Outside the temple boundary, about one hundred yards ahead, Carter could see a dozen or so Arabs clustered about a small pit. Sama shouted to the group of bystanders as he approached and they moved apart to allow the inspector through. When Carter got to the edge of the shallow pit and looked down, his feelings of excitement were wiped out at a stroke. Lying in the pit was no two, three-or four-thousand-year-old mummy, rather a dead Egyptian and, judging from the lack of bloating, an Egyptian probably not more than twelve hours dead.
“God almighty!” exclaimed Carter. “Who could have done this? Summon the police, Sama, at once. Ghastly!”
Stunned and appalled by the sight at his feet, Carter took a little time to recover his composure. While he awaited the arrival of the local gendarmerie he examined the body. The corpse was grotesquely contorted. The unfortunate man had clearly suffered the most horrific torture that ultimately must have led to his death. His hands were manacled tightly behind his back by a pair of crude wooden rowlocks secured together by large nails that skewered his wrists. The arms were bent over and tied to a wooden halter which had been used to drag him along the ground behind a vehicle of some sort – probably a horse. His torso was deeply incised from the dragging, sand and gravel virtually cemented within the dried blood and flesh of the open wounds. The legs were wide apart as if dislocated at the hips from the terrible physical punishment his body must have endured as he had been towed over the rough terraine. His tongue protruded from between his clenched teeth in a grimace of agonising death.
“Savages!” Carter swore under his breath. ‘No value to human life; no feelings; the like of wild beasts.’ The sight turned his stomach. He looked away and breathed deeply, filling his lungs with fresh, tepid air.
Presently two policemen arrived. “Who found the body?” asked one.
“Me, Effendi,” said Sama, coming forward from the crowd of onlookers.
“How?”
“There was a square depression in the ground. I thought it might be an opening to a shaft. I got down on my knees and scraped away at the sand with my hands and very soon came upon the man’s toes. I ran at once for Monsieur l’Inspecteur here,” he gestured towards Carter, “who was working in the temple over there. By the time we got back here the body had been exposed – as you see it now.”
“By who?”
“By them.” Sama waved his arm at the surrounding rabble.
“The evidence is corrupted, then,” stated the policeman authoritatively. “The site is despoiled. There is nothing more we can do here. We will remove the body to the morgue. There is a tarpaulin on my horse. Fetch it.”
On the policeman’s directions the Arabs wrapped the body in the tarpaulin and secured it with some rope. An idle donkey was selected to carry the load. The policemen took the names of all those present and then set off back to their hut to do whatever they chose to do. ‘Surely as little as possible,’ thought Carter.
Carter made no attempt to interfere. He was not at all surprised at the lack of interest in the discovery and the absence of normal police procedure. Procedure meant responsibility and work, and the Arabs always looked for ways to avoid both. Besides, Carter had already recognised this horror as the handiwork of a former Moudir of the area. He was well known for his merciless treatment of the fellaheen. This barbarism had been a message to the rank and file that it was far less painful to yield to conscription.
An excerpt from Tutankhamun Uncovered, by Michael J. Marfleet.
Copyright 2009-2010 Michael J. Marfleet. All rights reserved.
Published by Apex Publishing Ltd.
