“How will we get up there?” asked Intef.
Ramose shrugged. “Don’t ask me, I’m just a scribe.”
They went back up the entrance shaft and pulled up the ladder. Even with the ladder in place underneath the upper tunnel entrance, it was still well short. Intef roughly carved handholds in the stone as far as he could reach from the top of the ladder. Greed had made him fearless. He climbed up, gripping the holes he had gouged in the limestone wall. Ramose was expecting him to slip and fall at every moment. He didn’t. The big man clambered up the sheer wall like an enormous spider. He reached a ledge and crawled onto it.
“Okay, Scribe,” he said. “Your turn.”
“But I’m shorter than you, I won’t be able to reach the handholds you’ve made.”
Ramose felt the end of a coil of rope drop on his head.
“Tie that around you,” said Intef.
Ramose tied the rope securely around his waist and then climbed the ladder. When he reached the top, he felt himself being lifted into the air. Intef hauled him up as if he was a sack of grain, not worrying about how he banged against the stone. Ramose grabbed hold of the ledge and clambered up onto it. A new passage sloped up from the ledge they were standing on in the direction of the centre of the pyramid. It had a low ceiling, nothing more than a tunnel roughly carved through solid stone.
“You go first,” said Intef.
Ramose knew it was pointless to argue. He got down on his hands and knees and started to crawl up the tunnel, like a creeping thing, just as the papyrus had foretold. He held his oil lamp in one hand; it was no easy task. Ramose could hear Intef complaining as he crawled along behind.
Ramose’s calm began to fade. He suspected his lack of fear had only been the effect of the beer on an empty stomach. He was now starting to imagine the hundreds of mud bricks just above his head. The narrowness of the tomb was making him feel stifled. He kept crawling. He thought about his friends. He wondered what they had done when they woke up and found him gone. They had no gold or copper to exchange for food. He began to think that he’d misread the papyrus, that this was a blind tunnel leading nowhere. He wanted to turn around and crawl back out again, but he knew the tunnel would be blocked by Intef’s sweaty body. Even if the robber wanted to, he couldn’t turn around in the narrow tunnel.
Just when Ramose was starting to really panic, the tunnel came to an end. He emerged in a passage which ran at right angles to the tunnel. This passage was wider, higher and properly faced with smooth limestone. Ramose stood up and straightened his aching back with relief. Intef came crawling out of the tunnel, cursing the workmen who made it so narrow. He stood up and peered down the new passage.
“The burial chamber must be this way,” he said walking eagerly down the passage.
“Wait,” said Ramose. “Don’t be in such a hurry.” He studied the papyrus and read aloud.
“Woe unto the impatient man. The goddess of the celestial ocean draws you down to her waters.”
“Oh, that’s just flowery writing,” said Intef as he hurried on down the passage. “Don’t take…”
Intef stopped suddenly. He stood frozen. Ramose came up behind him and held out his lamp. Intef was standing on the edge of a vertical shaft. The toes of his sandals were hanging over the edge. The shaft was only two cubits across, but it was too wide to jump safely to the other side. Ramose could not see how deep it was. He picked up a small stone and dropped it. He waited. After what seemed like minutes, he heard a faint splash. He looked at Intef. The big man had a terrified look on his face, realising that he had very nearly plunged to his death.
“Don’t bother to thank me,” Ramose said.
Intef found his voice. “How do we get across?” he asked shakily.
Ramose walked back along the passage looking for something that would span the gap. He found a recess in the limestone wall and a plank of wood that a lazy tomb maker had left there centuries earlier. He looked at it doubtfully. He didn’t know whether he was prepared to trust his weight to a four hundred-year-old plank. He didn’t have any choice.
“Hurry up,” Intef prodded Ramose in the back. “We must be close to the burial chamber now.”
Ramose lowered the plank over the gap. Intef loaded him up with the coil of rope and the bag of tools. He put his foot on the plank. He was glad he couldn’t see the drop. He took one tentative step. The plank creaked. He took another step and it sagged in the middle. Ramose took two more steps, his heart racing, and he was over. Intef looked across at him.
