world, except for Atlantis, perhaps. With the destruction of your country, it is now the pinnacle of civilization. Come! Join me! You will be quite comfortable with my people."

Chapter 16: Journey Across the Inland Sea

The journey across the large, but calm inland sea was one of warm days and delicious nights spent under the black canopy of stars. Boy taught the merchant about the stars, with the aid of the telescope. The merchant taught Boy about his beloved Kemet, and Boy expanded his vocabulary for the new land he was going to.

A violent storm arose. The sheer energy of the storm on this enclosed sea surprised Boy. For a day and a night both crew and passengers fought to keep all equipment securely tied, took turns at the ship's rudder, bailed water, and tried to repair the constantly storm-broke equipment. Suddenly, very early in the morning, a loud crack was heard in the bowels of the ship.

The ship began taking on water faster than they could bail it out. The captain resigned himself to order the ship abandoned. The crew promptly obeyed the order, most of them not being strangers to unsuccessful voyages. The passengers, however, being inexperienced, responded more slowly and inexpertly.

All the passengers except Boy succeeded in clumsily stumbling into the water from the sinking, pitching deck.

Boy, however, raced down into the murky water-filled cabin to retrieve his two most precious possessions, his telescope and the leather satchel containing the history book of Atlantis. As he dashed up the stairs going out on the deck, he quickly looped the string of the telescope and the leather strap on the satchel around his neck. Just as he came out on the deck, a large wave rolled over the half-submerged ship and tossed him from the deck into the vicious sea.

He was plunged into the dark depths, with no idea of which way was up. The weight of the metal telescope and history book pulled him deeper. Suddenly, in the terrifying darkness, a large object hit him and began pushing him down. He was caught underneath the sinking ship!

Frantically he swam and pushed himself away from the pursuing ship. Lines from the ship grabbed at him, threatening to pull him downward, to accompany the lonely ship on its downward journey.

He was finally free from the ship, but he despaired of life. His oxygen-starved muscles were beginning to cramp, and a great tiredness was settling in. Then, he remembered the Master's words, "...when you despair of life itself... trust God to bring you through..."

For the first time, he spoke to God as to a real person... respectfully of course, as if he were speaking to Master, "God, You control all of life. If you want my life to go on, You are able. I trust you."

Suddenly, he was frightened by something solid brushing up against him. Instinctively, he tried to push it away, lest he become entangled in some of the sinking wreckage, but somehow, the leather strap on the satchel caught on the object. He felt the sudden sensation of speed, though, due to the watery darkness, he could not tell where he was being taken.

The water grew lighter around him. Feeling consciousness slipping away, his lungs bursting, his head finally broke out of the water. He took a deep drought of fresh air filled with salt spray.

He glanced down, and realized he was tangled up with a dolphin. Working carefully, so as not to frighten the animal, he took the loop of his satchel off of the dolphin's nose. Should the dolphin decide to dive, he certainly didn't want to have to choose between saving his history book or his life. Strangely, the dolphin stayed beside him, as if waiting for him to hold on.

Tentatively, he grabbed hold. The dolphin began to swim again, towing him along. He had heard stories of shipwrecked seaman being rescued by such creatures, but he had never before believed them. Then, he remembered his prayer.

The storm was still raging, the angry dark clouds overhead reflecting the lightning strokes. This was the light he had seen when coming up to the surface.

The dolphin surfed on the leading edge of a wave, adding to their speed and making breathing easier, by minimizing Boy's ingestion of seawater.

Boy relaxed. The storm no longer frightened him. He doubted if anything in life would ever frighten him again, after what he'd learned today.

The dolphin kept looking up at him with its dark liquid eyes, as if checking to see if he were all right. During the following hours, Boy imagined they could communicate by gesture and touch, feeling that they were bonded in a most unique friendship. Abruptly, the dolphin disappeared under the sea, leaving Boy floating alone. He felt crushed and betrayed.

He heard the sound of surf before he connected any meaning to it. Then, he was tossed head over feet in the pounding surf, his nose and throat burning from the saltwater. Knees, elbows and hands were scratched and torn by the broken-shell-filled sand.

As quickly as the tossing ordeal began, he found himself on his back, half submerged in shallow lapping water, greedily gulping the fresh air. He felt chilled.

He remembered the history book in the leather satchel and the telescope. Not having the strength to sit up, he desperately felt around his body for his two most precious possessions.

Hands were grabbing him. He tried to fight, fearing thieves again, but the coldness had shut down his muscle response, robbing him of both dexterity and strength.

Helpless to fight, he resigned his treatment to God's care. Then, he noticed how gentle the arms lifted and carried him. Looking up, he saw gentle eyes looking down at him framed by wrinkles, bushy eyebrows and a gray beard flapping carelessly in the wind. The older man smiled and Boy smiled back.

The gentle older man warmed him, rinsed and dried his clothes, and fed him. He had to struggle at first to understand him, but soon realized the older man spoke in a dialect or derivation of the Merchant's language, the language of the seamen.

