Tutankhamun Uncovered (65 page)

As Carter’s party had left it, the antechamber was empty but for a couple of alabaster vases, a wooden figure of a black swan, the remains of a few rush baskets and the two life-size black and gold sentinels which still impassionately faced each other either side the opened doorway to the burial chamber and its golden shrine. But for the tiny pieces that the privileged party had secreted in their pockets on that first night of exploration and the treasures already removed to Cairo, all else that the tomb contained remained untouched and perched in rearranged stillness as it had been for centuries.

Thousands of miles away to the west, beneath an inclined marble tablet on a treeless hill overlooking Highclere House, the same darkness, the same silence enclosed the long oblong casket within. The final resting place of George Edward Stanhope Molyneux Herbert, Lord Porchester at least had this in common with Tutankhamen’s resting place.

This had been an event of the greatest significance. To Carter, the loss of a vital ally. Quite apart from the money, the earl had been the only man in the team who matched experience with standing more than sufficient to deal with the politics of any situation an area that Carter would never be able to handle effectively, much less want to. As for the money, he felt confident that it would still be there once Almina, the Lady Carnarvon, got over the shock.

To the world’s newspaper reading public, stories surrounding the circumstances of the grandee’s death the lights reportedly extinguishing in Cairo and at Highclere at the moment he expired; the coincidental death of Suzy, his fox terrier became undeniable evidence that a curse existed upon the tomb. Continued activity, they avidly reported, would surely lead to more deaths.

The Egyptologist, intent on completing the immense task ahead of him, never gave it more of a thought than to decry it in the text of the first volume of his book on the discovery which, with considerable help from Arthur Mace, he completed during the succeeding summer in England.

Carter now had a heavy additional responsibility, discounting the other current extraneous complications, heavier even than his task in The Valley. Lady Carnarvon had written to ask him no, it was more than that order him to hasten to Highclere to act as executor of his lordship’s collection of Egyptian antiquities.

He complied dutifully, notwithstanding the work of planning the forthcoming clearance of the tomb, and turned up at the elegant front door of that great place within a month of receiving her request.

“My lady,” he started, “it is with great sadness and a very heavy heart that I visit this house today.”

“I understand, Howard.” She gestured to the butler. “Tea, Robert, if you please.” She turned back to Carter.

“After tea, Howard, I wish you to begin the cataloguing and valuation of our entire collection. Then you must arrange to remove it to some safe holding place. The Bank of England, perhaps. I must sell it sell it all in its entirety. I cannot bear to have it about me. The constant reminder. You understand, of course?”

No, Carter could not wholly grasp her ladyship’s situation. His first love was and always would be for the objects. They were permanent, trustworthy, unpretentious; there to be appreciated for what they were, unlike people who, on balance, were quite otherwise. Besides, he had more than an academic attraction to the collection. He had helped Carnarvon build much of it over the many years of their close association. He felt he had almost as much right to possess it as his benefactor.

He had been thrown off balance. It was as if, quite out of his control, a great asset of his was to be taken from him. His initial reaction was to take his leave on some pretence, but for the life of him he could not think up a sufficiently plausible reason. In any event, if he would not help, her ladyship would get someone else to fulfil her wishes; better him than any other.

He bumbled a response, “I... I understand, your ladyship. But... may I be so bold as to ask... why... why at this particular moment? Why now? We have not yet completed the work his lordship began.”

“Howard, you must understand. I have thought long and hard on this. While this stuff is about me, I see him. I see him wandering about, looking at it, touching it. He fondles it. He kisses it. He even talks to it. Howard, I cannot stand these thoughts any more. I just cannot stand to see him when he is not in reality with us anymore. You do understand me, do you not?”

Carter was slow to reply. “I... I do think I understand, your ladyship. I think I understand your feelings. The hard part for me to be bluntly honest is... is to contemplate the breakup of this great collection. The years of sheer hard labour...”

