Tutankhamun Uncovered (59 page)

While he waited absolutely nothing happened. Breasted finally gave up his vigil and returned to the work.

The second his brush touched the object before him, a great cracking noise broke all about him. This time he did his best to ignore it and continued working. But now everything that remained in the room appeared to be creaking at the same time until he heard the steps of Carter once again within the corridor on his way back down to pick up another piece. As Carter appeared the tomb once more fell back into eerie silence.

Dashir looked at his king. The king looked at Ankhesenamun. They all agreed. This activity did not appear to be working.

“We must quickly move to the next, my lord. As they sit together tonight, today’s events will become the subject of conversation. We must add another event to the stories they will tell.”

“It is for me to play the part this time, is it not, Dashir?”

“It is, my lord.”

And almost immediately, as his queen and the servants watched, the image of Tutankhamun dissolved before them and the gold uraeus at his forehead fell to the floor.

Carter left for Cairo that afternoon to purchase more supplies.

Breasted continued his work in the antechamber and tried to ignore the continuous creaking and movement of inanimate objects all around him.

The canary in its cage in his master’s bedroom at Castle Carter heard the grains of sand and dust grind together between body and tiled floor like so many boulders tumbling in a torrent from the cliffs above.

“It was a cobra, I... I think,” Callender told Carter with some embarrassment as he met him at Luxor station. Callender had seen a snake of some kind slithering out the back door before he discovered that the canary was missing. The golden creature that had brought gold to the explorers was dead.

Carter lamented that he had not given the canary one moment of his attention since the tomb had been discovered. He was not a superstitious man, and it was only an animal, but he would miss the company of its song and the knowledge that another warm body shared his bedroom. Sad, but that was an end to it.

Ali was more direct in his interpretation of the event. “The golden bird is dead, sir. It is a sign. Bad luck now walks within The Valley. There will be more deaths.”

They did talk about these things while at dinner that night, and they did share their individual interpretations and concerns.

“What you said by way of explanation was quite sensible, Howard. But, with respect, you were not there when it happened. You have not experienced the feeling. You cannot then comment on it with any authority. All you can do is speculate.” Breasted was quite emphatic and direct in his statement. “I believe and I mean these words I believe it really could be a poltergeist.”

Evelyn giggled nervously.

As if he had some concern that any lack of negative response might implicitly recognise the possibility of some supernatural presence, Callender quickly cut in, “Rot. Absolute rot, James.”

“Tommyrot,” added Carter. He did not elaborate further, lowered his eyes and continued to sip his coffee. His mind was preoccupied with the monumental job ahead of him.

Carnarvon had been listening intently. Like most of the others he was intrigued by Breasted’s story. He had always held a healthy respect for all things occult. He was interested in the possibility that something of a supernatural nature was actually present at and about their excavations. Even little things were of significance to him.

“Did you notice the lightning storms last night?” added Evelyn. “But there was no rain. And they stopped dead at daybreak. And then there were dust storms all day. Funny weather.”

“The lights went off in the tomb when I entered it yesterday,” said Mace. “After I got them working they went off again. Kept blowing a fuse. Couldn’t work out where the short was. Left the place at closing time that night with the cause of the problem still unresolved and the damn things came back on by themselves! Then found I couldn’t turn them off until I pulled the plug.”

Carnarvon was not impressed by these particular stories and found himself unable to resist... “When I was in Jamaica a few years ago I met a witch doctor who read my tealeaves. A brand of Fortnum’s I believe they were. He told me then that the coincidence of a dead canary, storms, noises off, in, under or beneath, and inexplicable electrical happenings would be portents of disaster! I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but now you come to mention it...”

Evelyn whispered to her father, “Your joke is in very poor taste, Porchy.

It’s not fair to the others.” She thought her father’s sarcasm inappropriate in such scholarly company.

Carter momentarily grinned in approval, but continued to pretend he was ignoring the conversation.