So, Boy ended his journey in the land of Kemet.

Chapter 17: Archeology in Modern Day Egypt

"What do you have there?" asked Dr. Miles Symington, with his strong British accent and characteristic English appearance (lots of upper teeth showing, clean-shaven, except for a well-groomed mustache, and crisp short-sleeved shirt and shorts over stylishly slender body). He was the third nonEgyptian archeologist. He had been associated with Egyptian artifacts for over 34 years. He was one of the best in the world.

Dr. Christianson exclaimed, "Looks like a telescope!" Dr. Christianson was a young American archeologist, but highly respected because of his breakthroughs and his ability to bring fresh insights into staid institutionalized thinking. His greatest failing, discussed privately by his peers, and sometimes not so privately, were his fundamentalist Christian beliefs. Many felt that a Fundamentalist could not be a competent archeologist, despite his obvious successes.

"Don't be asinine!" Dr. Symington demanded gratingly, "Obviously, it's some kind of jewelry, probably hung around a rich person's neck. Maybe it was used like a monocle for farsighted readers. There's no doubt that's what it's about."

Dr. Elizabeth Koyashi, the Japanese-American archeologist, was the first to sight the three-inch-thick manuscript. The document was well preserved in the dry tomb, though the pages were somewhat curled and had the sparkle of some type of crystallization on the edges.... like salt crystals.

Dr. Symington studied the manuscript carefully, tenderly turning the pages. "The script is familiar... Looks like the language is a predecessor of the Semitic languages..."

"Can you read it?" asked Dr. Christianson.

"Unfortunately not. But, I believe I know the man who can."

The manuscript was sent off to a man familiar with preSemitic languages. The document took over a year to render a rough translation.

---------------

The rough translation of the document arrived by special mail to the Egyptian tomb campsite. Dr. Symington was away discussing the dig with the Egyptian government. His contacts with that government were the reason these three nonEgyptians could continue to be so deeply involved in this project. The Egyptian government had learned from a long sad history of foreign involvement that the era of tomb robbers had not passed away.

Dr. Symington returned about a week later. During that time, Dr. Christianson had been able to devour the entire translation. He was very excited. Dr. Symington then retired to his tent for three days, catching up on the manuscript.

"Look at what it says here!" exclaimed Dr. Christianson, pointing out some interesting pages.

"Let me see!" exclaimed Dr. Symington, still a little jealous that Dr. Christianson had been able to see the translation before he himself had. He scanned the pages pointed out to him, to refresh his memory. "Saber-toothed tigers!? Fire-breathing dragons! This is obviously mythical."

"But, carbon-14 dating of saber toothed tigers places them at 28,000 years ago."

"And other more reliable dating methods place them at 100,000 to 1 million years ago!"

"Yes, but you can't measure biological residue directly with any other method except carbon-14! Potassium-argon dating and isotope ratios look only at the rocks, not the remains of life. Besides, the great disparity in the various dating techniques doesn't exactly inspire confidence in them."

"Carbon-14 can be dismissed on the basis of credibility alone!"

"Well, I disagree, but we'll never agree on that issue. However, look at this," he pointed out some other pages. "The writer of this document describes the splitting of Pangea..." Dr. Christianson went on, referring to the widely accepted scientific theory that the earth once was composed of a single continent. "He says that continent split and drifted east to west, exactly as we have observed, testified by ridge lines along the floor of the Atlantic connecting South America to Africa, and North America to Europe!"

"It was merely a lucky guess! It is all just too fantastic! Boiling seas!? An ice age at a time when men had written language to record it!? Give me a break! And, this whole bloody story about Atlantis! If it weren't for the obvious authenticity of this tomb, I would suspect another Piltdown Man fraud!"

"Except that the Piltdown Man fraud was propagated by the Evolutionists!" Dr. Christianson wanted to say, but kept quiet. "Speaking of Atlantis... Plato wrote quite a detailed account of it. He obviously believed in its authenticity!"

"I frankly can't fathom why you're pushing this Atlantis business! Atlantis isn't found in the Bible!" Dr. Symington said facetiously.

"The Bible doesn't constrain my scientific thinking! I just think you nonBiblical types have a phobia about the Bible... fearing you might discover something that gives any credibility to that 'terrifying book'."

"You are polluting your thinking with dogmatic religious myths and fables! And, you're wasting my time."

"Science should not exclude Christians nor restrict thought."

"Haven't the scientists of the world been punished enough by your Christian Inquisitions and thought police!?"

"Man has always been close minded. When the Church was in power, it restrained thought. Now that scientists are in power, they likewise restrain thought. But, be realistic. Religious people pose no threat to science today. I'll tell you what science has to fear from. Lockstep thinking, and lack of diversity. If you succeed in restricting thought, your science will stagnate, errors will go uncorrected, and the promised blessings of science will turn to curses."

