In short, if the ancient accounts are correct, then it seems that the ancient Egyptians believed their civilization was in great peril from deluge and drought and sought to take what they believed was the best possible course of action in an attempt to try to at least secure the recovery of their kingdom after the anticipated disaster; that is, they initiated their Project Osiris and built their pyramid arks as part of a precautionary national disaster-recovery plan.
THE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN
Of course, in planning and building their pyramid arks or “recovery vaults” it stands to reason that whatever was created would need to be constructed to be as strong as possible to withstand the full force of nature and built as large as possible to ensure maximum visibility from great distances in order that they could be found as quickly as possible (sooner rather than later). There would be little point in placing such arks underground or within a natural mountain, because such natural features simply would not stand out in the natural environment and would most likely result in the arks never being found. The arks needed to be artificial mountains in order to be obvious, to stand out in the natural environment. And as stated previously, they also needed to be built as strong and as secure as possible to withstand the full force of nature (a great deluge and drought), requiring innovative engineering in the use of truly colossal stone blocks. The combined storage capacity of the arks’ internal chambers would require sufficient volume to store as much “recovery goods” as possible from which to reseed the kingdom.
But while the early, giant pyramid arks (being so highly visible) would have been easily seen and, therefore, found relatively quickly (thus facilitating the quick recovery of essential items such as tools, seeds, storage and distribution vessels, etc.), this would have satisfied only one requirement of the recovery plan—providing quick access to those items that were absolutely essential for survival; that is, the production of a sustainable food supply. But what of other items such as ancient records and other “secondary treasures” that, while important and precious to the civilization in their own right, were not actually regarded as vital for immediate survival? After all, when there is no food such “precious” items are of little use or value. A trinket of gold cannot be eaten.
It would have made little sense to store such secondary precious items in the highly visible pyramid arks because, were this to have been done, then it would have been known to the builders (i.e., the population at large) that such secondary treasures had been placed within the structures along with the primary recovery items and would have made the pyramid arks targets for thieves the moment they were sealed, thereby compromising the viability of the essential, primary recovery items that had been placed within. However, were it known to the builders that the pyramids would be storing only the essential recovery items (e.g., seeds, storage and distribution vessels, tools, etc.), then the populace would realize that the reward for breaching the colossal pyramid arks would hardly be commensurate with the great effort involved. No one would bother raiding the pyramid arks for such items, because it would be easier by far to simply nip down to the local market for seeds, tools, and such.
A far better and more logical solution for the safe and secure storage of nonvital but otherwise precious cultural items would be to store these secondary items in another type of recovery vault that was not a highly visible pyramid ark but rather a hidden chamber deep underground, a vault that would have no directly visible marker indicating its location, a secret chamber that would become engulfed and lost to the Egyptian sands. In short, it would make more sense to store such secondary valuable items within a chamber that was hidden and undiscoverable—just as some of the ancient texts describe.
FOUND BY THREE
Of course, simple logic dictates that there would have to be some means created by the designers that would assist in the relocation of such a hidden chamber. It would not make sense for the builders to place their nonvital but otherwise precious cultural items into a vault deep underground, cover it completely with rock and sand, and merely hope that someday it may be recovered by accident or good fortune. It stands to reason that the designers would not have relinquished the rediscovery of their hidden vault containing items of great cultural value merely to chance and would have gone out of their way to create and include some means by which the precise whereabouts of the hid-den underground vault could be determined and the precious cultural items contained therein recovered. In this regard, Jochmans further writes:
In another Egyptian text, known today as the Westcar Papyrus, which bears evidence of dating to the Fourth Dynasty, is the story of an enigmatic sage named Djeda who could not only perform miraculous feats of magic, but who also possessed certain information concerning what he called the secret chambers of the books of Thoth. In the narrative, Djeda told Pharaoh Khufu the location of specific keys that will one day open the hidden place, which he described as follows:
In the city of Ani (Heliopolis) is a temple called the House of Sapti, referring to Septi, the fifth Pharaoh of the First Dynasty, who reigned about 3000 B.C. Within the temple is a special library room where the scrolls of inventory are kept. The walls of this room are made of sandstone blocks, and either within or behind one of these blocks is a secret niche containing a small box made of flint or whetstone. It is within this box that the ipwt-seals or keys that will open the secret chambers of Thoth, the Hall of Records, may still be hidden.
