Egyptian Enigma

by LJM Owen

  ‘Now that we have three of the Pharaohs from the Nineteenth Dynasty, and three from the Twentieth, why don’t we line up all their heads with our Golden Tomb mummies and see who looks most like whom?’ Nathan said.

  It took some time to lay out all the crania and mandibles.

  ‘Thirteen mummy skulls in a row,’ Henry said. ‘There must a Halloween joke in there somewhere.’

  ‘Let’s not go looking for it,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Now, we can see the familial similarities between Ramesses the First, Second, Third, Fourth and Fifth, as well as Seti the First.’ She pointed along the line of Pharaohs. ‘And we can see the similarities between our first Tomb mummy and the Pharaohs, then the potential group of four younger people in mummies two, three, four and five, and the similarities between that group and mummies one and seven.’

  ‘How many generations were there between Messrs Second and Third?’ Henry asked.

  ‘It’s hard to know,’ Elizabeth replied. ‘After the Second died, Egypt fell into disrepair for a while. There were four Pharaohs in quick succession at the end of the Nineteenth Dynasty, then Ramesses the Third’s father founded the Twentieth. Only thirty years or so separated the reigns of the Second and Third, so it’s highly likely that the Third grew up with or lived in the same palace as the six Pharaohs before him.’

  Alice looked up at Elizabeth through her heavy black fringe. ‘Is his father’s mummy anywhere?’

  Elizabeth shook her head. ‘Not that anyone can find. He only reigned for a year or two before dying. It’s unknown if our Mr the Third was a grandson, great-grandson or even great-great-grandson of Ramesses the Second, because the Second had so many children, many of whom bore the same names. And we don’t have proper records for the whole family.’

  ‘And there was…minimal additional genetic material across the generations?’

  Nathan was referring to the highly incestuous parentage of some of the people represented on the table.

  ‘Indeed,’ Elizabeth agreed, ‘which makes most of the tests I would normally run not terribly useful with this group.’

  She didn’t want to say anything to discourage the group but she felt increasingly frustrated by the tantalising hints that the Golden Tomb mummies had indeed been related to the Pharaohs of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Dynasties. That she lacked solid evidence on which to base her instinct made her hold her tongue. For all the enjoyment she had gained from working on the bones of the mummies with her friends, she wasn’t really any further toward identifying which particular Pharaoh had built the Golden Tomb, or which member of the royal family had lain in its sarcophagus, than when she’d seen the display in the Cairo museum at the beginning of the year.

  ‘What can we try?’ Alice asked. ‘It’s not going to be possible to run any DNA analyses, like we did for the Olmec and Maya cases.’

  ‘I’ve ruled out cranial and post-cranial metrics,’ Elizabeth said. ‘With such a small sample size and mix of ages and genders, they wouldn’t be helpful. And, as I’ve said, I can’t use dental non-metrics because so many of their teeth are missing or worn away with disease, but I’m willing to give cranial non-metric analysis a go.’

  ‘I think I’m not alone when I say, huh?’ Rhoz said.

  ‘It’s fairly straightforward. Cranial is your head, dental your teeth, and post-cranial is everything from the neck down. Metrics is something you can measure with a tape.’

  ‘Like the length of a femur?’ Nathan said.

  ‘Exactly, while non-metrics is the presence or absence of features, or how strongly they exist on a gradient.’

  ‘Like having or not having the extra tubercle on an upper second molar,’ Alice said.

  ‘Precisely. My personal preference is dental non-metrics because the shape of your teeth is ninety-five per cent genetically determined, whereas all the other options are far more influenced by gender, disease or nutrition.’

  ‘So what does it mean that Ramesses the First and Seti the First didn’t have that extra little nodule of tooth, but Ramesses’ Two to Five and five of our mummies did?’

  ‘It could have been introduced to the line by Ramesses the Second’s mother, a woman named Tuya. The incestuous marriages in the Nineteenth Dynasty began with the Second, so perhaps he passed it on to his multitude of offspring.’

  ‘How certain are we that our mummies one to five were royal, then?’

  ‘It’s looking quite possible.’

  ‘Might we be able to tell more with the remainder of the Nineteenth Dynasty line-up?’

  Elizabeth was seriously looking forward to seeing what might have been the mummy of the last Pharaoh of the Nineteenth Dynasty. ‘Hopefully.’ She glanced at a clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Do you mind if we pack up now? I need to go check on Mai.’

  ‘Everything all right?’ Henry asked from the laptop screen.

  ‘It’s probably nothing. We just haven’t heard from her for a while and I want to make sure she’s okay.’

  ‘Did something happen?’ Nathan asked.

  Elizabeth shook her head. ‘Not that I know of.’

  ‘It’s good of you to check on her,’ Rhoz said.

  ‘Well, she is my sister.’

  Nathan gave Elizabeth a wry smile. ‘How about I come along, keep you company?’

  Elizabeth was a touch relieved. She’d planned to take Sam with her, but Nathan was a better choice as Mai always seemed calmer in his presence.

  ‘I’ll come too,’ Rhoz added.

  Elizabeth was rather surprised by Rhoz’s suggestion. ‘That’s a lovely thought, but do you mind if it’s just Nathan and me? Mai’s used to us and if she’s not feeling well she might not be happy to see so many people turning up on her doorstep.’

  Rhoz nodded. ‘Let us know how it goes?’

  ‘Of course.’

  As everyone packed up and piled out of the front door, Nathan lingered in the foyer while Elizabeth went to find Sam.

  She was in the kitchen, helping Matty prepare dinner. ‘No-one’s heard back from Mai?’

  ‘No,’ Sam said. ‘I’ll just grab a jacket?’

  ‘Nathan’s offered to go with us. All three, or just the two of us?’

  Sam smiled. ‘Just you two. Call me if anything’s wrong?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  —

  The Mai who opened the door to Elizabeth and Nathan looked nothing like the Mai who had attended the Pimms Family Christmas. She was bone thin again, hair matted and unkempt, and clearly unshowered. Elizabeth was deeply disturbed. ‘Mai, are you okay? Are you sick?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  Even her voice was pale, emotionless. ‘We’ve been calling. Did you lose your phone?’

  ‘No, I just… I’ll call back later. Is that all?’

  Nathan gently pushed past Mai to step inside. ‘I have to use your bathroom. I won’t be long.’

  ‘Uh, uh…okay.’

  ‘I’ll come in and wait,’ Elizabeth said, following Nathan’s lead.

  Mai trailed her into the kitchen. As Elizabeth had suspected, it was a bombsite: garbage piled in the corner, bench strewn with used plates, cups and discarded meals.

  ‘Have you been eating?’

  Mai turned her head away.

  Elizabeth pushed. ‘Mai?’

  ‘I don’t have any appetite. I know I should eat, so I make myself meals, but the smell turns my stomach.’ Mai’s voice wavered. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘For what?’

  Mai began tapping a fingernail on an unoccupied corner of the bench. De-de-de-de, de-de-de-de.

  ‘Mai, for what?’ Elizabeth prompted her gently.

  ‘I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’

  ‘Have you been going to work?’

  Mai shook her head.

  ‘Sleeping?’ Nathan asked, as he emerged f
rom the corridor.

  Tears welled in Mai’s eyes. ‘No. The only thing I can do is cry. I cry all the time. I don’t mean to. I’m not even feeling sad. It just keeps happening.’

  ‘You aren’t crying about anything in particular? I mean, you’re not crying because of something that happened?’

  ‘No, I… I don’t really feel anything. I mean, I’d hoped the family would do something for my birthday this year…’

  Oh, no! With everything that had happened, Elizabeth had completely forgotten Mai’s birthday. How awful. ‘Mai, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay. With your grandfather and everything, I understand, but otherwise, no, I don’t feel anything. At all. I just cry.’

  Elizabeth had no idea what any of this meant. ‘Mai, I’m not sure what to do to help you, but I know this is serious.’

  ‘Very serious,’ Nathan said.

  ‘So we’re going to grab everything you need and we’re all going back to the house together, okay? You’re staying with us for a while until we figure things out.’

  ‘No, it’s fine. I’m fine.’

  ‘Mai,’ Elizabeth adopted Grandmère Maddie’s sternest tone, ‘you are not fine. You are coming with us and that’s all there is to it. Now, do you have a suitcase?’

  Staying calm on the outside as she helped her older sister pack a few clothes, Elizabeth was shaken and panicking internally. As soon as Nathan walked Mai out to the car she dialled Dr Lewis’ number and explained the situation, begging the doctor to make a house call as soon as possible. The family’s trusted doctor promised to visit that afternoon.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dr Lewis was in the loungeroom with Mai for quite some time. Elizabeth and the rest of the family hovered nervously in the kitchen.

  ‘Should we knock?’ Nainai asked.

  ‘They’ve been in there a long time,’ Matty said.

  ‘Perhaps we should just check on them,’ Grandmère suggested.

  ‘Dr Lewis said not to,’ Elizabeth said.

  At long last the door to the loungeroom opened. Only the family’s trusted physician emerged.

  ‘Is she all right?’ Sam asked.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Nainai’s voice cracked with tension.

  Dr Lewis faced Mai’s anxious family. ‘Mai has given her permission for me to speak to all of you, but of course, this remains confidential otherwise.’

  The family nodded.

  ‘Mai will need a more thorough assessment, but from what I can see, it looks as though she’s suffering from severe acute reactive depression.’

  What did that mean? ‘Depression?’ Elizabeth asked.

  Dr Lewis nodded. ‘In layman’s terms, Mai appears to be having a nervous breakdown.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Sam said.

  ‘Did we do something wrong?’ Matty asked.

  ‘My poor girl,’ Nainai said.

  ‘It seems, from talking to her, that she’s been in this state for quite some time. I’d like to refer her to someone immediately.’

  Guilt swept through Elizabeth: she’d seen that Mai had been struggling for most of the year, but hadn’t known how significant it was. ‘I’d guessed she wasn’t okay, and I suggested she come to a session with Dr Strzelecki, but I had no idea it was this bad.’

  ‘Karen Strzelecki? Yes, she would be suitable. I’ll make the referral this afternoon and request an emergency appointment for Mai tomorrow.’

  ‘I don’t understand. She seems fine most of the time, just a bit teary,’ said Grandmère Maddie.

  ‘Mai is used to looking after herself,’ Dr Lewis said. ‘She’s very independent. From what I can gather, she’s also very good at masking her true feelings. I imagine she’s tried not to let anyone know how she’s been feeling, which is also typical of those with depression. The important thing now is that she receives counselling, perhaps medication, and takes care of her health – good food, exercise, company, emotional support. She’ll likely recover, but it will take time and effort on her part and yours.’

  ‘She can stay with us for as long as she needs to. We’ll look after her,’ Nainai said.

  ‘Good. I’ll email you some diet and exercise sheets when I get back to my office. And she’ll need a lot of sleep, time in the sun, and plenty of fresh food.’

  ‘Done, done and done,’ Elizabeth promised.

  —

  After an extended interview Dr Strzelecki confirmed that Mai was in the midst of a complete breakdown, with no single cause. Rather, it seemed that the strain of hiding her mother’s identity for her whole life – feeling as though her own existence was problematic – had gradually taken a terrible toll. Added to that was her silent grief at losing the father she’d never properly known, and her long-term lack of emotional support from friends and family. Combined, these factors had continually worn down her mental-emotional system until it had reached its limits, then broken, leaving her in a flood of melancholia, confusion and emptiness.

  Her recovery would take time. She would begin by working only part-time, having regular sessions with Dr Strzelecki, and a regime of medication, supple­ments, healthy diet, and exercise in the sunshine. Not a complicated formula, but a path back to health and happiness for many sufferers of various forms of depression.

  Elizabeth realised her obsession with work might have blinded her to the extent of Mai’s suffering. Had she put her love of Egyptology ahead of caring for her family? Where did that leave her in terms of working in London for a year?