"Curses now! Good God, man, when are you Christians going to move into the 20th Century?!" Dr. Symington stomped off, the conversation completed, as far as he was concerned.

"Sight based on the outer eye alone is foolish. Trusting the inner eye is the pathway to faith and truth." Dr. Christianson spoke to the retreating back and closed ears of Dr. Symington.

"Where'd you get that from?" asked the beautiful Dr. Koyashi, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation.

"Oh, hi, Elizabeth. I read it in an old book."

Chapter 18: The Land of Kemet

Boy awoke groggily, and with the taste of salt water on his lips. That taste immediately brought an onrush of the fear that had controlled him in the depths of the sea. Then, he remembered also his resolution to trust God, and the kindly old man who had rescued him off of the cold, windswept beach.

He heard the old man speaking to someone in the next room. Life was good again, having some measure of stability. He snuggled under the covers, thinking to steal another hour of sleep before facing the responsibilities of the day, whatever they may be. Voices rose to shouts that overpowered the thin walls separating the rooms of the humble house. Boy could not understand the rapid and emotional words in the argument, but he feared that the old man's life may be in danger, so he jumped to his feet and rushed into the adjoining room.

The converstion immediately stopped as soon as he entered, and both arguers, the old man and a stranger, stared at him in shock. Then the stranger looked at the old man with a superior look, as if his argument had just been won by Boy's sudden appearance in the room. The old man looked embarrassed, as if Boy had in some way let him down.

As the stranger left, Boy flashed a wordless expression, "What's happening?!"

The old man responded with a wave of the hand, meaning, "It is nothing."

What followed was a very long and difficult conversation between two concerned men of different cultures. This telling is far simpler than it was in actuality.

"No!" objected Boy, "I have shamed you! Please explain this to me!"

"I am shamed by my own people. It is not your fault."

Boy feared that the old man would not say any more. "Who was this man?"

"His name is Rigid... Ha! My mistake! That is not what his parents call him. This is what we call him. It has a special meaning in our language. How do I explain this to you? It means... he thinks he is always right... that no one else should argue with him... that we should just learn from him."

"And what was he trying to teach you?"

The old man shrugged his shoulders in embarrassment.

"You were arguing about me?" Boy guessed.

The old man nodded, hiding his eyes.

"He feels... I do not belong here?" Boy asked.

Again the old man nodded, with his eyes downcast. When he looked up, his eyes were glistening. "He thinks that this..." he swept his arms around him, indicating his lands and property, "belongs to us. That we own what is within our grasp today." For some reason, a deep sorrow overwhelmed him. "We are poor... we own nothing in this life. Rigid does not understand this yet."

Boy had seen the old man's land the day before. Abundant crops... many animals. The old man was a successful farmer.

He did not understand this farmer's perception that he was poor, but he did not interrupt.

"He even thinks he owns my daughter," he gestured toward his daughter, quietly sitting in the corner of the room, mending the clothing in her lap.

This is the first that Boy became aware of her presence in the room. She was greatly agitated at being the sudden center of attention.

"In this land, it is a shame for a woman to be single..."

"Father!"

"So, Rigid scares the other men away from my daughter... he assumes too much."

"Father! You have shamed me!" She threw the mending down from her lap and ran out of the room.

"At my age, she seeks to teach me manners!." The old man fell silent for a moment. "She says she does not care... that she does not want to marry. She thinks she can hide her sorrow from me... the one who knows her best."

The old man's wife, a good deal younger than he, entered the room at that moment, apparently lured in by her daughter's agitated exit. She wordlessly questioned his last remark.

He replied with the familiar wave of his hand, "It does not matter."

With this farmer's permission, Boy worked the following days building a small shed next to his cottage. Thus, Boy could be close enough to the farmer and his family to learn their ways and be introduced to their friends. In this way Boy integrated himself into the farming community.

---------------

At dinner that night, Boy was amazed at the abundance on the table. The flavoring tasted a little strange, but love was revealed in the careful preparation, breaking language and cultural barriers.

The peace of the meal was shattered by the commanding roar of a large animal out in the darkness.

Boy jumped, and was immediately chagrined that he was the only one at the table showing any reaction. However, as he looked more closely, he realized that, though they tried to ignore the animal, the tension in their eyes revealed their fears.

"What kind of animal is that?" Boy probed.

The farmer waved his hand, meaning "It is nothing."

But, Boy probed further, "Is it a hunter of men?"

Though the farmer's wife and daughter looked very uncomfortable with this talk, the farmer replied conversationally, "He is the beast that rules the grasslands that grow away from the Great River, as far as the eye can see. When the grasslands dry up, and the animals of his kingdom disappear, he comes into the land of man to…"

The farmer would not complete his sentence, and neither did Boy. "How big is he?"

"About as big as a large man, but he walks on all fours, and he is much faster and fiercer. No man can fight him."

