The Tomb Builders

by Kevin Ashman

  ‘Okay,’ said Brandon, ‘what about this room leading off the ascending passage.’

  ‘That one’s called the queen’s chamber,’ said India, ‘though current thinking believes it wasn’t for the queen but probably held a statue of Khufu.’

  ‘And this one?’ asked Brandon, pointing further down the page. ‘It seems the main descending passage leads directly to it.’

  ‘It does,’ said India, ‘and nobody is quite sure of its purpose but it could have been a treasure room or even an additional crypt for the king’s family.’

  Brandon looked at both the pictures again and pointed to the modern version.

  ‘This hasn’t printed properly,’ he said, ‘there’s a bit missing. On the older version there’s another set of tunnels directly under the lowest chamber, the printer must have run out of ink.’

  India didn’t answer but as he turned to repeat his statement, he could see the unbridled excitement in her eyes.

  ‘India, are you okay?’

  ‘Oh yes, Brandon,’ she said, ‘I’m better than okay, because you have just seen what makes this so exciting.’

  ‘What, the missing lines?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ she said, because the reason the lines are missing on the newer version is not because the printer ran out of ink but because it wasn’t on the screen to start with. Don’t you see? The reason the lowest tunnel is not shown on the newer version is because there is no record of it in modern times.’ She paused and took a deep breath before continuing. ‘They haven’t been found yet, Brandon, the tunnel and chamber shown so clearly on the older diagram have yet to be discovered.’

  ----

  Brandon stared at the pictures again, comparing the two against each other.

  ‘India, are you sure?’ he asked, ‘because if you are right, this is a whole new ball game.’

  ‘I know and that’s why I am so excited. Do you know what this means? It means that the actual burial chamber could still be there complete with Khufu’s body as well as all the funerary ornaments.’

  ‘This could be like Tutankhamun all over again,’ said Brandon.

  ‘In comparison, Tutankhamun was a minor king,’ replied India, ‘Khufu was one of the greatest that ever lived in one of the richest ages of Egypt. If his tomb is intact, it will be like nothing you can ever imagine.’

  Brandon looked at the drawings again.

  ‘What’s this line here?’ he asked pointing at a meandering line dropping from the queen’s chamber down below the pyramid base.

  ‘It’s a narrow shaft cut through some of the pyramid blocks and right down through the bedrock to connect with the lower chamber. Some people say it is an air shaft, others say it is a robber’s passage, but others say it is an escape route for funerary workers to escape the dead king’s tomb after they had sealed it from the inside.’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Me? I think the king was never placed into the tomb in the first place and never intended to be. The whole thing is far too elaborate yet obviously so.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Brandon.

  ‘Look,’ said India, ‘we know that many tomb robbers tried to gain access to the pyramid over the millennia and though most probably failed, eventually someone succeeded and managed to get access right up into the king’s burial chamber itself.’ She picked up a pen and used it as a pointer. ‘As you can see, the main entrance leads down into the heart of the pyramid at an angle. It leads directly to a chamber that looks like a burial tomb and any inexperienced eyes reaching the lower level for the first time would be forgiven for thinking they had found the king’s final resting place and probably left the pyramid thinking someone else had beaten them to it. The thing is, bearing in mind the size of the structure and the incredible amount of work that went into building it, that would have been far too easy and the more experienced tomb robbers were not stupid. After going to all that trouble of finding the entrance and reaching the lower chamber, there’s no way they would have accepted an empty tomb as evidence of previous robbery, they were far too clever for that.’

  ‘So why didn’t they just walk up there?’ asked Brandon pointing at the ascending passage.

  ‘Eventually they did,’ said India, ‘but they had to find it first.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The thing is,’ explained India, ‘the entrance to this ascending passage was hidden in the roof of the descending one and covered over with a slab matching the rest of the tunnel. It would have matched the rest of the ceiling perfectly and nobody would ever guess there was another entrance just above their heads.’

  ‘But I assume they found it eventually,’ said Brandon.

  ‘They did,’ said India, ‘and in the end it wasn’t that difficult for someone made it quite easy for them.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The king’s architect.’

  ‘You’re not making any sense. Why would he want them to find the tomb?’

  ‘He didn’t, at least, not without some effort. The thing is, any layman walking by would never know it existed but to a dedicated thief, one with experience of robbing tombs, it soon became apparent there was a second tunnel.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Because there was a slight inscription sunk into the passage floor directly below it.’

  ‘That’s just stupid.’

  ‘I know and it begs the question, why did the builders do it?’

  ----

  Brandon clicked the switch on the hotel room kettle.

  ‘I need a cup of tea,’ he said.

  ‘Good idea,’ came the reply. ‘Anyway, even though the access to the ascending chamber was found, it was still impassable as three large tapered granite plugs had been slid down from above, each weighing many tons and lodging themselves in place to block the passage to any intruders. This wasn’t a major problem as the surrounding limestone blocks were much softer than the granite plugs and any tomb robber could cut their way around them. After that the passage continues to rise and finally reaches an ante chamber but yet again the builders installed barriers to thwart entry, three enormous slabs of granite blocking the entrance to the king’s chamber and each having been lowered down from slots in the roof like giant stone portcullises.’

