The Amarnan Kings, Book 3: Scarab - Tutankhamen

by Overton, Max

  "Gentlemen, ladies, I am hurt," Bashir said as he entered the tent. "I am not your captor, but your benefactor."

  "Yeah, right," Al replied around a mouthful of lamb. "That's why we have armed guards standing over us all the time."

  "They are there for your protection, as I have already explained. Bandits are common in these hills. The government does its best, but money can only be stretched so far."

  "So we are free to leave if we want?" Bob asked.

  "But of course," Bashir said. "Say the word and I will have you escorted back to Damascus and housed at government expense until the work here is completed."

  "I hear Syria boasts interesting if somewhat depressing prisons," Daffyd�said. He sniffed the lentil soup and ladled a generous portion into a bowl. "You know very well none of us want to leave here."

  Basher nodded seriously. "We are all of us victims of necessity. Now, you will want to get something to eat and relax. It is seven-thirty now. I will come back at nine and we can talk about what we have found."

  "I'd rather do it now, if you don't mind me eating at the same time," Dani said, savouring a piece of zucchini.

  "Okay by me," Al confirmed.

  Marc nodded, his mouth full, and Daffyd grimaced but said nothing.

  "Very well, then. Nazim will take a few hours to transcribe the latest tapes, so we will have to rely on memory and any notes we may have taken. To start with, Dr Hanser," Bashir continued, "Perhaps you'd like to fill everyone else in on what happened in today's translation."

  Dani hastily swallowed the food in her mouth and dabbed her lips with a napkin. "Where did we finish yesterday?" Doris handed her a stapled sheaf of type and she rapidly scanned the last page. "Ah, yes. Ay has just threatened Scarab with torture if she doesn't reveal the whereabouts of Smenkhkare's tomb." She tossed the papers aside and speared a small chunk of lamb on her fork, popping it into her mouth and chewing while she ordered her thoughts. "Well, she was tortured, so badly she lost an eye..." Angela gasped and Doris stifled a cry of anguish. "...and she was taken into the desert to die."

  "Did she? Die I mean," Bob corrected. "You did say you reached the end of the chamber."

  "Idiot," Al said. "How did she write all this years later if she died then? Ah, tell him, Dani. Tell all of them before...well, tell them." He pushed his plate away and leaned back with a belch.

  "Jesus, Al," Angela said with distaste. "You could at least apologise."

  "Nah, it's a compliment for good food, isn't it Bashir?"

  "You are thinking of the Arabs, Mr Bryce," Bashir said coolly. "We Syrians are rather more civilised than our desert cousins."

  "I think I'd better continue," Dani said hastily. She gave a succinct account of Scarab's experiences in the desert, the gifts of the gods and her rescue by a passing caravan. "You'll be able to read the full account tomorrow, when it's typed up."

  "Thank you, Dr Hanser...Dani, if I might?" Bashir smiled ingratiatingly. "Now, Dr Rhys-Williams, you were going to tell us of evidence that this account is a true one."

  "Before I do, I'd like to involve everyone else. After all, this is a team effort. Perhaps I could pose this question--'From all you have read and researched, what information have you found that indicates the account is either false or true.' Let's have all the facts. Doris, why don't you start us off?"

  Doris blushed but immediately said, "Smenkhkare was supposed to have died after a reign of three years."

  Daffyd nodded. "Very good. That contradicts the account. Anyone else?"

  "Same with Akhenaten," Will said, "He died after seventeen years; the account says his daughter rescued him."

  "Well, it doesn't actually say that, but it implies it, so one more for history." Daffyd made two strokes with a pen on the left side of a piece of paper before scribbling the names of the king's beside them and heading it 'history'. He then made another column and labelled it 'account'. "Any more?"

  "Scarab's coronation," Angela said. "There's nothing in the history books about a woman pharaoh..."

  "Except Hatshepsut," Al chimed in. "A big scary broad that one."

  "Yes, but no woman pharaoh at the end of the eighteenth dynasty," Angela continued. "Surely if she was really crowned she would have ruled. After Ay and Horemheb if not sooner."

  "We know her lover Paramessu ruled as Ramses and her son Set as Seti," Dani added.

