by K. T. Tomb
“What does this have to do with me?” Ay asked skeptically. It was becoming clear that he was worried about what Ankhesenamun was about to do.
“We will wait for Vizier Tamose to arrive,” she replied, sipping more wine from her cup.
There was a long and awkward silence as they waited for the counselor to arrive at the Pharaoh’s apartment. When he came in he bowed to Ay and then, with a look of surprise, he bowed to Ankhesenamun as well.
“Good evening Grand Vizier Tamose,” she said smiling. “You look surprised to see me. Come here and touch my feet, I want to talk to you.”
Tamose approached the Queen and touched his hand to his forehead and then to her feet. When he rose she put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him on both his cheeks.
“How may I be of assistance, my Queen?”
“You see how he addresses me, husband?” Ankhesenamun taunted. “Tamose called me ‘Queen’.”
“Indeed, he did,” Ay whispered in response.
“Tamose, I want you to witness my decision and put it into immediate action as soon as I am finished,” she ordered.
“Yes, my Queen,” Tamose answered.
“I, Ankhesenamun-Tasherit-Ma’at, Royal Queen of Egypt have decided that I will create myself Pharaoh of Upper and Lower Egypt and rule this country in my own right.”
“What?” Ay shouted, jumping up from his seat. “You cannot do that, I am Pharaoh.”
“Ay, behave,” she said, raising her hand for silence. “You are not a king here, you are of common birth so you cannot sit on this throne. It was my mistake to make you believe that you had the right to do so as my husband, but I realize now that it is wrong. Tamose, let the record show that Ay’s title is now officially, Chief Consort of the Royal Queen, Pharaoh Ankhesenamun.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Tamose replied.
Ankhesenamun stood from the chair and handed the cup to the wine servant. She looked down from the dais at Tamose, who quickly lowered his eyes, then at Ay who stared at her with defiance in his. When she did not lower her stare, he finally lowered his. Satisfied, she stepped down from the dais and walked towards the door.
Turning back to face the room, she added, “Tamose, I am going to my apartments to gather my things. Ensure that Ay has been assigned appropriate rooms among the apartments of the consorts. I will be occupying these royal rooms from now on.”
She had turned the tables on her adversary. As Ankhesenamun walked back to her apartments, she felt regal. She had been on the verge of collapse throughout the ordeal, but having carried it out and gotten away with it, her fears melted away and the strength and pride, which she remembered admiring in her mother, had begun to resided inside of her as well. She could feel the blood of her father, a pharaoh, rushing through her veins and she knew she had done the right thing.
A week later, the priests of Amun-Ra came to the steps of the palace carrying the royal palanquin. The throne of the Pharaoh had been placed on top of it and bundles of blooming papyrus decorated it on all sides. Dressed in new white linen, Ankhesenamun stepped onto the palanquin, took the throne and was taken to the temple where she was crowned Pharaoh by the High Priest. The crowd shouted out her name and prayers for her long life as she walked through the crowd back to the palace, again she sprinkled her subjects with the water that had washed her royal feet.
That night, she stood on her balcony and watched the fires of offerings which burned all night in front of the temple. The people were making many offerings in her name; it was plain to see that they were happy. When she had washed and changed her clothes, she lay down on the tigers’ furs that covered the Pharaoh’s sleeping couch and looked up at the ceiling. The paintings there were of her family. She saw her father and mother seated side by side on their thrones. The Aten was shining down on them as they extended their right hands to their six daughters. She looked up lovingly at the images of her sisters; Meritaten, Mekitaten, Neferneferuaten, Neferneferure and Setepenre.
Such beauties we all were, she thought, Princesses of the blood.
Another fresco showed Nefertiti, wearing the crown of the Pharaoh with Tutankhamun, the Crown Prince, sitting on her knee. Ankhesenamun missed her husband, she had been in love with him from the day that he was born and they had been inseparable. She fell asleep with the thought of them sitting and holding hands on the banks of the Nile at Amarna.
She awakened in the early morning hours with a start. There was someone in her bedroom but she couldn’t see anything. The candles had been extinguished and there wasn’t a servant or a guard in sight. It was very strange because there was always someone moving about the royal apartments whether day or night. Suddenly, she saw him, standing in the shadows watching her.
“Who is it?” she asked.
The figure was dressed in full black and he did not answer her.
An assassin! she thought.
She prepared to shout, but before the words could escape from her mouth, the figure ran forward with its sword raised and cut the Queen’s head clean from her neck.
Chapter Seven
The drive north was pleasant despite the searing heat of the desert.
The road was well maintained and except for a fair amount of tour buses heading in both directions, there wasn’t much traffic. They knew the precise moment they started getting close to the Qena city limits; the city had spread over the length and breadth of the ancient oasis, blending into the surrounding landmarks and towns. Modernization was in full swing there. Tourism and the natural source of spring water had attributed to the city becoming a perfect location for a thriving metropolis.