Boy nodded his head, ending the uncomfortable conversation, and helping himself to another helping of meat, one with a large slender and flexible bone attached.

--------------

The next morning, the farmer's wife looked at him strangely when Boy wanted some of the grisly fat she was discarding in her meal preparation. In his mind, the roar he had heard sounded very much like the saber-toothed tigers of Atlantis, and he would prepare for the unknown beast in the same way.

---------------

That night, Rigid again visited the farmer, seeking to bestow upon him new wisdom. This time, Boy remained in the corner of the house, within earshot of the conversation, but saying nothing.

Suddenly a distant scream pierced the darkness, followed by the commanding roar of the same animal as the previous night. Knowing and fearful glances were exchanged between Rigid and the farmer.

In response to Boy's questioning expression, the farmer responded, "The beast has attacked the house in that direction…" the farmer pointed. "…where Rigid lives with his mother."

Boy ran to his small lean-to room, and grabbed the gristle-wrapped bone. Running back into the main house, he grabbed Rigid by the arm, "Take me to your home!"

Rigid remained motionless, frozen by fear.

"I do not know the way to your home, especially in the dark. Take me now!" Boy commanded.

Rigid shot a questioning look at the farmer.

"Trust him," the farmer replied.

Rigid looked over at Boy, looking for more reason to quiet his fears.

"I can help her," Boy emphasized understandingly, "if you will show me the way to your house."

Rigid led him quickly in the darkness, but once they were within sight of the house, Rigid held back, hiding in the darkness. The farmer kept his old friend company.

Boy rushed down to the house, fearing he was too late, for neither screams nor roars had been heard for some time. As he entered the home, he found a frightened woman in the corner, squatting on a table, trapped by a large animal who already had his two front paws on the same table. The animal had the same general shape as the saber-toothed tiger, but had long shaggy hair framing his face, and did not have the long knife-like teeth. He roared at Boy's sudden entrance, demanding an explanation for this trespass upon his undisputed kingdom.

Before the animal could think to attack him, Boy rolled his offering on the ground so that it landed between the large animal's two front feet. The beast casually pulled his feet off of the table, and examined the ball that had been offered to him. Though the smell was very inviting, he took his time examining the man who had challenged him without sign of fear. He laid down with the ball of fat between his front feet, comfortable, yet with paws directly planted on the ground, ready to spring into action with blinding speed. He watched the man as he chewed on the fat, quickly swallowing it when he was satisfied with the flavor.

He raised up majestically to his feet, looking between the thin woman on the table and the meatier man standing in the doorway. Quickly making his decision about how to finish off his meal, he roared at the man and prepared to spring.

But, the roar froze in his throat as a sharp pain clamped upon his throat. Though it felt as if his throat were in the jaws of a mighty beast, no beast touched him. While he slowly drowned in his own blood, the beast gradually sunk to the floor, wondering how the death bite had been delivered.

As the poor frightened woman stared in disbelief, Boy took a knife off of the table and slit the dying beast's throat, as a precaution. It wasn't until Boy was dragging the beast out of Rigid's home, by the tail, that Rigid and the farmer dared to come near.

Boy looked up from his task as Rigid approached. "Do you want the meat?"

Rigid could not find words to respond.

"You are welcome to the meat, if you want him."

Rigid nodded quickly, but made no move.

"I'll dress him out for you. If you don't mind, I'd like to keep the fur for myself."

Quietly, the farmer and Rigid watched Boy do all the work of butchering the beast. They could not bring themselves to approach the beast so closely, fearing him even in death.

Understanding their fears, Boy cooked them each a late-night steak from the tenderest part of the beast, from meat cut close to its ribs.

After one bite, Rigid clasped the farmer's shoulders, in one gesture saying without any words exchanged, "You are a wise man! You have picked your companions well!"

The farmer also clasped Rigid's shoulder, wordlessly saying, "You no longer own my daughter!"

---------------

In later years, the legend persisted that Boy had beaten the beast with his bare hands, which had an element of truth, as with all good legends.

---------------

Though the farmer was poor in nonfarm goods, he did have a treasure... a knife, trimmed in shiny silver, with a single red jewel on the top of the handle. Boy wondered if the knife were a stranger to the land, like himself. Where had it come from?

To satisfy his curiosity about the knife's origin, Boy drew the farmer's attention to it one day, "That's a remarkable knife!"

The farmer promptly took it down from its place of honor over the fire pit and handed it to Boy.

After inspecting the knife at length, he attempted to hand it back to the farmer.

The farmer looked alarmed, shaking his head. He kept indicating that Boy must keep the knife.

"What do you mean!? I just wanted to look at the knife, not take it from you!"

But, the farmer was adamant. Boy must keep the knife.

Finally, Boy was able to convince the farmer to take back his own knife, in payment for Boy's board and room.

So it was that the farmer and his family were generous with all their possessions... generous to a fault. Boy had to be careful not to admire anything or it would be offered to him, simply and freely.

