The Egyptologist (53 page)

in England, but this will take far too long. Merely what I have discov•
ered to date would win me a new backer, I am certain. Go home? Wed
Margaret with nothing to show for my time here, with no job at home,
and her still under the influence of Ferrell? And even if I could refresh
her affections, we would live off of what? Sit and wait for Carnarvon's
word? Show him the History Chamber next season?

Carter's up in Cairo.

Sleep indoors for the first time in eleven days. I left the Victrola 50
down at the tomb, unfortunately, as I would appreciate the help in
falling asleep, and there is no gramophone here.

Tuesday, 12 December, 1922

J:
After a fair breakfast, ferry back across to the east bank to the
cats. PB: nothing and nothing. Ferry and hobble back across to Deir el
Bahari. Rest often. I will finish my work, present my findings to Har•
vard when I return, have my job back. Or to a museum. Or a different
university.

PILLAR SEVEN, TEXT: A NEWLY REVEALED QUATRAIN IN CLASSIC
ATUM-HADUAN STYLE IS WRITTEN AT THE BASE OF THE PILLAR:

My Master of Largesse returns with empty hands,

Pleads illness, war, bad luck, paresse; his antics spoil all my plans.

I will take his daughter in front of him, sneer at his mingled shame and lust,
Then, finished with her, I will cut out his lying tongue and drop it in the dust.

Illustration:
The Master of Largesse, corpulent and shifty-eyed,
pleasures himself alone in a dark room before the figurines of the tem•
ple, while with his free hand he hides the king's money. In a second
scene nearer the ceiling, he speaks with a man we can safely presume to
be the chief of the invading Hyksos.

The obvious rage of the king, contrasted with the illustration of the
quite alive, quite be-tongued Master of Largesse double-crossing the
king, demonstrates Atum-hadu's frustration: betrayed by his protector,
he is unable to find and destroy him. The king blusters with weightless
words.

PILLAR EIGHT, TEXT: TWO MORE NEW QUATRAINS:

He was ssatisfied with this one, asked for no more,
But her betrayal proved she was a whore.

He replaced her in his bed and state
With not one woman but with eight.

She's a wretched crocodile who forsakes a king,
And when she is punished he begins to sing.

She bangs from the ceiling, and sad-eyed, betrayed men come from afar
Daily to soothe themselves by viewing her weeping and her scars.

Illustration:
Most remarkable. A single figure portrait, the queen,
larger than life, in three-quarters. Even millennia later her beauty is
undeniable. The anger in the quatrains is belied by this effortless depic•
tion of her grace and beauty, as if she were already a painful memory
rather than a living presence. It is a painting of remembered love, or a
wish for some other world where they could be together without pres•
sures of state or battle. The second quatrain seems to be more fantasy
than reality, as there is no mention on the wall panels of his queen
being tortured and displayed for the emotional satisfaction of the king•
dom's rejected men.

PILLAR NINE, TEXT: ATUM-HADU SPIES UPON HIS ENEMIES.

Illustration:
While the Hyksos general conspires with Atum-hadu's
Master of Largesse, Atum-hadu himself is shown in the Hyksos gen-

eral's camp, unrecognised, and in his tent, unrecognised, and finally in
his home, lying in his bed, reading his most secret plans, unrecognised.

PILLAR TEN, TEXTLESS.

Illustration:
Studies, perhaps, for Pillar Eight. She is shown in
thirty different views, and sometimes only her head or hands. Her smile
alone is attempted a dozen times. She is depicted asleep and awake,
seated and striding, in a variety of costumes, with hounds at her feet,
beautiful and beloved.

J: CPB. Nothing. Back across to the west. The bed is really a
welcome change. I wonder if I could house the cats here.

Wednesday, 13 December, 1922

J:
CPB. Someone (Carter? Finneran? Ferrell?) has poisoned the
bank tellers against me, and they stage a little drama, making much of
my injury and issues of hygiene, grabbing at straws to carry out some
unseen enemy's illegal orders, barring me from further daily enquiries.

PILLAR ELEVEN, TEXT: THE END APPROACHES.

Illustration:
Atum-hadu in distress, alone, seated on his throne,
doubled over, clutching his belly. On the reverse (north) side, he is de•
picted with a literal crocodile gnawing at his insides. The Hyksos
troops are shown massing in a hundred different directions. The dap•
per, smug Hyksos general stands ominously nearby and leers at the
writhing Atum-hadu, perhaps with an implication that it is his magic
causing the king's torments?

PILLAR TWELVE, TEXT: THE END OF DAYS.

Illustration:
It is night. Atum-hadu, dead, is carried over the
shoulder of a single unidentifiable friend. The friend carries him to-

wards the miraculous, glowing tomb, where Seth and the vultures
await. Meanwhile, the Hyksos rape and burn and defecate as they
storm the palace. They do not notice the escaping ally carrying the
dead king.

This is worth a word of analysis as, historically, it still remains to
us to explain Atum-hadu's solution to the Tomb Paradox. Certainly,
Atum-hadu discovered this space, and decided to make it his tomb.
Probably, he furnished it secretly on his own, perhaps over the space
of a year or more. Finally, abandoned by his ministers, army, priests,
Master, queen, he must have had still one single, trusted friend. This
friend is anonymous, perhaps someone from boyhood, perhaps only
recently met and taken into the royal confidence. It must have been

someone with artistic skills and with no earthly ties. Let us hypothesise
a court artist whose family was killed by the Hyksos and who, in his
misery, accepted a strange commission from his lord and master: in
exchange for (a) painting the walls of the king's tomb (almost certainly
while the king was still alive and dictating the images to the artist), and

(b) assuring that the king was brought there secretly immediately upon
his death the humble artist received—what? What would he value?
Gold? A military-escorted escape route from the Hyksos? Some
magical protection? We must continue to think.