  —

  Mai shook the bottle of tablets. ‘This is all so stupid! I shouldn’t need any of this. It’s weak, pathetic, needing help like this.’

  ‘Hypocrite,’ Matty said loudly.

  Mai’s jaw dropped as everyone else at the table gasped.

  ‘Matty!’ Elizabeth admonished.

  ‘It’s true.’ Matty’s brown eyes held Mai’s. ‘When I told you why I use crutches, when I told you everything I went through with my surgeries, you said I was brave. You said I was strong.’

  ‘I meant that.’

  From her tone, Mai clearly had no idea what Matty was getting at, but Taid did.

  ‘Gently, Mathieu,’ he said.

  ‘So, you know I’ve used surgery, antibiotics, plaster casts, painkillers, crutches, physiotherapy and, above all, other people’s help to fix my hips so I can walk normally again,’ Matty continued.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So either you think I’m strong and brave, or you think I’m a coward for needing all that help to heal. Maybe I should have just given up and spent the rest of my life in a wheelchair in constant pain.’

  ‘Of course not!’ Mai said.

  ‘But that’s what you’re saying when you say you’re weak or you’re pathetic for needing help when your brain’s not working properly,’ Matty said.

  ‘It’s not the same,’ Mai protested.

  ‘It bloody is. I listened to what Dr Strzelecki said. She said you’re sick because your brain chemistry is out of balance and isn’t making the things it needs to function the right way. She said you feel this way because your body can’t make some really important hormones on its own any more.’

  ‘Yes, but…’

  ‘So it’s exactly the same as me, Mai. My hips were broken. So I had surgery and medication and therapy and now I can walk on my own. Your hormone factory is broken. You need medication and therapy to get it working again so you can feel okay. It’s exactly the same, except that you don’t need physical surgery – some mental surgery with the counsellor can take its place.’

  Mai opened her mouth to respond, but Matty hadn’t finished.

  ‘So if you ever say that needing help to fix up your brain is weak, or stupid, or cowardly, just remember you’re calling me those exact same things for all the help I’ve had with fixing up my hips.’

 
Mai slowly closed her mouth.

  —

  Although her recovery was two steps forward, one step back, after Matty’s reprimand Mai never ran herself down for needing help again. At least, not in anyone’s hearing.

  Long afternoon and evening walks in the bush ticked off her exercise requirements, and Nainai and Grandmère Maddie ensured the diet plan provided by Dr Lewis was followed to the letter. Mai’s mood gradually improved alongside her general health. She seemed to put on a little weight and her face looked more relaxed. Elizabeth was incredibly relieved when, after a few weeks, Mai even shared a joke or two with Matty over Sunday breakfast.

  She felt optimistic enough about Taid and Mai to schedule the interview for the position in London. It was a relatively short conversation, which felt like a friendly chat. Given what a tremendous opportunity it was, Elizabeth was floored when, at the end of the half-hour, the chair of the panel advised that the interview had been a formality and she would be offered a place in their program next year, if she wanted it.

  She decided she couldn’t make a decision just yet, so asked for time to consider.

  —

  The doorbell rang shortly after one particularly scrump­tious Sunday Full Pimms Breakfast. Llew pulled up at the same time as Alice, Rhoz and Nathan arrived in one car, the boot and half of the back seat filled to the brim with conservators’ boxes of plastic bones. Today might be the day they finally identified the Pharaoh whose name had been chiselled from the walls of the Golden Tomb.

  Carrying the last of the boxes into the house, Elizabeth stopped to savour the moment. Above Grandmère’s carefully pruned dark green hedges, currently tinged red with new growth, yellow-cheeked honeyeaters dipping and soaring through bright yellow wattle bushes, fighting for dominance and the right to father a new generation of chicks. Taid’s clumps of butter-yellow daffodils and creamy white jonquils glowed in the early-afternoon spring sun, filling the air at the front of the house with their delicate perfume. What a perfect day for discovering the builder of the Golden Tomb.