Pharaoh

by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

  He realized that he couldn’t be west of Luxor. Perhaps he was about to fall asleep in some hidden corner of the desert of Wadi Hammamat, where the fabled gold mines of the Pharaohs were said to lie.

  He stared languidly at the celestial image of Ra, its belt of shining stars, until his eyes closed.

  SARAH FORRESTALL had gone to Blake’s trailer right after he’d walked off and knocked on the door. ‘Blake, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. Blake?’ She got no answer and so returned to the campfire he had lit for her to enjoy the last warmth of the flames. Professor Blake was totally different from what she’d expected. A very special breed of loser, the kind who waits patiently at the river’s edge until the corpse of his enemy floats by. His kind always come back, sooner or later, and when they do, they leave no survivors.

  BLAKE REACHED the parking lot slightly before seven and saw that Sarah Forrestall was already there, warming up the Jeep’s engine.

  ‘You could have opened the door last night,’ she said. ‘You could have let me explain—’

  You explained yourself very well. Anyway, I wasn’t in. I slept in the river bed.’

  ‘In the wadi? You’re crazy! Snakes and scorpions are attracted by body heat. You might have been bitten.’

  ‘I’m OK.’

  ‘Have you had breakfast at least?’

  A glass of water. It helps me get over the jet lag.’

  Sarah started up the Jeep and they drove south along a barely visible track that sometimes disappeared completely into the river bed.

  ‘You really should eat something. Look in my bag. There’s plenty there: sandwiches, fruit. I’ve taken them for lunch but there’s more than enough.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Blake, but he did not move. He gut was filled with anger and anxiety. There was no room for anything else.

  ’Hold on,’ said Sarah, ‘this is where we leave the wadi.’ She downshifted and accelerated. The Jeep climbed up the steep wadi wall, hurling a hail of pebbles backwards from under its wheels until it finally settled into a horizontal position.

  They faced a vast, flat black expanse scorched by the sun.

  ‘Is it that way?’ asked Blake.

  ‘Yeah, about an hour’s drive from here. Apart from the heat, the worst is over.’

  Blake had pulled out the graph paper and a compass and continuously checked the mileage counter, sketching out a rough itinerary and adding natural elements as they came.

  ‘You don’t give up, do you?’ asked Sarah.

  ‘No. And I don’t understand why no one will tell me where we are. I’m sure you know, right?’

  ‘No. They brought me here more or less like they did you and I’m keeping my nose out of things. Maddox doesn’t kid around and I have to watch my own butt.’

  ‘I’ll figure it out anyway,’ said Blake. ‘I know this country like the back of my hand. Give me three, four days at most and I’ll surprise you.’ But inside he wasn’t so sure. He’d left in such a damned hurry. If only he’d thought to bring the LORAN. In two seconds the satellite navigator would have given him their exact topographical position.

  The track had taken them close to the mountain ridge that bordered the plain on the east and Blake suddenly noticed something on the rocks. ‘Could you stop, please?’

  ‘Sure, no problem,’ Sarah replied, braking. ‘What is it that you see?’

  ‘Rock carvings. Look! Over there on that wall.’

  ‘Oh, there are tons of them around here. I’ve even sketched some of them. I have a whole album full back at the camp, if you’re interested.’

  ‘I’d like to see them,’ said Blake. ‘But just let me take a look at these,’ he said, moving towards the rock.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ said the girl. ‘There’s an entire Egyptian tomb waiting for you and you stop to look at these scribbles on the rocks?’

  ‘These scribbles were put here to leave a message for whoever passed this way and I’d like to understand it. Any evidence on the territory is precious.’

  The terrain near the rock wall was surrounded by boulders, some of which were ringed by smaller stones, as if someone had wanted to attract attention to them.

  Blake walked to the wall and examined the incisions. They had been formed using a sharp stone as a percussion tool and represented a scene of ibex hunting. The hunters wielded bows and arrows and were circling the animal, which was drawn with its long horns curved backwards. He took a few photographs and marked the position on his map. Then they got back into the Jeep.

