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For too long, foreign nations, especially Britain, Dr Hanser, has plundered Egypt of its treasures. Yes, I want to find Smenkhkare's treasury and tomb, but only so it can be safeguarded for future generations in the nation where it lies hidden. The Egyptian authorities should be notified too. Then the proper authorities will conduct a formal search for the tomb in Egypt. You want to see what the account says, don't you?
None of us want that, so until I can arrange a proper press conference to announce our findings, nobody will have a chance to talk to anyone else. If you remember, Mr Robert Burrows mentioned your find to his brother. Luckily, we have managed to contain that mistake, but we may not be so lucky next time. Also, the other members of your team. They should all be reassured.
We can tell them later. He turned abruptly and strode to the tent flap, calling out to an army officer. Bring me any foreigner you find. Bashir went back into the tent. A few minutes passed and the captain entered. Please have your men on standby. He opened his tin of tobacco and started rolling himself another cigarette. If they thought they'd be safer away from here, who could blame them? He lit up and puffed blue smoke in a rush upwards.
Damascus is the logical choice, but also the easiest to close off. Not a word now," Daffyd added as they heard Bashir returning. Bashir smiled as he entered the tent again. Things will soon be back to normal. In the meantime, while we are waiting for our misguided friends, I think we had better continue with the translation.
Are you rested enough, Dr Hanser? Now, if the rest of you Besides, I think I want the rest of you where I can keep an eye on you.
They all trooped up to the cave accompanied by several guards whom Bashir positioned outside the chamber entrance with strict instructions to pass no-one in or out without written permission from him. The generator was started up and electric light flooded the chambers and the air pump started freshening the air. Bashir led the way and they passed into the interior of the tomb, but when they reached the vertical shaft connecting the second and third chambers, Bashir noticed Dani was missing.
They went back to find her. They found Dani in the first chamber, staring at the large painting on the back wall. The scene showed a young woman with her back to the viewer confronted by the nine gods of Iunu. Dani held something in her right hand and they could hear her murmuring indistinctly as they drew close. Dani turned and stared at them, frowning. After a few moments her expression cleared and she nodded. Bashir leaned forward to examine the object briefly and then turned away. He looked around at the electric lighting and the deep shadows. Dani shook her head. The tie is of blood.
One by one, they ducked down and moved through into the second chamber. Bashir was waiting for them at the top of the vertical shaft that led down to the third chamber. When the Minister saw them, he nodded and preceded them down a wooden ladder bolted to the rock wall of the shaft. At the bottom, a sealed brick doorway had been pierced and cables carrying electric power and hoses conveying air from a compressor in the main cave, snaked through into the chamber.
Bashir stood midway down the chamber, impatiently waiting until every man and woman of the British team was in place. Dani looked around the chamber slowly before nodding. He consulted a notebook. Twenty days have passed since Ay's death and in another fifty there will be a new king crowned in Waset. If I am to avoid the fate Horemheb has in store for me, I must escape with my companions.
However, we are so closely guarded I cannot see that happening - unless the gods return their gifts to me. I lost the golden scarab of Atum between Taanach and Gubla and as I cannot think how it could return to me here, I must perforce search for it there. Rather, I must have others search in my place. The next time my companions are allowed into the city, I shall have Abrim and Gershon escape. I can give them gold and jewels to speed their journey north. I only hope that they can find Atum's golden scarab and return with it before I am made Horemheb's Queen.
I once took pride in being the 'Chosen One of the Gods' but I can see now that the gods choose many men and women to do their bidding and I am but one of them. I will school myself in patience and wait the unfolding of their will. If I do not have the golden scarab then perhaps their attention is elsewhere The old man shuffled through the stony desert, his worn sandals kicking up a thin cloud of dust and his staff clattering against the rocks.
A dirty, threadbare robe covered him from shoulders to toes, and his head was covered in matted hair, hanging down over his robe. A beard, a few shades lighter in colour than his red-gold hair, covered most of his face, the skin around the eyes and nose sunburnt and flaking. His lips were cracked and dry and his tongue flicked out between them as he mumbled to himself. Have I not done everything you asked, given up everything for your sake? Father, answer me, for I am your son He is the Lord and I am the son The unseen sun rose to its zenith and shadows all but disappeared. The man felt the heat beat down on his head and sought, by touch and instinct, the thin shade that clung to tall and tilted rocks.
He sat, his legs drawn up to take advantage of the marginally cooler air and leaned back against the blistering stone, staring unseen over the desert. In his mind, he saw again, scenes from far away. A broad expanse of a river and air that was moist and cool. A city, dusty and sunbaked, filled with the scents and sounds of humanity. Large, cool rooms, servants, gold arm-bands and precious stones.
