Well, heres a treat for all of you, a good one or a bad one I leave it up to you to decide. Its one of the very few pieces of fiction I’ve written that wasn’t aimed at getting me a grade at school or uni. Its a Highlander fanfic and was inspired by a challenge that required participants in said challenge to write a piece of fiction around the line “Whenever I feel the first fall of snow, I’m back there. Reliving it.” I don’t remember where I saw this challenge, but I somehow managed to use that line to combine one of my favourite fictional characters with one of my favourite historical figures, and this is the result. Hope you enjoy it, tell me if you do… or if you don’t. I’ve tried to make sure that all the historical facts are accurate, which may make the whole thing read like a history lesson, but I hope not a boring one at least.

Disclaimer: Methos, Joe, Duncan and Amanda are all characters from the Highlander TV series. None of them belong to me, they all belong to Rysher, etc. I have simply borrowed them for the purposes of this tale.

Thanks for the proof-reading help Jesse.

—————————————————

A Tale from The Chronicles of Methos:
How I Built the Pyramids

A deceptively young man slipped through the doors of Le Blues Bar, accompanied by a flurry of snowflakes. Feeling the sudden rush of cold air, the bartender looked up and immediately proceeded to draw a glass of beer. He gave the foam head a critical scrutiny to ensure it was up to his usual standards, before placing the glass down on the bar, just as a shivering Methos put on another ‘how to sprawl on a barstool’ display.

“First snow. Looks like winter’s arrived a little early this year,” Joe commented.

“Looks to be a cold one too. Maybe it’s time I took that trip to Bora-Bora… Or maybe Egypt.”

Joe cast Methos a mock-worried look. “Not Egypt buddy. You’ll probably get so caught up in hunting down your old stuff you’ll forget to come back for Duncan’s birthday. Amanda will promptly forget that I’m mortal and take my head for letting you miss it.”

“She’ll forgive you Joe.” Methos, lost in his thoughts, didn’t even notice the opportunity to get involved in the running banter he and Joe had been sharing; about Amanda’s army-general-like attitude towards the surprise party she was planning for Duncan.

Surprised, Joe gave Methos a scrutinising look. Hah! Wait a minute. I know that look. Making a show of wiping down the bar, Joe casually started to probe; “what? No quips about Amanda’s similarity to Hitler? Same height, same demeanor, just missing the moustache…”

Methos spun his stool around to hide his knowing grin and stared out the window “Not this time I guess.”

With a resigned sigh, and a mumbled “let the games begin”, Joe pulled out a bottle of fine Scotch whiskey from his prying-information-out-of-Methos stash. Thinking back on their conversation, and remembering his friend’s slight hesitation, Joe tried a stab in the dark; “why would an early winter remind you of Egypt?”

“Egypt? Who said anything about Egypt?”

Grinning triumphantly, Joe poured two tumblers of whiskey. “You did. About two minutes ago.”

Methos fell silent as he pondered the wisdom of giving Joe more information about his past. He did enjoy baiting his friend, and getting all those free drinks, but anything he told Joe was likely to end up in the Watcher database; and it was always a little dangerous to give the Watchers too much information about him. Finally deciding that it was all ancient history anyway, and that the shock this little bit of information would give Joe would be worth the potential trouble, Methos relented. “It’s not the early winter Joe, it’s just that whenever I feel the first fall of snow, I’m back there. Reliving it.”

Pausing to take a sip of whiskey Methos let the silence lengthen, seemingly absorbed in the drifting dance of snowflakes outside the window.

Realising he was being baited, a disgruntled Joe finally broke the silence, “reliving…What?”

“A great time. A grand time. A time of pyramid building and… My first real experience with snow.” Methos trailed off again.

“What the hell does snow have to do with building pyramids? The Egyptian pyramids are sitting out in the middle of the bloody desert for Pete’s sake.”

“The snow comes after. It’s just that whenever I experience the first snowfall of winter, I remember the first time I got caught out in ‘real’ snow and the events that led up to it. How one of the most enjoyable chapters of my life came to a close and a new one began.”

Noting the look of frustration on Joe’s face, Methos decided to give the old Watcher a break. With a meaningful look he held out his empty whiskey glass and waited for Joe to refill it before settling in to tell his story.

“It all happened while I was relatively young, by Immortal standards. I’d developed a thirst for knowledge, and started wandering all over Mesopotamia and Egypt, learning anything I could about everything: astrology, architecture, astronomy, mathematics, you get the idea. Finally my interests turned towards the ‘in thing’ of the times; healing and the art of mummification. So off I went to the capital of Egypt, Saquarrah.”