When Khufu asked Djeda to bring these keys to him, the sage replied he did not have the power to do so, but prophesied that he who some day would find the keys would be one of three sons born to Rad-dedet, the wife of the chief priest of Ra in Heliopolis, Lord of Sakhbu (the second Lower Egyptian nome or district in the Nile Delta), and that the three would be born on the 15th day of the month of Tybi (our October–November).
Now it is generally interpreted that the three mentioned were the first three Pharaohs of the succeeding Fifth Dynasty. But because much of Egyptian literature is multi-leveled in its symbolism, there is reason to believe that a more hidden meaning may have been intended, that the three enigmatic brothers may also be those yet future individuals who will one day find and open the Hall of Records.10
When I first read this tale or myth of Djeda and the other accounts of hidden chambers in or around Giza, it immediately struck me that the “three enigmatic brothers” in question that would one day find the hidden chamber may not actually be pharaohs per se, or even people, but rather the three giant pyramids (attributed to three pharaohs) at Giza. This is to say that the three giant pyramids at Giza may allegorically represent the three brothers or three kings. In this regard we are further reminded of the words of the nineteenth-century antiquarian Gerald Massey, who wrote, “For the ‘Three Kings’ is still a name of the three stars of Orion’s Belt.”11
If the three grand pyramids at Giza are a symbolic representation of Orion’s Belt (as proposed by Robert Bauval and Adrian Gilbert in their book The Orion Mystery), then, by extension, these structures can surely also be considered as the “Three Kings.” It is noteworthy here to point out that, in the Northern Hemisphere, Orion’s Belt is best observed in the autumn months (from around October to November), when it is more easily seen. Could it be that this most prominent appearance of Orion in October and November is an allegory of Djeda’s “the three would be born on the 15th day of the month of Tybi [our October– November].” And if these Three Kings (i.e., three pyramids of Giza) might have held the secret wisdom as to the whereabouts of a hidden ark or vault, then it is not unreasonable that they might also have been considered as “Three Wise Men.” In this regard, Lynn Picknett and Clive Prince write:
We were also struck by this statement in Cocteau’s journal, about a night-time visit to the pyramids of Giza:
“In the sky lies the unharnessed Wain, shafts pointing upwards. Strange stopping place! The Three Wise Men have struck their tents of stone, stretched from base to point, one side in the shadow and the other three sm
oothed by the moon. They sleep while their dog lies awake. Their watch dog is the Sphinx.” [Cocteau Maalesh: A Theatrical Tour in the Middle East. Paris: Gallimard, 1949, 37.]
“Three Wise Men” is the French term for the three stars we know as Orion’s Belt. There was a media sensation when Robert Bauval and Adrian Gilbert’s The Orion Mystery was published in 1994, arguing that the three pyramids of Giza were built specifically to represent Orion’s Belt. Yet here we have Cocteau, in 1949, apparently taking the connection for granted!12
So Djeda’s story may indeed be allegorical in nature and a more hidden meaning intended, as Jochmans believes. And it may also be that the means by which to locate the hidden chamber is presented to us in plain sight, right under our very noses, by three of the largest man-made monuments on Earth—the Three Brothers, Three Kings, or Three Wise Men.
In building their great pyramid arks to contain vital recovery items, the designers may also have used these very same structures, the three giant Giza pyramids, in a quite ingenious way to encode the precise location of the legendary hidden chamber of Osiris, the ancient Egyptian god who is personified by the constellation of Orion, known across the ages as the Three Kings and the Three Wise Men. And the “keys” to determine the whereabouts of the hidden vault?
