The Ka

by Mary Deal

  Dr. Withers sighed, shook his head. “No chance of that anymore. Their being here will further validate us anyway.”

  Progress clearing the Offering Chamber slowed. Luckily, like the other chambers, with the exception of the Pillared Hall, and being that deep into the ground and sealed, little dirt and dust was found. Items thought to be most fragile were treated with more melted paraffin to help them retain their shapes. Kendra assured the procedure was only a precautionary measure to prevent damage. No one could deny that pyramids preserved everything, at least till they were brought out into the air and sunlight.

  Chione asked Aaron to move their sitting mats into the First Chamber. Something was drawing her to him, perhaps because the dreams had not let up. She patted the mat for him to sit. “I want to bounce something off you.”

  He sat facing her. “So bounce.”

  “Can you feel this room, Aaron? Can you sense anything in here?”

  “I hadn't tried to,” he said. “We're always so busy.”

  “It's mystical in here. More so than the other rooms, like Tauret's purpose is here.”

  “Is that what you perceive?”

  Though emptied of the artifacts that Tauret herself had touched and used, the room vibrated with her presence. “Can't you feel the power in here… in this room of potions and magic, representing how Tauret cast spells to help women conceive or give birth?”

  “I had a strange feeling the first time I came into this room, but I thought that was only my reaction of first entry.”

  Suddenly that perfume wafted past her nostrils. Chione felt a strange sensation and looked around the chamber.

  The people on the walls came to life and went about their duties.

  …as if Chione sat gazing at a movie on a screen. In one mural…

  Tauret swirled her incense burner over the head of a man and chanted spells.

  In the other mural…

  Tauret was in the process of removing Hapi's mud from the woman with the blackened face.

  Chione was peeping into their lives, unbeknownst to the Ancients. Vaguely, she heard their archaic dialogue. Her head reeled, but she welcomed the shift in consciousness as normal, even desired a greater intensity of it. She studied Aaron curiously. “You agree that Tauret was pregnant, don't you? And that Tut was the father?”

  “Would seem that way.”

  “He was ready to take a minor queen,” Chione said. “Ankhesenpa bore two stillborns. Maybe Tauret would have to conceive before Pharaoh would marry her. He wanted an heir.”

  “History never mentioned—”

  “History never had a chance. The King was deposed because of religious beliefs.”

  “And left behind a woman carrying his child.”

  “Who was also killed for those same beliefs,” she said. History of the High Priestess could only be written now, as her tomb was being unearthed.

  “We need to see that mummy.”

  Chione hesitated a moment, then said, “I was inside her coffin again.”

  “Again?” Suddenly he was up on his knees in front of her, almost begging. “Tell me, tell me.”

  “That's all, Aaron. Darkness… as I'm lying and waiting.”

  Aaron's shoulders slumped. “Of course I wouldn't see that,” he said as he sat down again. “I don't experience Tauret's life.”

  “You once called me the same name the King called Tauret.”

  He smiled weakly. “You mean Umayma?”

  “Yes, Oba,” she said. Her voice had changed again as she saw…

  Pharaoh sitting opposite her. A great strength filled her.

  Then she saw Aaron's face again.

  “Tauret,” he said softly in that strange other voice.

  “Oba,” she whispered, giving in to the moment. “My Oba.”

  Aaron shook his head. “Chione?” he asked, reaching for her. “What's happening to us?”

  She melted against him. Aaron's smell. She was in Aaron's arms and wanted to be there. Aaron was holding her. She pressed her lips against his before he could say anything. She wanted him. Forever. His arms tightened around her and they were lying locked together on the meditation mat. His mouth opened, his tongue probed. She could do nothing but respond. His excitement was rigid between them. She pressed against him. His hand slid sensually over her hips. His face was close and he breathed heavily and looked into her eyes. Then he pulled away quickly. “Is this for real?”

  “Oba,” she whispered, pressing her lips against his again.