Carter paused. He knew he was beginning to overstep the mark. Lady Carnarvon said nothing. At last he capitulated. “I will sell it. As you wish. It will be done. It will be done,” Carter repeated, as if to confirm he had indeed made the decision himself.

“Thank you, Howard. Porchy will be most grateful. I know he will.”

She turned her head away from Carter’s and quietly whimpered into her handkerchief.

Carter, with everything else that was on his mind, became more embarrassed than he could stand. “I will begin at once, your ladyship.”

He removed himself from the drawing room and, pocketbook already in hand, advanced towards the rooms containing the great collection. He did not look back.

Carter quickly became engrossed in the task. Within minutes he was oblivious to anything but the articles displayed before him. He walked over to a glass covered tray. Inside were small pieces, none of them as grand as the larger articles already retrieved from the tomb, but several in themselves individually magnificent.

“He would have wanted you to have that.” Lady Carnarvon was standing behind him.

“Your ladyship?”

“That one. I don’t know where he got it from but I know he wanted you to have it, Howard.”

She pointed to a tiny, carved ivory horse lying on its side on the floor of the cabinet.

That melancholy summer in England he received a second gift. When he returned to his lodgings in London, a small brown paper parcel, cross bound with string, the knots secured with ceiling wax, awaited him on his hall table. It was a copy of the privately printed edition of Seven Pillars of Wisdom. (see Lawrence, 1935).

Chapter Twenty One

The death of Lord Carnarvon was attracting a good deal of alarmist publicity. In the royal party’s celestial home this was cause for a good deal of celebration. Successfully fuelled by a plethora of frustrated journalists, there was developing amongst the news hungry public a steadily maturing craving for the supernatural. The stories, amounting to no more than speculative conjecture, had been communicated virtually worldwide. Tutankhamun had become witness to many conversations concerning the various stories written by newspaper reporters in the United States, Great Britain, and in several European countries. There had been headline articles in India, Hong Kong, Australia and New Zealand. Most chose to conclude that there must be some truth in the curse. Clearly this new public had an insatiable appetite for the occult. To the king, the nature of the response was most gratifying.

Unlike the reading public, however, his scholarly victims, busily planning their next season’s evil work in The Valley, did not appear to be so quick to make any connection with the supernatural. And the king knew it would not be long before Carter would return to attack the shrines. If the royal couple were to succeed in their endeavours to block further violation of the tomb, there was still a great deal to do.

The efforts of his entourage extended far and wide. Meneg and his colleagues were attempting to influence the authorities in Cairo. Ankhesenamun spent her time repetitively entering the dreams of the more impressionable on the team, although now that it was summer the team was separated, each member attending to his own personal business in England. Her hauntings had little effect. Each insomniac put the occurrences down to stress or the emotional eagerness to return the following season, and thought no more of it. Tutankhamun spent most of his time closely observing Carter. He wanted to learn more about the man who was so hell-bent on breaking into the shrines and exposing the king’s earthly remains. This small foreigner was not at all like the robbers of Tutankhamun’s own era; unlike, even, those other alien plunderers of just one hundred years ago. Both he and his colleagues had, to a fault, been gentle and respectful in their handling of the grave goods. There had been no hurry to their work. He had witnessed no wilful damage. Each object taken from the holy sepulchre had been painstakingly preserved and carried with the greatest care to exhibition in Cairo. In the museum halls, the common people were now permitted to look upon but not to touch the possessions of a royal.

It was not a little puzzling to him. Why did they not sell what they stole? Why not strip the gold for profit? There was appreciation, admiration, even respect in the way they addressed each object. They appeared intent on preserving everything, even the desiccated bouquets. Those earthly blooms had drooped and fallen just a few days after the ceremonies had finished. Now shrunken and dried to a crisp, they could crumble to powder at a touch. Tutankhamun would watch fascinated as Lucas and Mace spent hours treating the fragile stems where they lay until they were sufficiently held together to be moved without damage. All this just for the common people to share?