The farmer's passion for relationship also startled Boy. It was not unusual to see him spontaneously hug his wife or children desperately, with tears in his eyes. The hugs were returned in kind. Such passion for relationship was missing from Boy's upbringing on Atlantis.

Chapter 19: The Ugly Side of Kemet

One day, while Boy was studying his history book inside his room, he heard shouting next door and the slamming of the door. Walking outside his room to investigate, he saw several strangers out in the field. They had grabbed the farmer's eldest daughter! She was a beautiful girl, just barely of marriageable age.

Boy turned to the cottage to see the farmer desperately waving him to come inside the cottage for protection.

"Your daughter is being kidnapped!" he shouted at the farmer.

The farmer shrugged his shoulders in embarrassment. "Too many. They leave soon. They always do."

In an instant, Boy realized the dark side of the Kemetean live-for-today attitudes. They gave generously because life had taught them they could not hold onto anything for long. And relationships were fragile and short-term, teaching them to love aggressively, to hedge against an uncertain tomorrow.

Rage seized Boy. He raced into the cottage, and grabbed a barach, a tool for breaking up the soil. Then he stopped himself, remembering the dragon hunt on Atlantis. He must not go to battle in a rage. He breathed deeply to settle his thoughts. In the corner of the cottage he glimpsed the empty leather satchel for the history book. He tied it on his head as a makeshift helmet.

In a crouch he raced across the field. The progress of the raiders was slowed by the struggling of their captive. She knew what awaited her and she fought like a terror.

Swinging the barach, Boy was able to disable three of the twenty or so raiders before they were aware that anyone had the courage to challenge them or steal their prize. They snatched his tool and began beating him.

He fought them bare handed and snatched his tool back.

Though they outnumbered him, they could not all fight him at once, so he was able to hold his own for a while. He ducked and protected the bony parts of his body while simultaneously swinging the barach with deadly accuracy at their bare heads. Several blows from their wooden staffs were landed on his head, sufficiently deflected by the loose fitting leather helmet to enable him to continue.

But, each disabled enemy was replaced by a fresh one, and Boy was tiring. He abruptly assumed the "deadman pose", curled up on the ground with all vital parts -- head, neck, stomach and ribs -- covered. He had been taught that men don't fight a fallen enemy as vigorously as a standing enemy. This gave him much needed time to rest and catch his breath.

The raiders stopped beating him and relaxed, standing around him rubbing their sore spots, amazed at this tenacious enemy.

He rushed into action again. He was a bit more rested and his sudden "return to life" threw them off balance. It was now a pitched battle.

Meanwhile, the farmers from adjacent fields came running to see the fight. They still had their farming tools in hand, for they had not thought to drop them. They had no intention of fighting the obviously superior raiders... it was just their curiosity overcoming their fear.

The raiders, seeing the reinforcements coming with supposed weapons in hand, decided to retreat, leaving their prize for another day.

Boy stood -- bleeding, dirty and hurting -- but weapon still clutched in both of his wounded, cramping hands.

The farmers gathered around him, slapping his hurting shoulders in joyful celebration. This was the first defeat of the raiders they had ever witnessed!

Surprised by her sudden deliverance and this larger-than-life protector, the eldest girl decided whom she would marry.

Back in the safety of the farmer's cottage, Boy washed his wounds and squeezed them to encourage them to bleed, to clean them out internally. Using the blood of the body to wash out dirt is a natural protection. However, Master had warned Boy that too much bleeding was not healthy. Later in history, this art of wound bleeding would be misinterpreted by the unlearned, who would introduce wounds to the body, feeling that blood was the evil, not the dirt it washed out.

The eldest girl watched Boy curiously as he "bled" himself, and she questioned his wisdom. However, as the weeks passed, and Boy's wounds healed three times faster than normal wounds would, she knew he was a wiseman.

Chapter 20: Discovery of Ancient Wisdom in Modern Egypt

"This part of it, I just can't believe!"

"Why not?" Dr. Christianson challenged the head archeologist, Dr. Miles Symington.

"Cleansing of wounds, externally and internally!? They didn't have that advanced of a concept back then!"

"The Jews did! While the Egyptians, as testified by the Papyrus Ebers, were still putting fly dung and asses' dung on open wounds, the Jews were told to clean wounds, dispose of clothing that had touched infected wounds, and bury sewage outside of camp! The cities of 19th Century Europe, with open sewers running down the center of the streets, weren't that advanced! And the best hospitals of 19th Century Europe still hadn't adopted the simple practice of washing hands after contact with sick and dead people, as commanded in the Old Testament! I don't have any problem with isolated pockets of wisdom in a sea of ignorance. The Jews were given such wisdom."

"Well, this man was not a Jew!"

"He served the same God!"