The concavities of the Giza pyramids!
It is often said that seeing is believing. Well, for me, seeing with my own eyes on that chilly spring equinox dawn the shaded triangles formed by the concavities of the Great Pyramid sent a ripple of excitement and anticipation running down my spine; yes, they were a trick of the light, but nonetheless, they really did exist. No doubt. And, as noted already, they obviously existed for a reason whose importance seems to have far outweighed the considerable additional construction burden their inclusion would have posed the builders. There was a reason for them; they were the keys.
For the first time since formulating my theory on the concavities of the Giza pyramids I was beginning to feel that I had reason to believe that the understanding and rationale I had come to regarding these odd features were more than simply a leap of faith, that quite possibly I was on the right track and that my journey here to Egypt to search for (and hopefully discover) the legendary hidden chamber of Osiris might bring more success than I had ever dared to imagine. I was, after all, pursuing a mere theory and was still a very long way from proving its veracity. But the concavities were real, and observing their effect with my own eyes offered me hope, raised my expectation of success, even if only a little. The presence of these enigmatic features in G1 and G3 was perhaps to provide an ever-so-subtle hint, but their significance, if I was right, would be truly monumental.
2
In the Footsteps of the Ancients
Know ye that in the pyramid I builded are the KEYS that shall show ye the WAY into life; aye, draw ye a line from the great image, I builded, to the apex of the pyramid, built as a gateway. Draw ye another opposite in the same angle and direction, dig ye and find that which I have hidden. There shall ye find the underground entrance, to the secrets hidden before ye were men.
DOREAL, THE EMERALD TABLETS
OF THOTH-THE-ATLANTEAN
As noon approached it was much hotter, approaching 35°C. My taxi driver had finally dropped me off on the sand-blown asphalt road near to the now disused and somewhat dilapidated amphitheater just to the west of G2, the pyramid attributed to Khafre. And, I have to say, it was with some considerable anxiety and trepidation that I watched him turn and drive away, vanishing into the horizon in a haze of shimmering heat, leaving me alone in an area of the plateau that very few ever visited these days. I could have been dropped off farther along the desert road, nearer to my destination, but I wanted the opportunity to capture the giant pyramids from a perspective that few ever enjoyed. Without doubt, it was going to be a long, arduous, and extremely uncomfortable trek back. I just hoped at that point that it would all be worth the effort.
Having rubbed some more sunblock onto my arms and neck, I took a few tentative paces in the direction of the derelict amphitheater. Throughout the 1990s this open-air theater that seated around four thousand people had been the centerpiece of a grand light and sound show that featured Verdi’s Aida, an opera based on a tale first penned in 1869 by pioneering French Egyptologist Auguste Mariette. The opera portrayed the tragic story of a love triangle between an Ethiopian princess/slave girl (Aida), an Egyptian military commander, and the pharaoh’s daughter. With the giant pyramids of Giza bringing such an appropriate and imposing backdrop, there could be no greater or more fitting setting on Earth for such a production.
But now, standing here under a scorching sun on a dusty and deserted road with only the giant, brooding pyramids for company, the distant echoes of such pomp and splendor seemed light-years away, and the once vibrant amphitheater that played host to those annual operatic triumphs had now decayed into silent ruin, the encroaching desert sands slowly but ever so steadily burying what little remained, just as in Verdi’s opera, in which the slave girl Aida, having been lowered into a stone vault with her lover, was buried alive, her life finally extinguished by rising, suffocating sands—a most befitting allegory to the scene that lay before me now.
But time was of the essence. There was a lot to be done, and wandering around the derelict amphitheater was serving only as a distraction. As I turned back toward the road a car appeared out of the haze, flashing by in a blur, followed soon after by a busload of waving, cheering tourists, obviously heading to the viewpoint about a half mile farther down the winding, desert road. They must have wondered what on Earth someone was doing wandering around such a remote part of the plateau in such incredible heat, heading southwest, away from the pyramids, toward the edge of the desert.
