Napoleon's Pyramids Read Free

spy. He was also reputed to adhere to Cagliostro’s discredited Egyptian Rite of Freemasonry, or fraternal lodges that inducted female adherents as well as male. These heretic lodges played at various occult practices, and there were juicy tales of dark ceremonies, naked orgies, and lurid sacrifice. Perhaps a tenth of it was true. Still, Egypt was reputed to be the source of ancient wisdom, and more than one mystic had claimed to have discovered mighty secrets in mysterious pilgrimages there. As a result, antiquities were in vogue from a nation closed to most Europeans since the Arab conquest eleven centuries before. Silano was reputed to have studied in Cairo before the ruling Mamelukes began harassing traders and scholars.
    Now the captain nodded eagerly to cement Silano’s interest. “The jailer told me the arms on the end could point the way to great power! A man of learning such as you, Count, might make sense of it.”
    “Or pay for a piece of nonsense. Let me see it.”
    The captain lifted it off his neck. “Look how odd it is.”
    Silano took the medallion, exhibiting the long, strong fingers of a fencer, and turned it to examine both sides. The disc was a bit larger than a communion wafer. “Not pretty enough for Cleopatra.” When he held it to a candle, light shone through its holes. An incised groove extended across its circle. “How do you know it’s from Egypt? It looks as though it could be from anywhere: Assyrian, Aztec, Chinese, even Italian.”
    “No, no, it’s thousands of years old! A gypsy king told me to look for it in San Leo, where Cagliostro had died. Though some say he still lives, as a guru in India.”
    “A gypsy king. Cleopatra.” Silano slowly handed it back. “Monsieur, you should be a playwright. I will trade you two hundred silver francs for it.”
    “Two hundred!”
    The nobleman shrugged, his eye still on the piece.
    I was intrigued by Silano’s interest. “You said you were going to sell it to me.”
    The captain nodded, now hopeful that two of us had been baited. “Indeed! It is from the pharaoh who tormented Moses, perhaps!”
    “So I will give you three hundred.”
    “And I will trade you five,” Silano said.
    We all want what the other wants. “I will trade you seven hundred and fifty,” I responded.
    The captain was looking from one to the other of us.
    “Seven-fifty and this assignat note for one thousand livres,” I amended.
    “Which means seven-fifty and something so worthlessly inflated that he might as well use it on his ass,” Silano countered. “I’ll trade you the full thousand, captain.”
    His price had been reached so quickly that the soldier looked doubtful. Like me, he was wondering at the count’s interest. This was far more than the value of the raw gold. He seemed tempted to slip it back inside his shirt.
    “You’ve already offered it to me for a thousand,” I said. “As a man of honor, consummate the exchange or leave the game. I’ll pay the full sum and win it back from you within the hour.”
    Now I’d challenged him. “Done,” he said, a soldier in defense of his standard. “Bet this hand and the next few and I’ll win the medallion back from you.”
    Silano sighed hopelessly at this affaire d’honneur. “At least deal me some cards.” I was surprised he’d given up so easily. Perhaps he only wanted to help the captain by bidding me up and reducing my pile. Or he believed he could win it at table.
    If so, he was disappointed. I couldn’t lose. The soldier drew into an eleven, and then lost three more hands as he bet against the odds, too lazy to track how many face cards had been dealt. “Damnation,” he finally muttered. “You have the devil’s luck. I’m so broke I’ll have to go back on campaign.”
    “It will save you the trouble of thinking.” I slipped the medallion around my own neck as the soldier scowled, then stood to get a glass and display my prize to the ladies, like an exhibit at a rural fair. When I