Tutankhamun Uncovered (60 page)

By now Abdel had returned to the room to replenish their coffee cups. The conversation ceased.

Carter felt for the bulge in his jacket’s outer pocket. He would keep that particular secret to himself.

“Your lordship, I am sure it has not escaped your attention that we have here the best of all possible worlds particularly in view of the political situation current in Egypt at this time?”

“Don’t follow your drift, Howard,” said Carnarvon, puzzled.

“The new rules of your concession, sir. All discoveries from an ‘unplundered’ tomb are the indisputable property of the State. All discoveries from a ‘plundered’ tomb are to be shared equally between the concessionaire and the State. Now do y’ follow?”

The earl smiled broadly. “Letter of Egyptian law, Howard. Don’t forget that. Not the ‘Laws of the Realm’. Not quite the same, I’m afraid.”

“Well, all the same, a good basis for argument, wouldn’t y’ say?”

“Today, m’ lady, gentlemen, is a planning day,” he continued. “We must prepare for the recording, preserving and emptying of the tomb, and we must prepare for the people. All those people. All those people who will want to gaze at what we have found and what we are doing, while we are doing it... My good, good friends. This is a most crucial time. Before we set foot in that place again, we must be entirely prepared. Last night I jotted down some thoughts on these matters. Let me share them with you and get your comments.

“First, we must get a proper steel door made to secure the tomb whilst we are away. Within the next few days I will go to Cairo and organise its manufacture.

“Second, there is a team of experts to be assembled the like of which, I fancy, the world of archaeology will not have seen before. I have thought long on this and know exactly who we will need. Some of these men will be familiar to you Percy Newberry for instance others less so. We need an experienced chemist. While in Cairo I will try to enlist the services of Alfred. Inscription interpreters Alan Gardiner and Jim Breasted. And from the Met Mace, Arthur Mace. He is a great authority on conservation. We need accurists in draughtsmanship. I would like to get hold of Lindsey Hall and Walter Hauser. Charles Wilkinson I will need to assist me and Burton, of course. It is essential he continue the photographic recording. I will cable the Met with these requests today.”

Carter referred to his list again.

“Third, we need to select and obtain permission to use a tomb or two for stores. We need a darkroom on site and a workshop, laboratory or whatever. Somewhere where we can work on the preservation of the artefacts in the cool and out of the public’s prying eyes.”

He turned towards the earl. “Sir, your position and influence will best facilitate this provision.”

Carnarvon indicated his acknowledgement with a nod.

“Fourth, the stores themselves. We need packing cases, packing materials, chemicals... I have assembled a long list here. More for me to attend to in Cairo.”

He looked back at his patron. “This will all take quite some time. While these preparations are under way, we will need to reseal the tomb.”

“But first you must have an official opening,” observed Carnarvon. “How and when do you plan to do that, Howard?”

“Yes...” Carter sighed. “Just the first of many unhelpful digressions, I suppose.” He pulled at his moustache thoughtfully. “Allenby?”

“Of course. And the local Egyptian officials and members of the Antiquities Service. Watch the protocol. I shall make a list first to ensure we don’t miss anyone of importance. If we make any thoughtless omissions it could hurt us later. Get the invitations out. That had better be our first order of business today. I’ll do that, Howard, with Evelyn’s help. You deal with the stuff you’re good at the technical stuff and your technical pals.”

“All right.” Carter drained his coffee cup and pushed his chair back. “Let’s to it.”

Carter would never feel more fulfilled than he did that first fortnight following the initial penetration. Showing the place to the first few visitors and VIPs was a novelty and a consummate pleasure a total fulfilment of his life’s ambition. It would not be long before it became an almost unbearable chore, he knew that. But right now, this minute, it was immensely satisfying.

Harry Burton sat on a boulder on the flank of the valley that lay opposite the tomb entrance photographing the visitors with his cine-camera. Carter, passing by below, noticed Burton wave to attract his attention. Like a precocious child, without reservation or embarrassment, he willingly cavorted for the camera.

Things just could not get any better.

