Eve of the Pharaoh: Historical Adventure and Mystery

by R. M. Schultz

  My heart buckled under the crushing fist of her words. So that was how she really saw me, a weakling. Even though I maintained a regular workout schedule, I could never really build up my thin limbs. My gastrointestinal disease didn’t help, as it decreased nutrient absorption—

  “I could do it,” Mr. Scalone said, his head high as he hovered over me and the dark pit.

  “That’s why you’re here,” Maddie said, examining his muscular body. “But you still might have a hell of a time getting back out. Going farther down into what should be a chute and blind chamber doesn’t sound like a good idea.” Tilting her flashlight, she scanned the walls beside the shaft. Her light settled on a smooth layer of dirt at the base, just to the right of the original sealed doorway. “Is that where water worked its way through, over the centuries?”

  My muscles jolted. Here was my chance! Kneeling, I pushed a handful of dirt aside to reveal a small area of erosion on the edge of a limestone block. “Maybe we can dig our way out,” I said, snatching a shovel.

  “I already prodded there,” Mr. Scalone said. “The blocks aren’t loose. We’d have to mine through them, and that’d probably take weeks.”

  “They might’ve grown soft, and limestone’s already friable,” I said, ramming the steel edge of the shovel into the cracks. I jumped on the handle in an attempt to lever the slabs, but they didn’t budge. Flying into a frenzy, I jabbed the corner again and again. The steel created large indentations and rung my hands and ears. But within minutes I’d exhausted myself. Heaving for breath, I leaned over with my hands on my knees and cursed. Mr. Scalone laughed.

  Maddie settled a small hand on my back. Shrugging it off, I stood up and kicked the stone in irritation. Did we have enough time and supplies to get through a single block? What other option did we have? I hadn’t discovered any clues about the Hall of Records, and we wouldn’t have enough time to read the entire journal. I’d seen thinner novels. Time was running out.

  Maddie darted off but quickly returned wielding an ancient bronze pickaxe. Hoisting the tool over her head, she screamed and aimed for the wall.

  “Wait!” I said, grabbing the wooden shaft, which jerked her out of her wind-up. “You can’t use that! You’ll destroy an artifact.”

  Rolling her eyes, she threatened a kick to my groin. “If we don’t, we’ll be history for sure!” She swung again. Ancient metal contacted stone, clinking, and sinking in. The withered handle shot vibrations through her arms, contorting her look of determination into a grimace. She pulled back, but the tip had lodged into place.

  Helping to pry the axe out, I wiggled it in a circle.

  Mr. Scalone approached with his harder, steel shovel and thrust the tip into the indentation. Sinking into the soft stone with a crack, a small chunk broke free.

  I almost shouted in glee, but the tiny fragment appeared miniscule beside the original slab. Using my shovel to hack at the edges, I alternated swings with Maddie. Not having enough room for all three of us to work on the erosion, Mr. Scalone retreated back into the lower chambers. I would quarry the rock and carry Maddie out with me.

  After a couple hours, Mr. Scalone gave up searching and taking pictures or whatever it was he was doing. Relieving Maddie, he mined into the block.

  Constant darkness made it difficult to judge time, but at least a couple days of intense work followed. I longed to see the sun. My gloves wore through, and my hands blistered and drained. My muscles and joints burned and ached. Guarding his pack, Mr. Scalone never offered us anything.

  The pickaxe head flew off the cracked handle and clattered down the stairs. Wedging the piece back on, I jammed my pocketknife into the top of the wood. I hoped that would expand its fitted end and keep the head in place. Blood from my raw hands oozed across the tool.

  “Take these,” Mr. Scalone said, offering wrinkled gloves covered in brown stains.

  I shuddered with disgust. What kind of grime and dead skin hid in the filth inside those things? They smelled like forgotten gym socks. But they might ease the burning of my hands—

  “Take the damn things,” Mr. Scalone said, shaking them.

  Grabbing the stiff leather gauntlets mummified to a bent hand-shape from dried sweat and blood, I closed my eyes and I slid them on. We set to work again, excavating chunks of crumbled rock. Rubble broke loose and tumbled down the stairs with diminishing echoes.