J: CP. I am growing accustomed to beds again, a forgotten respite
after the smoke and must of the tomb.

Thursday, 14 December, 1922

J:
Forced to be up and out in a hurry, end of soft beds for now.
Have that terrible sensation of having forgotten something, but that is
not uncommon and not always true. Calm down over a mint tea at my
favourite
abwa.

Post—nothing. Off to the cats, then.

Margaret, today brings another cruelty that I cannot even begin to I
cannot control my grief. I am mewling like a child, cannot bear to write
it, cannot believe it.

Friday, 15 December, 1922

How would he recognise
the
moment when the end had come? Did
he simply fight until he fell in battle? Or did he know before, feel it in
some specific loss, something he saw destroyed that became at that mo•
ment the symbol of everything certain to be destroyed later?

Saturday, 16 December, 1922

Work. Miserable bowels.

Sunday, 17 December, 1922

(FIG. G: THE FIRST SEVEN CHAMBERS,
ENDIN G WITH THE SHRIN E TO BASTET, 17 DEC , 1922)

Bastet was, of course, the feline-headed goddess of ancient Egypt,
and although there is no mention of her in the Admonitions, one entire
chamber of Atum-hadu's tomb is dedicated to her cult. The room is, like
the rest of the tomb, brilliantly decorated from an historiographical
standpoint, though less successfully from an art-critical view. In the cen•
tre of the room, a symbolic union with Bastet is indicated in the form of

a mummified cat. The cat seems to have been preserved in the tradi•
tional manner, wrapped in linens (emblazoned with decorative motifs of
sphinxes, vultures, and cobras, as well as hieroglyphs warning of
Horus's cardiovoric wrath against any tomb-robber wicked enough to
disturb the shrine), and laid to rest directly on the tomb's bare floor, a
comment, perhaps, on Atum-hadu's domination of the feline elements in
traditional religion? A shortage of furniture in the hurried last moments,
sealing in the king while Hyksos monkeys chattered in the middle dis•
tance?

The only ornament on the cat's mummy is a beautiful collar in pris•
tine condition, black leather with a silver-and-sapphire pendant centred
on the poor beast's wrapped chest. A tribute to the goddess Bastet, yes,
but perhaps also a very human, very earthly desire to show a faithful
animal that it was loved, that its presence and dignity and affection
were appreciated, to thank her for her service in this world and the
next. To let her know she was significant, that tears fell for her.

The ancients believed that at the moment the tomb was sealed, it be•
came a hive of activity. Statues and figurines came to life, pictures on
the wall grew real and three-dimensional, symbolic illustrations ex•
panded to fulfil their meanings, and mummies (the king's, most impor•
tantly) woke from their temporary sleep, reconceived and reborn for
their journey to immortality. Statues of warriors (such as those that
Carter stumbled into) would have come to life to guard the king. Pic•
tures of money, food, arms, serving girls, celebrations, concubines—all
of this would have served the king. And this being the case, human or
animal sacrifice, whilst not unheard of, was generally unnecessary and
thus very rare in Egypt. Given that, the presence of this very real cat
likely means that an actual cat died, most likely a cat that Atum-hadu
would have known and loved. This was probably his very cat, de•
scribed in the History Chamber. Knowing what we do, we can specu•
late that he would have insisted that this being, which he adored and
which adored him, must of course sit on his lap purring for all eternity.
He raised her to immortality, promoted her from cat to cat-goddess.

It is late. I am tired.

Monday, 18 December, 1922

WALL PANEL K: "ATUM-HADU WITHDRAWS FROM COURT"

Text:
Defeat followed on defeat. Atum-hadu prepared. Under pro•
tection of Nut, he carried goods from his palace across the Nile, and a
friend illustrated his life upon these walls. He returned to court. The
palace was lively, the people fornicated and drank. "Flee!" Atum-hadu
ordered, but they laughed. "Do you know what is coming?" he de•
manded. "We do, and this is how we will wait," they replied, and he
loved them. The master of musicians bowed to him. "Here everything is
magical." Atum-hadu loved this gentle man. He embraced him in
brotherly farewell.

Atum-hadu found one of his cats choked on a fish bone. The king's
sorrow devoured him, as if he were an old woman. The king wept at
the implacable enemy that had chosen Atum-hadu at birth, wept like a
child until sleep came.

Journal:
When Carnarvon sees the twenty chambers still to come
in this vast subterranean complex—even if they contain no further art
or treasure — such a mysterious maze in itself will justify a second, fully
funded expedition back to Deir el Bahari. Marlowe and I were unques•
tionably right: the tomb is here or near, quite close, perhaps only one
hill away from this temple of history, or I am doubting too much, and
the full tomb
is
here, behind one more door. Enough.

I take the sledgehammer to Door C, though I can hardly stand on
my burning leg, and my gut is full of fire and smoke. My arms are
puny. Two hours of hammering, and all I have is dust and pebbles
throughout the Bastet Shrine, powdering the cat-goddess. I fell asleep
just now. I will try the door again.

Evening, I believe, and now I have this: