The Golden Falcon

by David C. Clark

  I bathed, changed into fresh linen and re-joined Neferure for breakfast. Around us, the preparations for the service began . Whilst the majority of mourners would come on foot,the higher born came to the Ramesseum by chariot and we heard the clatter of horse hooves on the temple’s front pavement, the chanting of priests and the threnody of musicians. It was a still morning and the air heavy with the fragrance of burning frankincense and myrrh.

  “In answer to your question about a body, it is assumed that your father’s tomb will be robbed and those who break in, will steal whatever they can carry out of the tomb. The sarcophagus will be smashed open, coffins stripped of their gold and windings torn open to get to the amulets and heart scarab. If the robbers do not find a well adorned corpse, they may believe they have been cheated of their prize. Better the body of a tannery worker is despoiled than that of a king.”

  “A gruesome business when spoken about so coldly.”

  “Yes, this grim matter caused me to enlarge my tomb after I married you. This is a subject we must discuss with my son and Pashedu, now Ramesses has granted us part of his own treasures. As you know, it is planned to have Ipi’s remains transferred to my tomb after my death. I was not to know when I commissioned it, I would meet a wilful princess who would bewitch me with her charms and fill my life with so much pleasure.”

  “I was never wilful. Charming and bewitching possibly but wilful, never.” She kissed the tip of my nose.

  “I will let Osiris be the judge of that, my little gazelle. Our tomb is remote from the city and the royal valleys. Like Prince Khaemwaset, I spent many years walking the Theban Hills, looking for a secluded yet beautiful position and I found such a place in a valley on the far side of the hills facing the western horizon across the desert waste.” I spoke quietly “I will die soon now that my service to Ramesses is almost complete. Of this I am sure.” Neferure reached for my hands as I spoke of my death, her eyes brimming with tears.

  “Hush, my dear, do not speak so easily of your passing for it hurts me so.”

  “The golden falcon will call me to his side and I am now an ancient ruin myself.” trying to make light of the matter. “Our tomb was extended to accommodate both you and Ipi in separate chambers and fortunately there is ample provision for storage as I did not wish to hear two wives complaining about a lack of furniture or jewellery in the Second Life. One lifetime is enough.”

  She playfully bit my hand. “Have I ever complained? My jewellery chest is heavy, my wardrobe is filled with fine clothing and our house is well furnished.”

  “When you looked at me with those beautiful eyes and dropped hints as clear as the sky in mid-summer, I needed no further prompting. I seem to remember a diadem you saw in Abydos some years ago that cost more than a king’s ransom, more than I thought I could afford at the time. You fluttered your eyelashes, a pout appeared on your tender lips and your hand slipped suggestively to my thigh. The merchant thanked me profusely as we left his emporium with a small chest clutched to your bosom.” She laughed, the mischief in her laugh still warming my heart.

  “Be serious, woman. Your Master speaks. After your death, both your coffin and Ipi’s will be taken to the distant valley with some small trifles of jewellery and perhaps a few tattered robes. Once you are both entombed, my son or grandson, whomever supervises the burial,will strike another of my famous clay pots and,if my calculations were correct, the tomb will be buried under thousands of tonnes of stone coming down from the overhanging cliffs. None will ever be able to find our tomb and touch our bodies. Now, you should prepare for the events of this day as I need to rest awhile. Tomorrow, my son and I need to do some work and this wreck of a man needs his sleep. Getting up early in the morning is still a problem.”

  “Perhaps my hands will help your rising?” she said with a very suggestive look on her face. We had not slept together as man and wife for many years but the memories were delicious. “Be about you business, woman.” Again she kissed me, her tongue flickered wickedly for a moment and she left me to my slumber.

  Two days after the entombment I awoke early, dressed and tenderly kissed Neferure on the forehead as she lay asleep upon our bed. Then I, Rekhmire, his son, and the Guards officers made our way to the valley and the tomb of Ramesses. The great cedar wood doors were closed and sealed with the insignia of the high priest. Silence had again settled on the Great Place, now the ceremonies had finished.