  An area large enough for one of us to fit in was tunneled into the base of the wall. But no light streamed through. A rising sense of accomplishment faded. What if the hired hands sealed us in and waited outside to make sure we never escaped? But we had no other options. I crawled into the gap.

  Desert dirt and rock lay solidified just beyond the slab. Tapping it with my shovel emitted a muffled sound that didn’t lighten my mood. Sighing with chagrin, I dug on. Our food disappeared as well as the extra batteries. I offered Maddie the last swallow of my water while we dug our graves.

  “How many feet do you think we’d have to dig through in total?” Maddie asked, wiping her dirt-encrusted brow with a gaunt hand.

  I grimaced. Probably more than either of us wanted to hear. “Depends on where this entrance is in the mountainside compared to the secret block,” I said.

  Resting her shovel, she glared. “Tell me. I’ve already accepted we may not make it out.”

  “Five to ten feet … if we’re lucky,” I said. My stomach growled with hunger. Thankfully the painful cramping bouts had subsided with the lack of food over the last couple days.

  “Maybe we can find some honey down here,” Maddie said. “Food meant for Pharaoh’s next life. It’s been found in other tombs and doesn’t go bad even after a few millennia, but water will be—”

  “Could be twenty feet,” Mr. Scalone said, kneeling and peering through the opening. He hadn’t grown as gaunt or desperate as us.

  Nodding, Maddie’s face turned pale. My heart sunk into my stomach, pulled down by an anchor of remorse. It was my fault Maddie was here. I had set up a medical externship in Cairo, through the university and Doctors Without Borders. The administration was happy to get rid of me while they sorted through my blunder and endless paperwork. And I couldn’t get into as much medical trouble in a developing nation. They’d probably expel me, but I didn’t want to go back anyway. How could I face anyone?

  Finishing the externship about a week or so ago, I had some extra time. To be truthful, although I’m a bit embarrassed about it, I waited over a month to set up the clinical rotation. I waited until Maddie would be in Cairo working on the fieldwork portion of her PhD. I’d emailed and messaged her a few times before I left the States, but she’d blown me off. She was too busy working on her thesis to even meet for a meal. So eventually I let her know I possessed something capable of altering her career. After a few short replies and several days of skepticism, she agreed to lunch. A few weeks ago, inside a dim restaurant, I shared the professor’s letter over slippery grape leaves and hummus drowning in garlic. She deciphered a few clues and her enthusiasm escalated. In just a day or two she’d managed to convince Kaylin to fly out with a hired guide. Kaylin’s younger brother, Aiden, and a bodyguard also arrived. The teenage sibling was probably thrown out of the house by her dad, who funded the trip. And the father might have thought hiring a tour guide and a bodyguard would keep his children safe—

  Gritting my teeth in resentment, I returned to the present. I crawled inside our burrow, buried my shovel, and loosened the rock and dirt. With every scoop I hoped for a glimpse of sunlight, but it never came.

  As the passage lengthened, the three of us took turns squirming up the slope and scraping at the barrier.

  During one of my rest periods, I sat on the lower steps. A suffocating gloom of depression weighed me down. Sighing, I adjusted the ancient-appearing bracelet on my left arm—a gift from my dad. My love affair with ancient Egypt began when I first picked up a magazine packed with photos of ancient tombs, jackal-headed men, and gold funerary masks. I hadn’t even started ki
ndergarten at the time. But my dream of becoming an Egyptologist drifted away with my dad’s death. He encouraged me to chase the stars, but once he passed, my mom demanded I give up his crazy notions and make something of myself. Then after developing a sometimes crippling gastrointestinal disease, it became nearly impossible for me to travel like he did. So I finished my undergraduate education and applied to medical school.

  Pulling out my wallet, I fished around for a picture. The black and white photograph carried deep wrinkles and worn edges. A middle-aged man in a fedora beamed for the camera. He had an arm wrapped around his young son, who wore the same type of hat but grimaced in an attempt to display strength or at least determination. The Sphinx, the guardian of the Giza pyramids, towered over the background. The picture was fake, but I treasured it. My dad had it taken at a traveling King Tut exhibit back home, in front of a backdrop. He’d pointed to the Sphinx and the pyramids and said, “I’ll take you when you’re old enough, and we’ll see a lot more than tourist attractions.”