  ‘It seems like the architect went to great lengths to stop anyone getting entry.’

  ‘You would think so, but if that was the case, why were the counterbalance weights left in place after the tomb was sealed? Surely, any self-respecting guardian would have had them removed or at least smashed up so they couldn’t be used to lift the slabs.’

  ‘And is that what happened, were they used to lift the slabs?’

  ‘Apparently not, the robbers simply climbed above the slabs and chiselled a small tunnel, just big enough to crawl through.’

  ‘So what are you saying, India, was the tomb adequately protected or not?’

  ‘It was,’ said India, ‘but that is exactly the point, the security measures were adequate but nothing special. It’s almost as if the designer wanted to give the impression of security while not making it too hard for any would-be robbers. Oh they had to work at it but that was the point. If it didn’t seem real then they would know they were looking in the wrong place. For all we know, there may even have been some treasures placed in the king’s chamber, perhaps even a false body to provide any robbers with a satisfying outcome.’

  ‘Why do that?’

  ‘Because if they thought they were successful, then they would leave this place and rumours would quickly spread that the tomb had already been robbed. That way, it would be pointless for further robbers to come nosing around the place.’

  ‘So it was all a red herring, an illusion to lure them away from the real location of the tomb.’

  ‘I think so, yes. As do many other people in historical circles. It’s just not conceivable that someone as great as Khufu was laid to rest in such an easily identifiable tomb and one that could so easily be breached. On top of t
hat, there’s no statuary evidence from the tomb of the king at all. No effigies, images, nothing. Even after all this time there should be something available, even on the black market but up to this time there is just one single statuette of Khufu in the whole world, a three inch figurine in the Cairo Museum. Where’s the rest of it, Brandon? There must be more, unless of course they are all still within the tomb of Khufu, wherever that may be.’

  ‘Well, I’ll say this for you India, you tell a grand tale but even if you are correct and this drawing shows the actual tomb of Khufu, you will never know if he is there or not.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Three reasons,’ said Brandon, ‘one, you can never reveal the source of your information because the minute you do, you will be discredited as a criminal and the information will just disappear. Two, even if they accept the data, you will be excluded from any investigations while the correct authorities undertake whatever excavations they have to do and three, the pyramids have been investigated for hundreds of years by people far cleverer than us. Even if those tunnels are there, don’t you think someone would have found them by now?’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said India, ‘most of the excavations seem to focus on the main chambers. This drawing shows that not only are they way off track but the extra tunnel is actually even lower than the subterranean chamber and is cut into the bedrock of the mountain itself.’

  ‘Well that’s a fourth reason,’ said Brandon, ‘you can’t get just walk through a million tonnes of solid rock to see if your theory is right.’

  ‘I could if I found the access tunnel,’ said India.

  ‘And what makes you think you would succeed where thousands have failed before you?’

  ‘Because I have something they didn’t,’ said India.

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘A guide,’ said India quietly, ‘someone who knows exactly where the chamber is and how to get there.’

  ‘And who is this guide?’ laughed Brandon, ‘because whoever he is, it seems strange to me that he would share this knowledge with us.’

  ‘I don’t think he would mind,’ said India, ‘after all, he’s been dead for five thousand years.’ Her head turned to face the computer screen. Brandon followed her gaze and looked at the photograph of a frieze from the Omari’s tomb. At the centre of the picture, the image of a priest face stared defiantly back as if challenging him over the millennia.

  ‘Him?’ asked Brandon in surprise.

  ‘Yes,’ answered India turning back to face him. ‘Not only did he leave the diagram, but instructions of how to find the entrance. That’s our guide, Brandon, that’s the man who will lead us to the tomb. Omari, high priest of Cheops.’

  ----

  ‘Look,’ said Brandon, ‘I don’t know about you but I could do with a drink. Why don’t we go down to the bar and continue our discussion there.’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ said India, ‘put your laptop in the safe, I’ve printed out all the pictures we need.’

  They left the room and ten minutes later sat in a quiet corner of the bar, looking at the images.

  ‘So, where are these instructions you speak of?’ said Brandon.

  ‘In some of these pictures,’ said India and pulled out a clear picture of several naked men kneeling at the foot of an Egyptian priest. ‘This one,’ said India, ‘shows the status of Omari as a high priest of Cheops. In the distance you can just make out the outline of the pyramid. The slaves indicate he was a man of real power and the fact that the pyramid is in the background confirms he is of the right era.’ She pulled out another print. ‘In this one, we see the same priest overseeing a gang of workers painting the walls inside the tomb itself. Again, Omari is present as he is in most of the pictures but this time, he is facing away and seems to be on his knees, as if paying homage to a higher authority.’

  ‘Can you tell who?’

  ‘We can,’ said India and pointed at the image of a door at the edge of the picture. ‘If you look carefully, you can just see a cartouche above the door.’

  Brandon looked and saw a circular box engraved into the wall. It was apparent the box contained some hieroglyphics.

  ‘I assume that’s what you mean,’ he said, ‘but I can’t make out what’s engraved within it.’

