by K. T. Tomb
“It says here that finding herself widowed with no son,” Chyna went on, “Ankhesenamun was so repulsed by the thought of marrying either of them, who she referred to as her subjects, that she wrote a letter to a foreign king begging him to send one of his royal sons to her as a husband. The Hittite letters. The King, Suppiluliumas sent his son but he was killed on the way and Ankhesenamun ended up marrying Ay. Angry and suspicious, the king came to Luxor to seek reparations for the death of his son.”
“Then what happened?” Oscar asked, anxiously.
“Then nothing,” Chyna said. “The story ends there; nothing more; the recorded story, anyway.”
“Well,” Lana said stepping back from the wall and admiring her handiwork, “that is where our investigation begins.”
She took out her Sharpie again and went to the flipchart.
“Let’s start with the emotional character at that point which is Suppiluliumas,” she said. “If your son had been murdered in a foreign land and his potential bride then marries the same man she told you she detested; what would you think?”
“I would think she was a bitch!” Oscar said.
They all laughed at his outburst.
“Okay, Mr. Name-caller,” Chyna admonished while glancing at her watch, “run over to the lab and see if they’re done with the tablet yet. We need a translation urgently; maybe the inscription will give us another clue.”
“Sure,” he replied, heading out the door.
“What would you think?” Lana asked again.
“I would think I had been set up and that the bridegroom had gotten just a little bit too lucky.”
“Exactly!” said Lana.
She made some notes on the flipchart and turned back to Chyna.
“Ay would know how desperate Ankhesenamun was. If he murdered the prince, she would have been devastated, Zannanza was her saving grace. Her last resort would have been to marry Ay; he was the lesser of the two evils.”
“Precisely!”
At that moment, Nassir stepped into the office. He was followed by a man who Chyna recognized as one of his Bedouin colleagues.
“Ladies, I’d like to introduce Mohammed, he is one of my colleagues from the Ministry of Antiquities.”
The girls were pleasant and introduced themselves although it was obvious that they were on their guard.
“I told Mohammed about our remarkable find and he was interested in hearing what you thought about it if you had any theories so far.”
Lana shrank back, sensing a confrontation. She deftly moved to the flipchart of notes and turned the page over. Chyna cleared her throat impatiently.
“Respectfully,” Chyna said to both men, “I must state that it is not Found History procedure to discuss theories of an investigation outside the team this early in the process.”
“I could sit in on your deliberations,” Mohammed interjected. “It is possible that I could be of assistance.”
Chyna had no intention of moving forward with the conversation. How dare Nassir deliberately go against her after she had specifically told him how she felt about anyone inserting themselves into her investigations?
“Gentlemen,” she started, politely, “I appreciate your interest but I’ll kindly ask that you leave this matter with us. Nassir, you brought us in to do a job and that’s what we intend to do. Should we need any help, we will be sure to ask. Thank you so much for coming to see us.”
With that she ushered them to the door and all but threw them out of the office, Oscar had to move aside quickly in order not to bump into them as he was returning from his errand. He stepped past Chyna, who closed the door behind him.
“What was that about?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Lana answered quickly.
She refrained from mentioning Fariha Katsakis, the Greek girl, remembering how smitten Oscar had been with her.
“Did you get the tablet?” Chyna asked.
“They weren’t done with it but Amira let me take some pictures,” he replied, smiling. “I’ll get started on the translation right away.”
Oscar uploaded the photographs to his computer and began running three different translation software at once.
“A bit of overkill don’t you think?” Lana asked.
“Not really,” he replied. “You never really get the best result from any one of these. This way I can compile a composite translation which will probably give us a better result.”
“Lana, can we please get back to where we were before Nassir brought his spy in here.”
“Chyna, we don’t know for sure he’s a spy.”
“That’s irrelevant,” she snapped. “Come on!”
“Okay,” Lana relented, turning her flipchart back over, “she chose the lesser of the two evils.”
“Right, so if Suppiluliumas arrives and she was nowhere in sight, having already been locked away in that place by Ay; wouldn’t he have wondered where she was? Maybe even asked after her whereabouts?”
“I’d think he would, but he wouldn’t have asked the man he suspected of murdering his son.”
“Maybe a servant?”
“It’s possible, but do you think that if Ankhesenamun knew he was there she might have sent him a message?”
“Good idea.”
Lana made a few more notes on the flipchart just as Oscar shouted, “I have it.”
“What have you got?”
Oscar stood and went to the printer to retrieve the papers. He handed them each a copy.
“And I quote,” he started, “‘Ay has played me for a fool, so the book will go with me to Qena; to the Mother of the Waters, then onwards to Hattusa. This Book of Egypt will stay with the last true princess of the realm. Until there is a new royal house to rule the country.’”
“Lana, you were right. Somehow, the king and Ankhesenamun collaborated in her escape and she took the book with her.”
“There’s more to this story though,” Lana said, biting her lip. “If the princess ran away to Turkey with the King of the Hittites, then who did they find in KV21?”
“Ah-ha, the plot thickens,” said Oscar.