Something clicked in the old Watcher’s mind. “Saquarrah? But that hasn’t been the capital of Egypt since the Bronze Ages and you were with the Horsemen at that time.”

Methos cast Joe one of his patented long-suffering looks. “The Bronze Ages lasted a long time Joe. This happened in the early Bronze Age. It still left a lot of time for the Horsemen and I to terrorise the world through the rest of the Bronze Ages.” Casting a glance towards the window he threatened, “now, the snow has let up; so if you’re going to keep interrupting my tale I’d rather just make my way home to my warm and friendly apartment. ”

“And miss out on the free booze?” Joe snorted in disbelief.

Making no attempt to hide his grin at the familiar exchange, Methos continued, “I was born in Mesopotamia, but I always liked Egypt just a little bit better. The Mesopotamians always seamed more flighty, very much more artistic in nature. The Egyptians were practical and forward thinking. Of course, having to fight back the desert on an almost daily basis doesn’t exactly lend itself to impracticality. You tend to get pragmatic in a place that’s alternatively swallowed up in water or buried in sand.”

Knowing how Methos could get carried away describing the ingenuity of ancient cultures, Joe was quick to interrupt that particular train of thought. “Yeah, so what happened when you settled down in Egypt?”

With a mischievous grin, Methos dropped one of his little bombs. “I joined the priesthood of Heliopolis.” Five, four, three, two, one; he started a mental countdown as he watched the incredulous expression begin to cross Joe’s face.

“Wait, you were a priest?”

Feeling all kinds of satisfaction at his friend’s shocked reaction, Methos took a sip from his glass to hide his pleased grin, before pretending irritation. “I’ve told you before Joe, I’ve been many things. And this was the only way to learn what I wanted to know, okay?” Arranging his features into a look of mock innocence, he asked in a saccharine tone, “Now should I continue, or are you still too busy laughing over the thought of me being a priest?”

“I’m done. You can continue now,” Joe replied as he tried to stifle his grin.

“I…”

“Wait! Did you have to shave your head?” Joe burst out laughing again.

Flashing a wry grin Methos chose not to answer as he continued with his tale. “I found that I wasn’t just learning about science and medicine in the priesthood. Egyptian temples were a great place to learn about politics too. The High Priest of Heliopolis held as much power as the Pharaoh and so it wasn’t long before I set my sights on that exalted position.”

Joe grinned. “Now that sounds more like your style.”

Methos nodded as a far away look descended over his face. “I was young and ambitious. Everyone was in awe of me, my every command was followed to the letter and people came to me for advice, even the Pharaoh. Between my status as High Priest of Heliopolis and all the knowledge I’d gathered prior to joining the priesthood, it was almost inevitable that the Pharaoh would eventually name me chief advisor. And that’s when, although I didn’t know it at the time, my troubles began. I barely even knew what it meant to be an immortal and ‘low profile’ wasn’t really in the books for me. I’d spent most of my life being low profile: a slave, a student, just another desert nomad. I’d finally gotten a taste of real power and I milked it for all it was worth. The Pharaoh started to rely on me in a big way and the people respected me. As far as the other ministers were concerned, I had more than my fair share of power and that made them decidedly antsy. The CIA and the Russian intelligence put together couldn’t hold a candle to the intrigue that went on in the Pharaoh’s court in those days. But I’m jumping ahead of myself.”

“Everything was great at first. Djoser was pretty good as Pharaoh’s went. He listened to the people’s needs, cared about their welfare, and he maintained order in his kingdom. He did everything a true ruler did, and then some. But he had your typical Pharaoh complex. They all truly believed they were demi-gods. It wasn’t just an act they put on to fool the masses into accepting them; most of them half-believed it. So it wasn’t enough for Djoser that he would be king for eternity in the afterlife: he wanted the living residents of Egypt to remember him long after his passing too. He wanted ‘a monument that would last for as long as the Nile shall flow’, as he put it. And who should he turn to to produce this monumental testament to his existence? Why, the man who was his chief advisor and head architect all rolled into one, of course.”

“I accepted, naturally. Back then, if you said ‘no’ to the Pharaoh, you were buying yourself a quick ticket to the afterlife. However, I looked upon it as a bit of a challenge and an honour. Problem was, I had no idea what to do, and neither did he. In typical Pharaoh fashion, he had vague ideas about ’something grand’ and left the details to someone else. I figured it would have to be his tomb. Knowing how much importance the Egyptians placed in all matters relating to death and the afterlife, if I could come up with ’something grand’ to do with his tomb, Djoser would send all kinds of gratitude my way.”

