Once back in Cairo, he administered the necessary courtesy visits with characteristic poor diplomacy and commensurate lacklustre enthusiasm, collected a sufficiency of provisions with his usual efficiency, thrift and attention to every detail, and re-established himself in the Continental Hotel.
In a considerate gesture of welcome, the hotel manager had assigned him the room that Lord Carnarvon had always had. Carter was touched by the manager’s thoughtfulness and would always remember the honour.
Anxious to return to The Valley as soon as possible, he applied himself with energy to the three short weeks of preparations in Cairo.
In no time at all, it seemed, that was all behind him and he was driving up the mouth of The Valley in the early dawn light. It was almost as if he were discovering the place afresh.
Lucas greeted him warmly as he alighted from his car. “Jeez it’s good to have you back, Howard. Beginning to wonder if we’d be the first to see the king after all.”
“You were not alone with that concern,” Carter returned. “And I’m damn glad to see you, too.”
Ali and his men ran forward to show their relief at the return of their master. Carter greeted them all in turn by name and then looked around.
“Where’s the rest of ’em, Alfred?”
“Winter Palace, Howard. But I don’t think Harry’s in the area yet. You didn’t see him when you came through, did you?”
“Didn’t stay there last night. Came straight to the ‘Castle’. Couldn’t wait to get a night’s sleep in me own bed. Nothing quite like a scratchy horsehair mattress to ease the long-traveled bones. Amazing therapy!” He clapped his hands and rubbed them hard together. “Well, let’s not wait for those who breakfast late. Let’s see if the young lad has missed us.”
Carter disguised his inner fears with his enthusiasm to get on with the job, but he had been truly troubled with thoughts of what sights awaited him as he entered the tomb for the first time since he had been so ignominiously prevented from doing so.
The steps had been dug out for him and all that remained was to unbolt the succession of doors. Standing in the corridor at the threshold to the antechamber he leaned in and peered all about anxiously. The stale atmosphere made him catch his breath. In the silence, the almost reverent stillness once again took possession of him.
His eyes didn’t miss a detail. It was very different from the first time. It was bare but for a few insects scattering for cover in the bright electric light. Carefully, he eased himself down onto the floor of the antechamber and down again into the burial chamber. He walked over to the open stone sarcophagus and removed the dust sheet which covered the plate-glass panel now protecting it.
He looked down once more upon the gilded outer coffin of the boy king. At the head, the large black eyes stared fixedly skyward. The tiny, dried-out floral wreath still encircled the uraeus at the forehead. Nothing appeared to have been touched. All was as it had been for three thousand, two hundred and fifty-five years. All soon would be revealed to him.
There was an uneasy stirring within.
An excerpt from Tutankhamun Uncovered, by Michael J. Marfleet.
Copyright 2009-2010 Michael J. Marfleet. All rights reserved.
Published by Apex Publishing Ltd.