  ‘Have you ever gone up the wadi towards the mountain?’ Blake asked.

  ‘A few times.’

  ‘And you didn’t notice anything strange?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say so. Stones, snakes, scorpions.’

  ‘The rocks show signs of high-temperature fires.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I noticed that the sand was vitrified in a couple of spots.’

  ‘You know, it could have been a phosphorous bomb. There have been a lot of wars out this way.’

  ‘No, I don’t think it was a bomb. The vitrified sand was on the bottom of a couple of pits dug artificially in the rock and there were carvings of the type we just saw on the inside of the wells.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘That someone was capable of lighting high-temperature fires more than three thousand years ago in the midst of all this desolation.’

  ‘Interesting. What for?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I’d like to find out.’

  The landscape had become even more barren and the warming air created the illusion of water in the distance.

  ‘This place must be a furnace in the summer,’ said Blake.

  ‘It is,’ said Sarah. ‘But in this season the weather can change quite suddenly. You’ll see a cloud passing and then boom! There’s an abrupt drop in temperature and a very violent storm breaks. The wadis fill up completely, because the soil can’t absorb all the rainfall, and that can lead to disastrous flooding. Nature here is decidedly . . . hostile.’

  Back on the road Blake watched as the landscape changed again and the Jeep jolted at every crag in the hard, white calcareous crust. Sarah slowed down and downshifted and then turned towards the hills on their left.

  Blake motioned for her to slow down again.

  ‘What is it now?’ complained Sarah, stepping on the brake.

  ‘Another rock carving. Look! Over there on the mountainside, on that slab of flint.’

  Blake got out of the Jeep and walked over to the carving. It represented a curved shepherd’s crook and a serpent.

  ‘Extraordinary!’ he exclaimed. ‘This reminds me of something . . . Let me get a photograph, please.’

  ‘We’re very close to the tomb now, you know. See that caved-in part of the rock?’ She pointed at a barren area a couple of hundred metres in front of them. ‘That’s where it is. We’re here.’

  Blake took a deep breath as he got back into the vehicle. He braced himself to feel the strongest emotion of his whole life.

  As soon as the Jeep stopped, he got out and examined the surrounding terrain. He noticed a small depression at the centre of a calcareous slab where pebbles and sand had been mounded. ‘It’s there, isn’t it?’

  Sarah nodded.

  Blake shook his head. ‘I don’t get it. All this secrecy and the site is left completely unguarded. I’d have been told otherwise.’

  ‘It may look that way,’ said Sarah, ‘but no one can get near this place unless Maddox wants them to.’ She looked him straight in the eyes. ‘And most of all, no one can get away. To reach the nearest settlement you have to cross a hundred miles of this desert, without a blade of grass or a drop of water.’

  Blake didn’t reply. He took off his jacket, got the shovel out of the Jeep and approached the small depression, removing the pebbles and sand. He soon hit an iron plate that must have been placed there to cover the opening.

  ‘Why did you choose this p
recise spot to drill?’ he asked.

  ‘Pure chance,’ answered Sarah. ‘We do sample boring and analyse the cores on the basis of either previous geological surveys or statistics. I can guarantee that this was nothing more than extraordinary luck.’

  The heavy iron plate had a ring at its centre. Blake hooked up the Jeep cable and signalled to Sarah to drag it off. A cylindrical aperture which had perforated the calcareous layer was uncovered. He could see the signs left by the drill on the sides of the hole, but the bottom was completely dark.

  ‘Have you gone down yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Sarah replied, getting the rope ladder and torch from the Jeep. The sun had risen high on the horizon, but it wasn’t unbearably hot because the air was so dry. Blake took a couple of long drinks from his canteen, then put on the harness. He took the ball of string, tied one end to his belt and left the ball sitting next to the driver’s seat in the Jeep.

