The Moses Legacy

by Adam Palmer

  ‘Then why are we stopping here?’ asked Gabrielle.

  ‘We have to get the guardian to open the tomb,’ Mansoor explained. ‘Let’s hope he’s at home.’

  The three of them stepped out of the jeep and into the silence of the western Valley of the Kings. But this time, the blast of dry heat that hit Daniel was not quite as oppressive as it had been before. What was disconcerting, however, was the desolate loneliness that hung in the air around them. This, Daniel realized, was the sensation that the old adventurers must have felt in the main valley when they first explored and excavated the area, before it was transformed into the tourist beehive that it had now become.

  Mansoor looked around, as if this were new to him also, and then started walking towards the guardian’s house at a snail’s pace.

  ‘The ancient Egyptians believed that the valley was watched over by Meretseger, a local goddess whose name translated, appropriately enough, as “She who loves silence”. But there was a bit of a pun in her name, because the first syllable, Mer, was also the first syllable of the word for pyramid and the goddess was said to dwell in the pyramid-shaped mountain that overlooked the valley. To the ancient Egyptians she was perceived as both kind and cruel – the dispenser of both favours and pain.’

  ‘Perhaps the archetype for women ever since,’ added Daniel with a teasing smile in Gabrielle’s direction. She did not look amused.

  Mansoor stopped in front of the door to the old shack and knocked aggressively.

  From within the house, Daniel heard a deep baritone voice mumbling in Arabic about the world surely not coming to an end and how the visitor was making enough noise to arouse the pharaohs from their eternal slumber.

  The door opened with a clanging of chains and a clacking of bolts, as the gravel-voiced grumbling continued. But it came to an abrupt end when the diminutive, wizened guardian of the tomb came face to face with Mansoor. In the polite Arabic exchange that followed, Mansoor explained without introducing himself that he and his guests had come to see Tomb 23.

  The guardian went back into the house and returned seconds later with a huge bunch of oversized keys. When they went back to the car, it was clear from Mansoor’s body language that he wanted the guardian of the tomb to sit in the front with him, in deference to his age. So Daniel joined Gabrielle in the back, greeting her with a smile. After holding out for a second or two, she reciprocated. Daniel sensed that her sombre mood was due in no small measure to the way in which she was being squeezed into the background, as Mansoor and Daniel engaged in their detailed discussions, despite the fact that she was academically on a par with them. It was as if all the old Middle Eastern stereotypes about women were coming into play.

  Mansoor restarted the jeep and drove slowly along the increasingly narrow and rock-strewn track. Along the way he stopped by an old brick hut, but kept the engine running. The guardian of the tomb got out and went over to the hut, opening it and disappearing inside, mumbling something inaudible in Arabic that could have been a curse, but was more probably just a lament at having his daily routine interrupted. After a few moments, there were clanking noises, as if things were being moved about inside, then silence.

  A second or two later, the silence of the valley was broken by the whirring drone of a generator. In an instant, the valley had lost its tranquillity as the incessant rumbling permeated the air around them, not as noise, but as a faint background sound. The guardian emerged, locked up and strolled at a leisurely pace back to the jeep. No matter how much of a hurry the others were in, he was going nowhere fast in this heat.

  The drive that followed seemed to last an eternity. Daniel couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to walk it, especially in this midday heat – the worst possible time to be doing this. And when Mansoor finally pulled up and they all got out of the jeep, it was clear that there was still a distance left to walk.

  ‘The tomb we are about to visit,’ Mansoor explained, ‘is one of only four in this part of the valley. These are all tombs that are in one way or another associated with the Amarna period.’

  Mansoor was referring to the brief period between 1341 BC, when Akhenaten moved his court to the purpose-built city, and 1331 BC, when his son, who was then called Tutankhaten, ended the religious reform, restored the cult of Amun and moved the capital back to Thebes. To signify the end of his father’s experiment, he changed his name to Tutankhamen and completely abandoned the city of Akhetaten or “Horizon of Aten”, which his father had built. It was the modern name of the location – Amarna – which was now used to describe not only the location itself, but also that turbulent period in Egyptian history.

