In the foggy cosmos of the afterlife, in those dense and swirling mists of time, there were two other spirits, other energies abroad. Invisible and unknown to each other, they acted independently, each one pursuing its desperate charge, each one intent on its own goal, each able to control aspects of the present, each capable of influencing the future, each able to touch the lives of mortals.
There was no way that these forces could meet. They existed on separate, individual planes, each a perfect representation of their own world as they had known it from birth to death. They looked down on the modern world. They saw all that happened there. But they could not see each other. They were both there at the same time and neither ever knew of the other’s existence.
One of these forces was doing its utmost to preserve the sanctity of its wordly tomb. The other was intent on assuring its total violation. Because of the separation of their planes, the boy king himself had no sense of any other conspiracy. Likewise, neither was Horemheb aware of the activities of Tutankhamun.
Horemheb, for his sins, was almost alone. But for a few ephemeral servants, no one in his previous life had accompanied him to his personal plane in the afterlife. Most had perished.
Sitting in a street side cafe in the sukh in Cairo, his body wrapped in a dirty white robe and his fat head in a black and white burnous, the scheming, oblate spirit’s ragged posture looked every part the infidel. He had had little success in his attempts to get the rabble to support some local insurrection, so he decided to take on the job himself. He was, after all, eternal now and he could afford to take risks.
An excerpt from Tutankhamun Uncovered, by Michael J. Marfleet.
Copyright 2009-2010 Michael J. Marfleet. All rights reserved.
Published by Apex Publishing Ltd.
