They waited until late evening to begin their assignment. They waited also to ensure that what Horemheb had said would actually transpire. The fates of their colleagues, Nefer and Senet, were still fresh in their minds. Their poor bodies, now picked clean by the buzzards of the desert, had become a pile of bleached, disaggregated bones lying on the ground beneath the pikes that had impaled them – a lingering, awful testament to their crime.
True to the general’s word, there was a great feast that night. So far as they could tell from their vantage point far off, there were indeed many priests present; hopefully, as the general had promised, all of the priesthood. The infidels chose to embark on their task without further delay. Thirty-six hours was not long to complete a tomb robbery of this importance.
They stole across the river in their own boat, the continuing rain allowing them to row without fear of being heard, and moored at the head of the canal which lay closest to the entrance to the king’s necropolis.
As Minuit tied up the boat, there was a crash of thunder. One of the others grabbed his arm. “I do not have a good feeling about this. Seth travels the firmament this night! Who knows what he is planning!”
Minuit jerked the knot tight and shrugged his shoulders. “He troubles not over the likes of us. He prepares to dampen the general’s feast. On your way!”
They had walked some considerable distance into the throat of the valley, trudging through the slurrying mud, before they heard it. Beyond the noise of the rain lashing at their faces, there was indeed a perceptible sound of running water. But they saw nothing and did not fear it. As they walked on, the track narrowed and the valley sides steepened above them. Then, as they rounded the corner, in a flash of lightning they caught sight of the spot where the ground had been freshly disturbed, the rain already excavating a cavity in the softer soil. They increased their pace, keen to begin their work. A split second before the tumbling water and bouncing debris hit them, Minuit heard the roar and realised what was happening. He gestured to his men to run in any direction to gain some elevation. But, as they turned, the wall of water rose up before them. The suspended rocks within its boiling froth immediately rendered them senseless. They tumbled before the torrent, their bodies torn apart by the boulders, their blood so diluted by the volume of the flood that it left no trace.
Unaware of the catastrophe in The Valley, Horemheb, just as he had promised, kept the festivities going the following day and into the following night. The Valley was left unpatrolled.
It mattered not. The gods had taken it under their own guardianship. As the sun broke over the cliffs and bathed the bottom of the damp valley in its midday light, a new carpet of rocks and mud had been laid along its length. Tutankhamun had been re-interred. This time for good.
An excerpt from Tutankhamun Uncovered, by Michael J. Marfleet.
Copyright 2009-2010 Michael J. Marfleet. All rights reserved.
Published by Apex Publishing Ltd.