  We climbed the hill above the entrance, took our measurements and the officers dug into the overburden. It took but minutes to uncover the wooden trapdoor, remove it and lower our tools. Torches lit, we climb down into the tomb. Taking a torch, I went to the well shaft, looked up and saw the wooden planks had not been dislodged. A man was sent up to remove these and then sweep the well shaft floor. Pashedu inspected the limestone false wall. “You are sure we can move the block without causing damage to the inscribed face?”

  “Not when it was the size and weight I originally planned. You learn many tricks about our art as you grow older, my son. When it was first parted from the virgin rock, I calculated its weight to be about twenty four tonnes, which is an easy weight to manage when space is not a limiting factor. However, some time later I watched masons carving a granite sarcophagus in Aswan. They take a rectangular block and hollow it out and, as we only need one observed face, I asked Nebamun to have this block hollowed out so it now looks like a giant sarcophagus trough. The weight was reduced by two thirds but it increased the risk of damage whilst it is positioned.”

  “Look at this.” I took him into the well shaft. “Look at the corners of the three solid walls. You will observe they have been chiselled with each face bevelled on all four edges and some of the edges are chipped as though the masons were careless in their work. As I cannot control the possibility of the plugging block’s edges getting chipped as it is driven into place, I thought to make every face in the well look the same. See, around the bottom of the shaft there is a black painted border matching the same border on the false wall. In the darkness, any who climb down here will only see an area of blackness as even the floor is painted black. I am not so happy about the frieze painted around the top of the shaft but it is an innocuous scene of reeds and the river. I would have preferred another black border but on this I was overruled by the temple priest vested with the final authority on tomb decorations.”

  “All of this is good. But how do you ensure the block will go straight into the aperture. You cannot hammer the block as it may fracture.”

  “With levers, a great degree of patience and the guidance of Thoth. Ask your father to bring the men and the ironwood levers and we will begin. Possibly your grandfather may teach you a little more today.”

  The rectangular block already stood proud of the backing wall. I instructed my men to form into two groups and place their levers midway against the back wall and the rear edge of the block on both sides. On my instruction, they pulled backwards and the block slid forward. “Again” and it slid forward again, moving closer to the aperture as it was levered across the floor. A third application of muscle moved it further still. We stopped and made some very careful observations of the alignment of the block and the opening. Some careful but forceful pushing from the sides ensured aperture and block were lined up perfectly. There is a mechanical principle applicable to the use of levers and the principle applied to this task. The further away from the point of leverage you are, the longer must be the levers to apply effective force and we had moved the block far away from the backing wall. Obviously, in the confined space of the corridor, we could not use longer levers. Anticipating this,I had previously arranged to have blocks of squared granite, each cut to a specific size, deposited in the corridor.

  “As we cannot use longer levers, the point of leverage needs to be shortened between the wall and the object being moved.” I said to my grandson. “Bring those blocks over here and placed them four deep and six high against the backing wall as this will, in effect, bring the wall forwa
rd.”

  “Very clever, grandfather, you have the makings of a great architect.”

  We worked for most of the day, taking periodic breaks up in the fresh air as the tomb became hot and close from our exertions. The first oxen drawn sleds bearing sand had arrived and more could be seen entering the valley. Our last effort saw the block levered into the aperture, up to to a red ochre line drawn down its outer sides.

  “It is home now - its engraved face forms the fourth wall of the shaft. Now, move these granite blocks forward to provide a buttress from the back wall right up to the edges of the block. They will stop anyone trying to push it inwards from the well shaft.”

  On close inspection, the joint between the solid walls and the block was almost invisible. I said to Pashedu, “The facing blocks on the great pyramid were placed with no more than one quarter of a millimetre gap. With good masons, patience and the right tools it is possible to achieve what has been done here today.”

  We watched the placement of the buttressing blocks. The Guardsmen then hoisted their equipment up the tunnel and ascend the ladder to the surface. I shook my grandson’s hand and then addressed Rekhmire,

  “There is nothing more to do within the tomb. Leave me a while, my son, as I wish to stay here a moment or two. You have done good work here today and I am proud of you. I have always been proud of you. You are a fine man and a good father.” He looked at me apprehensively, squeezed my arm and climbed up the ladder.

