The Sword of the Desert

Mitos: The Sword of the Desert

Mid-July - early August 1798

The rain was getting heavier and the waves at sea, growing larger and larger, made the small and nimble brig sway dangerously.

A man, completely covered by a large cloak, kept staring at the horizon the ship was leaving behind. He was tempting fate. He was leaving everything behind. And for what? A prophecy? He certainly wasn’t a man who placed faith in such things. Yet, what had happened a few days before had left him shaken.

---

“Damn.”

“What is it now?”

“What do you mean, what is it now? Can’t you feel this heat? And this damn sand? It got even inside my…”

“Please, Jacques. You’re a man of science,” interrupted the man beside him, smiling and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe,” he continued, “you’d better enjoy the view. After all, that’s your job, right?”

He gave his shoulder a pat and walked off toward a tent not far from the two.

The geographer Jacques Antoine Bertre, in fact, had to admit that the view before him was striking. In the distance, the desert dunes merged with the sky, and the scorching heat made the horizon quiver. Closer, a thousand palm trees clustered around a vast river, its lush green banks standing in stark contrast to the arid desert. But there was something else in that view, something imposing: three massive structures undeniably dominated the scene.

The entire group of “savants,” of which Jacques was part, had been left speechless when they got to see the Pyramids up close. A privilege not extended to the rest of the French army, which hadn’t strayed far from the site of the brutal battle that had taken place just days earlier on the banks of the Nile.

Yes, a truly striking view, but one that hadn’t won over Jacques, who kept thinking longingly of the mild climate back at his École Polytechnique near Paris.

“Captain?”

He shouldn’t have accepted that expedition.

“Captain?”

He turned to see a soldier calling him.

“Stop calling me captain. I’m not military.”

“Sir, we were instructed to address…”

“I don’t care how you’re supposed to address me, damn it. What is it?”

“Capit... Monsieur Bertre, we found a tomb. We thought you might be able to help.”

“A tomb? Another tomb, you mean. Anyway, I’m not an Egyptologist.”

“Yes, monsieur, but we thought you could help with some initial surveying.”

“He is an engineer after all,” the soldier must have thought.

Jacques sighed, reluctantly replying.

“Alright, let’s do this survey. Lead the way.”

The two headed toward the archaeological site, where a few soldiers had been borrowed from the main army to assist with the research. Discoveries were being made daily—numerous artifacts and relics from a precious past, in which Jacques had little to no interest.

They arrived at a good pace in front of four other soldiers who were clearing debris from a cavity.

“Another stupid tomb. Damn it.”

Jacques had come to believe there were more tombs around the Pyramids than hotheads in Paris at the time.

“Have you found anything?”

“So far, sir, it seems like a typical tomb like the others we’ve found in recent days. We don’t know how big it is inside and would need a structural stability estimate before entering.”

Jacques gave the tomb’s entrance a quick look. It seemed like a pretty solid opening.

“What estimate? Hand me a torch, let’s go.”

“If these walls have held for three thousand years, you think they’ll collapse now?”

“Are you sure, Captain?” said a soldier doubtfully, handing him a small oil lantern and missing how annoyed Jacques was at that title.

“Yes, let’s go.”

Jacques carefully stepped into the completely dark space. The place seemed fairly small, made up of about four rooms separated by large stone archways. The walls were often covered in hieroglyphs and remnants of ancient paintings, their colors faded by time.

“Doesn’t look like the tomb of someone particularly rich.”

“Too bad,” Jacques thought to himself, thinking that if he found a small golden artifact, he could easily hide it from the soldiers and gift himself something precious. He knew someone at the port of Alexandria who could help him escape that sand-filled country. The tomb, however, looked rather bare. Yet, Jacques suddenly froze at the sight of something strange.

“What’s that?”

A faint light seemed to come from one of the rooms the soldiers hadn’t yet explored. Jacques pointed it out, and one of the soldiers immediately went toward it, while Jacques cautiously stayed a few steps behind.

“Sir,” the soldier’s voice was full of wonder. “Come and see.”

When Jacques stepped forward, he saw the source of the light and was instantly mesmerized.

“There’s my gift.”

---

The man was lost in thought. When he had first seen that glowing object, he’d been curious, but he certainly hadn’t thought it would be something capable of changing his plans—his life. At most, it seemed like a fine piece to put in a museum. Nothing more. Yet, there had been that child.

A Tuareg, clearly, as shown by the clothes he wore when he suddenly appeared in Jacques’ camp at night.

“And who are you?” he had asked.

“That’s a meaningless question,” the boy had replied in a clear voice, staring at him with stunning emerald-like eyes. “But if you must, you can call me Shu. You’ve discovered something. Something great.”

“I don’t understand. What are you referring to?”

The boy pointed to the light coming from another part of the tent they were in.

“That object,” he continued, “has powers beyond your understanding. But it has come to you. It will grant you infinite glory.”

The man grew more curious.

“Is it some kind of good luck charm?”

The boy smiled.

“You don’t believe in luck, Frenchman. And neither do I. Take it and let me show you what I mean.”

The man, struck by the boy’s confidence, stood and took the glowing object.

“Don’t you feel something? Don’t you feel the incredible energy inside it?”

The man did feel it. He felt stronger, sharper, smarter. The smaller objects around him began to levitate magically, sending a chill down his spine.

“What kind of sorcery is this?” he cried, dropping the object in fear. Instantly, everything suspended in the air fell to the ground.

“There is no sorcery, Frenchman. Use its power wisely.”

An extraordinary object, which the man now carried with him aboard the brig. A glass sword, with glowing edges.

To himself, he pondered how to interpret the boy’s words—that “it will grant you infinite glory.” Maybe that sword would earn him some kind of promotion.

A sailor approached him.

“The weather’s getting worse, sir. I suggest you go below deck, General Bonaparte.”

Historical Note

In 1798, the future Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte was just one of many generals emerging from the French Revolution, which had been shaking France—and ultimately all of Europe—for several years. The decision to launch a military campaign in Egypt was driven by France’s desire to undermine the empire of their eternal enemies, the British, and thus challenge their naval dominance in the Mediterranean (and beyond). Of great importance was the fact that the military expedition was accompanied by a scientific one, composed of 150 of France’s finest scholars (e.g., the famous mathematician Fourier). Numerous archaeological discoveries were made, such as the Rosetta Stone.

The outcomes of battles between Napoleon’s army and the British forces, notably led by Napoleon’s eternal rival Admiral Horatio Nelson, were mixed. In 1799, the French general decided to return to Paris; his troops would surrender in 1801.