  ‘Neither can I,’ said India, ‘but the thing is, only royalty had their names engraved in cartouches. Bearing in mind we know the actual date, that image has to belong to Cheops.’

  ‘Okay, with you so far.’

  ‘Well, the final picture shows Omari, prostrate before a figure with a human body and the head of a jackal.’

  ‘Anubis?’ ventured Brandon.

  ‘Correct,’ said India, ‘god of the underworld and protector of the dead. Anyway, put all this together and I think this frieze depicts Omari worshipping before the tomb of Cheops. The fact that there are still workers decorating the tomb would suggest that Cheops died suddenly and work had to carry on after he died.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well that means there had to be a way in for the workers and in this next picture, Omari tells us exactly where it is.’

  Brandon looked at the picture. It was a set of diagrams cut into the walls of the tomb. He looked toward India in confusion.

  ‘Don’t tell me you can read hieroglyphics as well?’

  ‘Of course not, but I know someone who does back in London and earlier on I sent him a copy. He sent the reply within half an hour, here’s the translation.’ She handed over a piece of paper and he read it aloud.

  ‘Let you, who defied the roar of Hor-Em-arkhet, fall to your knees and beg forgiveness for here lies Khnum-Khufu, born from the loins of Hetepheres, Mut-nesut of Sneferu. Shake in fear, defilers of gods for death falls in a thousand spears all who break the seal.’

  ‘Doesn’t look like directions to me,’ he said.

  ‘It’s not as such, it’s a curse upon anyone who tried to rob the tomb of the king. Anyway, the point is this, there is a very important message in the beginning of the very first line.’

  Brandon looked down and read out the sentence again.

  ‘Let you, who defied the roar of Hor-Em-arkhet…’

  ‘Exactly,’ said India, ‘Hor-Em-arkhet was the early name of the Sphinx and the roar is an expression used to describe the face of the statue.’

  ‘India,’ said Brandon, ‘I have seen the Sphinx and you can’t exactly call it a roar.’

  ‘Not now, you can’t,’ said India, ‘but thousands of years ago it was a different matter. You see, many believe the current face was carved by Khafra, Khufu’s son in honour of his father but the original is thought to have been the head of a desert lion. Someone defying the rage of Hor-Em-arkhet, suggests that they walked beneath the face of the Sphinx, which means right between its paws.’

  Brandon stared India.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ he said, ‘are you saying that you think there is a passage from the Sphinx, right up to the Pyramid?’

  ‘I am,’ said India, ‘and it’s not as daft as it sounds. For a long time historians have claimed there is a complex of tunnels and rooms beneath the sphinx but the Egyptian authorities consistently deny it. They do admit there are three small tunnels leading under the sphinx but claim all are dead ends.’

  ‘And you don’t believe them?’

  ‘Ordinarily I would except for the fact that there was a detailed excavation carried out beneath the Sphinx in the early thirties by a well-respected Egyptologist called Dr Salim Hassan. His notes reported a large complex of tunnels, rooms and passages linking the pyramids. He even published the work but with the onset of the Second World War, other things became a priority and his excavations were lost to us, and since then the passages have been blocked and his work discredited.’

  ‘So you think, there is a passage leading up from the Sphinx, right into the heart of Khufu’s pyramid where we will find the entrance to a long lost tomb?’

  ‘I know it sounds ridiculous, Brandon but isn’t it wort
h a look? At the very least we get to see under the Sphinx itself.’

  ‘And how do you intend to find this tunnel?’

  ‘Oh, that part is easy, the Egyptian authorities have just covered it up with a metal sheet and a cheap padlock. All we have to do is avoid security.’

  ‘That’s all?’ asked Brandon sarcastically.

  ‘For someone of your calibre, Brandon, this will be a walk in the park.’

  ----

  Chapter Nine

  Egypt

  2600 BC

  Khufu sat upon the elaborate chair at the end of the small reception room. On a stool beside him sat Haji and alongside the doors stood two armed soldiers, each holding a spear and dressed in the ornamental dress of the king’s personal bodyguard, jet black kilts and shoulder coverings with a black and white striped headdress in the same shape as the king’s own Nemes headdress.

  Khufu and Haji talked quietly before the doors opened and Omari entered, along with the four visitors.

  ‘Majesty, the delegation from Keftiu,’ he announced.

  ‘Thank you, Omari,’ said Khufu, ‘you may leave us and ask the guards to relocate on the other side of the doors, my safety is not at risk.’

  ‘Majesty, is that wise?’ asked Omari.

  Khufu didn’t even acknowledge the impertinent question but continued to talk to Haji.

  ‘Your will be done,’ said Omari eventually and left the room, closing the double doors behind him.

  When they were alone, Haji stood and addressed the visitors.

  ‘Mariners of Keftiu,’ he said, ‘welcome to the lands of Khemet, a place graced by the feet of gods. Welcome to the house of Khufu, himself a living god amongst the unworthy. Give thanks to him for receiving you and praise his name for evermore. I am Haji, favoured priest of the holy one and will be his mouth piece in our discussions.’