Arthur Mace arrived on Christmas Day. That evening, at the Metropolitan Museum house, the assembled team participated in traditional seasonal celebrations. Within two days Mace was hard at work in the laboratory tomb, painstakingly removing the decayed pieces of embroidery and leather articles from the first box to leave Tutankhamen’s tomb in three thousand years.

Each man in Carter’s team knew the limits of his own particular expertise and to whom to go for help when he needed it. The team worked extremely well together and, had they been left to themselves, perhaps a cross word might never have passed between any of them. As it was, however, their leader was not used to working alongside his peers alongside anyone for that matter and to varying degrees Carter found it at times most difficult, and sometimes downright impossible, to avoid interfering with their work. Unfortunately, this happened so often and without Carter’s recognition that at times he was taking a step too far that two of the team, the draughtsmen, ultimately would reach the limit of their tolerance, down tools and walk off the job.

Adamson turned restlessly in his canvas bed. It was a clear night and the full moon filled his tent with a pale lilac light. He had had way too much brandy before turning in for the night but, as things were to turn out, this would serve him well.

Outside, unknown to the sergeant, the sentries had left their posts. They had been well paid. The inevitable loss of job would be inconsequential to them. Others, many others for there was much to achieve in one night fearful of their tasks but paid sufficient to overcome any feelings of insecurity, were about to busy themselves with the business of grand larceny.

They had watched the British soldier on previous nights. His schedule was regular; his movements predictable. He would always retire at eight o’clock. Music would soon be heard coming from his tent. The alien noise would go on for at least an hour. Any sound they would make would be inaudible above the scratching of his gramophone. Besides, they had nothing to fear, they had weapons and he was only one.

Holst’s ‘Mars’ hit another crescendo and Adamson rolled over a little too far. The collapsible bed tipped over, spilled the sergeant to the ground and jarred the gramophone, causing the needle to score across the record to the spindle.

The robbers’ lookout noticed that the music had suddenly stopped and gestured to his colleagues to be quiet for a moment.

The sergeant sat up and shook his head. He turned to look for another record. Unable to read any label in the darkness, he grabbed for the hurricane lamp hanging from the ridge pole. He lifted the glass, struck a match and lit the wick. Replacing the lamp on the hook, he resumed his examination of the record labels.

The tent now glowed inside the silhouette of some grotesque creature began to move about. The lookout felt a little unsure of himself and summoned his colleagues to share his view of the curious light display below. The shape continued to change, flashing first from one panel of the tent and then another, growing, then becoming smaller, then growing large once more.

The Valley became filled with sound again. It was a low, lilting tone, dreamlike, wailing almost, like a host of mourners, the pitch rising and falling with each movement of the dark creature in the tent. The sound carried into the canyon and repeated, echoing to and fro between the towering walls. They had heard nothing the like of it before. With each echo the gathering crowd of mourners seemed to grow larger and louder.

Inside the tent, Adamson was sitting on his bunk listening to the chanting of monks, one of his new records. Suddenly he felt the need to relieve himself and, forgetting for a moment his confined surroundings, pulled himself bolt upright. His head connected smartly with the stout ridge pole and he fell to the ground in a senseless heap. The hurricane lamp rocked wildly about its hook, throwing distorted shadows off the jagged rocks around the valley flanks. The record jumped a track or two but continued to play. To the apprehensive onlookers, it was as if Lucifer himself and his choir of black angels had come to ignite the very rocks themselves and punish them for their evil intent.

The ghostly wailing; the revolving shadows; the flashing light it was all too much for the team of infidels. They took off pell-mell for the river, guns and all.

The sergeant had averted disaster but would remain blissfully unaware of his selfless actions. In the light of day, however, he discovered the sentries’ betrayal and it was with an aching head that he reported his findings to his

boss. “They must’ve scarpered while h’I was asleep, sir.”

“You’re sure nothing’s been touched?”

“Nuthin’, sir. Not a bleedin’ pebble.”

“We must count ourselves fortunate. And count yourself damn lucky, Sergeant. Be sure the police you select this time are well supported with affidavits from Monsieur le Directeur. I would even suggest that you get some police to watch the police... And...” Carter added after a short pause, “sleep, if you have to, but very, very lightly from now on. And I mean very lightly!”

