by K. T. Tomb
The End
Chyna Stone returns in:
The Mummy Codex
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THE MUMMY CODEX
by
K.T. TOMB
A Chyna Stone Adventure #2
The Mummy Codex
Published by K.T. Tomb
Copyright © 2014 by K.T. Tomb
All rights reserved.
The Mummy Codex
Prologue
“My husband has died and I have no son. It is said of you, King Suppiluliumas, that you have many sons who are princes of the Hittites. It is the hope of this Queen that you might give me one of your sons to become my husband. I would not wish to take one of my subjects as a husband; my people might revolt against the rule of a commoner, even should that commoner have my support. After all, this Queen is still only a woman; I cannot rule Egypt in my own right. I am afraid King Suppiluliumas; for myself and for my people.”
Ankhesenamun gave her handmaiden the letter to deliver to a Hittite merchant who was bound for Hattusa.
“But your Majesty, the King of the Hittites is our enemy,” Melia protested, as she took the letter.
“Melia,” the Queen replied patiently, “as women we often have to make very hard decisions. In this case my choice is either to be joined to my father’s enemy thus uniting our countries and regaining all the territories of Egypt that Suppiluliumas has ever taken from us or be forced to marry a servant. I am lucky; my choice is an easy one.”
Melia delivered the letter to the merchant Hinrabus that morning. He was someone Ankhesenamun trusted; someone who had visited her often in the palace at Thebes and whom she patronized very heavily for her jewelry, perfume and cosmetics. Her instructions to him were to take her letter to their king, deliver it into his very hands as an official courier of the Queen of Egypt and then bring his reply back to her.
When the merchant arrived back in Thebes a few months later, he was accompanied by the emissary of the Hittite king and she thought her prayers had been answered. Ankhesenamun entertained the king’s emissary lavishly within the royal apartments of the palace, her private chambers where she was sure to be safe from the prying eyes of the Grand Vizier, the General of the Armies and all their spies. She told him of her fears that one of these men had caused the death of her husband Tutankhamun and that they were now both pressing her for her hand in marriage.
“That one Horemheb is too presumptuous as to approach a princess of the blood and one who was Royal Wife of the Pharaoh. He is of common birth and nothing more than an over-promoted foot soldier.”
Ankhesenamun nodded in agreement and took a sip of the wine in her cup. She put it on the tray her handmaiden held and placed her hands demurely back on her lap, clasping them together.
“A commoner he is Zenubis, and I fear him most of the two for he has far less to lose and much more to gain. But without a son and heir to my husband’s throne, it is Ay who probably has the strongest claim. He is at least of noble blood and brother of Tiye, Chief Queen of Amenhotep III and mother of Akhenaten, my father,” she elaborated.
“Indeed, my princess,” Zenubis agreed. “An in-law is surely better than a commoner, but you expressed that you did not want to take one of your subjects as a husband. Did you not?”
“My friend, surely you must see. They are not the same as I and I am not the same as them, any of them. Is the greed to rule and the lack of the ability to do so not plainly evident in them all? Should I be forced to make a choice from such, then it would be the in-law over the commoner, but as long as there is even one option that provides me with a royal husband, a prince of the blood, any blood; then I will not stoop below my station as a royal princess and Queen of Egypt.”
“Understood, Princess,” Zenubis replied.
“Well then, now that we are in agreement over the fundamentals,” Ankhesenamun continued. “Are you convinced of my situation and that this is no trap for the prince of the Hittites?”
“Indeed princess. I also see that the matter is in need of rather precipitous attention; therefore I beg your leave to depart for Hatti tonight so that I may bring your words to the King.”
“Go with my blessing, Zenubis, and the blessing of Amun also. Send me back a husband.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
A few weeks later, a pigeon arrived at the palace with a message for the Queen. It was the fastest and most private way to send word in the kingdom as usually the bird is taken to the receiver with the message still intact to prove it has not been tampered with. The aviary keeper held the bird up to her and Ankhesenamun removed the metal canister tied to its leg, opened it and unrolled the tiny scroll. She read it, smiling.
“Grand Vizier!” she called and Ay came strolling in to the throne room. “We are to have a visitor, a prince of the land of Hatti, whose name is Zannanza. The word is that he arrives in our territory near Qena at the full moon. I want you to take some men and meet his caravan there, escort him into the city as you would any royal family member.”
“My Queen, the first night of the full moon is only three nights from now,” Ay laughed. “It will not be possible.”
“It must be done, Ay. Therefore, I would suggest you ride very quickly.”
On the third and last night of the full moon, she stood on the terrace of her rooms looking out across the oasis towards the horizon. She had done the same thing every night since Ay had left Thebes. For six nights she had seen nothing but the dark of the night but suddenly as she looked out across the plain, she could make out the figures of riders with torches and the cloud of dust being thrown up by the horses’ hooves.
“They’re coming Melia, they’re coming,” She cried.