  "So probably another one for history." Daffyd made another mark and annotated it. "What about one for the account?" He looked around the frowning faces. "Come on, think of the Khabiru jeweller."

  "The pectoral, you mean?" Dani asked. "Is that known from history?"

  "It wasn't exactly described but Scarab said he should take it to Tutankhamen's court. By chance...hang on a moment..." Daffyd leafed through one of the text books and stabbed a finger at a photograph. "There. It was found in Tut's tomb. Doesn't that look like the description?"

  The book was passed round while Daffyd read the description of the pectoral created by the Khabiru jeweller. "Well, what do you think?"

  "Could be," Al agreed. "It looks bloody close anyway." The others agreed and Daffyd made a notation under the 'account' column.

  "What else?" Daffyd asked, his pencil poised above the paper.

  "I can't think of any specifics," Dani said, "But the general descriptions of Akhenaten's court and family life have a ring of truth about them. Things like the obvious love he had for his wife and daughters, the flimsy clothes they used to wear, even in public, their attitudes to servants watching even the most intimate scenes. There's nothing you can point to and say, 'There, that wasn't known,' because it is all on the Amarna murals, but it really sounds like the description of someone who was there."

  "Point for, then. Come on, guys. We need specifics. Something in the account that proves the writer had intimate knowledge of the court."

  "It can't be anything to do with Scarab herself," Angela said. "She's only mentioned once or twice in history--as Beketaten, of course. Both times were with Queen Tiye when she was a kid."

  "I've got another point against," Bob said. "The account says Tut liked white wine. Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought white wine was unknown in the ancient world."

  "Perhaps someone introduced white grapes and they since died out," put in Doris.

  "Except white wine isn't made from white grapes. It's made from normal grapes with the skins removed. The ancient Kemetus never did that."

  "So did Tut like white wine? Do we know?"

  "There were six jars found in his tomb, but all dry."

  "Perhaps he drank them," Al chortled. "You'd get pretty thirsty over three thousand years."

  "I think we're getting off the point," Marc interposed. "The account mentions white wine but white wine was unknown in Kemet until the first century A.D. Are we seriously imagining that this tomb, memorial, account or whatever was written after that? It's either that or we accept the account as accurate, even if we can't prove it."

  "Thank you, Marc," Dani murmured.

  "Ah, but we can prove it," Daffyd said, grinning. "I spotted two things that proved it was true, in my opinion at least."

  "Well, go on," Al complained, when Daffyd just sat silently, a big grin on his face.

  "How do you date the length of a king's reign?" Daffyd asked after a few moments.

  Marc frowned. "You look for references in letters and documents. Things like 'In the twelfth year of Akhenaten'. The highest one you can find is likely the last year of his reign."

  "Very good. How long was Akhenaten's reign, according to the history books?"

  "Seventeen years," Angela said.

  "And according to Scarab's account?"

  "I'm not sure, I'd have to look it up..." She shifted a few papers, looking for the relevant pages.

  "He was taken out to the desert in Tutankhamen's fourth year," Dani said. "So I suppose you could say he was king for twenty-one."

  "Here we go," Angela added, holding up a sheaf of papers. "It tal
ks about the commander of the garrison at Akhet-Aten, Khaemnum, and he says...here...'Last month he had altered a new pressing of the sweet dark wine from Syria to read 'In the twenty-first year of Waenre Akhenaten', but no-one noticed.'"

  "Excellent," Daffyd said. "Now, Dani, read this out if you please." He handed the team leader a reprint of a journal paper. A passage was marked in pencil.

  "It says, 'A seal, as was commonly used on wine jars, was found in the rubble of the northern palace at Tell el-Amarna, bearing the cartouche of Akhenaten and the phrase 'Year Twenty-One'. As it is known from other sources that Akhenaten only reigned for seventeen years, this recent discovery must be regarded as highly suspect, and may have some other, so far unrecognised, significance."

  "Wow!" Bob said. "Proof positive."

  The others examined the reference in the account, then read through the scientific paper, each expressing their delight at this piece of proof.

  "You said you had two proofs, Daffyd," Will said. "What's the other one?"

  "The knife."

  "What knife?"

