Tutankhamun Uncovered (18 page)

Carter’s eyes were wide open in anger and shock. He whispered back once more, “Show me the letter. I demand to see the letter!”

The manager was quick to recognise this opportunity to remove Carter from the battlefield without embarrassment, much less force. “Of course, sir. Please follow me to my office.”

They left the bar together. Carter, to avoid eye contact with the woman, looked doggedly ahead.

To the manager this was a most satisfactory end to what could have been a publicly nasty affair; to Carter, once he had seen the letter and realised the situation was indeed genuine, a most hurtful experience. He returned to his house on the west bank and drank alone until the clock struck one.

The following morning Carter decided he would stay on the west bank. He had been told that Mrs AO was in the area for another week. This was Monday, so for fear of accidentally crossing her path he would stay on the other side of the river for the entire week. The excavation at the tomb he had stumbled upon was proceeding slowly and seemingly without end, so he decided to take his painting materials to Deir el Bahri.

For a December day it was blisteringly hot and he was only too happy to get into the relative coolness of the shaded colonnades. He settled into his folding stool and began to lose himself in his work. He had been there about an hour, his sketchbook on his knee, the watercolour beginning to take form, when he heard it: the faint but unmistakable echo of a female voice reverberating from pillar to pillar, column to column.

“Mr Carter! Mr Carter! This is Mrs Avery Oliphant. I am told you are in ’ere somewhere. I ’ave a message from Lady Amherst for you. Could you please make yerself known to me?”

Carter quickly replaced his brush, closed up his palette, folded up his stool, quietly turned and scurried for the nearest niche, pressing himself against the wall.

As she searched betwixt and between the columns, he could hear the woman’s footsteps on the sand strewn stone floors crunching nearer, then further from him, then closer again. He remained motionless, hoping she would not come near enough to spot him.

“Mr Carter! ’E is in ’ere somewhere, isn’t ’e?”

“Oh, most assuredly, madame. I believe he is painting one of the friezes over there.”

‘Dammit. Abdel. He’s guiding her right to the spot. What the hell can the woman want? Not content with yesterday’s victories, to cement her achievement she is up for a second engagement tell more trumped-up tales to the misguided in the bar this evening, no doubt.’ Then it dawned on him they had not been introduced; she did not know what he looked like she had no idea the person she had confronted the previous night was he. The letter was proof enough that she did know the Amhersts. Perhaps she was seeking him out on their behalf after all. He must avoid meeting with her again at all costs.

“You are mistaken, man.” A welcome remark of irritation from Mrs AO.

“But it was I who saw Mr Carter enter, madame. And I have not seen him leave.”

“Stupid Arab! Stupid Arab... Waste of time... Grubbing about in this dark and dusty place... Waste of my time...”

To Carter’s relief her words faded into glorious silence as she bustled out of the temple and into the sunlight. ‘Go burn in hell, ma’am,’ he thought as he reopened his stool and prepared to resume his painting.

Abdel had remained in the colonnade as Mrs AO had left, and he immediately spotted his master. He tried to hail Mrs AO but she was already beyond earshot.

His slippers scuffed on the stone floor as he hurried over to Carter’s side. “That lady, Mr Carter. That lady...”

“I know. I know. I was hiding. I do not wish to meet her.”

“But she is very insistent, sir. Very persuasive.”

“Yes, Abdel. I understand. Now you understand this... From now on, whenever she asks you where I am, you have no idea. NO idea.”

“Sir? But I always know where you are.”

“I am asking you to lie to her, Abdel. Have you never lied before?”

“No, sir!” Abdel was emphatic. With a shocked expression on his face he shook his head and waved his arms to underline the statement. “Never.”

“Do you wish to remain in my employ?”

This particular option had not occurred to the reis. “But of course, sir.”

“Then, you will lie when I tell you to.”

“Sir.”

The truth was, of course, as Carter well knew, that lying was all but second nature to the likes of Abdel. He just didn’t wish to admit to the attribute. Allah may overhear. However, being ordered to do so, and to take on the responsibility with such evident reluctance, purged his conscience most satisfactorily.

But, as things were to turn out, this simple conspiracy was all in vain.