I took out a map, found a flat rock, and spread it open, then pored over it for a minute or so, checking my route. I had already marked the location of the amphitheater, my starting point, with a red marker. From here I would have to walk about two miles along the desert road to my next reference point far to the southwest of the pyramid field, and from there just over 1,600 feet due west. Unfortunately my budget could not stretch to the luxury of employing GPS to find this remote and obscure desert location, so I would simply have to find it the good old-fashioned way, using map, compass, pedometer, and fishing line. In my bag I had a reel of fishing line premeasured at 1,606 feet in length—the precise distance I needed to travel due west to my “X” location, my destination and journey’s end. The pedometer had been precalibrated to my walking pace, which was fine on a straight and level road, but farther on, in the undulating and rough terrain at the edge of the desert, it would not be nearly so accurate, hence the precisely measured length of fishing line.
Having quenched my thirst, I set off once more, following the desert road in a southwesterly direction, edging gradually deeper into the desert. Skirting past the gap between the pyramids of Khafre (G2) and Menkaure (G3), I could see, far in the distance, a slow-moving camel train followed in quick succession by three or four riders on horseback, galloping at pace across the billowing desert sands. Even though they were far in the distance, it was good to see them; it didn’t seem so lonely out here. Occasionally a helicopter would swoop overhead, seemingly from out of nowhere, circling the pyramids before heading back to the helipad to the northwest of Khafre’s Pyramid.
What was not so welcome were the occasional Antiquities Guards, patrolling the area on camel and armed to the teeth with semiautomatic firearms. I had seen a couple of them patrolling the area south of Menkaure’s Pyramid just before being dropped off from my taxi. They weren’t guys to take lightly, and I hoped that I wouldn’t come across any on my journey. I could just imagine the scenario:
“What are you doing out here? Where are you going?”
I would smile politely and say, “Oh, I’m just on my way to search for the legendary chamber of Osiris.” Or something to that effect.
Either way, I didn’t imagine such a scenario would end we
ll. The guard would most likely think that I was a few sandwiches short of a full hamper and should be turned around for my own safety or, alternatively, would begin asking for all manner of official documents such as search permits from the Supreme Council of Antiquities, university affiliation papers, and the like—of which I had absolutely none. And without such official documentation, no one is permitted to search for anything in Egypt, and consequently I would most likely be unceremoniously marched out of the area and probably slapped with a permanent ban. So, for sure, it was important that I should stay alert and try as best as I possibly could to minimize the possibility of any such encounters with officialdom.
As I continued along the desert road toward my destination, I turned back every so often to take a well-deserved view of the great triangular structures that were slowly but ever so surely shrinking away in the distance behind me. It was at that moment that I saw just how the ancient architects of these remarkable monuments had presented to us as big a clue as they possibly could in order to indicate to us the means of discovering the precise whereabouts of the legendary chamber of Osiris. There it was, in front of me, as clear as day and in plain sight—the simple triangle. Standing there on that quiet desert road, taking in that grand vista, it all seemed so mundanely obvious—and so very simple. The Three Brothers pointing the way.
But it hadn’t always been so. My instinct told me that the concavities of G1 and G3 held the key (the keys of Thoth) to this puzzle, but still I was unable to find the lock. The concavities of G1 and G3 effectively divided the triangular faces of these two pyramids into two smaller triangles, so it seemed to me that the solution lay somewhere in the use of the simple triangle. This shape is ubiquitous at Giza and, as explained in chapter 1, is especially highlighted to us in the Great Pyramid’s concave sides during the equinoxes, when the larger triangle of the pyramid face is bisected by shades of light into two smaller triangles. Why demonstrate the triangle being bisected? Had this been done to somehow demonstrate some universal truth, to present a clue of some kind?
The Secret Chamber of Osiris: Lost Knowledge of the Sixteen Pyramids Page 4