Here Methos paused. All the time he’d been prattling on about Djoser and tombs, Joe’s brow had been furrowed in puzzlement. But slowly the pieces were beginning to fall in place and Methos watched with amusement as the hands of incredulity once again took control of Joe’s facial muscles, and started to shape his features into a look of slack-jawed shock.

Finally rediscovering the use of his tongue, Joe blurted out, “the pyramids? Are you trying to tell me you invented the pyramids? But that was… That was…” The shock had sent most of Joe’s memories scuttling off to hide in the darkest recesses of his mind. He could barely recall his own name, let alone a name he vaguely remembered from his long-ago Egyptian history lessons at Watcher school. With dodged determination, he set loose the mental hounds that finally sniffed the name he was looking for out of the corner it was cowering in. “Imhotep! That was Imhotep, not Methos.”

Methos raised an eyebrow and stared at him patiently. Joe sighed. “I know, you’ve had many names, but Imhotep? That can’t… You couldn’t have… The Watchers have studied the ancient Egyptians for Immoral activity from the get-go. Someone would have known.”

“You mean the way they studied and tracked Methos? The way they ‘know’ he’s dead? The way they ‘know’ Adam Pierson is just a young Immortal and have no idea that he’s actually Methos? Someone ‘would have known’ like that?”

“Okay, fine. The Watchers miss stuff. And you’ve been many things,” Joe relented in a low grumble. Still feeling a little disgruntled, Joe asked in a dubious tone “So how’d you come up with a pyramid then?”

“Well, as I said, I knew I wanted to do something unusual with his tomb. But I didn’t know what. I couldn’t get too innovative. It had to be a mastaba, at least in concept. Mastabas were tradition. Mastabas were religion. You didn’t mess with things like that. How was the Pharaoh’s soul supposed to find its way to the afterlife if it couldn’t read the road signs? But a giant oblong hump sticking out of the ground wasn’t a very attractive look. I wanted people to marvel at the structure, not comment on what bad taste Djoser had.”

“It finally hit me one day as I was coming out of the temple of Heliopolis after morning prayers. I was standing at the top of the stairs, outside the main entrance to the temple looking out at the desert, and I noticed the way the sun’s rays were filtering down through the clouds and striking the sand dunes. That’s when I started to get the image of a giant triangular structure that pointed up to the sun and sky, as if to say ‘Here lies the body of your king, whose soul now rules from the heavens’. It would be the most unusual structure in the empire and big enough to be seen from some distance; the inhabitants of Saquarrah couldn’t possibly miss it whenever they looked up. Plus, the ancient Egyptians were big on sun-worship. The Pharaoh loved the idea of his tomb looking like the rays of the sun shining down from the heavens.”

By this point Joe was beyond questioning the facts of his friend’s amazing tale. All he could do was stare in abject fascination as Methos continued. “Then began the gargantuan task of building the damn thing. There were many times when I found myself cursing every Egyptian god that ever existed… And there were quite a few, I assure you; some that archaeologists today don’t even know about. That’s what you get when every Pharaoh is considered a god… But I have to admit that, all things considered, I did rather enjoy myself. I decided that the only way it would work was to make a series of mastabas, one piled on top of the other, with each successive one smaller than the last. Working out the physics of building a giant pyramid using blocks of rock and granite laid down on top of shifting sand proved to be quite a challenge. I’m rather proud of how it all turned out actually.”

When it looked like Joe might have finally found his voice again Methos was quick to add, “Okay, so the Step pyramid isn’t perfect and is minuscule compared to the Giza trio, but hey, it was the biggest building of its time, it was unusual and it’s still standing isn’t it? It met the requirements. If I hadn’t come up with the idea for the Step, those monstrosities at Giza might not ever have been built. And it was quite an achievement considering it was built by people that had never even considered building a structure out of stone before. Besides, it was a prototype and you’re not supposed to get the prototype right the first time around; takes all the fun out of the inventive process. Plus, I WAS working with a deadline. I may be immortal, but Djoser wasn’t about to wait around indefinitely for his tomb to be built.”

Joe flashed Methos a teasing grin. “Sounds like you’re just making excuses for shoddy work old man.�

Refusing to be baited, Methos continued as if Joe had never spoken. “Building the pyramid gave me a good chance to perfect my medical skills too. All those heavy blocks of granite, unstable sand, and fragile bones didn’t mix well. I got so good that Djoser even built me a teaching hospital.â€?