  ‘Which four tombs?’ asked Daniel.

  ‘The first two are Akhenaten and his father.’

  ‘I thought Akhenaten’s tomb was actually in Amarna.’

  ‘It was, although ultimately his mummy ended up in KV55 in the main valley because of vandalism and tomb-raiding by those who sought to wipe out his memory in the counter-revolution against his reforms. But his original tomb was prepared here in the western valley, and in fact it’s quite large and complete. But in any case, that tomb is closed, as is his father’s and also a third tomb here that appears to have been used as a storage area. However, it is the fourth tomb that we are here to see.’

  They walked on a bit until they arrived at the entrance.

  ‘This is the tomb of Ay, son of Yuya. He was the father of Nefertiti, who became one of the wives of Akhenaten. He was also the brother of Tiya, the wife of Amenhotep the Third. Tiya and Amenhotep were the parents of Akhenaten. Therefore Ay, although not of royal blood himself, was a closely related in-law to the royal family of the Eighteenth Dynasty.’

  Daniel realized from the way in which both Mansoor and Gabrielle were staring at him that his face must be showing the awestruck feelings that he harboured on the inside. This was one of the great tombs that he had always wanted to see. But Mansoor wasn’t a mind reader, and he was not the sort of man to indulge Daniel’s wishes for the sake of it. Mansoor had an agenda. And everything that he had shown Daniel so far had something to do with this project.

  ‘Would I be jumping the gun if I were to ask where this tomb fits into the big picture?’ Daniel asked, looking from Gabrielle to Mansoor, wondering which one of them was going to speak first.

  It was Mansoor. ‘They found, in this tomb, a papyrus written in Proto-Sinaitic script. It is kept in the museum archives in Cairo.’

  ‘Then why bring me here?’

  ‘I wanted you to see this tomb first, to get some sense of the importance of it all.’

  ‘And then you want me to translate the papyrus?’

  ‘Yes, although we don’t need to go to the museum. I have a copy in my office at the SCA. But we have more to see here first.’

  He led them down a long staircase, through an entrance passage with unfinished walls. In the middle of the chamber floor stood Ay’s red quartzite sarcophagus. Daniel walked up to it for a closer look and then, gripped by an intense curiosity, proceeded to walk round it, admiring its engraved decorations: winged females, wrapping their wings around the corners.

  ‘It used to be at the antiquities museum,’ Mansoor explained, ‘but it was returned here a few years ago, after some intensive restoration work.’

  ‘These corners…’ Daniel trailed off.

  ‘Goddesses,’ Mansoor replied. ‘Protecting Ay on his journey into the afterlife. Isis, Neith, Nephtys and Selket.’

  Daniel looked up and noticed a decorated doorway leading off the main chamber. Above it was a painted illustration of four figures with animal heads, wearing crowns sitting at a table. But these figures were clearly male.

  ‘The four sons of Horus,’ said Mansoor, again reading Daniel’s mind.

  In response to an encouraging nod from Mansoor, Daniel walked into the side chamber, but found it strangely disappointing. Its walls were unadorned and it did not even contain the Canopic jars with Ay’s internal organs. Noticing that neither
Gabrielle nor Mansoor had followed him, he returned to the main chamber and looked at the painted walls. Before him was a scene showing Ay in a swamp with twelve wild birds, probably ducks, rising out of it. Ay appeared to be hunting and his wife was also present in the scene. Ay’s image had been defaced, apparently delicately.

  Once again, Mansoor provided the commentary to Daniel’s thoughts. ‘It is widely believed that this tomb was actually built for Tutankhamen, but that Ay appropriated it and had King Tut buried instead in the small tomb that Howard Carter found. At any rate, there are similarities between the paintings here and those in Tutankhamen’s tomb. They were probably the work of the same hand.’

  Towards the top of one of the walls were two illustrations of boats. Daniel looked around at some of the other wall paintings and noticed that parts of the image – presumably Ay himself – had been erased. This was not in itself a surprise to Daniel. He knew that there had been a power struggle between Ay and his successor Horemheb and that the latter had launched a campaign of damnatio memorae against several of his predecessors. The ‘cartouches’ – or royal symbols – had been targeted particularly vigorously as had the image of Ay.