Carter looked up from his painting and out into the temple forecourt. The sun was already dipping behind the Theban hills and the light was going fast. The Valley and the great rock amphitheatre of Deir el Bahri were now in shadow. It was time to leave. He gathered up his things and walked out across the middle platform and down the ramps, dodging a few late tourists on the way. Before leaving the area he visited the site under excavation. As expected, the reis reported little progress for the day’s efforts.

Carter sighed. ‘Count your blessings, Howard, my boy. You had a close shave today.’

Abdel was waiting for him with his horse. He packed his stuff in the saddlebag and the reis helped him up. They ambled home slowly down the processional way, Abdel leading Sultan by the halter. By the time the inspector’s residence came into view, the entire Nile basin was bathed in twilight.

As they approached, it became obvious to Carter that he had visitors. There was a motor car in the forecourt guarded by two uniformed fellahs. He dismounted and went in. It had never occurred to him who might be awaiting him inside. He blundered into his sitting room without a single thought for caution.

There she was.

“You? What effrontery is this? What the ’ell are you doin’ ’ere? Abdel! Ask this man to leave immediately!”

Shocked, Carter nevertheless had the composure to respond. He was brief. “This is my house, ma’am. I ask you to state your business or leave now.”

The boot at last was on the other foot. It was now Mrs AO who was shocked sufficiently to be placed on the defensive. She almost whimpered, “You are... You are then...”

“Howard Carter, Inspector of Antiquities in the Upper Nile. Not exactly at your service, ma’am, but eager to assist you to leave.”

Once the identity had been confirmed, Mrs AO was quick to regain her composure.

“Young man, I am prepared to overlook your rudeness of last night if you can bring yourself to speak civilly with me for one moment and permit me to pass on the message I ’ave brought to you from ’er ladyship all this way, I may add.”

Carter wasn’t about to apologise but he could hardly refuse to listen.

“As you wish.” He sat down.

“Aren’t you goin’ to offer me some refreshment?”

‘God, I have to pay the piper, too?’ Carter thought. He signalled to Hosein to bring in the drinks tray.

He badly needed one himself.

Mrs AO sat in silence until the tray arrived. All the time she avoided eye contact with Carter, self-consciously patting at her skirt and looking all about the room.

Carter’s gin and tonic was already prepared. “What’ll you have, ma’am?”

“That will do just nicely,” she said, and made a grab for Carter’s glass.

Carter sighed and turned to the smiling Hosein. “What’s so amusing, Hosein? Get me another one. At once, if you please. Now, ma’am. The message...”

“My Lady Amherst asked me to enquire of yer ’ealth.”

“I am in fine health, as you can plainly see. Will there be anything else before you leave?” asked Carter, rising from his chair.

“I ’ave not finished. Sit down. You are givin’ me neck ache. Be seated.”

Carter silently obeyed.

“‘Er ladyship wishes to convey ’er best wishes to you... An’ to Abdel and Hosein.” She turned and smiled condescendingly at the reis whom she had abused just a few hours earlier. “’Er ladyship would like you to visit when you next return to England. ’Er ladyship told me of yer expertise in Egyptology and commended you to me saying that you would be only too glad to escort me around some of the less well-known antiquities in these parts.”

This was anathema to Carter’s ears.

“That is somewhat academic now, in view of the circumstances, do you not think, ma’am? Besides, I am a very busy man. The responsibilities of my position weigh heavily. You will appreciate that, although you are an acquaintance of Lady Amherst...”

“A very, very good and intimate friend, Mr Carter NOT an ‘acquaintance’.”

Carter continued as if the interruption had not occurred. “...Although you are an acquaintance of her ladyship’s, I have neither the time nor the inclination to assist you in your endeavours. It became clear to me from our brief encounter last night that you already are most well endowed with knowledge of Egyptian history and have no need of one such as I to enrich you further. Indeed, I recall that at the time you had the temerity to correct me. Therefore, ma’am, I regret that I will be unavailable to you during your brief stay in Luxor.”

Mrs AO downed her gin in one and slapped the tumbler back on the tray.