People who smiled and bowed, offering food--golden barley loaves, thick slabs of beef and roasted geese dripping with fat, radishes and onions, dates and melons--water-filled and succulent. The man felt his saliva flowing and groaned softly. Fine wine, tart beer, and cool river water in abundance. He heard chanting and raised his head, searching for the source of the sound before he realised it lay within his head. O Living Aten, the originator and beginning of life! When you rise on the eastern horizon, you fill every land under the heavens with your beauty. His eyes glistened and he put his head between his hands and wept for all he had lost.
Sound intruded again, this time sharper, with a quality to it that spoke of something external. The man lifted his head, his tears already sucked dry on his weathered cheeks. The sound came again, a soft clack of stone against stone-- there, off to my left. He moved his head as though he could see the person or thing that moved quietly half a hundred paces away.
There was no reply, and the man trembled, knowing in his heart that silence was not the sign of a friend. He moved his right hand, casting about, seeking a rock to wield. He nudged a large one and his hand slipped under it.
Hard, jointed legs scrabbled against his skin and then his hand was pierced by a hot needle driven into the flesh between thumb and forefinger. The man snatched his hand back, a cry of pain and anguish ripped from his throat. The clatter of stones came again and the yipping cry of a jackal.
Have you come for my soul at last? Inpu is a son of Re, but neither god is true--only the Aten, only the Lord God is worthy of worship. Ah, Lord, have mercy on your son. Guide me as you once did. Air stirred his matted hair, hot and acrid as the breath of Set and the man prayed aloud, seeking to drive the false gods from him. The answer was silence, not even the sound of the jackal. He leaned back against the rock, withdrawing into himself in misery. The pain spread slowly up his arm but he ignored it, accepting it as one more proof of his God's displeasure.
Shadows slid away, and the full force of the afternoon sun bathed him in a furnace that sucked out what moisture remained in his burnt and flaking skin. A long time later--the man could tell that the sun had lowered in the sky though he could not see it--he stirred and rose shakily to his feet. His hand and arm ached but the pain was bearable. The scorpion was sent to chastise, not to kill.
He took this as a sign that his god still had a purpose for him. The man started off into the desert, forgetting his staff which remained beside the rock. The man felt something tapped against his arm and he grasped it, recognising the rough texture of the wood. Let me see it. The man heard the muted sound of liquid in a goatskin flask and though his throat convulsed painfully, he made no move to take the proffered vessel.
The Aten desires you to live. The man trembled but reached out a hand and took the flask, working the bung out with a shaking hand and lifting the water to his lips. He drank thirstily before handing the flask back to the woman. The woman sighed softly. I shall follow you. I heard you earlier. The man shook his head. I must offer myself to the Lord in solitude.
She waited until his diminished form rippled and danced in the shimmering air before slowly following. The woman had seen only a dozen summers since the water-fat days of luxury as the eldest daughter of a loving father in the palace on the Great River, yet her hair was streaked with gray and her face was lined and worn by the harsh desert air. Her robe was thin and patched and the body beneath it shrunken and angular, yet her face shone with the intensity of one who follows an ideal.
Merye's attention was focused on the stumbling figure of her blind father, but she remained aware of her surroundings. A sure way to die in the desert was to ignore what lay on every side, but Merye had quickly learned to guide her blind father through the everyday vicissitudes the harsh climate threw their way. The sun swiftly plunged toward the desert sand, turning golden and then red as it shone through the dusty layers of air.
Merye approached her father and guided him toward the shelter of a stand of boulders. Now that the face of his god was slipping beneath the western horizon, he became more tractable, obeying his daughter as she quickly set up their campsite. A fire was necessary as it grew chilly at night, but it must be properly hidden lest the light attract unwelcome attention. Several times in the past dozen years they had stumbled across bandits or the wandering tribesmen of the deep desert. The first time, the bandits robbed them of every possession, raped the young woman, and taunted the blind man mercilessly until he lost his temper and lashed out.
He was clubbed senseless. Since then, they had had nothing worth stealing and the tribes tended to leave them alone, believing the ramblings of the old man a sign he was touched by the gods. Bandits still troubled them from time to time, but Merye's increasingly worn looks seldom attracted unwelcome attention. They ate sparingly of dry bread and a morsel of goat's cheese before settling down beside the fire. As the fire died down and the chill of the desert night bit deeper, they huddled together for warmth.