When they arrived at their first stop in Dendera, it had become increasingly clear to them that locating any of Qena’s ancient remnants was going to be extremely difficult. Chyna remembered Dr. Nassir’s advice and decided to stick to his simple guidelines. They searched the ferry yard for anything that looked as if it had been standing there for three thousand years. Everything at the Dendera crossing was newly concreted and story-boarded for the tourists to enjoy, excepting a colossal obelisk in the center of the ferry yard entrance. They searched the structure for anything that looked like a cartouche but there was nothing there.
As they were analyzing the ancient markings at the base of the obelisk, Oscar noticed an Egyptian woman in a black hijab and an ornate abaya. The beautiful embroidery and decoration on the garment was what had initially caught his eye but the woman was so beautiful and strangely familiar that Oscar was forced to take closer notice of her. She was watching them openly; her curiosity with what they were doing was unsettling, but not enough for him to mention it to the girls.
After a thorough search of the obelisk and the area at the front of the ferry yard, the team was finally satisfied that there was nothing to be found at the Dendera ferry crossing. They were back on the road in a few minutes, again heading northward and on the way to the city. After a few moments driving, they passed the sign that announced they had crossed into Qena city limits. Chyna looked at her watch; it was twelve thirty and her stomach was grumbling so she pulled the SUV over at a quaint looking roadside bed and breakfast so that they could have some lunch and discuss their next step. As she parked the car, Oscar looked out at the road just in time to see a black Toyota sedan drive past; the woman at the wheel was wearing a decorative abaya and had her hijab bundled around her neck and shoulders. There she was again. Coincidence? He wondered if he should say something, but knew that Lana would make fun of him for checking out the women, so he kept it to himself.
They sat down at a corner table in the hotel’s little restaurant. When the waitress came over, Chyna selected falafel, ful medames, kushari and flatbread for them. Of course she knew that all the traditional condiments like harissa, pickled chili peppers, fresh olives and raita, which she loved, would accompany the food whether she ordered them or not. The waitress brought bowls of warm water with slices of lemon in it just before their food was ready and they washed their hands and dried t
hem with the tiny towels provided. When the food came to the table, it was steaming hot and had a heavenly aroma. Without hesitation, they all developed healthy appetites and plunged into the meal, plate after plate.
After they had eaten, the waitress brought another set of bowls and they washed up again. It amazed them all how such a simple gesture of hospitality could bring a touch of luxury to an otherwise simple and satisfying meal. When she had cleared the table and gone to get their tea, Oscar spoke up, deciding that after what had happened in Turkey it was never too silly to be cautious.
“There was a woman back there at the ferry crossing who seemed very interested in what we were doing,” Oscar finally disclosed.
“Really?” Lana replied. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I wasn’t sure it was worth mentioning, Lana,” he said.
“So why say something now?” Chyna chimed in.
“Because I think she’s following us,” he replied. “I didn’t think much of her as she watched us at Dendera but when we parked outside, I saw her drive past going towards the city. I guess it could still be nothing but if I see her again, I’d be inclined to think that something is up.”
“You’d be right to think so, Oscar,” Chyna agreed. “Be sure to keep your eyes open and let us know if you spot her again.”
“Will do,” he said, feeling relieved.
“And next time, you might let us all know, just in case someone is about to kill us or something,” Lana snorted.
That’s exactly why I didn’t mention it before, he reassured himself.
They made it to the Djoser Aquifer within five minutes after leaving the restaurant and pulled into the parking lot at the oasis. They were surprised to find that the expansive grounds of the oasis had become nothing more modern than a public park. There weren’t many people on the grounds at that time of the day, but the few who were seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. Date palms dominated the landscape along with many tall bushes that were laden with fragrant flowers. The temperature immediately dropped to a more tolerable level beneath the shade of the verdant trees. In the center of the park was a tall rock formation that looked like shale. It was comprised of step after step of black flat rocks. A steady stream of clean, clear water flowed endlessly from the top of the rocks, rushing down the formation and falling finally into a stream which fed a huge pond. To the eastern side of the oasis, they could see extensive, well-kept orchards with trees that were laden with apples, oranges, lemons and limes.
Carefully, the team looked around the park trying to decide which of its features had most likely been there for three thousand years. It seemed obvious that it could only be the rocks that formed the head of the aquifer itself. They searched the entire structure from the top to bottom, meticulously inspecting every stone and getting completely soaked in the process. At the base of the structure, they located what would have been considered by the early nomads as the ‘water stone’; a large rock which protruded from the ground as an extension of the bedrock the water flowed from. Chyna scooped handfuls of sand from the base of the stone and within a few minutes, what looked like the border of a cartouche inscription appeared.
“Oscar, could you go back to the Denali and get me some tools?” Chyna asked. “I’m going to need a trowel, a four inch brush and a small chisel.”
“Sure thing,” he replied. “I’ll be right back with those.”
“Don’t forget your camera,” Lana shouted after him, and then added. “You can snap a picture of your mystery woman too, if she happens to show up again.”