“H’I won’t fall asleep again, sir. H’I promise. H’I’ll sleep in the day time. H’as Gawd is my witness....” After reflecting a moment, Adamson added, “H’and if I does drift orf but h’I won’t never, honest h’even the steps of a creepin’ dung beetle will wake me, let alone the stumblin’ platesameat h’of a bleedin’ fuzzywuzzy!”

Carter gave the sergeant a suitably stern look and returned to his breakfast.

After his patron had left for England, Carter took a couple of days in Cairo busying himself with the purchase of a car, photographic materials, restorative and preservative chemicals, packing boxes, and huge volumes of calico, wadding, surgical bandages and the like. The local tradesmen soon found themselves cleaned out of their entire stocks and rushed to the telegraph to replenish their inventories by the next available steamer.

On his return to Luxor, to his delight his old friends from the Met Herbert Winlock, his wife and his daughter, and James Breasted, his wife and son had established themselves at the ‘Palace’. All were eager to see the discovery as soon as Carter could accommodate them. He lost no time in getting ready for their first viewing.

He wanted the impact to be spectacularly rewarding, not unlike his own first fantastic glimpse, and he prepared accordingly. He had Burton’s lights fully on, flooding the antechamber and its contents with their brilliance, and suspended a white sheet from the lintel at the tomb’s entrance. The linen totally obscured what lay at the other end of the inclined entrance corridor.

When the group arrived at the tomb on the early morning of Christmas Eve, Carter, tweed suit, suede shoes and Homburg, was sitting on the spectators’ wall waiting for them.

“Families Winlock and Breasted!” he greeted his friends, and leapt down. “Welcome to the tomb of Tutankhamen! You are all going to relish this moment for a lifetime. Follow me.”

He gestured forward with his right hand and followed them down into the pit and down the steps until they stood before the threshold. A rectangular, pale reddish gold glow filled the sheet. A light breeze caught it and the image eerily rippled.

After an appropriate pause to build his audience’s anticipation, Carter continued. “Are you prepared for this?”

They all nodded eagerly.

Like a cavalier whisking his cloak to the side, he drew back the sheet in a single movement, permitting an instantly full view of the open doorway at the entrance to the antechamber some thirty feet ahead, and of all that lay beyond it against the opposite wall.

First there was absolute silence. Then Winlock’s daughter broke ranks and scampered down to the steel gate at the end of the corridor. The rest quickly followed. They pressed themselves against the gate as each tried to get sight of the treasures at either end of the room. The view was only partial but the effect no less startling.

Carter stepped forward and dismantled the padlocks securing the steel gate. He pushed it open and stepped down into the antechamber, beckoning to Winlock and Brestead to follow. “Just the two for now no room for more we might step on something.”

Carter stood quietly behind his colleagues with just the slightest suggestion of an expectant grin and, with the excitement of a child showing off his first two-wheeler, he waited for their initial impressions.

They were numb to the stifling heat. There was silence. At last Breasted, his mouth agape, turned and shook Carter vigorously by the hand. There were no suitable words.

Near midday in late December it was sharply cold. A crisp breeze cut the air. It was brilliantly sunny and the shadows of the leafless trees cut starkly black across The Mall and flashed against the windscreen of Carnarvon’s Daimler as he was driven towards the rotunda in front of the palace gates.

As he neared the palace, the earl swelled with pride. Recognition of this ilk was truly a moment to be cherished likely a once in a lifetime event. Nevertheless he felt totally relaxed. This paled in comparison to that moment of discovery. Nothing could eclipse it. The car drove through the gates and into the quadrangle and drew to a halt under the portico at the official entrance way. A brightly uniformed footman held the door for his lordship while another took his arm and helped him out and up the short flight of stairs. He bowed at the entrance to the reception room where the king awaited him.

“Carnarvon!” bellowed the king as he saw him enter. “I’ve been awaiting this moment ever since this time last month. Come and sit down, my good man. Take some tea with me. I wish to hear the full story from the man responsible for this great discovery. You have done your country a great service. A wonderful a truly wonderful achievement!”