The man's hands roamed and he left his daughter in no doubt as to what he wanted of her, but she refused him, pushing him away. You were king and I was your wife then as well as your daughter. Now you are just an old man cast out by Kemet and I Those things do not change, Merye. Nor do my feelings for you. Can we not take some comfort in this wilderness? Open your eyes to our changed circumstance But you are no longer king and I have seen precious little evidence these past years that the Aten still loves you.
We wander from oasis to well, begging for food, while you pray incessantly to the sun, but he does not answer. Give it up, father. Let us find a friendly tribe or a small village where we can live out our lives in some measure of comfort.
The Aten has not forgotten me. He will raise me once more to glory. Did I not always praise him and put him before all other gods? Merye did not answer. She huddled in her thin and patched robe and listened as her father continued to mumble about the special relationship he had with his god. After a long time, when the stars had moved significantly across the body of Nut, she spoke again. Small two-person tents would house the members of the expedition and larger ones would contain stores, a kitchen cum dining room and the equipment necessary to run the archaeological dig over the next four months.
The tents of the Syrian crew occupied a level area fifty metres upstream. Despite the reasonably cordial relations that existed between the Syrian government and the Midlands University running the dig, the predominantly Moslem crew was under orders not to fraternize with the foreigners. They worked around Dani and Marc, nodding politely if they caught a glance but otherwise ignoring them. She gestured toward the cave.
I'm guessing not as we've been allowed back. Dani led the way up the rough track to the cave. I said that if we found nothing at such a good site, it was a reasonable conclusion that the Neanderthal migration did not follow the Orontes Valley. However, in the end they trusted my judgment and funded us for another year. I think he's suspicious about something.
Marc muttered an imprecation under his breath. Let's see what the inside of the cave is like first. A goat ran past them when they walked under the overhang, bleating as it bolted out into the bright sunlight.
The interior of the cave was dry, with a thick layer of earth and dried mud extending over the entire floor. The earth was patterned with hoof prints and small mounds of dry dung. Apart from a slight farmyard smell, the goats appeared not to have done any damage. A hard-packed track disappeared into the gloomy recesses where last year's dig had taken place. He grunted, but nodded with satisfaction. Dani came and stood beside him, staring at the rock face.
That mortar we used really stands out. Modern cement over ancient brickwork. Dani's hand went to the pocket of her jeans and she drew out a heavy object that glinted despite the dim light. Marc glanced at her and saw the gold in her hand. You brought it back? I would have thought it would be in a museum back home. Can I have a look? Dani hesitated then passed the object across.
Marc examined the object in his hand. It was a large gold scarab beetle, its legs and head tucked under a carapace which was carved and lined in a way as to make the artifact extremely lifelike. He turned it over to reveal a symbol carved into the belly of the beetle, nestled between its legs. The symbol looked like a circle with lines extending from it, each one ending in a tiny hand. Marc recognized the symbol as that of the ancient Egyptian god Aten, which for some reason had been carved into the belly of the sacred scarab beetle, symbol of the god Khepri. The carving was fine and delicate, the whole a work of art.
It's an incredible piece of work. Dani took back the scarab, clutching it tightly in her hand. Don't ask me to explain. We only found it here last year. In fact it was in the mud beside where we found the chamber. After a moment he nodded. You tell me when you're ready. Dani slipped the scarab back into her pocket and pointed at the wall.
My idea was to put up one of the larger tents in here, ostensibly so we don't have to cart everything down to the camp. We can have trestle tables in it and set out a few artifacts so anyone popping in--the minister, for example--will only see what we want him to see. Marc grinned, his teeth white in his gleaming chestnut beard. We can rig the back flap of the tent so we can draw it up to allow us access to the chamber. The other members of the expedition arrived the next morning. Another truck with the logo of the National History Ministry pulled up and four men and two women clambered down from the back.
While the support staff emptied the truck and took the baggage and personal belongings to the tents, Dani led them all to one of the larger tents that would serve as a conference room. She sat them down on the camp chairs and officially greeted them, after which she smiled warmly, hugging the women and shaking hands with the men. A small, dapper man with a shock of wavy black hair leaned back on his chair and put his feet up on another.
He started rolling himself a cigarette. She looked like she would be more at home on a catwalk than grubbing in the dirt after stone and bone. Majority rules and we all voted on it. We all made our promises and I'm sure we've all kept them. Not a word to anyone until we know what we've found. That's right, isn't it? The others nodded or murmured agreements. Dani stared at the man. I told my brother. Let us just hope your brother can keep quiet, Bob. Dani shook her head. Bob's part of this expedition, Will, just like the rest of us. We're going to find that second chamber and we'll all be there to see what it contains.
