Mummy or ramses the damned

Informationen zum Autor Anne Rice Klappentext He was Ramses the Damned in ancient Egypt! but awoke in opulent Edwardian London as Dr. Ramsey! expert in Egyptology. He mixes with the aristocrats and samples their voluptuous lifestyle! but it is for his beloved! Cleopatra! that he longs! and will do anything to be with.... Leseprobe 1 The camera flashes blinded him for a moment. If only he could get the photographers away. But they had been at his side for months nowever since the first artifacts had been found in these barren hills, south of Cairo. It was as if they too had known. Something about to happen. After all these years, Lawrence Stratford was on to a major find. And so they were there with the cameras, and the smoking flashes. They almost knocked him off balance as he made his way into the narrow rough-hewn passage towards the letters visible on the half-uncovered marble door. The twilight seemed to darken suddenly. He could see the letters, but he couldn't make them out. Samir, he cried. I need light. Yes, Lawrence. At once the torch exploded behind him, and in a flood of yellow illumination, the slab of stone was wonderfully visible. Yes, hieroglyphs, deeply etched and beautifully gilded, and in Italian marble. He had never seen such a sight. He felt the hot silky touch of Samir's hand on his as he began to read aloud: 'Robbers of the Dead, Look away from this tomb lest you wake its occupant, whose wrath cannot be contained. Ramses the Damned is my name.' He glanced at Samir. What could it mean? Go on, Lawrence, translate, you are far quicker than I am, Samir said. 'Ramses the Damned is my name. Once Ramses the Great of Upper and Lower Egypt; Slayer of the Hittites, Builder of Temples; Beloved of the People; and immortal guardian of the kings and queens of Egypt throughout time. In the year of the death of the Great Queen Cleopatra, as Egypt becomes a Roman province, I commit myself to eternal darkness; beware, all those who would let the rays of the sun pass through this door.' But it makes no sense, Samir whispered. Ramses the Great ruled one thousand years before Cleopatra. Yet these are nineteenth-dynasty hieroglyphs without question, Lawrence countered. Impatiently, he scratched away at the loose rubble. And look, the inscription's repeatedin Latin and in Greek. He paused, then quickly read the last few Latin lines. 'Be Warned: I sleep as the earth sleeps beneath the night sky or the winter's snow; and once awakened, I am servant to no man.' For a moment Lawrence was speechless, staring at the words he'd read. Only vaguely did he hear Samir: I don't like it. Whatever it means, it's a curse. Reluctantly Lawrence turned and saw that Samir's suspicion had turned to fear. The body of Ramses the Great is in the Cairo Museum, Samir said impatiently. No, Lawrence answered. He was aware of a chill moving slowly up his neck. There's a body in the Cairo Museum, but it's not Ramses! Look at the cartouches, the seal! There was no one in the time of Cleopatra who could even write the ancient hieroglyphs. And these are perfectand done like the Latin and the Greek with infinite care. Oh, if only Julie were here, Lawrence thought bitterly. His daughter, Julie, was afraid of nothing. She would understand this moment as no one else could. He almost stumbled as he backed out of the passage, waving the photographers out of his path. Again, the flashes went off around him. Reporters rushed towards the marble door. Get the diggers back to work, Lawrence shouted. I want the passage cleared down to the threshold. I'm going into that tomb tonight. Lawrence, take your time with this, Samir cautioned. There is something h...

Autorentext
Anne Rice

Klappentext
He was Ramses the Damned in ancient Egypt, but awoke in opulent Edwardian London as Dr. Ramsey, expert in Egyptology. He mixes with the aristocrats and samples their voluptuous lifestyle, but it is for his beloved, Cleopatra, that he longs, and will do anything to be with....

Zusammenfassung
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • Ramses the Great returns in this “darkly magical” (USA Today) novel from bestselling author Anne Rice

“The reader is held captive and, ultimately, seduced.”—San Francisco Chronicle

Ramses the Great lives!

But having drunk the elixer of live, he is now Ramses the Damned, doomed forever to wander the earth, desperate to quell hungers that can never be satisfied—for food, for wine, for women.

Reawakened in opulent Edwardian London, he becomes Dr. Ramsey, expert in Egyptology. He also becomes the close companion of voluptuous, adventurous Julie Stratford, heiress to a vast shipping fortune and the center of a group of jaded aristocrats with appetites of their own to appease.

But the pleasures Ramses enjoys with Julie cannot soothe him. Searing memories of his last reawakening, at the behest of Cleopatra, his beloved Queen of Egypt, burn in his immortal soul. And though he is immortal, he is still all too human. His intense longings for his great love, undiminished over the centuries, will force him to commit an act that will place everyone around him in the gravest danger. . . .

Leseprobe
1
 
The camera flashes blinded him for a moment. If only he could get the photographers away.
 
But they had been at his side for months now—ever since the first artifacts had been found in these barren hills, south of Cairo. It was as if they too had known. Something about to happen. After all these years, Lawrence Stratford was on to a major find.
 
And so they were there with the cameras, and the smoking flashes. They almost knocked him off balance as he made his way into the narrow rough-hewn passage towards the letters visible on the half-uncovered marble door.
 
The twilight seemed to darken suddenly. He could see the letters, but he couldn’t make them out.
 
“Samir,” he cried. “I need light.”
 
“Yes, Lawrence.” At once the torch exploded behind him, and in a flood of yellow illumination, the slab of stone was wonderfully visible. Yes, hieroglyphs, deeply etched and beautifully gilded, and in Italian marble. He had never seen such a sight.
 
He felt the hot silky touch of Samir’s hand on his as he began to read aloud:
 
“ ‘Robbers of the Dead, Look away from this tomb lest you wake its occupant, whose wrath cannot be contained. Ramses the Damned is my name.’ ”
 
He glanced at Samir. What could it mean?
 
“Go on, Lawrence, translate, you are far quicker than I am,” Samir said.
 
“ ‘Ramses the Damned is my name. Once Ramses the Great of Upper and Lower Egypt; Slayer of the Hittites, Builder of Temples; Beloved of the People; and immortal guardian of the kings and queens of Egypt throughout time. In the year of the death of the Great Queen Cleopatra, as Egypt becomes a Roman province, I commit myself to eternal darkness; beware, all those who would let the rays of the sun pass through this door.’ ”
 
“But it makes no sense,” Samir whispered. “Ramses the Great ruled one thousand years before Cleopatra.”
 
“Yet these are nineteenth-dynasty hieroglyphs without question,” Lawrence countered. Impatiently, he scratched away at the loose rubble. “And look, the inscription’s repeated—in Latin and in Greek.” He paused, then quickly read the last few Latin lines.
 
“ ‘Be Warned: I sleep as the earth sleeps beneath the night sky or the winter’s snow; and once awakened, I am servant to no man.’ ”
 

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