  Daniel stopped before the image of the baboons. After a few seconds he noticed Mansoor’s presence beside him. And Mansoor was smiling.

  ‘These are the baboons that gave their name to this tomb, and possibly also to the entire valley.’

  Daniel nodded, but he was confused. ‘The thing that I was most interested in is the Great Hymn to Aten.’

  ‘That’s at his old tomb.’

  Daniel looked at Mansoor for an explanation.

  ‘Ay originally prepared a tomb for himself at Amarna. But when Amarna was abandoned by Tutankhamen, it became impossible to use that one, so instead he prepared a new tomb for himself here. But it was the tomb in Amarna that had the Great Hymn to Aten.’

  ‘I see,’ said Daniel.

  He was distracted by the look on Gabrielle’s face.

  Chapter 34

  Goliath had decided not to take the taxi across the spur road to the western valley. That would have created one more witness and thus one more person to kill. Instead he had walked across. This was not something forbidden, or even discouraged. Indeed, tourists were told that it was the best way to enjoy the view. However, they were warned that the walk there and back would take two to three hours and they should only attempt it if they were fit. Most important of all, they should bring plenty of water and drink it regularly.

  Goliath knew that he was fit enough to make it easily, and his height and long strides meant that he could do the walk quicker than most. He knew also that Akil Mansoor was a very determined man and there was presumably a lot that he wanted to show Daniel Klein. This offered him a perfect opportunity.

  As he approached, he saw an old man in traditional Bedouin costume sitting idly by a hill smoking a hookah pipe.

  What on earth…?

  Then he realized when he saw a jeep parked only a few yards away. The hill wasn’t just a hill, it was a cave… a tomb. And this man was the guardian of the tomb.

  They’re in the tomb!

  And that meant a perfect target.

  As he walked along slowly, the guardian looked up from his pipe. Goliath realized that he might arouse some suspicion, so he waved casually and made his face look confused and uncertain, like a lost tourist. He had every right to be here. The western valley was not out of bounds, even if the tombs were not open.

  ‘Oh, er… excuse me,’ he said. ‘Do you speak English?’

  A lot of the Bedouin guides did speak English, making money from the tourist trade, but Goliath wasn’t sure if a tomb guardian would. The last thing he wanted was for this man to run off to the tomb calling for Mansoor or the others. But fortunately the old Bedouin smiled.

  ‘Yes… a little.’

  ‘I was wondering if you could help me. I’d like to know if any of these tombs are open?’

  ‘Not to the public,’ said the guardian as Goliath drew closer. ‘But one of them is open at the moment, and some important people are there. I can ask them if they will give you permission to—’

  Before he could finish, Goliath took him out with a single chop, just below the ear. As the man fell, Goliath moved round him, grabbed and locked the V formation of his left biceps and forearm under the man’s chin and with a crossing-over motion of his right arm, snapped the man’s neck.

  Goliath didn’t even wince at the crunch, he simply dragged the Bedouin to the entrance to the tomb. The door was made of heavy iron and had a key still in the padlock – a thick snap-shut padlock, not one of those cheap jobs that you can pick with a hairpin.

  When he reached the doorway, he leaned in to hear what was going on. He heard voices, male and female, engaged in earnest conversation about hymns and psalms. It was, no doubt, all very interesting. But not today. These people were dabbling in affairs that were not of this earth, and soon they too would no longer be on this earth. He threw the guardian’s body into the tomb, moved back and slammed the door after him. Then, with a swift movement, he closed the padlock and heard it click.

  ‘Hallo!’ a woman’s voice rang out from the tomb. ‘Who’s there?’

  He heard a rumbling exchange of voices in English, but it was no longer of interest to him. He had more important things to do.

  He didn’t know how long it would take them to die, and therein lay the problem. Had they told anyone where they were going? Even if they hadn’t said exactly, would their approximate location be enough to find them?