  He hung the torch from one of the clips on his belt and then instructed Sarah: ‘Get into the Jeep and start it up. I’ll hook the winch cable onto my harness and you’ll lower me very slowly into the underground room. You hold this end of the string and stop the winch when you feel me pulling on it. When I yank it again, lower me some more. OK?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve got it. But why don’t you use the rope ladder?’ she asked.

  ‘Because by unrolling it in the dark I could bump into or break something that’s fragile or off balance. I have to see what’s down there first.’

  He hooked the end of the winch cable to the harness, and began his descent.

  He dropped down a couple of metres, and realized that he was suspended in the middle of the tomb. He tugged on the string. Sarah stopped the winch and he switched on the torch.

  A world which had lain sleeping for thirty centuries leapt to life before his eyes and in the intense silence of the tomb the beating of his heart seemed enormously amplified. Odours imprisoned for thousands of years filled his nostrils with strange, unknown scents. Violent, contrasting sensations crowded all together inside of him, arousing awe, anxiety, fear.

  The sun’s rays, filtered through the fine dust that had been stirred by opening the hatch and descending into the tomb, struck a panoply, with a copper and enamel helmet and bronze breastplate in the shape of unfurled falcon’s wings, set with precious stones, amber, quartz and lapis lazuli. A golden belt with a lapis lazuli buckle shaped like a scarab held a sword with an ebony hilt ornamented with silver studs. There were two lances and two bronze-tipped javelins and there was a huge bow, its quiver still full of arrows.

  Sarah pulled the handbrake and shouted down, ‘Blake! Blake! Everything all right?’

  All she heard in response was a muted voice murmuring, ‘Oh, my God . . .’

  Blake shone the torch over the rest of the tomb. At the northern end of the funeral chamber was a dismantled war chariot. The two four-spoked wheels rested on top of each other in a corner, while the cart was leaning against the wall, with its shaft nearly touching the ceiling. The remains of the reins hung from the shaft, while two bronze horse’s bits had fallen onto the ground on either side of the chariot.

  On the northern wall there were other extravagant objects: a bronze candelabrum, a painted wooden throne, a headrest, a four-branched candlestick, a chest which had probably held precious fabrics. He turned the torch towards the southern wall and a wave of disappointment hit him. The sarcophagus was nearly completely buried under a mass of rubble and stones, some of them quite large.

  He was so dazed and astonished that he had forgotten to have himself lowered to the floor. He gave a tug on the string and called to Sarah, ‘You can drop me to the bottom, Miss Forrestall. There’s nothing below me. You can come down too, if you like. Fasten the rope ladder on that end and send it down. I’ll catch it.’

  Sarah started up the winch and Blake soon hit the ground, softly, nearly at the centre of the tomb, on the heap of detritus which had fallen during the drilling. The girl soon lowered the ladder and descended into the tomb with Blake.

  ‘This is incredible,’ she said, looking around.

  Blake pointed the torch at the southern wall. ‘Look. Unfortunately, a cave-in has almost completely buried the sarcophagus. Must have been an earthquake. It’ll take days of work to get it free. Removing all that debris won’t be easy. What’s more, we’ll have to pile it up outside. The colour is so different from the surrounding soil that it will certainly attract attention, even from quite a distance.’

  They approached the walls and examined them carefully. They had been chiselled in a limestone which was not very hard and rather crumbly, but there were no traces of decoration, besides the beginnings of a hieroglyphic inscription on the left-hand side of the sarcophagus.

  Blake’s gaze shifted to the floor in front of the sarcophagus. ‘That’s strange,’ he said. ‘There are no canopic jars. Very, very strange. I’ve never seen that before.’

  ‘What are they?’ asked Sarah.

  ‘They were jars used to hold the internal organs of the dead person, after the embalmers had extracted them from the chest cavity. It’s as if the body of this person did not undergo the traditional embalming rites. And that’s very strange in itself, seeing as he’s obviously very high-ranking. Unless the jars are inside the sarcophagus.’

  They walked over to the front of the landslide and examined it carefully. That was strange, too. If an earthquake had caused the pile-up, why were all the other objects in perfect order? Why hadn’t the chariot wheels leaning up against the wall fallen over and why was the armour still perfectly arranged?

