After a prologue set in 321 B.C., the story of Ancient Civilizations jumps forward to 1883, where an intrepid thief named Louisa Sophia steals Egyptian papyri from the Louvre. Her heist leads her to Egypt, where she crosses paths with an archaeologist named Dr. Benjamin McGehee and his (unofficially) adopted son, Abu Saqr.
Louisa needs Benâs help to solve an ancient mystery, and since he has some free time before his next expedition, he accepts. Their group, escorted by Duffadar Nahal and the Thirteenth Bengal Lancers, set out on their quest but find danger lurking around every turn. Thanks to their cunning and ingenuity, they manage to stay one step ahead of their foes, but nothing could prepare them for what they eventually discover.
Instead of the answers and treasures they seek, Ben, Louisa, Abu, and the Thirteenth Lancers end up transported to Aaru. However, the fabled Field of Reeds from Egyptian mythology turns out to be a planet on the other side of the universe, where magic is all too real. With old enemies still in pursuit and new ones lying in wait, Ben and Louisa must try and survive while looking for a way home.
After a prologue set in 321 B.C., the story of Ancient Civilizations jumps forward to 1883, where an intrepid thief named Louisa Sophia steals Egyptian papyri from the Louvre. Her heist leads her to Egypt, where she crosses paths with an archaeologist named Dr. Benjamin McGehee and his (unofficially) adopted son, Abu Saqr.
Louisa needs Benâs help to solve an ancient mystery, and since he has some free time before his next expedition, he accepts. Their group, escorted by Duffadar Nahal and the Thirteenth Bengal Lancers, set out on their quest but find danger lurking around every turn. Thanks to their cunning and ingenuity, they manage to stay one step ahead of their foes, but nothing could prepare them for what they eventually discover.
Instead of the answers and treasures they seek, Ben, Louisa, Abu, and the Thirteenth Lancers end up transported to Aaru. However, the fabled Field of Reeds from Egyptian mythology turns out to be a planet on the other side of the universe, where magic is all too real. With old enemies still in pursuit and new ones lying in wait, Ben and Louisa must try and survive while looking for a way home.
What must it have felt like to spend thousands of years of oneâs afterlife inside the walls of this granite sarcophagus? These and many other thoughts raced through the intruderâs mind. How many millennia did this pharaoh, Ramses III, stare with lifeless eyes at the scene on the opposite wall?
To the black-clad figure huddled in the shadows of the ancient coffin, the rest of the hieroglyphics etched into the inside walls of the granite tomb were not as intriguing as this scene: an Egyptian boat that carried a scarab beetle surrounded by a snake eating its tail. Ignoring the discomfort of kneeling on the hard stone, the would-be thief wondered what it meant for the hundredth time since rushing to this hiding place.
As echoes of the night watchmanâs footsteps receded and his lantern light faded, the thief questioned again whether this had been a wise choice. A few weeks earlier, she had caught a stroke of luck while sipping tea and scouting potential marks at CafĂ© de Flore. At a nearby table, she overheard two archaeologists discussing the value of their finds from Egypt.
Her plan had formed in an instant. With her inheritance almost gone, this one heist would provide a comfortable living for the next few years. Best of all, the stolen goods were portable and easy to hide in plain sight. Tonight, would determine which side of the ledger her luck would fall on.
It had taken her days of research and a bit of bribery to locate the largest collection of the targeted Egyptian artifacts. The difficult part of the job required her to break into one of the most well-guarded buildings in Paris. Scouting the location and devising a plan with a reasonable chance of success took her another week.
Tonight, thirty night watchmen roamed the halls of the museum and the government offices of the Louvre. The cost of obtaining that particular information, along with details of the guard rotations, had been a weekâs worth of breakfast croissants for an off-duty guard.
The day of execution arrived with the robber spending many uneventful hours hiding in a closet. After midnight, she left her initial bolt hole, slinking from shadow to shadow. A harrowing hour later, she reached her most recent hiding place, a lidless sarcophagus.
The burglar peered over the edge of the sarcophagus at the receding steps. Gas-burning wall sconces lit the Sully building, which housed the museumâs most treasured antiquities. At 2 a.m., the flickering flames created an eerie scene of light and shadow.
