By Wilbur Smith
For 4,000 years, the lavish crypt of the Pharaoh Mamose hasn't ever been found...until the 7th Scroll, a cryptic message written via he slave Taita, provides appealing Egyptologist Royan Al Simma a tantalizing clue to its location.
But this can be a treasure cache others may kill to own. just one step sooner than assassins, Royan runs for her existence and into the fingers of the one guy she will be able to belief, Sir Nicholas Quenton-Harper--a bold guy who will stake his fortune and his lifestyles to affix her hunt for the king's tomb. jointly, they are going to embark on a wide ranging trip to the main unique locale in the world, the place the best secret of historical Egypt, a chilling possibility and an explosive ardour are waiting.
Steeped in historical secret, drama and motion, The 7th Scroll is a masterpiece from Wilbur Smith, a storyteller on the top of his powers.
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Additional info for The Seventh Scroll: A Novel of Ancient Egypt (Novels of Ancient Egypt)
Primitive lock,’ he murmured, ‘must be hundreds and hundreds of years previous. you'll throw your hat during the hole among the hasp and the tongue. ’ He slipped his hand into the bag and taken out a Leatherman device. ‘Clever little task, this can be. With it you do whatever from digging the stones out of a horse’s hoof, to commencing the lock on a chastity belt. ’ He knelt in entrance of the big iron lock and spread out one of many a number of blades of the device. She watched anxiously as he labored, after which gave a bit commence as with a pleasing clunk the tongue of the lock slid again. ‘Mis-spent adolescence? ’ she requested. ‘Burglary among your many skills? ’ ‘You don’t actually need to grasp. ’ He stood up and placed his shoulder to at least one leaf of the door. It gave with a groan of unlubricated hinges, and he driven it open in basic terms simply large sufficient for them to squeeze via, then instantly close it in the back of them. They stood facet through aspect at the threshold of the maqdas and gazed approximately them in silent awe. The Holy of Holies used to be a small chamber, a lot smaller than both of them had anticipated. Nicholas can have crossed it in a dozen strides. The vaulted roof used to be so low that by way of status on tiptoe he may have touched it along with his outstretched fingertips. From the ground upwards the partitions have been coated with cabinets upon which stood the presents and choices of the trustworthy, icons of the Trinity and the Virgin rendered in Byzantine type, framed in ornate silver. there have been ranks of statuettes of saints and emperors, medallions and wreaths made from polished steel, pots and bowls and jewelled bins, candelabra with many branches, on every one of which the votive candles burned delivering an doubtful wavering gentle. It used to be a rare number of junk and treasures, of items of advantage and garish bric-à-brac, provided as articles of religion by means of the emperors and chieftains of Ethiopia over the centuries. within the centre of the ground stood the altar of cedarwood, the panels carved with visionary scenes of revelation and construction, of the temptation and the autumn from Eden, and of the final Judgement. The altar fabric used to be crocheted uncooked silk, and the pass and the chalice have been in giant labored silver. The abbot’s crown gleamed within the candlelight, with the blue ceramic seal of Taita within the centre of its forehead. Royan crossed the ground and knelt in entrance of the altar. She bowed her head in prayer. Nicholas waited respectfully on the threshold till she rose to her ft back, after which he went to hitch her. ‘The tabot stone! ’ He pointed past the altar, and so they went ahead facet by means of facet. in the back of the maqdas stood an item coated with a heavy damask fabric encrusted with embroidered thread of silver and gold. From the description underneath the masking they can see that it used to be of chic and enjoyable proportions, as tall as a guy, yet narrow with a pedestal topping. They either rotated it, learning the cloaked form avidly, yet reluctant to the touch it or to discover it, nervous that their expectancies may well end up unwarranted, and that their hopes will be dashed just like the turbulent river waters plunging into the cauldron of the Nile.