  Aaron struggled uncomfortably to sit up and took deep breaths. “I'm sorry, Chione, sorry. No excuse.” He scooted away and drew his knees up and crossed his arms on top and sat very still trying hard to regain composure while his breath calmed. “This isn't right. You're feeling too much like Tauret and—and I'm feeling like Tut. Maybe there is a spell.”

  “Are you fighting it?”

  The flicker of an eyelid said he did not intend to answer that question. “What else have you seen, Chione? What other clues?”

  “I-I saw Tauret lots of times. She approaches me then merges into me.”

  He remained quiet a while. Finally, he said, “Chione, I don't want what I'm about to say to sound like a lot of gibberish, okay?”

  At this point, anything would sound plausible. “Okay.”

  He paused again and then said, “We're being led into something.”

  “Led?” She took his hand again.

  “Admit it. You've changed since we've been here.”

  “In what way?”

  “You're more accepting of me.” He reached to touch her face then stopped.

  “Accepting? C'mon, you think I'm being coerced?”

  “No, that's not what I meant. What I see happening is that by us seeming to be Tauret and Tut, we've drawn closer.”

  The thought warmed her. “You mean we're drawing closer because Tauret and Tut were supposed to be together? And we're feeling the same about each other because we're experiencing their lives?”

  Aaron leaned over and kissed her gently. Suddenly she went into in his arms again. She could not move away. She wanted more. They were passionate again, as Chione and Aaron. Then he pulled away all too quickly.

  She did not think it wrong. “Aaron, I'm me. I'm Chione.”

  He rose quickly and almost forced her up by an arm before she could resist. “Let's get out of here before we lose control.”

  On the way out, just as Aaron clicked off the dim lighting, Chione looked up at a mural hoping to see Tauret again. What greeted her was the face of the woman in the mural after having Hapi's mud removed. The face resembled Bebe with her new hairdo!

  “Wait a minute,” she said suddenly. She clicked on the lighting and looked again. The murals were just as they had found them. Chione hesitated as she felt the magic of the room shift into limbo again. She clicked off the light. Surely if anyone knew the truth about all she saw, she would be labeled a real nut case.

  Finishing touches were applied the next morning to the mud brick buildings. Built like those for the Directors, the blocks of sleeping rooms had been completed in one long row and dried in the scorching heat. The new tenements were immediately occupied. One unit was left available for visiting dignitaries. The reporters were relegated to tents since they often times stayed in other locations, dependent upon their schedules. One wise person ordered a lean-to build at the end of the structure, out of the wind. That was for Tarik.

  A mud brick dining room had also been built to replace the large tent. However, the same appliances and furniture still stood on the hard packed dirt floor. The new, larger dining room was virtually the same as the former one. The only exception was that instead of tent canvas that flapped and spread dust when the wind blew, they now had walls with a couple of windows and curtains to help keep the grit out of their food. Yafeu had a sign painted in English that said “Fine Dining.” Even the locals chuckled over that.

  Days passed before the Offering Chamber was finally emptied. Pre
servation and packing of artifacts would soon be completed and another shipment sent to Cairo. This time, two Egyptian police officers would accompany the crates from the site all the way to the Museum.

  The expected dignitaries arrived and departed after several hours, taking only a cursory view of both tombs. They didn't even have a meal. What was the point?

  Chione and Bebe finally had a chance to decipher some of the hieroglyphs in the Offering Chamber. After they finished their meal, they disclosed a few of the more mysterious messages they gleaned.

  “Listen, everyone,” Chione said. “We found one reference to Queen Tyi inside there.” She had their attention. “As far as we can make out, a very young Tauret worked briefly for, and was favored by an aging Queen Tyi, who bequeathed her to Tut and Ankhesenpa's household.”

  “Now we have something concrete,” Clifford said.

  “On the right side of the wall leading to the Burial Chamber, behind one of the statues, Bebe and I found this spell.”

  Look not far

  no life to find

  in a jar.

  “Must mean canopic jars,” Kendra said.

  “If there's nothing to find in the canopic jars,” Clifford said. “Where'd they stash her innards?”