The watchmanâs back disappeared around a corner, leaving the thief alone in the room with its display cases and stands. She hopped out of the bathtub-shaped sarcophagus. For one brief moment, the wings of a large goddess etched onto the curved end of the coffin framed her. With senses on high alert, she made for the shadows of the far wall. From information gained during an earlier reconnaissance as a museum visitor, she knew she needed to traverse two more large display rooms to reach the corner stairwell.
Peeking into the next room, the thief marked her next hiding spot: the alcove where the Great Sphinx of Tanis lounged.
As she sprinted to the darkened alcove, her black, soft-soled shoes were softer than a whisper. Another watchmanâs lamp light appeared in the entrance of the next target room. Fighting her sense of urgency, the thief slowly inched to the back of the Sphinx. Her fingers glided along the cool granite flesh of the lionâs body until she reached the creatureâs tail, which curled over its massive haunches. She ignored the thundering sound of her own heartbeat. Her breath fell into a slow rhythm. She averted her eyes away from the watchmanâs approaching lamp light.
Flashes came to the thiefâs mind of the hours sheâd spent under the tutelage of her uncle, learning the craft of a burglar. âRemember, if you are still and your eyes hidden, you are nothing but a shadow. If you believe you are a shadow, then anyone who looks will see nothing but what you are. The key is to contain your fear and channel it into your breathing until you are still. Now go find a new place to hide. We will continue the game until I can no longer find anything but shadows.â
At nine years old, the child knew right from wrong. But from harsh lessons learned, she also knew the world would never make life easy for a bastard. Her decision to do as her uncle said came with no remorse. The child vowed she would take from the world more than the world would take from her.
She didnât flinch at the sound of the guardâs loud sneeze. The manâs light flashed into the alcove and ran over the intruderâs back, then disappeared. A suppressed cough and the fading sounds of shambling footsteps signaled the guardâs exit.
The thief opened her eyes and peered at the opposite entrance and the retreating guard. She moved along the wall, keeping to the deepest shadows until she was in the last open room. The path, to her relief, proved empty to the closed door in the far corner.
She turned the handle and checked the lock. In a whirl, lock picks once hidden inside a pocket of her special jacket went to work. In mere heartbeats, the door opened. The thief slipped inside the pitch-black stairwell and relocked the door.
Years ago, her uncle implored the blindfolded ten-year-old, âConcentrate. Your life may depend on how quickly you can open or lock a door when you canât see. Ignore the pain and concentrate.â The child had winced with every movement of the tools held in her small, blistered, blood-covered fingers. A grim smile formed at these old memories as she headed up the stairs. Two more flights to reach the second floor and the target.
Near the final landing, the sound of keys being juggled penetrated through the door. The thief ran down six steps and bounded over the banister. She dropped without a sound and grasped onto the edge of a marble step. As the door opened, her right hand slipped and left her hanging by the fingers of her left hand.
Adrenaline rushed into her bloodstream. She tightened her left hand on the smooth marble. A lamp lit the stairs above, and once again the thief became a shadow. She fought to control each breath, not daring to move her hand.
As the guard neared the step that acted as the thiefâs handhold, her childhood memories once again came unbidden. Years before her uncle had begun instructing her on her future profession, the bastard child had avoided the latest gang of bullies.
The youngster had climbed to the one place where sheâd found true freedom: the cliffs. That day, a cloudless, light-blue sky contrasted with the deep blue-and-white foam of Ionian waves crashing against rocks at the base of the cliff. A hundred feet above the jagged stones, the child lost her grip and hung by a single hand.
Fear of death gripped the tiny girl. Fighting a burning shoulder and strained muscles, she channeled her pain and seething anger into the will to fight. And, in an act of ultimate defiance, to live.
The childâs dangling hand stretched up and fingers found purchase in the crack of a tiny crevice.
With the guardâs lamp light two steps farther down, the thief reached up with her free hand. Her well-toned muscles pulled her up and over the banister as the guard turned the landing. She waited at the door for him to unlock the door on the ground floor. At the sound, her lock picks moved too fast to follow.