Then Breasted added a comment. “All joking aside, I have told you chaps this before but up to now you have not taken the time to listen. I am absolutely sure that on most occasions when I visit the tomb, some of the objects have been moved from their original positions to some other. Not by much. Not that the casual observer might notice. But moved nevertheless. Even Howard has mentioned that he thought something appeared to be strangely situated. Do you recall, Howard?”

There was no response. Carter remained absorbed in his thoughts and refused to recognise the enquiry.

“That’s an easy one to check,” added Callender. “We can pull out Hall and Hauser’s records.”

Carter remained silent.

The story that finally did the trick was Alan Gardiner’s. He hesitated before he spoke. “I... er... I wasn’t going to mention this. Dismissed it as a figment of my imagination, or memory loss more likely at my age, I confess that is until the fellahs mentioned having the same experience.”

He had everyone’s attention but Carter’s.

“The crates on the cars of the Decauville railway. They take a long time to move, do they not?”

“That’s a gross understatement. Damn ridiculous state of affairs giving us only thirty metres of line to play with,” groused Breasted.

“Not the only reason for delay, I fancy. If my recollection is correct, that is. Now bear in mind that I cannot prove what I am about to tell you. But that is the essence of the supernatural, is it not?.. Just two days ago, I was overseeing the transportation of three crates towards the river. We had just started and had got them to the end of the initial length of laid track and, in the usual fashion, we were about to disassemble the upstream portion and relay it ahead of the cars. It was the hottest part of the day. Wetting the rails so they were cool enough to handle was becoming an exhausting chore in itself and the fellahs reminded me of the hour and that we should take advantage of some shade and rest awhile. This we did and, leaving the cars where they were, we retired to Tomb Seven... Imagine my surprise when later I emerged from the tomb entrance to find that the cars were once more back at the beginning of the track! As if we had not moved them an inch. They had returned, or had been returned, to the beginning of the track against the gradient!” Gardiner emphasised this last observation by stabbing at the air with his forefinger.

The group sitting around Gardiner were silent. But they all looked directly at him, even Carter.

After a brief pause, Gardiner continued, “I recall my thoughts at the time.

It was as if... as if someone was telling me these treasures should not be moved not be removed, I should say from their original resting place. A gentle message to us to replace that which we were taking. For just a moment I really felt I was being watched. Crazy, I know, but I truly did feel a presence about me, and not just one being several. It was a most curious and somewhat disquieting experience. I am glad to say it has not occurred since.”

Carter drew a long, slow, deep breath. “Alan, did anyone else experience this?”

“Actually, yes. As I said, some of the fellahs who were with me at the time. If it was imagination or forgetfulness, it was not only mine. At least three others recollect the same phenomenon. They are impressionable souls, I know, so it’s not what I would call real proof. But ask them all the same, if you will.”

Carter knew he didn’t have to ask. Gardiner’s word was sufficient. ‘Damn difficult to believe,’ he thought, ‘but there has to be a rational explanation.’ He shrugged his shoulders. “No time to dwell on these phenomena. A monumental task still lies before us. Back to work everybody.”

Reality is a simple fact; superstition and conjecture are not.

On the night of April the third, over four months later, the Earl of Carnarvon lies sweating in a hotel bed in Cairo, suffering from a terminally debilitating case of pneumonia. His eyes are open. They are wet with tears. Tears of hopeless frustration that his frail body is unable to resist the disease. Frustration that he is to be prevented from seeing his great triumph through to its glorious conclusion.

As he stares at the ceiling, mixtures of gold, black, blue, red, green and white begin to sparkle in the haze of his fading eyesight. The fragments slowly coalesce into an image. It is a woman. She is slim; quite small. A great golden collar broadly encrusted with red, blue and green glass hangs over her shoulders and about her narrow neck. Her dress is white gossamer, pleated below the waist. Each of her bare arms is enclosed by golden and jewel encrusted bangles; her feet with golden slippers. She wears a black wig. The plaited ropes uniformly drape her sweet face. Heavy gold earrings hang from each ear lobe. There is a perfume cone on her head. The wax appears to glow as it runs in tiny rivulets over her cheeks. Her eyes are heavily outlined in black.