“Anyway, I was right about the effect the pyramid would have on the Pharaoh. He was so pleased with it, and me, that my every wish was granted, and he showered me with riches. Vizier, head priest, chief architect, royal doctor, Pharaoh’s favourite and defending champion of the annual Peoples Choice Award,” the last was said with a self-mocking grin, “I wasn’t winning any favours amongst the other ministers. But I was popular with the people, and I had the Pharaoh’s protection, so there wasn’t much they could do about it. That is, until Djoser died.” Methos’ voice became soft and his tone turned sad, “That was a dark day for me. He was as much my friend as he was my monarch. Performing his funeral rites and mummification was both an honour and a heartache.”

“Djoser’s successor, Sekhemkhet wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn’t as strong as Djoser either. He asked me to build him a pyramid-tomb too and I jumped at the chance to improve upon my previous design. Unfortunately, I never got to finish it. I’d grown lax under the protection of Djoser and stopped watching for assassination attempts. Nobody really dared make an attempt to get rid of me while he was alive because they knew my suspicious death would be fully investigated, and lead to a rather painful and drawn-out public execution for the assassin. Sekhemekhet wasn’t quite as attached to me as his father was however, and, seeing this, the other ministers grew a collective backbone. They hired one of the best assassins in Egypt and sent him into my chambers at night. The bastards had me killed in my sleep. He was so quick and silent I only knew what had happened after I ‘died’ and revived. As soon as I recovered, I gathered up some things and high-tailed it out of there. That’s why Imhotep’s tomb hasn’t been found. There never was one.”

“I knew it was too dangerous to stick around ‘civilisation’. I’d become too famous and I was bound to be recognised if I stayed in any place that had dealings with the Egyptians. So I headed north, in disguise. I passed through Mesopotamia as fast as I could and continued on until I hit Europe. I’d started off at the height of summer, so it was still autumn by the time I got there. I didn’t have a clue what I was in for. When the first winter storm hit it took me completely by surprise. Sure, I’d experienced snowfalls before. It would occasionally snow out in the desert when the nights got cold enough. But the snow usually melted away in the morning sun, if not before that. So I wasn’t used to driving storms that didn’t let up for days or weeks.”

“I must have died and revived a hundred times that winter until I finally found a cave to crawl into and figured out how to keep a fire going. That was how Kronos found me. Sensing an immortal nearby, he’d come into my cave to take my head. I wasn’t the easy kill he was expecting though. I may have been weakened by cold and starvation, but my survival instinct was strong. I reacted like a half-crazed animal and nearly took his head instead. We formed a grudging respect for each other that night. The next day he took me back to his camp and got me cleaned up. I picked up his language pretty quickly. It was quite simple and barbaric compared to what I was used to, after all. After a while Kronos started to realise there was more to me than the savage he thought I was. Eventually Caspian and Silas joined us as well. The rest you know.”

“So that’s it. The first snowfall of winter always remind me of how Imhotep died and Death was born.”

Joe looked puzzled. “But it sounds like you did a lot of good as Imhotep and the people really revered you. How’d you go from that to…” Joe paused, searching for words that wouldn’t make his friend turn defensive. “Doing what you did as a Horseman?”

Methos shrugged. “I guess I started to believe Kronos’ ramblings about how superior we were to humans. And by then I’d started to miss the power and wealth I had in Egypt. I’m not going to apologise for that anymore, Joe. The times were different and I was different. My cushy life had been taken away from me and I was stuck in the wilds with the ‘barbarians’. I was angry at the world and Kronos gave me a means to take out that anger.”

Methos flashed Joe a cheeky grin as he got up and started to put on his coat. “Now, I think I’ll head home to my nice warm bed before the snow starts up again. I’m sure you’ve got a rather lengthy report to write up for the Watcher’s database.”

With that final statement, Methos was out the door before Joe’s dazed mind could think of a comeback. In a preoccupied stupor, Joe went through the motions of locking the bar door and turning off the light before going into his office and turning on the computer. He sat for a while staring at the Watcher’s database login page before deciding to do a little research first.

The old Watcher opened up another window and started to look up information on Imhotep. As he went through the different websites, he would alternately mumble to himself in disbelief or shake his head in amazement. Then he saw it. A line on one of the sites, added in almost as an afterthought:

“About 100 years after his death he was elevated as a medical demigod. Around 2,000 years after his death, Imhotep was elevated to a full god and replaced Nefertum in the great triad at Memphis.”

Silently mouthing the word “Godâ€?, Joe sat back in shock. He gazed at those two little sentences for a full ten minutes before, with deliberate calm, he began closing down all the windows he’d opened. As he reached the last window, the login page for the Watcher’s database, he hesitated. Giving his head a quick shake he shut that window down as well and put his computer to sleep. “They’ll never believe me,” he mumbled as he left his office “Not even MacLeod would believe this one”.