  How blue the sky is today, I thought, looking up the shaft towards the light. I walked along the corridor to the vault with its black monolith, feeling a deep lethargy overwhelming me. I sat on the stepped buttressing and memories came flooding to my mind. The young pharaoh, vibrant and fresh from his coronation in Thebes, the first lion hunt with the king, our planning of great monuments and temples, the years of happiness with Ipi, her face fleeting across my vision, young children playing in our house, of Nebamun, Imhotep and the hauling of the great colossi,Ramesses discussing Qadesh, Khaemwaset and I inspecting the pyramids, the sweetness of my first meeting with Neferure in Memphis, the king and I fishing together in the Delta and the golden falcon looking at me on the palace terrace.

  How cool the basalt was on my back and how brilliant the flaming of the torch….

  Waiting on the top of the hill Rekhmire, Pashedu and the officers felt the ground tremble beneath them, heard a thunderous beating of wings coming from deep underground and looked down. A falcon of shimmering gold and an ibis of gleaming electrum, flew from the mouth of the tomb, wings beating faster, taking them up high over the escarpment where they slowly circled the Great Place and wheeled westward towards the horizon and their home.

  Chapter 34 – THE FINAL DISCOVERY

  Egypt – Present day

  We had worked in the Valley for almost two years and the projects were unfolding pretty much to plan. After Tamaam attained her degree, she had joined our team and was fully engaged in the design and installation of tomb canopies. Her brother worked in the Council’s civil engineering division, where planning for the extension of our collaboration was well advanced. There was at least another year’s work in Queen Hatshepsut’s awkward tomb, though the results so far vindicated our thoughts about those looking for extreme adventure. The Ministry of Tourism was already touting it as the next amazing attraction for people seeking an adrenalin rush and the initial response from travel writers was gratifying.

  The reconstruction of Siptah’s tomb produced better results than expected due to the convincing realism of the textured new surfaces. Richard’s masons became so proficient at re-creating the original appearance of hand chiselled limestone, it was difficult to distinguish old from new and the stone merchant had even found a way of incorporating wall tiles, made from fractured limestone, into the walls and ceilings.

  My domestic life was bliss personified. Tamaam found us a comfortable house just outside Luxor and we maintained a modest apartment in Cairo near her parent’s home in an arrangement that suited us admirably. Out of both desire and necessity, my proficiency in spoken Arabic improved immeasurably. About six months into our marriage, we had our first fight over some trivial matter, now long forgotten. Our voices grew louder and the tenor of the argument became heated until my fiery little wife burst into voluble Arabic as her command of English finally let her down. She stood in the middle of the lounge room, hands on hips, dark eyes flashing as words flowed from her lips. I burst into what she deemed totally inappropriate laughter and was rewarded by having a pillow thrown in my face. I grabbed her and we tumbled onto the couch where she yielded under my determined attack on her virtue. Later, when we had recovered from an excess of passion, I asked her what she had said.

  Her reply was tart. “Dennis, it is time you learnt to speak the language of your adopted country. Your hundred words may be workable out in the field with the labourers but they are not enough when you are married to a native. I will not tell you what I said just before you ravished me, but I will buy some DVD’s today and we will devote one hour every day to the furtherance of your education. Then perhaps when I tell you, in Arabic, you are a stupid man and do not appreciate me enough, you may understand what a treasure you have found.” This last part was said with a naughty look. Arabic lessons commenced the next afternoon.

  Our social diary was full. Apart from the visits to her parents, we usually arranged a Friday dinner party and these became the highlight of our visits to Cairo. The guests were an eclectic mix of young students, a leavening of staff from the CEA and whoever was visiting Egypt in the field of archaeology and civil engineering. I found it stimulating to live simultaneously in the worlds of both ancient and modern Egypt. Living in Luxor was a sharp contract to the Cairene lifestyle, much slower and, in the areas away from the tourist hot spots, very pleasant. Tamaam and I were fortunate. No matter how demanding our work was, the burden was offset by the camaraderie of colleagues working in the Valley and other archaeological sites.