Her arms move towards him. There is the merest suggestion of a beckoning...

Chapter Twenty

Carter, Carnarvon, Lady Evelyn and Callender had finished their soup. It had been a long and eventful day, truly the ‘day of days’, and much of the night to boot. A light supper was quite sufficient. Their minds were racing with the sights they had beheld, each with a different perspective, each with different memories.

“We must to bed,” Carter ordered. “There is much to do. Much to prepare. We may not feel it at present because of all the adrenalin, but if we stay up any longer we will regret it in the morning. You will overnight here, of course, your lordship, m’ lady, Pecky, old boy. Far too late to return to the east bank. A bit cramped, but I believe we’ll all fit okay.”

Each member of the party nodded and took it in turns to use the limited facilities.

Carter lay in bed staring at the ceiling. It was tinged a light shade of blue in the reflected moonlight. Damn all chance he was going to get any sleep for what remained of tonight and he knew it. His jacket hung on the chair next to his bed. He leaned over, took a pad and pencil from one of the pockets and began committing to paper the great list of tasks that presently tumbled through his sleepless mind.

The earl, in the spare room with his daughter, was also staring at the ceiling. He sat up and pulled his jacket from the end of the bed. He also withdrew something from the side pocket. He lay back into the pillow and slowly opened his fist in front of his face. The small ivory figure of a pony at full stretch rolled onto his palm. He felt the thrill of possession and, at the same time, the temerity of deception. But both were enjoyable. He studied it for a minute or two, then turned over and tucked it under his pillow. He felt the passive comfort of its gentle contours beneath his head and easily fell into a deep, contented sleep.

He was not the only one. Next to him the diminutive figure of an ivory gazelle was being examined. In the hall behind them, Callender’s trousers hung by their braces from a hook on the wall. A tiny, seated bronze dog with a gilded collar, its smiling head looking over its shoulder, reclined snugly in the right-hand pocket.

That night each of them held their personal secret close, but by breakfast it had all become far too much to withhold. At the start, each of them was silent. Little more could be heard than the shuffling of the servant and the drinking of the coffee and of the tea and the crunching of the toast. Each held the group’s guilty secret. Each held a personal guilty secret. With the sole exception of their host, each of them was bursting to tell a colleague.

Carter helped break the silence. “Lady Evelyn. Did you sleep all right? I am unused to so many guests, so I hope you will forgive these congested surroundings.”

“Most soundly, Howard. A most restful night’s sleep.” She lied. But it was not the heat or the insects or for want of a comfortable bed. For her, like the others, it had been a night full of thoughts, full of pictures, full of memories, full of the most wonderful memories.

Abdel left the room to replenish the coffee.

Evelyn could stand it no longer.

“Gentlemen,” she said. “I cannot contain my guilt for another moment.”

The three men stared directly at her, wide-eyed.

“If I do, I shall not be able to concentrate for the rest of the day.” She picked up her handbag and placed it on the table. Parting the clasp, she put her hand inside and, with some ceremony, drew out the tiny carving.

Evelyn looked at each of their faces, from one to the other around the table. She anticipated the most awful scolding, particularly from Carter. In the event, the response was totally unexpected. Carnarvon smiled... Callender smiled... Then, at last, Carter smiled. They all smiled at one another. Evelyn smiled back nervously in relief. And they all laughed.

They shared the three small objects and passed them around.

Examining the ivory pony thoughtfully Carter turned to the three with a stern expression on his face. He whispered above the noise of Abdel’s returning footsteps, “This much oh, I almost forgot, and the head shall we take, but no more. These precious things are plenty enough to remind us of the thrill of our first moments inside the sepulchre. But there can be no more. Swear this to me, my good friends. Swear this to me.”

“We swear, Howard!”

Carter’s serious composure persisted. “Later, for my private records, you must tell me exactly now where you found these objects.”