They erected the tent in the cave the next day, and while Al and Will set about the demolition of the filled-in wall hiding the first chamber, Dani led the others deeper into the cave to the site of the Neanderthal excavations of the previous season. Though the site was deep within the cave system a shaft of sunlight from a section of collapsed ceiling lit the dirt floor. How would it look if the minister found nobody doing any work on the dig that is our sole reason for being here? Dani supervised the setting up of the pegs and guidelines for future excavations, then helped clear the rubbish and debris from the trenches.
When all was clean and professional looking again, she nodded in satisfaction. If we find another chamber, everyone will get a chance to see it. Now, Daffyd, you're in charge here. I'd like you to organize Doris, Angela and Bob on preliminary work on the north trench. I'll check back here in a couple of hours. It wouldn't be so bad if we were actually getting something from the dig, but that seems to be a wash out. You'll have people grumbling because they're rostered on a useless dig instead of working on the exciting Kemetu tomb. Hopefully we'll find the next chamber soon so everyone can share in what we find.
When they arrived back at the tent they found that Al and Will had not wasted any time. The back of the tent was rolled up out of the way and a hole had been punched through the mortar and mud brick wall behind. The blocks were stacked neatly to one side of the gaping hole and light glimmered from the interior of the chamber. Al poked his head through as they entered the tent. We're all set to turn the lights on. We just need to start up the generator, if you'd be so kind, Marc.
Marc primed the generator and wound the cord. He pulled it sharply and the engine spluttered into life, coughing and kicking for a few moments before settling down into a throaty purr. Lights flickered on in the chamber, brightening and shining out to illuminate the tent.
Dani pivoted slowly on her heel, taking in the view. It was exactly as she remembered it from the previous year. Three of the four walls of the large chamber were covered in tiny hieroglyphs, the picture writing minute and cramped, sandwiched between paintings of Egyptian scenes, the figures of men and animals lovingly depicted, realistic rather than stylized. One of the scenes showed a young woman, not much more than a girl, still with the side hair lock of youth, looking at a large scarab beetle as it rolled a ball of dung across the sand.
The face of the girl showed a marked resemblance to that of Dani. The back wall was a gigantic mural depicting a semi-circle of gods facing a young woman on her knees before them, back turned to the chamber. The ceiling of the chamber depicted a huge golden Aten sun disc, gleaming richly in the bright lights. Rays from the disc extended down the walls, all around the chamber, each ray ending in a small hand clutching the ankh, the symbol of life. One of these hands touched the head of the kneeling woman in the mural in an act of blessing and protection.
The Amarnan Kings, Book 1: Scarab - Akhenaten - Kindle edition by Max Overton . Download it once and read it on your Kindle device, PC, phones or tablets. Scarab - Smenkhkare follows on from the first book in this series as King Akhenaten, distraught at the rebellion and exile of his beloved wife Nefertiti, withdraws.
Al grinned as he looked around the covered walls. Marc looked at Dani curiously. Will frowned and looked at Marc, then at Dani. Dani led us right to the entrance to this chamber. Maybe the gods of Egypt are leading her. As the shadows swept in he flicked on a flashlight and, holding it close to the wall, squinted along it, looking for the tiny straight ridge that might imply the presence of a door. Marc and Will followed suit, taking a wall each, moving slowly along, then back at a different level.
Dani stood in the middle of the chamber with the golden scarab in her hand. She bowed her head and muttered beneath her breath. She waited, the only sound in the chamber being the intermittent scrape and whisper of clothing as the men moved, and the muted hum of the generator from the cave.
She pointed at the mural on the back wall. Al stared at her quizzically for a minute before crossing to the mural and shining his torch parallel to the wall, squinting along the beam. She's done it again. Just what are you Dani? Some kind of miracle worker? Marc stared at the mural and shook his head, a horrified expression on his face. Not behind the mural. We can't destroy that, not for anything. Al fetched the rest of the team from the dig and they stood or sat in the once more brightly lit chamber and stared at the mural.
It would be like Daffyd puffed on his cigarette. We turn this over to the experts. They'll figure out a way to get past it. And what's likely to be on the other side? Empty space or a passage filled with rubble? What would an Egyptian tomb be like? At a guess I'd say the wall is dressed stone Remember the lower courses of the wall we came through are stone, the later ones being brick. They'd use stone deeper in the tomb Once we know where the levels of each course of stone are, we cut horizontally along the mortar. Couldn't we lift out each block without destroying the artwork?