  Not knowing what he’d meant, I still couldn’t wait to go. I’d studied up on everything from ancient Egypt nearly everyday since. Every book I read for leisure and every magazine article was in preparation. Now I stood inside a forgotten tomb. My dad really did bring me to Egypt; he just wasn’t here. Tears trickled down my cheeks, my eyes burning as I wandered back.

  “Do you have any more water?” Maddie asked Mr. Scalone as she wriggled out of the tunnel. The guide shook his head, his dark locks flat and oily. “Food?”

  “No,” his accented voice croaked. “I’d have given you some already.”

  Another day passed before Maddie and I collapsed beside each other on the ancient stone. Utterly spent, we lay beside a massive pile of deformed limestone, rock, and dirt, awaiting our fate. I wished we could’ve finished reading the tale from the Hall of Records together. My mind drifted and my vision faded.

  Journal Translation

  THE PRECEDING INCIDENTS WITH Akhenaten and Nefertiti raised deep questions. Standing out amongst the royal servants like the tallest papyrus plant of the bunch, they’d hacked me down. I’d become an outcast. For the remainder of my childhood I didn’t question authority or my responsibilities, as such behavior was detrimental to civilization. I’d only resisted once, to protect the girl I loved. And although the societal scar healed, its memory remained too jagged to be disguised.

  Serving Akhenaten, I performed whenever he commanded. I bathed and dressed him, fed him, played his silent shadow, and cleaned up after him. He kept me in my place, but at times still grew angry. Becoming overly meek, I worked as fast as I could manage.

  Obedience to the royal family burned away months and years. My company primarily consisted of Akhenaten and his extended family, including Nefertiti, Beketaten, and Mutnedjmet. I spoke to Nefertiti every time we entered the same room, if Akhenaten stood out of earshot. Our time together never lasted long, but the elegant beauty always smiled when she saw me.

  Growing into adolescence, Akhenaten came into his early twenties. We’d not played together in years, but soon we’d share adventures I never could have dreamed of.

  “Hello, my boy,” Father said, his broad face appearing at the palace’s bedroom door.

  Smiling with delight, I lifted my weary head from the elevated neck-rest of the reed mattress, fashioned to keep scorpions away from the face.

  “I’m so sorry I don’t see you much anymore,” he said, stepping inside. “I’m only allowed to depart after Pharaoh has retired and we’ve completed our chores. You’re usually still attending Akhenaten then, and we’re both spent.” A pair of tears slid down his flat cheeks, but he quickly wiped them away. “I wish we could retire in the same room, but now as one of Pharaoh’s lead servants, I must rest in his wing. Families aren’t allowed, only royal servants and soldiers.”

  Sympathy tugged at my core. Poor Father felt so bad. He loved me and did the best he could. “I know, Father,” I said. “You’ve explained it a hundred times.”

  He plopped down beside me. “If only we could lay in the garden all day, under the cool shade of the tamarisk tree and watch the soaring clouds play with the sunlight. Like we used to. But I wish the best for you, and you are in a prestigious position. The first servant of Pharaoh’s second son is not to be taken lightly. Many would fight for your status.”

  Nodding, my head sunk and I bit my lip with regret. I couldn’t tell him how appalling Akhenaten was. He may think I was ungrateful or would worry all day and night about my well-being. “Didn’t you want me to become a scribe, to be educated about this world and the next? I’d earn respect and be able to work my way up among the elite of society.”

  “That is indeed one of the most noble of professions.” He patted me on the back, his eyes glassy. “I cannot control fate. God had other plans for you. I think you will do quite well, however. We work long and hard but have access to every comfort the palace has to offer. Beyond its walls lurk dangers you couldn’t imagine. Men, beasts, and nature ever await their opportunity to overpower the unprepared. You are on the right path. But if for some reason you find you are not, hope can always shape radiant dreams out of the nightmares of the present …”

  I pondered the situation of my life, dark thoughts pulling at my heart.

  Tugging on my sidelock, he hugged me and his bronze bracelet dug into my back. “My only regret is not having more time with you.” He yawned, rubbing a wrinkled hand over his short, graying hair. “You need sleep.” Squeezing my arm, he waved and left.