Of course, Ankhesenamun was ready to receive her prince, she had been ready every night for the past week, but tonight he would finally arrive. She waited within for Ay to enter and announce the party’s arrival but when he arrived he was alone and looking very haggard. It was clear from his expression that something was seriously wrong.
“What is it, Ay?” asked Ankhesenamun, with tears already standing in her eyes. “What has happened out there in the desert?”
“Your Majesty, I am sorry, but Prince Zannanza has been killed.”
Ankhesenamun clutched at the necklaces at her throat and groaned as she fell into a nearby chair. She put her hands to her face and wept.
“When we arrived at Qena, we found that they had been ambushed by thieves while waiting for us. We caught the thieves in action and fought them fiercely but the prince was killed by an arrow in the melee. I am sorry, my Queen.”
She could not respond to him and as she sat crying uncontrollably at her loss, Melia ushered everyone from the room.
Two weeks later, the priests announced that the body of the pharaoh was ready for burial. Someone would have to come forward as his successor and that person would be required to perform the mouth opening ceremony for the king so that his soul would be able to take sustenance in the afterlife. It was at that point that Ankhesenamun relented. She called for Ay to come to her chambers so that they could speak. It was just as she had told Zenubis, the emissary, if she had to choose between an in-law and a common soldier, it would be the in-law. So she chose to marry Ay. Her dead husband was buried with honor to the gods and with the dignity befitting a pharaoh of Egypt.
The wedding had to be immediate of course but upon the insistence of her fiancé, it was very small and relatively uneventful. In fact, the only public display that Ay allowed was the presentation of the couple to the city by the Theban High Priests. They were borne through the city from the gates to the temple doors on a palanquin dressed as the god Amun-Ra and his wife the goddess Amunet to proclaim their investiture as the new rulers. It did not take Ankhesenamun long to realize why that was. Two weeks after the wedding, Ay imprisoned the Queen, and every member of her household, within a series of underground chambers just outside of the city walls. His lesser wife, Tey, was then named Chief Wife of
the Pharaoh.
Refusing to comply with the situation, Ankhesenamun spent her time exploring the underground prison relentlessly, trying to find a way out of the maze of tunnels, but she couldn’t find one. Every day she would take Melia and set out along another series of walkways looking for an exit. One day, they came to some rooms which they had never seen before. Inside, there were several writing tables loaded with papyrus scrolls and heavy with dust, long since abandoned by the scribes who must have once bent over them copying text after text. The Queen wondered what it could have been that they were writing in such a hidden location. As she looked around the room, she was even more confused by the amounts of random books and letters that she found there. At the back of the scribe’s room she found an alcove. There were many large leather tubes stuffed into the shelves which Ankhesenamun surmised to have held even more scrolls of varying importance. There was also a large wooden box placed on a shelf high above the others. She climbed up and reached for it and carefully brought it down to the floor.
She shook her head in disbelief as she read the cartouches that decorated the outside of the box. It just wasn’t possible that she was really reading those words. The symbols sternly warned the reader that the contents of the box was the Book of Knowledge, the Tomes of Ra, the Chronicles of the Kings and Queens of Egypt and that to look at its contents was sure death for the reader. She looked at Melia who was shaking her head disapprovingly.
“If this is what I think it is, we must escape from this place even if it is to hide this from Ay. His name must not be recorded in its pages, he is an anomaly, and he does not deserve to be added to the records of Egypt’s kings.”
“The book is not to be opened by mortal hands Majesty. The priests alone may know its contents,” Melia said softly.
“I have to know if the codex is really inside it,” Ankhesenamun responded.
She lifted the lid of the box slowly and peered inside. There, ensconced within folds of the best white cotton was a large book bound within two tablets of solid gold and lavishly decorated with lapis lazuli, malachite, garnets and turquoise. The inscription was all the confirmation that she needed. It read, “The Life and Afterlife of the ruling houses of Egypt”. It was clear that it was really the Book of Life. She took the box and put it to one side then she returned to the room with the writing desks and searched among the materials for a clay tablet to write on. When she found a large enough one, Ankhesenamun sat with a stylus in her hand and imprinted a message on it. She wrapped the Book of Life carefully in the many folds of luxurious cotton that surrounded it, and removed it from the box replacing it with the newly carved cartouche. Melia took the box to the alcove and placed it in the exact spot from which it had been removed. Then Ankhesenamun picked up the bundle of cloth and left.
As news of Zannanza’s death and Ay’s ascension to the throne began to spread, word soon got to Hattusa and to the ear of King Suppiluliumas. Enraged, he wrote to Ay and demanded answers. Before long, he sent word that he would visit Thebes and take his son’s body and sarcophagus back to Hattusa. Ankhesenamun heard of this from the maid who brought their meals to them in the chambers every day. The mounting suspicion against Ay for being involved in Zannanza’s death made the Queen begin to think more carefully about the pharaoh and his motivations. She bribed the food maid to request Melia’s help at the feast which would be held to welcome the Hittite king. When Melia was leaving the tunnels to help with the preparations she gave her a small folded piece of parchment and told her to find a way to slip it to him.