We could wriggle through the gap. We'd only be taking off a small part of her feet and most of the rock slab she's kneeling on. He looked around at the group, smiling as he received nods and grunts of affirmation. We need a complete photographic record of this whole chamber.
If you remember, we took photos of the outside of the chamber before we broke down the wall, but the excitement of the inscription rather drove everything else from our minds. While Marc found the stone cutter and extension cords, Dani went back down to the camp to find her camera and a box of flash bulbs. She then spent the next hour and several rolls of film carefully photographing the whole chamber, paying special attention to the mural on the back wall.
At last she nodded and stepped back, tossing the last spent bulb back into the empty box. The stone cutter ripped through the soft sandstone easily. Marc worked his way down each side of the hidden doorway from waist height to the floor, then awkwardly held the cutter parallel to the floor and cut through the base. Several flakes of painted plaster fell away and he slowed his cutting rate.
He switched off the electric saw and it cycled down rapidly, the scream of metal on rock only slowly fading in their battered ears.
Al picked at the cut edges of the rock and found the position of the tiers of dressed stone blocks. He indicated a position nearly three feet up the wall. Marc went to work again, slowly cutting through the mortar between the tiers of stone in a more or less straight line across the doorway. He switched off again. I'm definitely into open space behind the blocks. I can tell by the feel of the saw blade. Al picked up a hand drill with a masonry bit and laboriously scraped out two deep holes about a foot from the floor and a foot in from the sides.
He screwed in two eye-hooks and attached ropes to each one. Let's pull this sucker out of here. Grabbing the ropes, they braced themselves and heaved backward. The slab of stone scraped forward a fraction then stopped. They tried again with a similar result. Al shook his head. The block is moving at an angle and is catching on the sides. Sorry girls, but you need to be in different teams.
We need equal muscle on both ropes. Under Al's direction, he and Will pushed the slab straight again before reorganizing the teams on the ropes. This time the stone, after an initial reluctance, slid free of the wall with a grinding noise. They altered the angle of the pull and coaxed the block to one side, revealing a dark cavern beyond the painted wall. Stale air oozed out into the lighted chamber, mingling with the sharp smells of burnt rock and excitement.
Dani nodded and flicked on a flashlight, playing the beam into what looked like a passageway. She ducked down and, bending double, edged under the hanging wall. The beam from the flashlight surged ahead of her, lighting floor and bare walls of a short passageway cut through the sandstone and into a second chamber. Come through, and bring lights. The others entered, tentatively, waving flashlights ahead of them as they crowded through. Daffyd plugged in another long extension cord and brought an electric light in with him. The harsh light threw the shadows back, revealing a long chamber that on first sight looked a lot less interesting than the first one.
The whitewashed plaster walls were again covered with minute hieroglyphs but there seemed to be very few paintings. There was no gleaming Aten disc on the rough rock ceiling and their overall impression of the chamber was that it was utilitarian rather than artistic--until they saw the back wall. Two men faced each other on the wall. Both were young, one no more than a youth and they both wore the blue war-crown of Kemet.
Wearing nothing more than the crowns and short military kilts, the artist had captured the young kings--for that was what they must be--in the act of battle. The older man strode forward as if eager to get to grips with his enemy, a set expression on his face, curved bronze sword held aloft. His opponent, though in a similar pose, one leg extended toward battle, looked more hesitant. He clutched a spear in both hands, the point held at stomach level.
Behind the fighting kings stood other figures, smaller to denote lesser importance in the traditional artistic mode. A woman stood behind the older king, reddish glints in her hair and sword held ready. The younger king was supported by an old man, dressed in the long white robe and leopard skin cloak of a priest of Amun, the crook and flail of kingly authority in his hands. Cartouches above the heads of the figures held hieroglyph symbols which Dani translated.
Tutankhamen succeeded him but he was only a boy of about nine. They couldn't possibly have fought. The two are battling for their respective gods. The others laughed, except Dani. Well, her grandmother used to tell me stories about a great hero called Scarab, her ancestor, a woman who lived thousands of years ago. One of the legends says she met the gods.
So perhaps the pictures really are just allegorical. Tell us what happened? Does anyone have 35 mm film? Doris shook her head. I think I have some bulbs too. Hang on a sec and I'll get them. Handing over the rolls of film and flash bulbs to Dani he went and sat with the others as she proceeded to litter the floor with spent bulbs. We'll do some tonight, some more tomorrow, and so on. I'd say this is where it starts. The city of Akhet-Aten is new and clean but it is empty, being dedicated to a god that speaks only to the king and offers little to anyone else.
Here in Waset, the disc of the sun seems less remote and people can worship it through the old familiar forms of Re and Khepri.