  “By the way,” Aaron said. “Anybody see the containers?”

  “None so far,” Kendra said. “Must be in the Burial Chamber.”

  “Or in another room beyond,” Bebe said. “Like Tut's Treasury, which Carter's team accessed behind his Burial Chamber.”

  “Oh, I can't stand it,” Dr. Withers said with feigned exaggeration. “Another hidden cache?”

  “Here's another phrase,” Bebe said. “From the opposite side of the doorway.”

  The seed planted will bloom

  but not before passing through doom.

  “Doom?” Kenneth asked. “That one's obscure.” He was the only one finishing his meal. Kenneth could eat.

  “Chione, surely you have something to say about that verse,” Marlowe said.

  Dr. Withers could not wait. “C'mon, out with it.”

  Again she hesitated, but they were asking for it. She smiled. “I believe that second verse implies something or someone must die before living again.”

  “Not reincarnation again,” Kenneth said. Bebe gave him a quick elbow to the ribs that made him spill his drink.

  “Could be another reference to resurrection in the Afterlife,” Clifford said. “Any other phrases?”

  “That's all right now.”

  “You know what I haven't found an answer for?” Bebe asked, looking around the group. “I'm still stuck on the fact that the deeper we go, the more haphazard things look. I really need to know why the artifacts were hurriedly dumped.” No closets for the clothes were found, nor any trunks or containers of any kind. It appeared that many of Tauret's cloaks were carried over someone's arm and simply allowed to slip off in heaps. They retained the shape of having been bent over an arm. “If I wanted, I could have stuck my own arm into the heaps of clothes and walked away with them.”

  “Very interesting observation,” Dr. Withers said.

  Even her jewelry and other tiny items were left in piles here and there on the floor.

  “Don't forget the jars of figs,” Chione said.

  “Figs?”

  “A symbol of the womb,” Bebe said. “Rebirth was expected.”

  “Clifford,” Dr. Withers said. “After all your years in and around tombs, what's your best guess?”

  “Simple,” he said. “They were in a hurry.” Everyone laughed. Clifford had a way of making a statement. The meal was resumed.

  “You really think that's all it was?” Dr. Withers watched Kenneth drag a shred of aysh around his plate. Then he did the same to gather up the last of the delicious sauce.

  “That's not the point,” Clifford said. “It's why they were in such a hurry that sticks in my mind.”

  True, no one could know till all of the chambers were opened, maybe not even then. It took years of analyzing and interpreting. Translations especially, remained subject to various theories from many different historians.

  “We will document, document, document, to the best of our ability,” Dr. Withers said. He stood and prompted everyone to hurriedly finish the meal. “Let's get back to Inventory and wrap up. “Then finally,” he said, throwing a fist. “The Burial Chamber!”

  41

  The day of reward, at one time almost relinquished to others, arrived. The Directors and Randy returned late after dinner the prior evening. Two physicians were expected, sent by the Egyptian government to view the mummy. Dr. Jasper Kent, a British medical research scientist, and Dr. Salib Asim, an Egyptian forensic pathologist specializing in mummies.

  Cartouche imprints, two Eyes of Horus, one on each upper corner of the second quadrus of plaster of what was hoped to be the burial chamber wall, and a section of the lotus border, were marked for cutting. They had been photographed and verified.

  “I suggest, O Teacher?” Naeem asked cautiously to Dr. Withers. “We find plastered quadrus with blocks behind.” He gestured first toward the doorway that had led to the Offering Chamber, then to the new wall. “Same to this one for Burial Chamber.”

  “I agree, O Teacher,” Quaashie said politely. “Plaster covers whole wall. Support blocks will be behind.”

  “Good thinking, men,” Dr. Withers said.

  Both Quaashie and Naeem's broad range of experience, knowledge and dedication continued to prove invaluable.

  Most of the cartouches were crowded toward the center of the wall. The Eyes of Horus, though, looked to have been drawn too deep. If the artist's finger penetrated the wet plaster all the way to the stone behind, lifting those in one piece might prove impossible. Because they chipped at the imprints on the Offering Chamber doorway with hand instruments, only two were salvaged whole.