  Lying back down, I stared at the cracks creeping across the shadowed ceiling.

  Akhenaten woke me with the repeated tapping of his sandaled foot on my head, just as the Aten peaked over the Red Sea Hills. I jumped up, afraid he’d been waiting too long. Rubbing my scratchy eyes, I bathed and shaved his body—typical of any civilized man. After dressing the young royal, I adorned him in black eye paint. He admired himself in a bronze mirror, turning his head side to side.

  “We’re sailing today,” he said.

  I held my breath in apprehension as I placed jeweled bracelets on his arms and legs, slid in his earrings, and anointed him with oils carrying scents of musty leather and pungent flowers. Setting a thick, black wig on his head, he made incremental adjustments until satisfied.

  “Sailing?” I asked. “Where?” Akhenaten rarely ventured outside of the palaces or the Temples of the Aten in the two major Egyptian cities of Memphis and Thebes. Perhaps he didn’t like the outside world, or perhaps Pharaoh was afraid others would stare at his hideous son.

  Following Akhenaten out of the baths, my stomach growled with hunger. We wolfed down a breakfast of starchy vegetables and crusty breads. The thick, earthy liquid we called beer—which we drank at all meals for energy—rolled down the back of my throat. Akhenaten’s teeth sunk into a pomegranate as I dowsed his sweet bread with honey. Spitting, a mouthful of seeds scattered across the table as he snagged the bread.

  “Along the Nile,” he said. “We will be traveling past all the people and lands of the kingdom. A hunting expedition …” His jaw hung open and his forehead wrinkled as he pondered something.

  “Hunting fowl on the river?” I asked, forcing a hunk of tough bread down my throat. Rising dread rattled my nerves, but I knew I shouldn’t ask too much. “I’m not feeling well,” I lied. “I probably shouldn’t go.”

  “It is custom for royalty,” he said. “I have trained with the throw-stick, and Pharaoh says I am the best he has ever seen. He warns me about venturing out, but I will delay no longer. A boat and ten of my closest guards await us. We leave as soon as we finish.”

  Choking in surprise, a sputter of beer spewed from my lips.

  Akhenaten spat out more seeds and licked the honey. “Contain your excitement, little servant boy. There are threats in the great world incomprehensible to you and your pampered life. You will not be secluded with me inside the royal barge as typical. You will stand in the open air on a small vessel … and you wil
l not be partaking in the hunt. You only come to serve.”

  Nodding with apprehension, somewhere a hint of wonder sparked within me. I’d see the kingdom. “I’ll tell Father.”

  “No!” He hammered a fist onto the table, causing our plates to leap into the air and rattle back down. “My own father does not know.” His brow furrowed. “I, however, must understand my country and what is about to happen. We sail south with the winds, against the Nile herself. To Elephantine and the edge of the kingdom, beyond the city of …” He clenched his jaw, thin but striated muscles standing out. “Past the city of Thebes.”

  My eyes wandered in confusion. We resided in Memphis, the capital of the government, but the royal family spent more time in Thebes—the religious and economic capital. I’d known only a sheltered life in the confines of palaces. “What’s wrong with Thebes?” I asked.

  “The troubles with Thebes are far beyond a servant’s comprehension,” Akhenaten said as he tossed the red-stained rind of the pomegranate onto the table. “All you need to understand is that there are atrocious people attempting to undermine Pharaoh. They strive to divide Egypt into upper and lower countries, to obtain power for themselves.”

  The bridge of my nose knotted in bewilderment. Questions ran through my mind, but I didn’t push Akhenaten any further. If I remained his faithful servant I’d see more than I ever dreamed, but the road was too dangerous. Inching toward the doorway, I planned to dash off straight to Father—

  Akhenaten snatched my arm, guiding me down the hall.

  What I didn’t yet understand was that the more I learned, the less I actually knew about this world.

  Journal Translation

  STUMBLING DOWN THE DUSTY STREETS of Memphis, I trailed Akhenaten. Sacks of supplies buckled my thin frame, although I attempted to stand proudly. The captain of Akhenaten’s personal guard led us through the city, his tall and lean physique commanding authority and parting noisy pedestrians.