  "Kemet at the end of the eighteenth dynasty was still in what we call the Bronze Age, named after the hardest metal in common use. The Iron Age didn't officially start for another hundred, two hundred years, yet King Tut was given a little iron knife by Judge Seti, remember?"

  Doris frowned. "Isn't that evidence that the account was written later? By someone who lived in the Iron Age perhaps?"

  "Unless you know that King Tut had an iron knife in his tomb. Look." Daffyd tapped a book on Howard Carter's dig in the Valley of the Kings. "Item seventy-four, an iron dagger, six and a half inches, gold handle with inlaid quartz crystal." He sat back and took out his cigarette papers, rolling himself a fat one while the others pored over the descriptions. "Iron was highly prized back then and was more sought after than gold. Scarab was not present at the burial of Tutankhamen, yet she told the story of how he came by this very distinctive knife that turns up in his tomb." He lit his cigarette and puffed away on it for a few more minutes.

  Bashir had not contributed to the discussion, but had sat quietly and listened attentively. Now he asked for the information on the knife and the wine seal and studied them. At length he rocked back in his chair and smiled. "The only question now remaining is whether we search for the next chamber and a continuation of this fascinating life story, or do we--or rather, I--shut down the dig and act on the information I already have."

  "What on earth do you mean?" Dani asked. "We have to keep going. This is the discovery of the century."

  "You can't shut us down," Doris wailed. "We've got to find out what happens next."

  "Why would you want to stop?" Marc asked.

  "You're kidding."

  "Shit!"

  "What information?"

  "I think what the Under-Minister is talking about is the tomb of King Smenkhkare," Daffyd observed. "After all, if the account is true, there is possibly an undiscovered tomb of an Kemetu king, with an intact treasure, just waiting to be discovered. Now that excites me too, but whereas I think of the artefacts, Ahmed here thinks of the gold."

  "No mean sum either," Bashir drawled, an amused look on his face. "Cylindrical ingots about four inches in length and a diameter of two inches weighing about eight pounds. That's nearly five thousand American dollars each, and Scarab says there are a thousand of them."

  "Jesus!" Al breathed. "Five million American dollars. How many pounds Sterling is that?"

  "About two million, give or take," Daffyd said, "But I fear Ahmed is overlooking a rather obvious point."

  Bashir's smile vanished, being replaced by a look of suspicion. "What do you mean?"

  "We have a rather vague description of the tomb's location--a cliff, a cleft and a line of vegetation--but that was three thousand years ago. Do you imagine any of them will be the same now? The vegetation has either disappeared, or grown, or been ploughed under; the cliff and cleft eroded out of all recognition." Daffyd took another long pull on his cigarette, leaned back and blew the smoke toward the roof of the marquee tent. "We have to keep going, if only to see whether Scarab describes it in more detail. And that's not the only reason. We still don't know what happened to Scarab. Is this her tomb? Does she have a treasury of her own? She was a pharaoh, remember." Daffyd stubbed out his cigarette and leaned forward, staring at Bashir. "Ahmed, it really would be most short-sighted to stop now. The treasure's not going anywhere, and the rewards may be enormous."

  "You think there may be a treasure here too?" Bashir's lean face now displayed renewed greed as well as suspicion. "Why would you think that? There has been nothing in the account so far."

  "Exactly, yet we know she was crowned pharaoh and if there's one thing these pharaohs knew how to do, it was to amass wealth. Add to that those fabulous powers the gods gave her..."

  "What are you saying? Do you think I am a fool?" Bashir asked angrily. "Those gods did not exist."

  "Of course not." Daffyd exuded reasonableness. "But she thought they did, and every rich and powerful monarch has always tried to show the gods favoured him...or her."

  "Scarab wasn't like that," Dani said.

  "How do we know? She's a young woman still in the account, perhaps just starting to show signs of paranoia and delusions. What if she goes on to become a mighty king?"

  "We know she doesn't though," Angela said. "Ay and Horemheb come next, then the Ramses dynasty. There's no room for Scarab."

  Daffyd sighed. "Oh, to be young again and know it all. Look, the history could be wrong, or she could become king of somewhere else like Nubia, or even that she just thinks she's a king. Whatever happens, she is likely to gather gold and she may tell us where it is."