“I don’t know if it’ll hold your weight,” Ramose said. “Why don’t I go on ahead and see if it’s worth the risk?”
“Oh, no you don’t.” Intef didn’t trust Ramose. “You could pocket half the gold.”
“Okay. Come across then.”
The big man took a breath and ran towards the gaping shaft. His full weight hit the middle of the plank. It cracked. He lunged forward as the ancient wood broke. He grasped hold of the rock ledge on the other side, his legs dangling down into the shaft. His feet scrabbled on the rock face but couldn’t find anything that would support him. His hands clawed at the ledge. He started to slip.
“Help me,” shouted Intef, his voice high-pitched with fear.
Ramose heard the broken pieces of plank hit the water far below with a faint splash. It seemed like they’d been falling for hours. He watched Intef’s big, ugly hands grasping at the rock. For a split second, he thought about pushing the robber into the shaft, but instead he reached out and grabbed Intef under the arms. The man found a rock protrusion with his foot and levered himself up. Ramose hauled him onto the ledge.
“You knew that wouldn’t hold my weight,” grumbled Intef as he got to his feet.
Ramose was looking down into the shaft and wondering how they would get back over it again.
Intef’s lamp bowl had broken when he fell, so they now had only one lamp between them. They walked along the passage which was sloping down slightly until it suddenly divided into two. Ramose held the lamp up to the papyrus scroll.
“The next bit is torn,” he said. “I don’t know which is the right passage.”
“We’ll take this one,” said Intef. “You go first.”
Ramose entered the right-hand passage. It twisted and turned. Up until then, Ramose had been able to keep a picture in his head of the way they had come. He’d still had a sense of which way north lay and where the burial chamber should be. After the passage had made six or more turns, he had no idea which way he was facing. The oil in the lamp was running low. Intef topped it up from a jar in his bag. They followed the passage for another three turns. Then it ended abruptly.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” said Intef. “You knew this was the wrong passage.”
Ramose wasn’t listening. He was sniffing.
“Can you smell something?”
He felt a burning in his throat. He looked down at his feet. They were almost buried in a fine yellow powder which covered the floor. Clouds of the powder had been kicked up as they’d walked around.
Ramose put his hand over his mouth and ran back along the passage. Intef followed him. Ramose felt dizzy. When he reached the fork in the passage he vomited. Intef was looking ill.
“What was that?” said Intef, taking a swig of his water. The big man’s face had a greenish colour in the dim light.
Ramose retched again. “It must have been some sort of poison.”
Intef reluctantly handed his water container to Ramose.
They retraced their steps and took the other passage, which sloped down at a greater angle. Ramose thought they must now be down below ground level. He was still feeling sick and dizzy, but he hoped the poison had lost its potency over the centuries. The passage twisted and turned just as the other one had. Suddenly it opened into a chamber. It was exactly the same as the first chamber they had entered, high-ceilinged, lined with limestone—and completely empty.
Intef threw the coil of rope onto the flo
or. “You’ve led me astray again!”
Ramose sat down groggily. “Why would I do that? My father is dying in Memphis. I just want to get out of here.”
Intef took another swig of water.
“This looks like the burial chamber,” Ramose said looking around in the dim light. “Look at how smooth the limestone on the walls is. And see that niche?” He held the lamp over to one side lighting a recess cut into the wall. “That’s where the Canopic chest would fit.”
“So what are you saying?” said Intef chewing on a piece of dried meat. “They went to all the trouble of building this pyramid and then didn’t use it?”
“That’s a possibility. It might be nothing more than a giant hoax to lure tomb robbers away from the real tomb which is hidden somewhere else.”
“What a dirty trick!” said Intef, spitting out bits of dried ox flesh.