  “We'll cut and break away the smoothed plaster from around the imprints first,” Dr. Withers said. “To get it out of our way.” He stooped to pick up a small electric circular saw. “Quaashie,” he said, offering the tool. “Please do the honors.”

  Quaashie's eyes flashed wildly. “Deepest gratitude, O Teacher,” he said, nodding several times. Someone handed him and Naeem each a set of goggles and Quaashie pulled a handkerchief from the jeans pocket under his gallibaya. He tied it over his nose and mouth. Naeem rewrapped a portion of his turban around his face below the goggles. Both Dr. Withers and Masud lowered goggles and pulled up facemasks.

  The empty Offering Chamber was overcrowded with team members and others waiting impatiently. Dr. Withers, Rashad and Masud stood up close to Quaashie and Naeem.

  The rest stood back, to give them room. Forbes and Philips stood with them, all shifting places each time the photographers jockeyed for a different view. Marlowe chose to stay out of the proceedings and only viewed new findings at a more convenient time with her husband.

  Randy watched quietly from the doorway. The next time Chione looked his way, he was shaking hands with two men, probably the doctors. One of the men sucked a pipe, though it emitted no smoke. Each time Chione glanced in that direction, he was saying something that made Randy and the Egyptian bend over with laughter.

  Masud stepped back from the wall to join the waiting group and dropped his facemask. “Photographing the men,” he said. “Good record of how they work.”

  “They seem highly skilled,” Chione said. The drone of the electric saw was similar to a hum she sometimes heard accompanying her visions. She felt distracted. Then came another vision, a vivid image of…

  …a motherly woman in a dimly lit room, weeping, offering garlands, expressing heart wrenching, indomitable sadness as she leaned over another in repose.

  Chione was stunned. She must have wavered. Someone placed a hand momentarily on her shoulder. It was the first time she had seen anyone other than Tauret and Pharaoh as clearly in her visions.

  As suspected, plaster was applied over granite blocks. Plaster around the out
er edges that did not bear imprints was first separated from the center portion by sawing grooves to segregate the sections to be saved. The edge plaster was chipped or pulled loose. Quaashie was able to lay the round saw blade flat against the blocks and free the valuable imprints from behind. Cheers went up as each historic piece came loose into waiting hands.

  Rashad stepped away from the wall. Dr. Withers stayed beside Naeem to help catch the chunks when they were freed. Powdered plaster coated their clothing.

  “Usually Dr. Withers only watch,” Masud said.

  The culmination of a lifetime of hopes and dreams for Dr. Withers was at hand. The plaster wall was more than half removed when, between the starting and stopping of the handsaw, Chione heard unusual noises in the passageway. Randy, still at the entrance, turned and went up the incline into the Pillared Hall. The noise of the handsaw drowned out all sound again.

  Randy appeared with Kenneth who pushed his way into the room and yelled to gain Dr. Withers attention. His voice was lost to the high-pitched mechanical hum. He pushed his way up front, the look on his face grim. Chione looked to Randy who shrugged.

  Kenneth did not tap Dr. Withers on the shoulder as he normally might. He took hold of both of Dr. Withers shoulders and leaned close and said something into his ear. Startled, Dr. Withers turned quickly. He signaled for the saw to be turned off. Kenneth again whispered something. Dr. Withers looked utterly aghast as he swatted nervously at his clothing to remove powdery dust. He and Kenneth stepped outside the Offering Chamber and Randy scooted in.

  “What's going on?” Clifford asked.

  “Got me,” Randy said.

  From the conversation at the doorway, the words desert… Dakarai… Yago floated in. Then Dr. Withers motioned and called, “Kendra!” After he and Kendra spoke, Dr. Withers stepped back inside. “Sorry to do this, folks,” he said. “On the day we've all been waiting for.” His disappointment was evident. “There's been a tragedy.” He waited as if he did not know how to break the news.