  There was still, however, one factor that might give away their location: the jeep. It was big enough to be picked up by a satellite or an aeroplane. But then again, he realized, that wasn’t really a problem after all. In fact, it would also provide an easy way of getting a sample of their clothes.

  Quick as a flash, he got into the jeep and drove back along the spur road to the main valley.

  Chapter 35

  Gabrielle had been the first one to hear something going on above them. In fact, she was the only one to realize the significance of it. The others had heard the door slamming, but assumed it was the wind. Her initial inquiry in English had received no response, prompting Mansoor to switch to Arabic.

  ‘Nasir! aYn a’aNt!’ shouted Mansoor.

  Gabrielle and Daniel both understood. ‘Nasir, where are you?’

  It was not a case of shouting from fear or anger, he had raised his voice simply because he wanted to be heard. But the silence that followed was frightening.

  ‘Nasir?… Hl Huneka… Nasir?’

  ‘M Yhdth,’ Gabrielle shouted in her own flawless Arabic. ‘M Yhdth.’ She was asking what was happening.

  Daniel was wondering that too. He hadn’t yet reached the panic stage, but he was concerned.

  What was happening? Why had they heard the door slam? He could understand an old man like the guardian suffering a stroke or a heart attack. But that wouldn’t explain the slamming of the door.

  ‘I think he locked us in,’ Daniel proffered.

  Mansoor looked at Daniel contemptuously. ‘Why would he want to do that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Daniel, embarrassed at the absurdity of his own suggestion, yet seeing no other answer. ‘Islamic fundamentalism, maybe. Anti-Westernism.’

  ‘He’s a Bedouin,’ Mansoor snapped tersely, as if this alone were sufficient explanation. And with that, Mansoor raced out of the chamber up the first staircase, with the others in hot pursuit.

  As he followed, Daniel thought about Mansoor’s words. Contrary to popular Western prejudices, Arabs in general were the least likely amongst Muslims to be radicalized. The Bedouin especially tended to be pro-Western and particularly pro-British.

  The Bedouin had a strict code of honour and one could get on the wrong side of them if one failed to appreciate this. But neither Daniel nor Gabrielle had done anything to offend Nasir. Indeed, one of the traditions of the Arab code of honour – especially strong amon
gst the Bedouin – is Dakheel, the protection of the stranger who is within one’s tent – even at the risk of one’s own life.

  And tent did not literally mean a tent only, but the area of one’s home turf. To a family patriarch, this could be his house and those of his extended family. To a local sheikh or village mukhtar, it could mean his village or neighbourhood. In the case of Nasir, it would surely mean the tomb of which he was the appointed guardian. But as Daniel contemplated this, his thoughts were interrupted.

  ‘Oh my God!’ screamed Gabrielle as she reached the entrance corridor.

  Mansoor was leaning over the dead figure of the guardian of the tomb.

  Chapter 36

  Sarit had watched Daniel and the others drive across to the western valley, and she had watched Goliath follow them on foot. She waited for Goliath to disappear into the distance and then set off after him.

  The killing of Goliath had now been sanctioned by the Israeli Prime Minister and it was up to Sarit to decide how to do it. Normally a kidon assassin would work in a team of at least four, but it had taken them time to catch up with Goliath and time was of the essence now that they knew his intentions.

  Sarit’s original plan had been to run him down on the way there and kill him. But she realized that someone in the main valley might see. Even if she didn’t get caught on the spot, she knew her rented car could be identified and traced back to her. So she let him go and then followed, watching him through her binoculars.

  But as she drove towards the valley, she saw the jeep that Daniel and the others had been in drive past her in the opposite direction. And it was not Mansoor at the wheel. Indeed, neither Mansoor nor either of the others were in the jeep. It was Goliath – and he was on his own.

  In an instant she realized what had happened. She was too late! He must have killed them.

  Damn! She had screwed up, big time.

  She realized now that she should have gone after him and run him over. Then, instead of worrying about people finding the body and linking it to the rented car of an Irish tourist, she should simply have buried him in the sand. They would never have found him.