Ramose didn’t really believe that was the case at all. He didn’t want the robbers to get the old pharaoh’s gold and jewels. He thought about trying to convince Intef that the pyramid was empty, but he knew Hori wouldn’t let him go until they found some treasure. If the tomb robbers didn’t find it in the pyramid, they would have him digging holes all around it, looking for secret tombs. He had to get this over and done with so that he could get to Memphis and see his father. Ramose stood up again and walked around the chamber, looking closely at the walls and the ceiling in the dim light of the oil lamp. He studied the papyrus again. There had to be a clue.
The nut doesn’t reveal the tree it contains.
The ignorant man doesn’t see the truth
Though he treads upon it with his sandals.
Ramose dropped down onto his hands and knees and set the lamp on the stone floor. He ran his hands over it as if he was looking for something small that he’d lost. Intef looked as confused as ever.
“Here,” said Ramose. He’d found what he was looking for. “Bring the lever over here.”
For once, Intef didn’t argue. He took a lever made of hardwood from his bag.
“There’s a gap here. See?” Ramose brushed the dust away and ran his fingers around in a square. “It’s a trapdoor.”
8
THE DEAD PHARAOH
The lever was too thick to fit into the groove. Intef, impatient to get to the gold that he was sure was inside the tomb, got out his stone hammer and started to bash the slab of stone. The slab was thinner than the one that had covered the entrance to the pyramid. It was also horizontal, which made it easier for Intef to let the weight of the hammer do all the work. The slab soon cracked, then it broke into several pieces which disappeared from view and crashed to another floor not far below.
Ramose held the lamp down. The light reflected off gold in all corners of a chamber. Intef eagerly lowered himself down the hole, falling awkwardly on the floor three cubits below.
“This is it!” he exclaimed, limping around the chamber. “Look at all this!”
Ramose peered down the hole. He didn’t know whether to be pleased or not. At one end of the chamber was a huge red granite sarcophagus. It was five cubits in length and three cubits high. All around the room there were chests covered with gold foil and pieces of furniture inlaid with jewels. Intef pushed a chest under the hole and balanced an elegantly carved chair inlaid with turquoise on top of it.
“Get down here with that lamp,” he ordered.
Ramose clambered down. Intef was flinging open the lids of chests, laughing and exclaiming over all the jewellery, bowls and goblets he found within them. His face shone with the light reflecting from all the gold.
“This is just the beginning,” he said turning to the sarcophagus.
“Can’t we just take this stuff and leave the pharaoh in peace?” pleaded Ramose. “There’s enough here to keep the three of you rich for the rest of your lives. More than enough. You don’t need any more treasure.”
Intef wasn’t listening. He was trying to lift the lid from the sarcophagus. It was obviously impossible. The lid was made of solid granite two palm-widths thick. He pushed its edge with all his might.
“You can’t push it off, Intef,” said Ramose. “It’ll be fitted inside the sarcophagus. You’ll have to lift it.”
Intef had another idea though. He climbed back up the hole and brought down his stone hammer. With a loud grunt he swung the hammer as high as he could and brought it down on the lid with all his strength. Ramose thought of the long-dead tomb makers and all the trouble they’d gone to in order to keep their pharaoh’s resting place secret. They had built his sarcophagus with skill and care. It wasn’t going to give up its treasure easily.
Intef continued to swing his hammer at the lid. He broke off a corner. Encouraged by this he smashed the hammer down on the broken edge. Intef furiously rained blows on the corner of the sarcophagus. Ramose sat on a chest and watched. He couldn’t help thinking that if Intef used all that energy on something constructive, he’d be a lot better off. Eventually, after more than half an hour, the big tomb robber stopped and rested his hammer on the floor. He was gasping for breath and sweat was running down his back. There was a jagged hole in the end of the sarcophagus lid.
“That should do it,” panted Intef.
Ramose looked puzzled. “You still won’t be able to lift it off.”
“I won’t have to.” Intef smiled unpleasantly. “You’re going to get inside and bring everything out.”
Ramose looked at the hole with horror. It was just about big enough for him to wriggle through. “I can’t go in there,” he said, starting to sweat despite the cool air of the tomb. “I…I’m not very good in enclosed spaces.”