  "You are persuasive, Dr Rhys-Williams," Bashir said. "I will give some thought to what you have said." He stood and brushed the front of his suit jacket down. "I will alert my munitions officer to bring up some explosives. If there is another chamber here, we will find it."

  "Explosives?" Dani looked appalled. "You can't destroy works of art."

  "What Dr Hanser means," Daffyd said quickly, "Is that indiscriminate use of explosives may destroy the very thing we are looking for, a description of Scarab's treasure. Surely there is another way?"

  "Hmm, I will ask my officers. Please," Bashir said with a smile. "I shall not insist on the curfew tonight. We all have much to celebrate so I shall leave you to...whatever you wish to do. Goodnight, Dr Hanser...ladies...gentlemen." He bowed and left the tent.

  Will followed him to the tent flap and watched. "He's gone. What the hell were you doing, Daffyd? You were encouraging him to turn this into a treasure hunt."

  "It certainly looked that way," Marc agreed.

  "You too, Dani?" Daffyd asked mildly, one eyebrow lifting. Dani said nothing, just looked at the Welshman with a hint of a smile.

  Daffyd grinned. "I was worried about you there for a moment. Look, boys and girls, our beloved Minister was about to shut us down. He'd probably destroy the chambers to make sure nobody else found out about Smenkhkare's tomb, and then scarper off to Kemet to look for treasure. Oh, and we'd probably disappear too. Remember his offer of accommodation in a Damascus prison? So, I led him to think there might be more, readily accessible treasure right here."

  "But there's not likely to be, is there?" Doris asked. "Scarab's not like that."

  "Maybe, maybe not, but I've bought us some time."

  "Time's all you've bought," Al grumbled. "If we find treasure, he plunders it; if we don't, he destroys everything."

  Daffyd laughed. "And who knows, the horse may sing."

  "What?"

  "There was a king--China, Persia, India--it doesn't matter where, who was putting a man to death. The man asked for a year and he would teach the king's horse to sing. The king, intrigued, agreed. People thought the man a fool but he just said, 'A lot can happen in a year--I may die, the king may die, the horse may die--or the horse may learn to sing.'"

  Everyone stared at Daffyd as if he
had taken leave of his senses. Dani shook her head. "What don't they teach youngsters these days? It's a story of springing back from adversity, guys. I think it is a very good one for our situation, so think on it." She took Daffyd by the arm and led him away from the others, toward the coffee.

  "What did your golden scarab tell you?" he murmured.

  "That I should trust you. Thank you, Daffyd. Thank you for saving the dig."

  Daffyd smiled. "Nothing so selfless, I'm afraid. I just have a great desire to find out what happens to Scarab."

  The End of Scarab-Tutankhamen: Book 3 of the Amarnan Kings

  The Story Continues in Scarab-Ay: Book 4 of the Amarnan Kings

  Return to Contents

  * * *

  The Main Characters & Places in Scarab-Tutankhamen

  The pronunciations given below are hardly definitive. As vowels are unknown in ancient Egyptian, we can only guess at the proper pronunciation. I have tried to select spellings and pronunciations that are common among English speakers, though where the accent lies is anyone's guess. If you prefer another form, please feel free to use it.

  Aanen (Ah-nen) - ex-second prophet of Amun, brother of Ay

  Abu (Ar-boo) - the city of Aswan

  Ahmes (Ar-mays) - captain of Tutankhamen's chariot escort

  Akhenaten (Ah-ken-ah-ten) - the heretic king, husband of Nefertiti

  Amenemipet (Ah-men-emm-ee-pet) - deputy viceroy of Nubia

  Amenhotep III (Ah-men-hoh-tepp) - king, father of Amenhotep IV (Akhenaten), Smenkhkare, Tutankhaten and Beketaten

  Amenhotep IV - king, son of Amenhotep III, later changed his name to Akhenaten

  Amenope (Ah-men-o-pee) - an older man loyal to Scarab

  Amentep (Ah-men-tepp) - commander of Paramessu's Ptah legion

  Ankheperure (Ann-kep-er-roo-ray) - Living Manifestations of Re; throne name of Smenkhkare

  Ankhesenamen (Ann-kess-en-ah-men) - name taken by Ankhesenpaaten when Tutankhaten changed his name

  Ashraz (Ash-razz) - Aziru's spymaster