“That’s supposedly been verified by DNA, so it’s definitely her in the Valley of the Kings. So why and how did she come back to Luxor?” Chyna asked.
“I really have no more ideas, Chyna,” Lana groaned. “Now I know what Nassir meant when he said there are more questions than answers. What’s certain is that the princess got double-crossed somewhere along the way. Anyway, it’s dinner time. Let’s get something to eat and come back later.”
“Good idea,” Oscar agreed. “I’m starving.”
The hall was practically empty by the time they got there. Oscar ordered cheeseburgers and fries for them, claiming that was the best thinking food. Chyna noticed Nassir sitting at a corner table and went to talk to him while they waited.
“Nassir,” she said, “I apologize for earlier, with Mohammed.”
“No, Chyna,” he said. “There is no need to apologize. You told me how you felt about outsiders. I chose to ignore your wishes.”
“It’s forgotten,” she offered. “Nassir weren’t you on the KV21 DNA analysis team in 2010?
“Yes, I was.”
“Is it Ankhesenamun in that tomb?”
“Well the DNA was inconclusive but the fact that it matched the children in Tutankhamun’s tomb was enough evidence for me.”
Chyna took one look at his face and said, “There’s more you’re not telling me.”
“Well, I don’t have a doubt that it’s her body in KV21, what I do doubt is the cause of death. It was thought that her head was detached from her body when the grave was atrociously robbed sometime around 1826, but I have reason to think that she had been mummified like that. Close examination of the neck from both the head and the body show that embalming fluids and spices had touched the flesh of the neck as if it had already been separated from the body. I think she was beheaded.”
Chyna handed Nassir the piece of paper
with the translation of the tablet inscription on it.
“We’ll be going to Qena tomorrow to see if there is another clue there.”
The three teammates ate their dinner and returned to the office.
“Dr. Nassir told me when they analyzed the mummy from KV21 that he identified as Ankhesenamun, he noted that the detached head showed signs of being embalmed when it was already severed.”
“She was murdered?” asked Oscar.
“Beheaded,” Chyna confirmed.
“I guess I should pack for Qena?” Oscar asked.
“Undoubtedly, we leave at dawn.”
***
Oscar started packing up his equipment as soon as they got back from having their dinner.
They were more or less done with Luxor for the moment and Chyna had planned an early start for the team. Their next stop, the city of Qena, lay thirty-nine miles to the north but luckily the road was good and ran within the ‘green belt’; they had no desert driving to contend with this trip. The only question on their minds was with all the modernization that had taken place in and around the city; how would they know where to look?
According to Nassir, they should concentrate on the three locations within the city limits that had remained the same since ancient times. Those were the crossing to Dendera about three miles south of the city, the oasis at the Djoser Aquifer, which was the city limits marker to the south, and the eastern city marker stone which now lay about two miles out along the Red Sea road. They decided to start with the southern-most location, the crossing to Dendera, followed by the oasis. Chyna doubted that the princess’s travel would have taken her to the east rather than to the aquifer.
At dawn, they carefully loaded all their things into the Denali and said their goodbyes. Amira was sad to see them leave but she could hardly wait to see what they would bring back with them from Qena. Nassir, on the other hand, pleaded with Chyna to take one of Mohammed’s people with them.
“They know the desert well, Chyna, it would be better for your safety if one of them went with you.”
Chyna smiled wryly and pulled aside her vest so he could see her holster. “I hardly ever need more protection than this guy right here can offer, Nassir. Thanks for the offer though. We’ll be back in a few days whether we find anything or not.”
“Take care,” he said to them all. “We will see you in a few days, if Allah wills it.”
They drove out of the compound and took the road back into Luxor. After crossing the city they would get on the northbound highway and head straight up to Qena. As the Denali left the compound, none of them noticed a small group of horses standing on the hilltop that overlooked the camp. There were six of them, black horses with riders dressed in black. It was still dark and the figures looked like shadows on top of the hill.
Chapter Five
“They have found Imhotep Ta-Akhenaten’s body inside the chambers; the scoundrel Ay’s misdeeds are still being revealed to us three thousand years later,” Mohammed said.
“We always knew his mummy had been stolen and not just lost, but to find it here is just astonishing,” Jamila added. “Why would he steal Imhotep’s mummy along with the codex?”
“Ay was a very suspicious man, Jamila,” Mohammed replied. “Perhaps he thought that Imhotep’s spirit would remain in the Afterlife if his body were still near the Book as opposed to being separated from it.”
“But Imhotep Ta-Tutankhamun was searching for it at that time to record the king’s passing.”
“He didn’t want the record to be completed,” Ali interjected. “You see, Ay was not your usual usurper. He wasn’t interested in becoming royalty anymore; he wanted to destroy them and if history is the witness, he succeeded. Egypt never had another ruler of royal blood again.”
“Ay hated the royal family,” Mohammed explained. “It was something that was as much a part of him as his own personality. He had gone through an identity crisis his entire life; borne of a royal princess but fathered by a wealthy nobleman. He found that neither his mother’s proud lineage nor his father’s immense wealth could earn him a royal title and he watched bitterly as his sisters married princes and kings. How was it that their heritage was strong enough for them to be accepted and yet he was not.