“He will draw attention to me when I do so, Majesty.” Melia protested.
“He will not, Melia.” Ankhesenamun reassured her. “Be sure you bear the platter of fruit, it will be customary to serve the guest first so no one will see the paper among the dates before he does. When you present the platter to him tell him that Queen Ankhesenamun was always particularly fond of the dates from Hatti. That will draw his attention to them and to the note.”
After the party, Melia returned to the tunnels and sat quietly beside her mistress. She took a piece of cloth from the folds of her dress and handed it to her. Inside the cloth, Ankhesenamun found several dates and also many black olives, the type they got from the lands that lay at the end of the Nile. She ate them gratefully.
“He says we are to be ready to leave tonight, Majesty. We must gather everything and prepare for our rescue.”
***
When the caravan crossed through the lands across the wadi northward towards Amarna, her birthplace, tears filled Ankhesenamun’s eyes and rolled freely down her cheeks.
She had lost her homeland to her husband, a servant and now to get the revenge they both wanted so badly, her rescuer King Suppiluliumas would plunge the country into war. Life was always so bittersweet. Ensconced among the cushions in the corner where she slept in the wagon she shared with Melia, was the heavily wrapped rectangular object that was the Book of Life. It was her responsibility to ensure that it remained out of Ay’s hands as well as any pharaoh who would follow him to the throne. They were all pretenders and her royal blood line was gone. She would ensure that the book went next to the people whose names deserved to be entered into its pages. It would never go back to Egypt until someone of royal blood sat on the throne as pharaoh.
Chapter One
The Denali swerved sharply to the left and then back to the right again causing Chyna to snap out of the nap she was taking and come to attention. She reached for the seat in front of her to stabilize herself.
“What the hell?”
No answer was spoken, but Chyna quickly caught onto the situation as screeching tires and roaring engines provided a response to her question. At least three smaller, beat-up pickups were doing their very best to bump or drive the Denali off of the paved highway and into the desert sand.
“Give this thing some gas and get the hell out of here!” she commanded, knowing that the older model pickups didn’t stand a chance when it came to the horsepower under the Denali’s hood.
“Dr. Nassir would kill me if I even scratched this vehicle,” their driver responded.
“And you don’t think he would be pissed if you got us scratched?”
“I am doing the best I can,” the driver responded doing his very best to avoid being hit by the pickups as he swerved from one lane to the other. About the same instant as his reply, the rear window of the SUV exploded.
“They’re fucking shooting at us,” Lana called out.
“This shit just got real,” Chyna responded. She dove over the back seat and into the packed cargo space feeling for her bag and the SIG Sauer®M-11. She had heard of bandits often running cars off the road on that stretch of desert highway and she had packed the pistol and an extra clip on the top of her lighter bag when they’d left the hotel in Cairo. Being jerked back and forth wasn’t making it easier for her to get to her bag, but when she finally got a hold on it, it only took a few seconds to get the pistol out and move into position.
Struggling to remain steady, her training kicked in and she focused her sights and the muzzle of the SIG on the driver of the trailing pickup. Holding steady, she tapped the trigger three times at his astonished eyes, which noticed the pistol much too late to save his life and the lives of the others riding with him.
The out of control pickup careened wildly toward the edge of the highway and then launched into the air and plummeted nose first into the sand, flinging bandits through the air like water drops off of a wet dog.
The pickup which was moving up on the side, pulled back suddenly as they noted the fate of their companions and fell back behind the SUV. The pickup that was working hard to stay ahead of the SUV had missed most of the show going on behind.
“Give this son-of-a-bitch some gas, now!” Chyna commanded as she moved to the window on her side of the back compartment. She leaned out of it at about the same time one of the bandits decided to pull off a pot shot at their driver from the camper shell on the back of the pickup.
She didn’t have much of a target to work with, but she squeezed of three rounds anyway, and the bandit disappeared back inside the pickup, ducking behind the tailgate.
The driver of the pickup suddenly swerved out of their way and their driver gunned the Denali at just the right moment to blow past them. As they rushed by, Chyna emptied her clip at the right front tire of the pickup. She doubted that she would hit it, but there was always a chance.
Regardless of her success or lack of success at hitting her target, it had been enough to discourage the bandits to draw back away from the chase. She watched through the empty frame of the back window and saw the pickup turn around and go back to where their companions had been sent tumbling through the sand.
“Pull over!” she commanded.
“But Miss Stone,” the driver contested. “They might come for us again if they see us stop.”
“Pull over,” she repeated, grasping hold of the bag, digging out the spare clip, letting the spent one fall in the cargo compartment as she snapped in the fresh one.
Their driver slowed, but remained on the road.
“I told you to pull over,” she ordered as she racked the slide back and chambered a round.
“I think you better pull over, Pard,” Oscar suggested from the front passenger’s seat. “She doesn’t fuck around when she’s pissed.”