Chapter 21: Kemet, Success and Longing

Daily Boy would be out talking with the different farmers of his Nome, or district, teaching them to defend their farms using tools at hand. He made papyrus whistles and gave one to each farmer to hang around his neck. At the first sign of the raiders, the farmer was to blow the whistle to call his neighbors to battle. (Having numbers of defenders together was the main reason the cities did not suffer as much from the raiders.) Also he taught them the trick of the sharp bone in gristly fat, winning back the night from the beast of the grasslands.

Soon, his Nome became the most prosperous around because they kept their lives and the fruits of their labor. The surrounding Nomes sent representatives to discover their secrets.

Boy began to regularly conduct self-defense classes and to teach the visiting farmers from other Nomes to make whistles.

The city rulers found out about Boy's successes and talked him into touring the lands of Kemet to train farmers in all the Nomes. They provided him a large salary to compensate him for his time.

The farmer's eldest daughter ached for his return whenever he was gone. She feared that he would forget her, or worse, bring back a mate from afar.

His last trip had been a particularly long one, taking him far away from home for a long time. As he lay on his bunk resting in his lean-to, the familiar emptiness flooded over him. When he first arrived, he might have interpreted it as the insecurity of being in a strange land. After his acceptance in the local community, he thought it might be the insecurity of having no living here. Now that he had an abundance of gold to live on, he thought it might be homesickness for Atlantis. At any rate, happiness seemed always to be just out of reach.

He heard the soft and sweet sounds of the old farmer's eldest girl humming. She was apparently doing her housework across the thin wall separating his hut from the adjoining room. Suddenly he noticed that his emptiness was gone.

As he relaxed in that feeling, he began to daydream; The beautiful olive-skinned girl next door was busily cleaning up his own hut... yet, it was their hut now. Her humming was now for him, as she was.

He suddenly awoke from his daydream with excitement. Why wait?

But, what if she would not have him? After all, he was a stranger... he was so different.

But, at least he could ask. If she refused... he wouldn't be able to stand to be around her anymore. He would have to leave.

But, if he stayed without knowing how she felt, that would definitely be worse than knowing for sure. How should he approach her? Did they even have a word for "marriage" in her language?

He needed some help on this one.

---------------

He approached the old farmer. "May I talk to you for a moment? I need your help."

This pleased the old farmer very much, for he had grown to love and respect this stranger. And, he was flattered that such a wise man would come to such a humble farmer to ask for advice.

"I would like to... um, how do you say it? Your daughter is very beautiful..."

The old farmer nodded his head slowly in agreement.

"I would like to... live with her?" he said very cautiously, not wanting to offend the old farmer by suggesting something improper.

"You want to make a family? No?"

"Yes."

"Sure! Go ahead. Good idea!"

"No, I need to know if she wants me first. I just wanted you to help me find the right words."

The old farmer looked puzzled. Had he not noticed her tired eyes from sleepless and doubt-tossed nights? Had he not noticed how she would watch him out of the corner of her eye as she did her work, and then suddenly turn away when he looked at her ? How could this man be so wise... and so blind?

Boy was unsure of how to interpret the old farmer's puzzled look. "Make a family... that's how you say it, huh?"

---------------

Boy resolved to ask her while he had his courage prepared. He marched to the door of her house, still hearing her soft humming within. "Kem?" he called. (He called her Kem because of her beautiful, smooth dark skin and deep black shiny hair, like the rich dark soil of Kemet.)

As soon as she heard his voice, her humming stopped and she dropped her broom. Her natural reaction was to rush out the door to accomplish his every need. But, she had embarrassed herself a hundred times before, it seemed, being so nervous in his presence, tripping over things, not knowing the words to say. So, with stressful slowness, she straightened out her dress and gradually walked to the door.

As she quietly exited the door, the sun brightened her skin, making the whites of her eyes and the brilliant white teeth in her smile stand out startlingly. She had never said much when he had spoken to her in the past, so she was a complete mystery to him. "Kem, we need to talk..."

She nodded her head slowly. She desperately hoped he could not see her trembling.

How he wished he could read her thoughts and understand what she thought of him.

"I would like to... if you would... that is..."

"He wants to make a family with you," her father stated briefly, with that directness and wisdom that comes from advanced years.

Her eyes opened wide, fearing her father may be teasing her, uncertain how to respond.

"Yes, I do," Boy confirmed.

She rushed into his arms, planting an eager kiss upon his lips. Then, she immediately feared she had been too forward, but he swung her around and shouted for joy, calming her fears and filling her heart.

---------------

They were married a month later, allowing for distant relatives to travel and for some of the rulers to be present, honoring Boy for selecting a native girl for his wife.

Boy discovered the joys of marriage and the satisfaction of fatherhood. But, he was never able to settle into a deep peace because the call to greatness pulled him away.