Notwithstanding the violators’ apparent good intentions, careful and reverent as they were, their ultimate course was self-evident they were driven towards exposure of the king’s remains. Of that he was certain. That the king’s naked body should become paraded before the general public was absolutely unthinkable; that it be removed from its place of rest unacceptable. The thought made him tremble. He looked down again.

Carter was in England visiting Mace in his lodgings. The two sat at either side of a broad partners’ desk, the top liberally spread with papers. They were busily comparing notes on the first volume of their book.

“I can’t get over how much you’ve been able to complete in such a short time, Arthur. Don’t know what I’d have done without your help. After all said and done, it looks like we’ll get this thing published before we take off back to Egypt.”

Mace turned to face his colleague. He smiled for a moment in acknowledgement of Carter’s appreciative remarks, but then his expression hardened. “Howard,” he began deliberately. “There is no easy way to say this. This coming season will be the last for me. After 1925 I doubt if I’ll see The Valley again.”

Carter drew back from the desk but said nothing. He stared incredulously at his friend. “But... but there’s more than a year’s work, man. You can’t be serious!”

“Doctor’s orders, I’m afraid. Hadn’t been feeling too good during the last few weeks in Luxor. Decided to consult my physician when I got back. His conclusions were difficult to take need to keep out of harm’s way... not supposed to return to the Middle East... possibly not too much time left.” Mace’s last words faded to a whisper.

For a few moments neither man spoke. Carter was in shock. After a seemingly interminable pause he said, “My God, Arthur, what am I going to do without you? In my most desperate hours of need, first his lordship, then you? I will be unable to cope. I feel deserted, man. How am I to carry on without you?” he repeated as if to himself.

“Howard, old boy. Y’ know damn well you have the best team of experts ever assembled for the task. You won’t need my help as much as you did in the early days. You and I took on the initial work almost singlehandedly. Now you have a well organised, well equipped team of professionals to take you through to the end. That is,” Mace mused, as if to put a lighter complexion on the conversation, “as long as you don’t bollocks it up by pissing any of them off through the single-bloody-mindedness you know you are prone to, and force any more of them to walk off the job! You won’t miss me that much, but I’d agree with you on one thing, I don’t think you can afford to lose anyone else.”

There was a decided finality in Mace’s statement. Carter knew there would be no way he could persuade him otherwise and it would be cruelly uncharitable of him to attempt to do so.

Mace smiled. “But I wouldn’t miss the opening doctor or no doctor. I’ll be there this coming season, make no mistake.”

They raised their glasses together and wished each other good health. Their glasses touched. Just out of their field of view there was a movement. For a split second a sequined mixture of gold, azure and red ochre sparkled on the facets of their cut glass tumblers. Mace noticed it. Much like one of the many visions he had had of late. But, seeing no spark of recognition in the face of his colleague, he thought the better of mentioning it.

“What have they done for us that is to our advantage? Nothing! What have they done to us that is repressive? Much!”

There were nods of assertion and considerable thumping on the tables in the smoke filled bar. The speaker was a tall black man. As he emphasised his point, his white teeth and the whites of his eyes flashed eerily from the shadows .

“They don’t have our culture they don’t believe in our God even less do they understand.”

Murmurs of agreement.

“They take, our men for labour; our women for housemaids; our works of art, ancient and modern, back to their own country, but they give nothing back. The rape must be stopped!”

“Vote Nationalist!”

A shout from an unrecognised source at the back of the small barroom was all that was needed to bring everyone to their feet. The entire group spilled out into the street chanting the name of the new political party.

This was not quite what the proprietor had wanted. Up to that point, business had been remarkably good. All at once the place was deserted, and several bills remained unpaid.

Ugele and his friends had spent many fruitful days about the markets and official hallways of government in Cairo inciting disquiet amongst all kinds of Egyptians in all walks of life. Just as he was beginning to enjoy the carousing in the street, he felt a familiar touch from behind. He was compelled to leave.