Tutankhamun Uncovered (64 page)

He was anxious to complete clearance and renovation before the profusion of remaining artefacts became irreversibly degraded by the effects of intrusion. But it had dawned on him that, with the sheer volume of material, he could be doing this one thing in this one valley in this one small hole in the ground for the next few years perhaps five, perhaps more. It was, at that jaded moment, more than he cared to contemplate.

And then this privileged aristocrat luckily born to his fortune, with little to do but look for sources of amusement with which to lighten his otherwise pampered but melancholy existence was arrogant and insensitive enough to suppose that to mention this correction at this particular time was more important than the work at hand. In Carter’s mind the grandee couldn’t have brought to his attention anything less trivial. So trivial, indeed, it might have remained ignored. But unfortunately the earl didn’t stop there.

“...And while I’m on the subject,” continued Carnarvon, “you need to watch the way you behave with Evelyn. There is an indelicacy in the manner in which you sometimes address her in the company of others particularly the press. They would love to make a story out of it. In view of their frustration with my arrangement with The Times I’m surprised they haven’t picked up on it already.”

It became finally too much for Carter to contain his silence.

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you, sir. Dammit, sir, you’ve a... you’ve a brass nerve! And I’ve no time for it. Take your self-indulgent concerns and leave this place before I do something we’ll both be eternally sorry for.”

He stabbed a forefinger in the direction of the way out and turned back to his work.

The loudness and aggressiveness of Carter’s delivery, amplified as it was in the confining stone walls of the tomb corridor, took his well-meaning patron by surprise. Carnarvon was set back on his heels and quickly had to adjust the position of his walking stick to avoid losing his balance.

Carter’s posture at the trestle table was a statement of finality. He turned his back on his patron and readdressed the piece before him. His arched back presented the earl with a defiant expression of dismissal.

Carnarvon stood where he was for a moment. Try as he could, there was no way for him to come up with the appropriate words. He was hurt. Not so much by Carter’s outburst, but more so because he had somehow offended the colleague with whom he had suffered so many years of hard work and relative disappointment. He who had at last brought him excitement and fame beyond all expectation.

But, for the present, his strength wasn’t up to dealing with the situation. He sputtered something unintelligible, turned, and slowly walked out into the darkening valley.

Alone once more, Carter paused his labours for a moment. He blew at the piece in front of him and picked up a brush to dust off the crevices between the glass inlay and the gold. The strokes were gentle and considerate, but the grip was tighter than necessary and the whites of his knuckles revealed his innermost feelings. He dropped the brush, gazed up at the ceiling, and sighed.

The incident weighed heavily on the sensitive earl. His heart was bursting with emotion. He felt a strong sense of urgency to bring this disagreeable moment to a peaceful end.

Out of the blue, and all the more strangely since his patron was staying just across the river from Carter’s house, the following day Carter received a letter from the earl.

He read it quickly, then methodically replaced the letter in the envelope and stared ahead, unseeing, at the wall. His lordship’s tone had been pleading, apologetic, full of hurt. It was difficult to move a person like Howard Carter, but on this occasion his eyes were glistening with tears. He pushed the envelope into his jacket pocket and walked outside to the car. This once, he had to go over to the east bank. This once, he had to reaffirm his attachment to the earl. He couldn’t bear the thought that the grandee could be in any doubt about the enormous debt Carter felt he owed the man, and about the closeness of his undemonstrated attachment.

After exchanging brief pleasantries, and before the earl had time to gather breath, Carter launched into a humble monologue.

“Your lordship, I received your letter this evening and had to come over to you straight away.” He took a breath as if to recharge his delivery, but the pause was still too little for Carnarvon to interject. “I realise I have been merciless in my quest for this tomb. I have been and continue to be wholly preoccupied with its preservation. I am sure you understand all this. But clearly, in my determination to see the job done, I have unknowingly ignored the feelings of those most dear to me and without whose support I could never in a thousand years have come this far. In the weeks and months and years ahead for I believe it will be years before this job is done to our satisfaction I am sure I will continue to act in the same way I have to this point a way that has clearly hurt you, even to the point that what you feel may damage our relationship. But you must understand me, sir. Whatever I may say, whatever I may do or forget to do the lack of a ‘thank you’ for a favour bestowed, the absence of response to a question the answer to which is so obvious to myself these are the traits of Howard Carter, a Norfolk artist’s son, who made a quest of the scarce his life’s work and has now, with your help, come upon the greatest find by far of all time. I am devoted to this work my mind, my heart, my very soul. All of my energies I give to this work. It has to be done right. We cannot risk any carelessness that might rob future generations of this experience the experience of witnessing what we are most privileged to see now. In another thousand years, to our succeeding generations, these objects must appear as fresh as they do today. Our great good fortune has brought us the heaviest of responsibilities. I am totally consumed by this urgent need to focus my energies, and because of myself I appear, perhaps on occasion, rude to those who love...” he paused, “and I love.” He paused again. “...and support me. I cannot help it. I urge your understanding. I know I can and will not change my ways. Yet none of my actions belittles my strongest regard for you and my deepest gratitude for your support all these years... Please forgive me...” He paused again, slightly longer this time. “... and please let me be.”

Carnarvon nodded his understanding with a gentle smile and touched Carter on the arm. The two knew they would have problems henceforward but, having cleared the air between them, each now would be internally sympathetic to the preoccupation of the other.

But not Dorothy. She had been seated at the adjoining table. She had overheard the conversation. She briskly gathered up her silk shawl and left the room.

Carter, still staring into his patron’s eyes, hadn’t noticed.

“Let’s seal the tomb, close the lab, and take a few days off.”

Carter’s welcome words came as he reported for work the following morning.

“It’s been wonderful but a bloody strain at the same time, and if we keep at it like this we shall all get sick and everything will suffer as a consequence. We all need a break... and perhaps a little solitude.” In this regard he spoke for himself.

Mace and Lucas were already at their labours, but they eagerly accepted Carter’s suggestion and both quickly finished what they were doing, and then assisted Carter with the ‘lock up’.

Carnarvon had been feeling out of sorts for some days now. Each evening he went to bed he thought he would be feeling better by morning, but each morning he felt the same some mornings a little worse.

A jumble of divergent thoughts were tumbling through his mind. He was perhaps coming down with something and he should see a doctor. He was still melancholy and overly reflective after what had so recently transpired between himself and his industrious colleague. A break in contact would be welcomed by both of them.

With so much wealth already uncovered in the tomb and riches many fold yet to come, he had some pressing unfinished business to settle in Cairo. Even though he hardly felt up to the trip, he must clarify with the Director of Antiquities, once and for all, a mutually satisfactory mechanism for the division.

To attend to these concerns, he decided to take the train that very evening. He welcomed Evelyn’s company on the journey. He was feeling weak, tired and lonely, and she brought him comfort. She had insisted on coming in any case. The deterioration in his mood and pallor was entirely visible to her and she fully understood that with his inadequate physical resources he required much closer attention than most. His health could slip so easily to a stage beyond help. So it was that she ensured their first business in Cairo was with his physician.

It was clear to the doctor that the earl was unwell, but he could not yet confirm a diagnosis. While he took time to ponder the symptoms, the doctor provided the earl with a tonic and some stern advice to rest.

With a considerable degree of determination quite disproportionate to his weakness, and ignoring the silent, unseen, viral cocktail brewing in his blood, the following evening Carnarvon went to the moving picture theatre

for some entertainment. Carter hadn’t even noticed the earl’s absence from Luxor. But Evelyn’s first letter brought him back to reality with a bang.

Porchy looks really awful. He is so much more pale than usual. He is really seedy, Howard. He won’t obey the doctor. He insists on dining out each night and returns to his bed totally washed out. I fear it will not be too long before he cannot get out of his bed. Perhaps a forced rest will help him recover, but quite frankly I fear for him. Do come, Howard dear. Do come to help me put some sense into him. He will listen to you.

Carter read the letter a second time, then folded it up and stuffed it into his coat pocket.

“Abdel!” he shouted. “Pack my things. I take the morning train to Cairo.”

The following morning, while Carter was crossing the river on his way to catch the train, Carnarvon was at his toilet, preparing himself for his important meeting with Lacau. This morning he felt still worse than the last. Nevertheless he was determined to confront Monsieur le Directeur and get this negotiation successfully behind him.

As Carnarvon arrived, Lacau’s imposing figure filled the door to the Antiquities Service building. The director quickly stepped down to help the earl up the stairs. The general appearance of the man and the weight that Lacau felt on his arm were sign enough that the earl was not himself.

“Some water, your lordship?”

“Thank you, Monsieur le Directeur. I apologise. I feel somewhat out of sorts today.” Lacau led the earl to a soft leather chair and poured him a glass of water. “I am very sorry to hear that, monsieur. It is no doubt the strain. In these

circumstances it must have been an immense effort to come all this way. We could always meet another time, when you are more yourself.”

“No.” Carnarvon was quite direct in his reply. “No.” He took a breath. “The season is all but over and I must return to England. But before I do so there is some business of great importance to us both which we must conclude.”

“You are talking of ‘the division’, are you not, sir?” “I am.” Carnarvon took a longer breath. The effort was enormous. He could feel his strength draining by the minute.

“As you know, while it might appear clear in the concession document that for an undisturbed tomb the objects are to be reserved to the State of Egypt, this tomb, replete as it is with the most wonderful things, has been disturbed at least twice in antiquity. Some...”

Lacau could see that the earl was struggling for breath and broke in. “Your lordship. Please forgive my interruption but I am aware of what you are trying to say. I, myself, have given this much thought in recent weeks. I have discussed it at length with my superiors in government and we have already reached our decision. So, to save you the energy and the time let me say this: Please be assured that the Carnarvon estate will be permitted a generous

share of the artefacts.”

The earl visibly relaxed back into his chair.

“This I can promise, but not in writing. You are appraised, I know, of the political upheavals which have become a part of everyday life in Egypt in Cairo in particular. Like it or not, we are guests in their country, and while we each of us contribute greatly to its wellbeing, it is an unavoidable fact that we remain foreigners in a foreign land and can expect to be treated as such. So, any official word that relates to foreign possession of Egyptian artefacts no, riches will immediately ignite anger and repercussions which neither of us would wish to be a party to. This means that the Nationalist Party must not must not have proof of this arrangement. It must remain verbal and solely between ourselves. Do you agree, sir?”

Carnarvon nodded.

“Thank you, monsieur. I could not have wished for more.”

“I, too. I am gratified that you are content with this informal arrangement.”

The earl was exhausted. It seemed to him the more so for his relief at hearing Lacau’s reassuring words. He struggled to get up to leave.

The director came to his aid once more and helped him back to his car. Lacau shook hands with the earl through the car window and bid him, “Bon chance.” He waved as the vehicle moved slowly off into the mass of thronging pedestrians. As he turned back towards his office, he stopped for a moment. “Peutêtre,” he sighed under his breath and disappeared inside.

Carnarvon slept a deep sleep, the discomfort of pneumonia notwithstanding. The congestion caused him to cough now and again, but this night it didn’t appear to bring him to consciousness. Yet his eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.

Carter was in the room next door and heard him move. He got up and headed for the bedroom door. By the time he had reached Carnarvon’s side Evelyn was already there, holding her father’s hand tightly. He didn’t move his head, but his eyes, full of tears, flicked from one to the other. His lips quivered for a moment and he murmured something indistinct. Before either of them could speak, he fell back to sleep.

Back at the excavation, the doors were secured for the summer recess and the staircase had been filled with rubble and sand and tamped down with water. Below, the darkened cavity was silent once more. Over the coming months of peace, the dust which still remained buoyant in the atmosphere would be allowed time to settle softly on the objects beneath.