Chapter 22: A New Ruler in Kemet

For as many years as people could remember, Kemet had been a land of many streams and lakes, and a light rain fell every couple of weeks. So, the land was quite productive. However, by the time Boy arrived, the glaciers left over in the mountains from the Great Freeze had melted away, the rains stopped, and the lakes and streams dried up. Even the great river of the land shrunk to half of its original size. Now, the rains only came a few days out of the year, and crops were less than a tenth of what they had been. Besides, the land where the farmers preferred to till, just outside their homes, had become dry and depleted of nutrients.

On his trips, Boy noticed widespread crop failures. After teaching them self-defense, the farmers began to trust this intelligent and caring stranger. Boy taught the farmers to move their farms, but not their homes, onto the rich black soil on the banks of the great river. Normally, the farmers would have only laughed at such a suggestion. In all the history of Kemet, had anyone ever farmed the dangerous lands by the great river! But, this stranger had earned their trust. He simplified the complex calendar of Atlantis, and taught them about the Springtime flood cycle of the river so that they would not plant too early or be endangered by the floods. Everywhere he traveled, the farms prospered such as no one could ever remember.

The people gave him their hearts.

---------------

The chief ruler of Kemet could see that Boy was becoming more popular than he himself. He would either have to face this popular challenger sometime in the future, or bring him into the government as his assistant. He chose the second alternative. So, while Boy learned the principles of Kemetean government, his popularity continued to soar.

Just before the chief ruler died, he wisely commanded that Boy would succeed him to the throne.

In time, Boy's name was changed to Roahphar. The strict meaning in Kemetean was "wise-west", translating to "wise man from the West".

---------------

His efforts to move the farmers off the dry and depleted farmlands was too effective. One day a messenger came running into his presence, then bowed in fear lest his hasty intrusion be punished severely.

"Master! I... uh..." he could not continue, for fear clamped down upon his words.

"Come. You have no need to fear. I will not harm you."

Roahphar's tone, as much as the words, calmed the poor messenger's beating heart. "Roahphar, the people are fighting each other!"

"Fighting!? Why?"

"For the rich land on the banks of the great river! It is now too small to hold all the farmers."

Roahphar raced out on his horse to investigate. He provided the messenger with one of his best horses as well.

The scene he saw before him wrenched at his gentle soul. The gentle people of his adopted land were using the fighting techniques he had taught them against each other, instead of against their abusive enemies.

Such was their love for him, that as soon as he made his presence known, they fell silent and dropped their weapons.

He tried to speak to them, but the sadness was too strong. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he could not speak above a whisper.

Finally, using the messenger beside him to amplify his words, he promised the people that he would provide more land for them, if they would only stop hurting each other.

This word from him was good enough for his people. They returned to their homes, and awaited his solution, which they imagined would also involve some sort of miracle, as his other ideas seemed to do.

He taught the farmers to form catch basins to spread out and retain the flood waters. This meant more of the rich silt over a wider area, opening up new farmlands.

Chapter 23: A Pest Finds a Home in Kemet

One day Roahphar was watching a pesky rodent. The rodents were ever-present in Kemet, forever burrowing into the granaries, defiling more of the grain with their indiscriminate dirtiness than they ate. No granary in Kemet was free from them. The people merely resigned themselves to unclean grain. Roahphar was puzzling over the rodent, which he hated with a strong emotion, and how he could deliver his people from this burdensome plague. Suddenly the rodent was squealing in the mouth of a wild Kaffir cat, and then there was silence.

The wild Kaffir cat boldly sat and lunched on his catch, before Roahphar's astonished eyes. Roahphar's astonishment was not at the cat, nor the hunting achievement, but at his thoughts for delivering Kemet from the rodent plague.

Behind him, his wife was also watching the cat, but her thoughts drove her to action. Normally, it was the man's responsibility to kill the wild Kaffirs that invaded a man's property, but she forgave her husband, for after all, he was strange to the ways of the land. She picked up her broom and snuck up quickly and quietly, while the cat was still distracted by its meal.

"Hold! What are you doing?"

Being raised properly, she set aside her task of the moment and respectfully faced her husband, realizing by doing so, the cat may get away. "I was about to kill a pest."

"I don't want you to."

She knew she would have to be patient with her husband, for though he was very wise, he didn't know everything. "They were thieves, sneaking into a man's house, taking food from his table or from his storage, yet standing his ground to defend his trespass when discovered."

"They may be thieves, but they will give us a great treasure."

Her husband's great wisdom had kept him from seeing the obvious. "They are dangerous! They are so fast, they can make many bad wounds before you can tear them from you!"

"But, they will deliver us from a greater danger."

"Think of your children! Protect your children!" She suddenly grew quiet, fearing she had gone too far.

"I am going to work this out, somehow, so that our family is safe and the Kaffir cat delivers her treasure. Trust me."

She turned her back on him in disgust, grabbing her two boys, who had been watching and listening, on her way into the house.

