The Egyptologist (41 page)

twelve months in the year twelve provinces of canada twelve days of
christmas—what would Carter do faced with such a room? He would
look and measure and say little, just nod, hold his cards close to his
chest. "It is too soon to say," he would say, but his manner would imply
that he knew far more, that glimmer of arrogance shrouded in humble
quiet.

Friday, 24 'November, 1922

Noon. I worked myself to mental exhaustion last night. Strain of the
men's betrayal, excitement at the new chambers. And today is my
birthday and my original target date for success. My early hopes for
this day have surely been exceeded.

The Pillar Chamber's significance is elusive at this point, though of
course an expert can easily produce myriad hypotheses, one of which
may well be true. We must simply keep our counsel for now, and await
further data. We may, however, reasonably expect that whatever awaits
us behind Door G (the sepulchre, the treasury) will also explain the
geometry and function of the Pillar Chamber, placing this majestic ex•
ample of ancient Egyptian tomb architecture and mystical thought in

its proper context. [RMT — Door G must now be Door D. Go back, re•
draw affected maps and edit references. Door B admittedly destroyed,
Door C stabilised with canny plastering, no doors until D (formerly
G).]

(FIG . F : TH E FIRS T SI X CHAMBERS , 2 3 NOVEMBER , 1922 )

Painstaking work, and no sign of Ahmed and the new team. Clear
debris from the Empty Chamber and the three Royal Storage Cham•
bers, scooping it into canvas bags, carrying it out to the cliff path. I
have become Atum-hadu's limping charlady. Leave the bags just out•
side the tomb, as I suspect I will need to seal my discovery for a return
to town.

Work takes until nightfall. No Ahmed. Finish the food. Prepare to
sleep again in the Pillar Chamber, where I collapsed last night. Might it
have been designed as some sort of game? The simulation of a chamber
in Atum-hadu's Theban palace? Too soon to tell, must keep my counsel
on this point, fruitless speculation is the wine stomping of unconfident
dilettantes. I have pins and needles up past the ankle. Will need to go
back to Villa Trilipush for bandages, as fluid seems to be an issue again.

I realise here tonight, rereading letters from home and a tattered
copy
of Desire and Deceit
by the flickering light of my smoking lantern in
the Pillar Chamber: I know more about Atum-hadu, his impulses and
purposes, than I do about my fiancee or my patron. This despite kissing
the former and engaging in equally intimate business with the latter.

There is more clarity in Atum-hadu, distilled by the millennia down to

the essential: sixty verses. Each verse brings to light another crys•
talline, objective facet of his immutable self. But she whom I love?
Each of her changeable moods dictates an entirely new view of her and
new futures for us both. Should I pity the sick, or love the endearing?
Fear the furious, correct the spoilt, ignore the teasing? Rescue the op•
pressed? Scold the fickle? And what of my Master of Largesse, brutal
and cowardly, loving and perverse: what can one make of such an
equivocal figure? I look at them, yet can hardly see them, as if the
smoke in this very room is too thick, as if my eyes were covered with a
strip of translucent linen.

Saturday, 25 November, 1922

Odd dreams, as can be expected, sleeping in such a room. I spend
the morning covering the tomb opening with wooden boards, then
stacking rocks in front of them, spreading the remaining plaster to hold
it in place. Frustrating work, but necessary camouflage. By noon a pre•
carious screen covers the hole that once held Door A, and while it will
not stop a dedicated intruder, at least it will draw less attention than an
open cave mouth.

At which point Ahmed returns, begging my forgiveness for having
hired such untrustworthy dogs and also sons of dogs, hoping in the
name of Allah and my own God that they did no serious harm to my
great work, and did I discover any treasure in my further progress? I
decline to respond and withhold my forgiveness. Does His Lordship
hold out hope for the remainder of the tomb? Was it, in His Lordship's
opinion, common for the old kings to put all their gold in the last room
and leave the tomb empty in the front? Should loyal Ahmed bring
many, many more men, who will work for nearly nothing, he has
cousins eager to participate, men who love the English?

I confess to a moment's hesitation. For nonscientists, the tomb to
date probably lacks a surface glare that would help them see the suc•
cess still wafting, no question, from behind Door D, and Ahmed's en•
thusiasm (though its source is obvious) is not discouraging: he too

suspects there is something grand lurking still. I merely nod at him, en•
courage his patience and faith in my knowledge. "We will all be justly
rewarded, as you r Koran promises," I tell him. "You are sure?" he asks.
"I am sure, Ahmed." An d I am.

He helps me onto the donkey he has brought, and I order him to
hire a carpenter to build a gate to cover the tomb entrance, buy a pad•
lock for said gate, hire two of his most trusted cousins, and meet back
here with gate, carpenter, and men (all by the discreet route) in three
days' time. I need the interlude to give CC F a chance to return my ex•
pedition to full power.

Ferry back across Nile. Bank. Post: urgently cable CCF : SIX
ROOMS, MAJESTIC FIND. WHERE IS MY SUPPORT FROM YOU? THINK

ABOUT YOUR COLLECTION. Return slowly and painfully to Villa Trili•
push. Rebandage foot.