“Too bad.” Intef lifted Ramose up and put him on top of the sarcophagus as if he was no heavier than a handful of figs. “Get on with it. We’ve got to get out of here before daylight.”
Ramose threaded his legs in through the hole in the granite sarcophagus. His feet rested on the coffin. Ramose opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He knew there was no point in arguing.
“Give me the lamp.”
Intef handed him the lamp. Ramose took a deep breath and lowered himself into the sarcophagus. The coffin was large and roughly human-shaped. It was decorated with beautiful patterns and a painting of the sky-goddess Nut with her wings outspread. Even in the dim lamplight, Ramose could see that the colours were as bright as if they were newly painted. He found it hard to believe that the coffin was four hundred years old. There was just enough room for Ramose to straddle the foot of the coffin.
“Do you want this?” asked Intef pushing the hammer through the hole.
“No,” said Ramose. “I don’t have to break it open. I can get the lid off.”
It wasn’t that easy though. He tried to get his fingers under the lid. It was jammed on tight. The carpenters who had made the wooden coffin had made the lid a perfect fit. They had never intended that anyone would be opening it.
“We haven’t got time, just smash it open.” Intef was getting impatient.
“Just let me try with a chisel first.”
Intef handed him a chisel and Ramose fitted it in the crack between the lid and the base of the coffin. He wriggled it up and down, making the crack wider.
“Hurry up.”
Ramose eventually eased the lid off. It parted from the coffin base with a sigh. Ramose pushed the lid over to one side.
The first thing he noticed was the smell. It smelt just like the embalming room under the temple where he had woken up after his nanny and tutor had faked his death. It was the strong resinous smell of juniper oil and frankincense. He held up the lamp. Inside the coffin was the pharaoh’s mummy. A gilded mask stared up at him with blank eyes. The pharaoh’s face had a strong nose and a mouth that was almost smiling. He’d always imagined mummies bound in soft white linen strips, but the bandages on the mummy in front of him were brown with age and stiff with the oils, long since dried up, that the priests had poured onto it during the burial ritual.
“Are there jewels
? Is there gold?”
“Yes.”
Ramose’s lamplight reflected on a magnificent gold collar draped around the neck of the mummy and a gold crown on its head. The collar was made of hundreds, maybe thousands of beads of turquoise, carnelian, lapis lazuli and gold.
Ramose hesitated for a moment. Would he suffer the fate of a tomb robber if he was caught? And what about in the afterlife? Would Osiris understand that he’d had no choice? He pulled the collar from the mummy. The beautiful pattern disintegrated and the beads cascaded into the bottom of the coffin.
“What’s going on in there?”
“The threads stringing the beads are rotten. Give me a bag.”
Ramose scooped up beads by the handful and put them into the bag that Intef handed him. The threads of the armbands broke as well. He scooped those beads into the bag with the others. Then he took off the crown. It was solid gold with a snake’s head inlaid with turquoise rearing from the front as if to attack anyone who dared harm the pharaoh. Intef thrust a sharpened flint through the hole.
“Cut open the bandages. There’ll be amulets wrapped inside.”
Ramose didn’t argue. He slit the bandages binding the mummy down the front and peeled them back. Sure enough there were exquisite amulets made of gold and precious stones. There was a heart scarab of lapis lazuli, similar to his own.
“Check the hands as well. There should be rings.”
Ramose slit open the linen strips binding the hands to get to the dead pharaoh’s fingers. The skin was like dried-out leather. The fingers were like black claws. Each one had at least one ring on it. As Ramose hurried to get the jewels, one of the fingers broke off in his hand. Until then, Ramose hadn’t had time to think about his fear of enclosed spaces. Touching the actual withered flesh of the dead pharaoh made his stomach lurch and his heart pound. He was suddenly aware that he was inside a stone tomb, straddling a dead man. Above him was a mountain of stone and mud bricks. The fumes of the embalming resins were making his head spin. He threw the bag out of the hole and scrambled to get out of the sarcophagus.
Ramose and the Tomb Robbers Page 5
