They built a civilization ahead of its time, and dominated the ancient world. They defined an era of war, love, passion, power, and betrayal. They were a people of mystery whose secrets have turned to dust -- but who inspire our awe and wonder even to this day.... The ancient Egyptians They showed us how to live. And how to die. Christian Jacq, author of the international triumph Ramses, brings the people and the passions of ancient Egypt to life in an enthralling epic novel in four volumes. Jacq, author of the popular Ramses quintet, introduces the first installment of his new four-volume novel set in ancient Egypt during the last years of the reign of Ramses the Great. Commissioned by the pharaoh to fashion pyramids, temples, tombs, sculptures, and paintings for the Valley of the Kings and the Valley of the Queens, a select brotherhood of craftsmen dwell in a remote, self-sufficient desert village dubbed the Place of Truth. Determined to unlock the secrets of the Place of Truth and claim the powerful and closely guarded Stone of Light as his own, Mehy, a disgruntled military officer previously rejected for membership in the mystic brotherhood, hatches an insidious plot that threatens both the sanctity of the enclave and the life of the pharaoh. Joining forces to thwart Mehy are Nefer, the son of one of the village elders, and Ardent, a talented would-be craftsman dissatisfied with his lot as the son of a farmer. Another vivid portrait of ancient Egypt, teeming with intrigue, passion, and suspense. Margaret Flanagan Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved Christian Jacq, who holds a doctorate in Egyptology, is the author or numerous bestsellers, including Ramses , which has sold more than eleven million copies. He lives in Switzerland. Chapter One Life was so monotonous. Plowing immediately after the annual Nile flood, sowing, reaping, and harvesting, stocking up the granaries, watching out for locusts, rodents, and hippos that might lay waste the fields. Then there was irrigation, looking after your tools, plaiting ropes at night instead of sleeping, watching over the flocks and the teams, not to mention forever worrying about your piece of land and never thinking of anything beyond the quality of the wheat and the state of your cows' health....Yes, it was utterly monotonous, and Ardent could stand it no longer. The young man was sitting under a sycamore tree, where the fields met the desert. It offered him plenty of shade, but he was unable to get off to sleep and enjoy a well-deserved rest before heading to the family pastures to tend the oxen. At sixteen, Ardent was over three and a half cubits tall and built like a giant; and he had no desire to settle for the life of a peasant, as his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had done. Just as he did every day, he had come to this quiet spot, and, using a little piece of wood he had whittled, he had drawn animals in the sand. Drawing. He would have loved to draw for hours on end, then add color and re-create a donkey, a dog, and a thousand other creatures. Ardent had great powers of observation. What he saw entered his heart, which then gave orders to his hand -- though his hand was completely free to trace the contours of an image that seemed more alive than everyday reality. What he really needed were papyrus, styli, some pigments. But his father was a farmer and had laughed in his face when the boy told him what he wanted. There was only one place where Ardent could find everything he desired: the Place of Truth. Nobody knew what went on inside the walled village, but those walls enclosed the greatest painters and artists in the kingdom, the men who were authorized to decorate Pharaoh's tomb. A peasant's son had no chance of entering that fabled brotherhood. Yet the young man could not help dreaming of the happiness of those who could devote themselves wholly to their vocation, forgetting the meanness of daily life. "Well, Ardent, having a rest, are we?" The voice, heavy with irony, belonged to a boy of about twenty named Hayseed. He was tall and muscular, and dressed only in a short kilt of plaited rushes. By his side stood his younger brother, Fat-Legs, a stupid smile on his face. At fifteeen, Fat-Legs was much heavier than Hayseed, because of all the cakes he gobbled every day. "Leave me alone, you two," said Ardent. "This place doesn't belong to you," said Hayseed. "We've a right to come here." "I don't want to see you." "Ah, but we want to see you. And you've got some explaining to do." "What about?" "As if you didn't know!" said Hayseed. "Where were you last night?" "Who do you think you are, a policeman?" "Does the name Nati mean anything to you?" demanded Hayseed. Ardent smiled. "It certainly does." Hayseed took a step toward him. "You filthy swine! She's betrothed to me, and last night, you...you dared -- " "It wasn't my idea. Nati came looking for me." "You're lying!" Arden