Roahphar tricked the wild cat into entering his granary, then he shut the door, trapping the cat. At first, the wild cat raged a very vocal protest. Roahphar's wife and children came running out to see who might be receiving a lesson from the ferocious pest. Once assured no one was at risk, the household quieted down, at least on the human side. The howling continued for three days, almost nonstop.

Roahphar devised a way to lower a water dish down to the floor of the granary without allowing a way of escape for the wild cat. He provided fresh water daily. He also regularly cleaned a box the wild cat had chosen to use for a elimination. The wild cats were a study in contrasts. They recognized no rules of ownership, yet their personal cleanliness put many civilizations of man to shame.

He soon discovered that the wild cat preferred some dirt in the box so that any messes made in the box could be covered immediately. The box was cleaned once a week, and also lowered into the granary from above, so as not to offer the wild cat a way of escape.

Consistent with Roahphar's expectations, the granary was free of the pesky rodents in about a month's time. One night, Roahphar was disappointed to discover that his son had, in his curiosity to get a better look at the trapped animal, inadvertently let the wild cat out. After lecturing his son on the danger he had taken upon himself, Roahphar went to bed, convinced his experiment had been ruined.

The next morning, as Roahphar busied himself with other chores, he noticed the wild cat waiting outside the granary, to be let back into his hunting grounds. The cat sat very boldly by the door, not inviting conversation nor contact, but simply saying he could not manage the door latch. Roahphar obliged the cat by opening the door, and the cat walked back into his new domain.

Roahphar soon realized he should have referred to the granary as "her domain", for shortly after the brief escape, he had seven trapped cats in his granary, six of them the size of his child's hand.

The small wild cats raised in his own granary adapted quite well to granary life, and Roahphar was able to give these prized animals away to neighboring granaries. The only requirement Roahphar laid upon the recipients of this precious gift was that they let the cats out of the granaries regularly, and return all baby cats back to him, once they had reached the age of independence.

It was in this way that Roahphar gradually rid Kemet of the rodents that plagued her granaries. He also passed laws forbidding the killing of the wild Kaffir cats, under penalty of a fine of one day's wages (One day's wages meant a vastly different thing, depending upon the wage earner. But fortunately, such computations were not necessary, for few ever decided to kill the valuable new ally that Roahphar had discovered).

Gradually industrious Kemeteans captured the wild cats, or received a granary-raised cat from one of Roahphar's beneficiaries, so that the majority of the wild cats in Kemet became adapted to granary life.

Chapter 24: A New Language

Roahphar tried to teach the people the language of Atlantis, so that the wisdom contained in the history book of Atlantis would not be lost after he died. The funloving people of Kemet, prone to practical jokes, were even worse students than he had been in Atlantis.

Since they would not learn any of the known languages, and they had no written language, Roahphar decided to create a language of easily remembered pictures that naturally stood for many words in a single symbol. The people enjoyed this, especially when he taught them in the form of a game. This was a new sport for the people, and they became quite adept at it.

However, when he tried to translate the history book of Atlantis, he found the pictorial language too constraining and incapable of portraying the more complex ideas. The task of communicating his precious culture was his greatest desire, yet became a great frustration.

One of the students in his school came to him indicating a desire to learn the language of Atlantis. With fearful optimism, he carefully taught the young student, cautious lest he discourage him by requesting too much of him. But, the student had a very sharp mind, and the necessary persistence to pick up the language well.

Once Roahphar determined he did not need to treat this precious student with such exaggerated care, he poured his time and hopes into him for three and a half years, training him to be an historian. Following the custom of Atlantean Masters, Roahphar called the student Hope.

Kem stood in the background disappointed. The two of them had birthed two smart boys, who needed their father's time and training. But, like many fathers, Roahphar felt others were more important than his loved ones; other's children were smarter than his own.

Chapter 25: The Bronze Age in Kemet

Kemet had no metal at this time, except small pieces of jewelry, made from bits of copper. Such bits were sometimes found under very hot coals, after the fire had gone out. The people considered them gifts from some god, but knew nothing about mining for the copper ore directly.

After being shown to the locale of these fireplaces, Roahphar developed copper ore mines, smelters and casting or metal working facilities. The people took well to these simple arts. Copper cooking utensils and pots, shields, tools and defensive weapons began to proliferate throughout the land as the people greeted the new technology with enthusiasm.

However, at times, a tougher metal was required. Bronze, 90% copper with about 10% tin, made a better blade for farming tools and a stronger shield, but tin deposits were not found with copper in Kemet, nor anywhere else in the known world. By a quirk of nature, Atlantis had been the only land in the world where the 90% copper, 10% tin combination occurred in the mined ore, aiding the accidental discovery of bronze.

Roahphar identified tin in some jewelry his wife had purchased in the market. The jewelry had come from some of the Northern countries.

Roahphar tried to encourage tin trade in the Northern countries. There the tin was found in streams and had to be panned, similar to gold panning. Though he paid more for the tin than for gold, he could not get more than a trickle of it into Kemet. Therefore, bronze was of limited supply.

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