Free Napoleon's Pyramids by William Dietrich Page B

this would be safer for my friend as well as me. He’d worry, but then he always worried.
    “Gage, we will meet again,” Smith said. “Keep my ring on your finger; the frogs won’t recognize it—I kept it out of sight in prison. In the meantime, keep your wits about you and remember how quickly idealism can turn to tyranny and liberators can become dictators. You may find yourself, eventually, on your mother country’s side.” Then he melted into the trees as quietly as he’d come, an apparition no one would believe I’d encountered.
    Meet again? Not if I had anything to say about it. I didn’t dream how Smith would eventually re-enter my life, a thousand miles from where we stood. I was simply relieved the fugitive was gone.
    “And now we feast,” said Stefan.
    The term “feast” was an exaggeration, but the camp did serve us a rich stew, sopped with thick and heavy bread. I felt safe amid these strange nomads, if a little astonished at their ready hospitality. They seemed to want nothing from me but my company. I was curious if they might really know anything about what was in the sole of my boot.
    “Stefan, I’m not admitting that Smith was right about this pendant. But if some such trinket did exist, what about it would make men so covetous?”
    He smiled. “It would not be the necklace itself, but the fact that it is some kind of clue.”
    “A clue to what?”
    The gypsy shrugged. “All I know are old stories. The standard tale is that ancient Egyptians at the dawn of civilization caged a power that they deemed dangerous until men had the intellectual and moral quality to correctly harness it, but left a key in the form of a neckpiece. Alexander the Great reputedly received this when he made his pilgrimage to the desert oasis of Siwah, where he was declared a son of Amon and Zeus before his march into Persia. He subsequently conquered the known world. How did he accomplish so much so quickly? Then he died a young man in Babylon. Of disease? Or murder? The rumor is that Alexander’s general, Ptolemy, took the key back to Egypt, hoping to unlock great powers, but he couldn’t understand what the token meant. Cleopatra, Ptolemy’s descendant, took it with her when she accompanied Caesar to Rome. Then Caesar was assassinated too! On it goes through history, great men grasping and coming to their doom. Kings, popes, and sultans began to believe it cursed, even as wizards and sorcerers believed it could unlock great secrets. Yet none remembered anymore how to use it. Was it a key to good or to evil? The Catholic Church takes it to Jerusalem during the Crusades, again in futile quest. The Knights Templar become its custodians, hiding it first in Rhodes, then in Malta. There are confusing quests for a holy grail, obscuring the truth of what was sought. For centuries the medallion lay forgotten until someone recognized its significance. Now perhaps it has come to Paris…and then walked into our camp. Of course, this you have denied.”
    I didn’t like this medallion bringing death to all. “You really think an ordinary man like me could stumble across the same key?”
    “I’ve pawned a hundred pieces of the True Cross and scores of fingers and teeth of the great saints. Who is to say what is real and what is false? Just be aware that some men are in earnest about this trinket you claim not to carry.”
    “Maybe Smith is right. Supposing I had it, I should throw it away. Or give it to you.”
    “Not me!” He looked alarmed. “I’m not in a position to use or understand it. If the stories are true, the medallion will only make sense in Egypt where it was crafted. Besides, it brings bad luck to the wrong man.”
    “I can testify to that,” I confessed gloomily. A beating, murder, escapes, a holdup…“Yet a savant like Franklin would say it’s all superstitious nonsense.”
    “Or maybe he would use your new science to investigate it.”
    I was impressed with Stefan’s seeming lack of greed,