  He noticed a number of other anomalies: a haphazard air in the assortment of objects, which seemed to be from different time periods, a hurried look to the burial chamber, as if the walls had been adapted from a pre-existing natural cavity. The sarcophagus itself seemed to be carved into the rock. The stone-dressers had cut and removed the rock all around it until they had excavated a rectangular shape that was then hollowed out. But it was too early to say; all the debris would have to be removed before he could confirm his impressions.

  He tried to climb up the pile of rubble but it slid forward, filling the room with a dense cloud of dust.

  ‘Damn!’ he cursed.

  Sarah held out her hand to help him up. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he replied. ‘It’s nothing.’

  He waited until the dust had settled a little and approached the landslide again. The further sliding of the rocks had uncovered a dark corner on the right wall above the sarcophagus that hinted at a bigger opening. Beyond he thought he could perhaps make out the start of a corridor. He tried to climb up again, much more cautiously this time, and nearly made it to the opening.

  He couldn’t see anything, because the corridor curved almost immediately, but when he turned and used the torch to light up the rest of the wall, he noticed something at the foot of the heap, sticking out from the rest.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Sarah.

  ‘Could you shine the light on it, please?’ he asked her, and took the trowel from his pocket, scraping and cleaning all around the protruding mass. He uncovered a femur and then a skull, and in a few minutes’ time a tangled jumble of skeletons.

  ‘Who could they be?’ wondered Sarah.

  ‘I have no idea,’ replied Blake. ‘The bodies were burned and then covered with a few shovels full of earth.’

  He was baffled and upset. This admittedly superficial inspection had raised enormous problems of interpretation. Would he ever be able to crack the mystery of who this person, buried like a Pharaoh in the middle of nowhere, was?

  He took out his camera and photographed every visible detail of the tomb, then began to measure and sketch each piece, while Sarah did the surveying work and recorded the position of each object on the graph paper.

  He didn’t stop working until heat and fatigue overwhelmed him. Nearly three hours had passed without his noticing. He suddenly felt very weak and deadly tired; looking
at Sarah, he realized that she must be exhausted as well.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘We’ve done enough for today.’

  They climbed up the rope ladder and when they got to the surface Blake felt so light-headed he had to lean against the Jeep to keep from falling.

  Sarah reached out a hand. ‘Blake, you are so stubborn. You’ve been down in that hole for hours without anything in your stomach and a ten-hour flight behind you, not to mention all the rest. Divorces are tiring, from what I hear.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Blake. He went to sit in the shade of the Jeep and had something to eat. There was a slight, cooling breeze.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’

  Blake drank a half-bottle of water before answering because he felt so dehydrated, then began, ‘Miss Forrestall—’

  ‘Listen, Blake, it seems pretty silly to continue with all these formalities, seeing as we’re going to be working side by side for quite a while. If you’re not still angry with me for that stupid thing I said last night, I’d like you to call me Sarah.’

  ‘OK, Sarah, fine with me. But don’t treat me that way again. You’re a beautiful girl and you seem to be very intelligent as well, but I’d like you to know that I can do fine without a woman for a couple of weeks, without having to beg anyone for anything.’

  Sarah seemed to hesitate, but Blake smiled as if to play down what had happened and returned to the topic at hand. ‘I’d say the complex is extraordinarily interesting, much more so than I expected, but it’s going to be difficult to unravel all this evidence. There are enormous problems.’

  ‘There are?’

  ‘First of all, the fact that I don’t know where I am is creating practically insurmountable problems of interpretation.’

  ‘OK, besides that?’

  ‘The funeral objects are from different ages, the tomb is very different from any I’ve ever seen, and the burial seems to have been very hurried. People were killed inside before the tomb was sealed, and what’s more, the landslide that we saw was not caused by an earthquake, otherwise the armour would have fallen to the ground, along with the chariot wheels, which are just propped up against the wall.’