Near midday in late December it was sharply cold. A crisp breeze cut the air. It was brilliantly sunny and the shadows of the leafless trees cut starkly black across The Mall and flashed against the windscreen of Carnarvon’s Daimler as he was driven towards the rotunda in front of the palace gates.
As he neared the palace, the earl swelled with pride. Recognition of this ilk was truly a moment to be cherished – likely a once in a lifetime event. Nevertheless he felt totally relaxed. This paled in comparison to that moment of discovery. Nothing could eclipse it. The car drove through the gates and into the quadrangle and drew to a halt under the portico at the official entrance way. A brightly uniformed footman held the door for his lordship while another took his arm and helped him out and up the short flight of stairs. He bowed at the entrance to the reception room where the king awaited him.
“Carnarvon!” bellowed the king as he saw him enter. “I’ve been awaiting this moment ever since this time last month. Come and sit down, my good man. Take some tea with me. I wish to hear the full story from the man responsible for this great discovery. You have done your country a great service. A wonderful – a truly wonderful achievement!”
“You are too kind, your Majesty. But your praise is at the very least equally deserved by Mr Carter. I was all for calling a halt to our search. Had it not been for his tenacity and discipline, the tomb would still lie buried today.”
“Ah… yes… Carter. He is a small person. Testy, too. Few manners. I’m sure it was a necessary match, the two of you, but I’ll bet it’s been a difficult one at times. Your forgiving nature is a credit to you. I seem to recall a lingering nasty taste when his name and that of the French come up in the same conversation. Just as well a man of means and breeding can lend his name to this discovery. Don’t know that I could stomach an audience myself.”
“Nonetheless, with your leave, sir, I will pass your words of gratitude to my colleague on my return to Egypt late next month.”
“As y’ please, Carnarvon. He’s your cross. Now…” the king continued without taking a breath, “…I want the full story – not a word – not an observation left out.”
He stared intently at Carnarvon, his face the very picture of anticipation.
An excerpt from Tutankhamun Uncovered, by Michael J. Marfleet.
Copyright 2009-2010 Michael J. Marfleet. All rights reserved.
Published by Apex Publishing Ltd.