  The possibilities of new discoveries added an extra dimension to our work. In 1995, Dr. Kent Weeks had re-discovered KV5, the extraordinary tomb of the sons of Ramesses II. Then, a team led by Dr. Otto Schaden discovered a new tomb in 2005. Now designated KV63, it was found only fifteen metres from the southern edge of Tutankhamen’s tomb. The tomb, a simple affair excavated during the Eighteenth Dynasty, held a horde of large pottery jars, many still sealed, a number of black resin coated coffins, a very rare find of fine fabric pillows and one small but unique gold foiled wooden coffin.

  One evening over dinner, we and our guests, Jean-Claude, Abdullah Dief and Yousef al-Badawi, considered the likelihood of new finds. Jean-Claude ventured “It is possible there are many more royal tombs still hidden in the Valley or nearby, as the tombs of three Eighteenth Dynasty rulers, Ahmose, Amenhotep I and Tuthmosis II and the Twentieth Dynasty king, Ramesses VIII, have yet to be discovered or positively identified.”

  I asked. “What about the two almost mythical Eighteenth Dynasty rulers, Smenkare and Neferneferuaten and the remote possibility of Akhenaten’s remains being interred in the Valley?”

  Abdullah said “Dennis, we could get into a very long and involved debate about Akhenaten,Smenkare and Neferneferuaten but that would spoil our dinner. Let’s just say the possibility of their tombs being discovered is a very long shot. To cloud the issues, there are at least three tombs that could have an association with Akhenaten, KV25 and KV55 in the Western Valley and TA26 in the royal wadi at Amarna and there are real problems with the actual existence of Smenkare and Neferneferuaten.”

  Yousef contributed to the discussion.”The discovery of the tomb of Ramesses VIII is a more likely prospect. As Prince Shethherkhepshef, he started KV19, which you have seen, is little better than a beautifully decorated corridor, but then he gave it as a gift to his son, Prince Mentuherkhepshef. He attained the throne, reigned for about a year as Ramesses VIII and then died. A period of one year would not have allowed his builder to get the quarrying tools out of
the cupboard though the Egyptians did not discard a royal body due to a short reign.”

  Jean-Claude said “There may be better luck in finding the tomb of Ahmose and clarifying the burial places of Amenhotep I and Tuthmosis II. Ahmose’s mummy was amongst those in the Deir el-Bahri cache and it is thought he may have been buried at Dra Abu el-Naga, that hilly outcrop in the Theban necropolis I took you to last year, Dennis. His son and successor, Amenhotep I, whose mummy was in the same cache, could be the owner of KV39 or AB-N, a tomb explored by Carter. Then, there are several candidates for the tomb of Tuthmosis II. Remotely possible, a fairly primitive grave with a well shaft, DB358, was uncovered at Deir el-Bahri in 1929 and a slender case has been made for KV42, even though this tomb contained the mummy of Queen Meryetamun, the wife of Amenhotep II. I think it highly unlikely Tuthmosis II was buried there. His father was buried in the Valley and there is every reason to believe his tomb is in an area not as yet fully explored by our fellow archaeologists.”

  “So, there are possibilities of new discoveries though there doesn’t seem to be any active exploration going on in the Valley. Why is this?” I asked.

  Abdullah replied. “Money. Digs are expensive, especially in the light of so much previous excavation. A team can spent a small fortune removing previously dumped overburden and achieve nothing. Most recent missions have been financed by universities and the bean counters who manage institutes of learning today like to see results. If we had more men with your father’s fundraising ability, we could do so much more but one must have patience in this field. There are good men and women working in the Valley as you know but their hands are tied. Inshallah, the future will be brighter. Until then we concentrate on working with what we have.”

  Shortly after this dinner, I was invited to fly up to Cairo for a meeting attended by representatives from the President’s office, the Ministry of Tourism, the Council and the star attraction,my father. Sir Reginald regularly flew down to Egypt for joint CEA-BEAS meetings, followed by field trips to venues dear to his heart. My mother usually accompanied him but, as she suffered from claustrophobia, she had to rely on her husband for descriptions of the work deep within the tombs. They were both delighted that I had married so successfully and mother wanted to know when she would have a little pharaoh to cosset.