She walked down a hallway, leaving the stairway door behind. Soon she stood in front of double doors and a sign proclaiming her ultimate destination: âEgyptian Antiquities Receiving Office.â Moments later, she opened the doors and squeezed through. With a faint click, she locked the door again.
The room was almost in complete darkness, but its layout filled the intruderâs head. âNow close your eyes and visualize Room 401,â her uncleâs emotionless voice commanded. âWhat are your exits? What can you use to escape? Where is the dresser? The bed? Where could you hide? Was there a desk or sofa? Were there any valuables visible?â
Accompanied by a maid, the child had visited thirty rooms in a Corfu City hotel that afternoon. Allowed to see each room for a single minute, she had cataloged every key element of the room and its contents using her uncleâs techniques.
After closing her eyes, the child visualized a door with 401 hanging as high as she could reach. The door swung open, and she stepped into the room in her mind. She began answering her uncleâs questions, knowing that if she missed any detail, it would bring repudiation and even more repetition.
The mandatory exercise might well determine the success or failure of that nightâs robberies. Failure was not an option. Mamaâs cough had gotten worse, and the child needed to get her more medicine.
Back in the present, the thief took a tiny kerosine lamp and a match from another pocket. The lamp light beamed out of a pinhole, making it almost impossible to give away her presence. As she moved past the receptionistâs desk, the light fell on a stack of unopened packages piled on a worktable.
To each side of the table sat two identical tables. Each held a particular type of artifact. As she moved down the row, thousands of wondrous items being cataloged lay exposed. The last table to the right held what she desired.
Organized chaos would best describe the worktable piled high with papers, scrolls, and a few ancient books. At the near end lay many unopened boxes and envelopes. The thief set the lamp on the table, careful to make no noise, and opened each envelope, looking for ancient papyri.
It took her ten minutes to gather several hundred papyrus documents. She carefully placed them in a leather binder sheâd pulled from under her black jacket. Inside the binder she had constructed a special cardboard filing system to lay the documents flat. When she had stowed as many as the binder would hold, she hid the discarded envelopes inside a large urn. Curious, she read the urnâs catalog tag. It listed an artifact number, the site where it had been found, a potential dynasty that estimated the artifactâs date of creation, and a note on where to archive it.
As she turned away from the urn, her light illuminated something on a nearby table. Lying among small statuettes and jewelry lay a gold necklace with a yellow gem pendant. It was carved in the shape of a man with a birdâs head, and she tried to remember the godâs name.
Horus. Pretty sure itâs Horus.
Next to it lay a ring with a matching yellow gemstone carved in the shape of a sitting cat. Hesitating just a moment before accepting the added risk, she stashed the ring, the necklace, and the pendant in another pocket.
Two hours and a couple of close calls later, she settled into a cleaning closet in a government office wing of the Louvre. With nothing else to do but wait until morning, she took out the Egyptian papyri and began looking them over.
Most of them were unintelligible to her because she had never studied hieroglyphics. Worse, many of the papers used different symbols than those etched on the sarcophagus she had used as a refuge.
Written in ancient Greek, two papyri stood out from the rest. Being educated in the Greek classics and a native speaker, she found it easy enough to understand the contents. The first discussed an interesting trial. An Egyptian high priest had murdered a member of Ptolemy IIIâs royal family.
More compelling, though, the second contained a genuine mystery. It read,
To Basileus Ptolemy, Pharaoh of Egypt, from your brother in arms, Antigenes.
I am filled with joy that we are no longer enemies, but I am overcome with shame, having killed my friend Perdiccas. His defeat at the river and the disappearance of the five thousand were omens he had lost the favor of the Gods.
Before leaving for Macedonia and home, I wished to report on our search for the missing army of Perdiccas. On his command, the troops had pursued what we now understand to be an unknown Egyptian army.
According to the only survivors of the expedition, the army entered a maze of canyons and ravines southeast of Pelusium still in pursuit of the Egyptians. While these men acted as a rear guard, they claim to have witnessed the wrath of the Gods as it destroyed the army.