“Ay followed in his father’s footsteps by kowtowing to his brother-in-law, Amenhotep III and he was richly rewarded with position at court, responsibilities and respect; but it was not enough for him. When his father died, the king granted Ay all of his father’s titles and wealth; but still he was not satisfied. His sister was known as Queen Tiye, Royal Wife of the Pharaoh and he wanted to be called Royal Brother of the King or at least Royal Brother of the Queen. Was that so much to ask? Surely, he deserved it. He served Amenhotep III until his death, then he served Akhenaten and still no title was bestowed on him. So when Akhenaten died and Tutankhamun took the throne, Ay began to concoct his devious plan.
“He murdered two princes of the blood to get to the throne; one Egyptian and one Hittite, and then he murdered the last princess of the realm. From the ashes of the Thutmosid Dynasty, Ay founded a commoner’s struggle for the throne of Egypt that lasted until the Romans took their country away from them.”
“Perhaps he was Egypt’s first sociopath,” Jamila joked.
“Perhaps,” Mohammed laughed, “but now what should we do about Chyna Stone?”
“We are only the ‘Watchers’, Mohammed,” Ali reminded him.
All six horsemen murmured their agreement.
“This is true, so we shall watch but we shall also send word to Istanbul. The Guardsmen will need to know that the princess’ trail has been found and that it has been found by a very capable adversary.”
“Yes,” said Ali. “Perhaps the time of the prophecy has come. Our watch may be coming to an end soon.”
“Do not speak like that!” Jamila shouted at him.
“Hush, woman,” Mohamed admonished. “Who are we to question the Will of Allah? We all knew that the time would come one day when we would put down our swords and turn the Book over to the one who was worthy of it. This was destined to happen ever since the fall of Egypt. From the moment we had stopped looking for a pharaoh to come, we started looking for the Seeker to arrive. Perhaps it is she.”
“Send the bird to Qena, the Watchers there will know what to do next,” instructed Mohammed.
Jamila quickly wrote the tiny note and placed it into the metal tube. Ali took it from her, tied it to the pigeon’s leg and released the bird. As it flew North, the watchers sat on horseback on the hill overlooking Luxor and watched the desert sun rise over the beautiful horizon.
***
The streets of Istanbul were deserted, which was not uncommon for that time of night. As the cloaked figure made its way down Yerebatan Road, past the Basilica Cistern towards the plaza in front of Sultan Ahmet park. In the shadow of the Great Mosque, nothing was visible but he knew the four guardsmen would be waiting for him and when he turned toward the fountain, there they were seated around its edge.
“As-salamu alaykum,” he greeted, as he approached them.
“Wa-alaykum salaam,” came the response.
They hugged and kissed each other as was customary and retreated to a park table to talk further.
“The news from Luxor is not encouraging brothers,” the cloaked man started. “It seems there are some Americans there who Nassir has hired to find the Book.”
“Yes,” one of the others confirmed, “I have heard the same from our desert friends.” He was the Eastern Guard.
Yet another man chimed in, saying, “I believe that it is just as it was prophesied, so we have gathered to make the decision whether the time has come for us to relinquish the stewardship of the Book or continue to keep our secret.” He was the Northern Guard.
“What do we know of these Americans?” the cloaked man asked, clearly he was in charge.
“They are led by a woman called Chyna Stone,” the Western Guard answer. “She is a very well
known archaeologist and adventurer who has been involved in the recovery of lost artifacts all her life.”
“What are her values?”
“She takes much pride in her work, always ensuring the treasure is returned to its rightful place and then properly displayed for the enjoyment of the people.”
“Her work seems noble.”
“Yes Sayyed, she is not a mercenary or a treasure hunter,” finally the Southern Guard had spoken.
“As you all know, we were given the task of keeping the Book safe until there was a royal house in Egypt to return it to,” the cloaked man said. “Our forebears were never satisfied that this criteria had been met and that is why it remained in our care.”
“They were all just commoners; a dirty pack of warriors, conspirators and thieves, not a drop of royal blood in their veins.”
They all nodded and murmured their agreement.
“The age of our princess is long gone, gentlemen and I believe that the time for us to surrender the Book came a long time ago. However, what we have truly been waiting for has been the right person to turn it over to. Do you men believe that Chyna Stone is the right one?”
Again there was nodding and murmuring among the group.
“It is unanimously agreed,” the cloaked man announced.
“It is important that she prove herself by following the princess’s clues, she must prove herself worthy to the Guardsmen before we turn over the Book.”
“Of course,” the cloaked man agreed. “Though our watch is at an end, we do still have standards to uphold.”
The group laughed at his words and nodded in agreement.
“Then let us remain close to the crypt and allow our friend Chyna to find us. If she is successful, the Book is hers, the only stipulation is that it must be returned to Luxor and put into the hands of the proper authorities. Thank you for coming brothers, I’m not sure if you feel the same but I am relieved that we have made this decision; I believe it to be the right one.”
“As-salamu alaykum,” he said to them in farewell.