“That bein’ yer attitude, I feel there is nothin’ more that can be said between us. I bid you a very ‘goodnight’, Mr. Carter.” She raised her hand to him, indicating she wished assistance in rising from her chair.

Carter reluctantly took her fingertips.

“Abdel. Show this lady out, if you please. Goodnight, ma’am. As you drive to the riverside watch out for the bats. The local variety is quite venomous. A quality shared by some such as I have the misfortune to meet from time to time.”

Carter’s last statement was quite unnecessary but the opportunity to have the last word before losing sight of her altogether was irresistible. As she was helped into the car she turned to Abdel to issue one last word of abuse.

But before she could say anything the reis stammered, “Madame, please do nnnnot ask me where the master is ever again. I do nnnnot know where the master is. I nnnnever know where the master is.”

For once at a loss for words, she sat herself down in the back seat of the car and looked directly ahead. The dwindling sound of the motor chugging away down the hill was music to Carter’s ears. He eased back in his chair and attended his second gin.

The lady with largesse settled herself down and gestured with her third sherry glass. “Well, Lady Amherst, what can I say? I don’t fink that boy of yours can come to any good. ’E was most rude to me, an’ doesn’t appear to ’ave learned much in ’is time out there. Told me Totknees is ’Allitosis, or some such. ’Owever did ‘e get an important job like that?”

When the reis finally told Carter that a doorway had been discovered in the shaft, he had almost forgotten that the workings were still in progress. Practically a year had elapsed since they had uncovered the entrance to the tomb. He immediately sent word to Viscount Cromer. The great man’s arrival was set for New Year’s Day, 1901, and Carter prepared for the opening.

A plumply rounded Mrs Maspero was the viscount’s escort, along with the usual and considerable entourage of ‘qualified’ hangers-on, many of them befezzed and suited Egyptian representatives and associates of the government and the Antiquities Service.

For the occasion, Carter had had constructed within the shaft a wooden platform on which, depending on their sizes, five or six men could comfortably stand. Two of them, Carter and one of his fellahs, would perform the physical labour of removing the slabs of limestone that sealed the doorway. Seniority decided who would be lucky enough to descend to the platform and witness the proceedings as they unfolded.

“Your servant, sir,” bowed Carter, lending Viscount Cromer a hand as he reached the platform.

“And I yours, Mr Carter. It is with great respect and admiration for your reputation that I come here. I am truly honoured to be present at this the opening of your first discovery. You certainly have a nose for these things but one year on from your confirmation as inspector quite remarkable, sir. Quite remarkable!”

The inspector smiled in appreciation. These comments meant much to one such as Howard Carter, of relatively mean and common British descent but extremely proud of himself and his station in Egypt.

The viscount was stocky and well built with all the stature one would expect in a man of his position. He was square headed with full cheeks, a prominent, chubby nose, a strong, jutting chin, and thin, determined lips framed by a bleached, bushy moustache. His dark eyes penetrated from beneath overhanging lids that slanted downwards to either side his face barely half of the iris peaked from under the grey lashes. They betrayed the arrogant self-confidence of the supreme leader of the occupying power. His personality was overbearing, his expression serious, determined and uncompromising.

In full dress regalia that included the ostrich feathered, longbow shaped hat, Cromer was glad to descend into the shade and relative coolness of the deep shaft. Once set on his feet, he waved his right arm at Carter in a flourishing signal to begin the opening.

By now visibly sweating a mixture of physical effort and some not inconsiderable mental stress Carter, with the help of the reis, removed the heavy limestone slabs. As they eased each one out they would secure a strong rope around it and the labourers standing at the top of the shaft would slowly raise each to the room above and out of the way of the spectators on the platform below. The opportunity for lethal accident was considerable and Cromer spent rather more time nervously watching each block find its way safely out of the shaft above him than gazing expectantly into the widening opening in the doorway.

It took about an hour to completely free the door blocking. With the removed blocks all safely out of the way, the viscount, Maspero and Carter leaned forward almost in unison to look inside the room which now lay open before them. The remainder of the small group craned to look over their shoulders. As their eyes became more accustomed to the darkness, an intense, expectant silence fell upon the place.