A huge drop of water, like a Godâs tear, formed over the canyons and burst when a searing beam of light shot into the sky.
Afterward, they followed the trail of their comrades to an empty box canyon and could find no sign of either army, except for their footprints. Thirty men and I followed a survivor to the canyon. Eventually, we stumbled upon a hidden path that led to a strange temple filled with wonders.
Inside the temple, we found people worshiping the living servant of the God Anubis. The creature appeared as a giant wolf walking upright and wore the accouterments of an Egyptian priest.
The wolf priest conducted a strange ceremony on an altar made of gold. At the end, a man with two mangled legs was placed on the altar. I watched the creature heal his legs with magic. The broken bones mended before my very eyes.
The worshipers soon discovered us, and they killed all but three of my men in our escape. You should take a large force to find the cult and understand its secrets. I have left a map inside the tomb of Perdiccas detailing how to find the temple. The Lion of Alexander is the key. The next time we meet, may it again be as brothers.
Strategos Antigenes
The thief wondered, Where did this letter come from? Did Ptolemy ever investigate? Has anyone found the temple? Has anyone found its gold?
The promise of an adventure in Egypt chasing riches that could bring financial freedom sounded better than other options she had considered. Besides, that would make it easier to fence the papyri. Her decision was easy because she could also address that personal issue in Cairo. He was owed a visit and needed to feel uncomfortable.
With clothes changed and papers packed away, she heard the sounds of office dwellers shuffling into their boring government jobs on the other side of the closet door. No longer an unwanted guest, the office cleaner stepped with confidence out of the cleaning closet. Carrying a large over-the-shoulder bag, she walked with assurance down the hallway, down the stairs, and out the Passage Richelieu.
Many heads turned as she made her way down the Rue de Rivoli. Not at the sight of another cleaning lady leaving work. No, every man and more than a few women paused on catching a glimpse of the confident, graceful, beautiful young woman. Louisa Sophia moved with the purpose of someone who knew what she wanted and how she would get it.
While standing solidly on its merits as historical fiction, Ancient Civilizationsâ supernatural aspects are what set this book apart. From the opening battle, set in Egypt in 321 BC, the author cues the reader that there is something greater than reality as we know it going on.
By the end of the opening, Cowdrey has given us an intriguing JJ Abrams-esque Mystery Box.
The narrative quickly shifts to the Louvre. Itâs 1883. Educated antiquities expert Louisa Sophia is robbing the exhibit of Ramses III. Louisa is Evelyn Carnahan from The Mummy with very sketchy morals. We again change locations to Mosul Province in the Ottoman Empire to meet the heroâphysician turned archaeologist and treasure hunter Ben McGehee. Like Quincy Morris from Dracula, heâs from Texas.
From Louisa and Benâs first meeting, it is clear that they are on a collision courseâthe red sparks of seeming animosity and the blue sparks of eventual love illuminating the narrative, with all the cinematic tropes that readers and audiences love.
The author delivers global historical context, backstory, and world-building through impressive detail, papyri, translations in tombs, letters, song lyrics, references to books on subjects like the use of antiseptics and Samuel Birchâs book on hieroglyphics, and authentic ethnic foods and dialogue from half a dozen languages. Cowdrey has an impressive knowledge of weaponry and battle tactics, both ancient and Victorian. He also employs the best adventure tropesâbad guys pretending to be good guys, exotic archaeological complexes, interesting secondary characters of numerous ethnic and cultural backgrounds, and dangerous marketplaces where Louisa tries to sell her stolen goods and information is gleaned.
Through the authorâs artful blending of genuine archaeology and anthropology and carefully crafted lore, the narrative at roughly the midpoint becomes seamlessly science fiction, incorporating magical objects and anthropomorphic beings that clearly draw from Egyptian mythology and iconography.
I only have one suggestion: remove the extensive footnotes, which disrupt the narrative and take us out of this otherwise immersive story. Foreign language phrases and Victorian slang are easily contextualized (eliminating these footnotes entirely), and the rest can be placed in the already impressive Compendium.
According to the back matter, Ancient Civilizations will have a late-summer sequel. Judging from the final chapter cliffhanger, it should be an equally excellent read.