Oscar got to the Denali and opened the tailgate to search for Chyna’s equipment bag. Inside it he quickly located her trowel and the other utensils that she would need. He pulled his camera bag from the top of the pile and took his Nikon®D800 from it. He removed the lens cap and pushed the power button; everything was working fine and the battery was fully charged, so he pulled the strap over his head and shut the tailgate of the SUV. Just as he turned around to walk back to the park entrance, she was there again. It was the woman in the pretty black abaya. She had covered her head with the hijab again and she was leaning against a tree on the far side of the parking lot watching him. Discreetly and without lifting the camera from his chest, Oscar aimed it at an angle he thought would work and waited for the auto-zoom lens to fully adjust. Then he fired off a series of shots hoping that he had been able to get a good picture of her. He tilted the camera to take a look at the last shot on the display screen and satisfied, he walked back through the park gates to rejoin Chyna and Lana.
Oscar handed the girls the tools and stepped back to start taking the photographs. Within a few minutes, the two had moved enough sand out of their way to reveal the entire cartouche which was inscribed into the stone. They had to be careful, using only the brushes on the stone itself because the saturated limestone rock could easily give way under a sharp instrument or too heavy a touch. Once satisfied that they had uncovered the entire carving, Lana and Chyna stepped aside to allow Oscar full access to photograph the stone and they set about replacing all the sand and debris as the moment he was finished. Not a patch of lichen was out of place when they left the aquifer stone behind, they didn’t want the site to look like it had been disturbed in any way, and it didn’t.
While the girls were busy covering up their tracks, Oscar took a look at the pictures he had taken to ensure they were really what they needed to at least make a good translation. When he looked up from his camera he saw the woman again. She was standing under some palm trees watching them very intently while engaged in an intense conversation on her mobile phone. Oscar walked back to where Chyna and Lana were reburying the water stone and knelt beside them in the sand.
“She’s back,” he said. “The lady from the Dendera crossing. I saw her earlier in the parking lot and now she’s over there, watching us from over by those palm trees.”
He scrolled through the photos he had been taking until he came to the pictures of the woman and showed them both.
“That girl was a worker in Dr. Nassir’s camp at Luxor,” Chyna said. “I saw her walking around with Mohammed a lot, you know, that guy Nassir tried to insert into our investigation. I even saw them eating together quite often.”
“Why would she follow us here?” asked Lana.
“I don’t know, Lana,” Chyna replied. “But I’ll be damned if I won’t go over there and find out why right now.”
Chyna stood up, turned around quickly, intending to walk directly over to the palms and confront the woman in black. Ever since that whole fiasco in Greece and Turkey with Fariha Katsakis, she had been extremely suspicious of strangers who tried to lurk around during her investigation. The extent to which the Greek girl had betrayed their trust and exposed them all still made Chyna bitter and left her fiercely protective of her team. But when Chyna turned around, there was no one beneath the palm trees; the woman had disappeared. She looked around the park to see if she could spot her, but the woman in black was nowhere to be seen. Disappointed at allowing their pursuer to slip through her hands Chyna picked up her tools and they returned to the Denali along with her team.
“Let’s drive into the city and find somewhere to stay the night,” she suggested. “There ought to be tons of great places to stay around here.”
Oscar and Lana were in full agreement, they couldn’t wait to wash the desert dust off and get something hot to eat. More importantly, they were all eager to get started with the translation of the inscription and unraveling the next clue to locating the Mummy Codex, as Chyna had been inclined to call it.
Chapter Eight
“Thank you Jamila,” Rashid said, into the phone. “You don’t need to follow Miss Stone and the others around anymore but keep trying to locate our people and we will keep in touch.”
As he pressed the end button on his mobile phone, Rashid Abdullah was extremely confused. Something wasn’t right and he couldn’t put his finger on it. According to Jamila, the Luxor watchers se
nt a bird to Qena earlier in the day, advising them that Miss Stone and her people would be arriving there to search for the next marker in the princess’s trail, but the bird came back with the message unread.
Not knowing what to do, she’d followed the Americans to keep track of what they were doing while trying to locate the Qena watchers at the same time. She found no one there and no sign of their whereabouts; they had deserted their watch. There was no way that the watchers in Luxor could have known since personal information such as last names, home addresses and mobile phone numbers were never shared between the posts; fraternization between factions was strictly prohibited and all communication was done by pigeon. He could not stop wondering what had happened to Hassan and Amir.
He went to his computer and clicked an icon on his home screen to open an instant messaging application and began typing.
Imhotep: They have found the second marker.
Eastman: They are much smarter than I gave them credit for.
Southman: I agree.
Northman: Clearly neither of you has been doing your homework. I’m sure Imhotep is not surprised and neither am I.
Imhotep: Calm down Northman, we agreed we would endorse their search if they proved themselves worthy.
Westman: And they’re doing a damn good job as far as I can see.
Imhotep: Chyna Stone is not letting me down so far, gentlemen. I think our mission is finally coming to an end. Sadly, I cannot say that I am too disappointed with that prospect.