But there is still loyalty in this world. Maggie and the Rameses
await me. They take pleasure in their dinner, but more in my company.

Sunday, 26 November, 1922

Ahmed wakes me. "Is it Tuesday already?" I ask, groggy. "No," he
says. "What day is it?" He says, "Be quiet. You have found nothing,
yes? " "Not at all, on Tuesday we will return to install the gate you'll
arrange and begin work on the next door." "No," says Ahmed. "No? "
"No." He says that all of his cousins have gone to wor k for Carter, wh o
is no w hiring as many men as he can find, and paying well. Ahmed, too,
is going to wor k for Carter, and has come today only to collect the
money he and his cousins are owed. " I do not understand. Carter has
found nothing, returned to Cairo," I say. Ahmed corrects me as the cats
flee (smarter than I, sensing danger before me): Carter has only been
waiting for the arrival of Carnarvon from England before proceeding
with his find. Carnarvon has arrived now, and they have reopened the
staircase. They have found a door with Tut-ankh-Amen' s seals. They
found boxes and pots, and
baksheesh
is plentiful. It is in all the newspa•
pers. They are paying well. They will find riches. There is no shortage

of money. And now Ahmed demands to be paid by me at once. "You
are a bounder and a thief," I tell him, but still lying down, practically
nude, my bad foot up on pillows, my position is poor.

"I am a thief? I dig in the ground to steal the gold of buried ancients
and do not inform the authorities? I hide in the desert like a criminal?"

' I am not going to enlighten you in your childish misconceptions,
Ahmed. You are dismissed. Leave my sight."

Ahmed empties my wallet, counts out my money but says he is
owed still more. "I will come tomorrow for my money. And you will
repay me and my cousins. And I will expect a payment as well to pre•
vent me from informing the Inspectors that you dig without permis•
sion."

"You are an unspeakable swine," I tell him, refusing to explain the
errors upon which he has based his hopeless blackmail. But by then he
is squeezing my exposed and wounded foot with a surprising force.

It occurs to me I may have made a mistake in Ahmed, perhaps mis•
understood that purser's slovenly Arabic on the boat, approached the
wrong man from the brawl, left a fighter for honour behind me.

My predicament: I need men for Door D and I need to pay Ahmed
for his work last week, and I am not in a position to call in authorities
at this time, though his crimes will be avenged when I am stronger.

My foot is numb, but now my shin and calf burn.

Can Carter really have found something? Buried his find for weeks
while patiently awaiting the return of his patron? Difficult to imagine.
And now he lures away my men? Of course: my men are trained, hard•
ened. Carter would naturally seek such men out, indifferent to leaving
me in the lurch.

I dress in native garb and limp to the ferry, then hire a donkey to
ride into the Valley. I ask one of the workers in Arabic if it is true they
are hiring here, and he replies in English — I cannot say why, perhaps it
is policy on the site (a damned good policy, now that I think of it). Ask
him what news, and his response is reassuring: yes, at the bottom of the
stairs they found a door covered with Tut-ankh-Amen seals, but now
that door is down, and behind it there is only a blocked passageway.

entirely filled with rubbish. The tomb was plundered a few thousand
years ago.

On e simply must sympathise with Carter, even in his aggression
and provocations. He has found a tunnel of rocks, with the whole
world watching and his patron called back specially from England for
the sight.

Monday, 27 November, 1922

Cable from CCF : NEWSPAPERS FULL OF EGYPTIAN DISCOVERIES!

MARVELOUS. NEVER DOUBTED YOU. PARTNERSHIP WILL WIRE NEXT SUM
SHORTLY—SEND DETAILS.

I have trouble believing this. American newspaper coverage? The
Nordquists, I suppose, may have said something to a reporter, or per•
haps Margaret and J. P. O'Toole. Smart girl. Mor e likely, it is a result
of Carter' s noisy error, the Press taking the opportunity to write up all
the current excavations. I hope this does not bring too many unwanted
observers up here, but publicity protects me as well: the Antiquities
Service can hardly shut down an expedition that has already attracted
the world' s notice, no matter how unintentionally.

I am alternately a victim and a beneficiary of distance. I cannot con•
trol from here wha t CC F hears or thinks, and so now, thanks to the
Press, he has decided that all is well again. I cable my reassurance to my
nervous Master of Largesse: GLAD TO HAVE YOU BACK. OUR DISCOVERY
WILL DWARF CARTER'S, WINLOCK'S, OTHERS. SEND MONEY AT ONCE.

Either way, the return of his enthusiasm renews my confidence; I
can put Ahmed behind me. I find my makeshift wall in good condition,
untouched. I replace a few of the fallen rocks, balance them in the cor•
ners, but it is a frustrating game of spillikins. I am tempted to knock it
all down, rush right in and continue my work, but without a new team,
without better tools, before the money arrives, it is still too soon. Pa•
tience wins out.

Evening, back at Villa T. It turned out to be quite hard to reach
Carter' s staircase today. Said one of his men, "The electricity is being