The Murder of King Tut

by James Patterson

  An unexpected and rather discouraging problem arose for Carter because of a decision made by Lord Carnarvon. Seeking to make as much money off Tut as possible, the earl signed an exclusive agreement with the Times of London that gave the newspaper the rights to publish all details of the discovery. This infuriated not only the Egyptian press but also newspapers and magazines from around the world that had been clamoring for a piece of the century’s greatest discovery.

  Perhaps worst of all, the Antiquities Service and the Egyptian government began trying to take control of the tomb. That would prove to be an ongoing struggle that would plague Carter for years.

  And then there was Lady Evelyn. As Lord Carnarvon became more and more suspicious about a relationship between Carter and his daughter, tensions between the men deepened. This, combined with Carter’s new fame, drove a wedge between the two longtime partners and friends.

  And yet, both men were present as politicians and bureaucrats from Egypt and Britain crowded around the tomb opening. “After lunch we met by appointment, Lacau, Engelbach, Lythgoe, Winlock, and two or three native officials, and we all went in a party to the tomb,” recalled the Egyptologist Mace.

  Carter led the group of notables inside. The statues in the antechamber had been pushed to the perimeter to safeguard them from haphazard elbows and hips.

  A platform had been built along the wall that divided the burial chamber from the rest of the tomb. It looked very much like a stage, and that day Howard Carter was the star.

  He climbed atop the platform, stripped off his jacket and shirt, and then placed a chisel blade against the wall.

  With a mighty blow of his hammer, Carter began knocking the wall down.

  Arthur Mace stood to one side, and as work progressed Carter handed him bits of rock that he had chiseled away. These were in turn handed to Callender, who passed them to a chain of Egyptian workers who collected them, then carried them out of the tomb.

  Slowly, the hole widened. After two hours, Carter was “dirty, disheveled and perspiring”-and playing his part perfectly.

  Carter squeezed inside and beckoned the others to follow. The alabaster jars, canopic shrine with figures of four guardian goddesses, and spangled shroud were clearly visible now.

  The effect on the visitors was profound: they threw their hands up and gasped, dazed by the vision before them. “Anyone coming in would have said we had been taking too much to drink,” noted Mace.

  Carter could only stand back and watch.

  By now he was exhausted, from both the physical labor of opening the hole and the mental exertion of his daily jousting with Carnarvon and the press. He was privately making plans to reseal the tomb and shut himself in his house for a week of quiet and solitude.

  When the momentous tour of Tut’s burial chamber was over, Carter and Carnarvon said their good-byes. Carter prepared to get down to the hard work of cataloging the tomb’s many contents, a job that could take him years but one he couldn’t wait to start. He believed it would be the pinnacle of his life’s work

  Carter and Carnarvon resolved most of their differences before the earl left on February 23. But just six weeks later, Lord Carnarvon was dead. The cause seems to have been septicemia, which arose after he nicked a mosquito bite with his straight razor.

  Carter was left to deal with Egyptian politics and bureaucracy on his own. He couldn’t do it. Less than a year later, he was evicted from Tut’s tomb and from the valley.

  One last time, his temperament and stubbornness had done him in.

  Chapter 95

  Cairo

  1931

  THE WEDDING RING was made of glass and glazed in blue, and it was still very beautiful. Inside the band were inscribed the names Aye and Ankhesenpaaten.

  Ironically, it was Percy Newberry, now sixty-two and a veteran of forty years in Egypt, who turned it over in his hand. He was in Cairo, at the legendary souvenir shop of Englishman Robert Blanchard.

  Rather than garish knockoffs of Egyptian tomb relics, Blanchard sold the real thing-purchased from tomb robbers of course.

  European tourists were the favored clientele, but Egyptologists sometimes stopped by to see if some new curio had made its way onto the market-a sure sign that tombs were being raided somewhere. Percy already had an extensive collection of amulets and was pecking through the display racks in hopes of adding a new treasure.

  He had accidentally stumbled upon the ring, but he immediately understood its significance.

  He reread the elaborate inscription to make sure he had the names right before allowing himself a satisfied smile. The ring he held in the palm of his hand solved a mystery that had bothered Howard Carter since Tut’s tomb had been opened. Namely, what had happened to Tut’s beautiful young queen?

  There had been no mention of Ankhesenpaaten or any other wife on the walls of Tut’s tomb. And Aye’s tomb, which had originally been intended for Tut, had a painting of his first wife but lacked any indication that he’d taken another.

  “Where did you find this one?” asked Percy, trying not to sound excited, lest Blanchard jack up the price to a more exorbitant sum.

  “Eastern delta,” Blanchard replied with a disinterested shrug.

  Percy was careful not to show his surprise.

  How had the ring made the journey all the way from Thebes, down past Cairo, to the mouth of the Nile? That was odd. Then again, it had been three thousand years. Anything could happen in that time, couldn’t it?

  Percy went to pay for the ring but discovered that he had forgotten his wallet. He pulled out his pocket notebook and carefully copied the inscription.

  Then he placed the ring in the display case and raced to his hotel, intending to hurry back to complete his purchase.

  First, he dashed off a quick note to his old friend, who was now back in England.

  “My Dear Carter,” the letter began, “I have just seen a finger ring at Blanchard’s which bears the cartouche of Ankhesenpaaten alongside the prenomen of King Aye. This can only mean that King Aye had married Ankhesenpaaten, the widow of Tutankhamen.”

  Percy mailed the letter, then hurried back to Blanchard’s to buy the ring.

  He was too late.

  It had just been sold.

  Chapter 96

  Valley of the Kings

  1319 BC

  GENERAL HOREMHEB MOURNED his friend and ally, Aye. The two had known each other since they were young men. As Aye was sealed inside the tomb once reserved for Tut, a wave of sadness filled Horemheb’s heart. The scar on his face turned a bright crimson.

  How odd, thought Horemheb, that I can stab a man through the heart and still mourn him.

  He scanned the august crowd gathered around Aye’s tomb, making eye contact with a few old friends in the process. The tomb was located in a rather obscure spot, far removed from the Valley of the Kings.

  Horemheb could understand why Aye would want to be buried there-the location was concealed and remote, which might prevent tomb robbers from finding it. But he also cursed his compatriot for selecting a spot so far from Thebes. The sun was going down, and it was a two-hour journey back to the city in the dark.

  Finally, though, he smiled. These were good problems to have. For at the end of the ride, he would not return to his old home or to an army barracks. He would ride triumphantly into the palace.

  General Horemheb was now pharaoh.

  As the servants collected the plates and wine urns from the final meal, Horemheb picked his way down a rocky trail toward the temporary stable. A long procession of mourners trailed behind him. He could hear the accents of Memphis and Amarna in some of the voices. The high priests led the way.

  Despite the death of Aye, the mood today was festive. Perhaps that was on account of the wine or maybe it was because Aye was far from beloved.

  Still, Horemheb hoped it would be like this when he died, with celebrants coming from all over Egypt. He loved a good party.

  The sun was directly in Horemheb’s eyes
, but in a moment it would dip behind the rocky plateau ringing the valley. He shielded his face with his hand.

  In the distance he could hear the whinny of horses and knew that his groom was hitching his chargers to the chariot. Horemheb was in a mood to bring the reins down hard on their flanks and race all the way back to Thebes at top speed.

  What sort of pharaoh will you be? he asked himself.

  Magnificent. Like Amenhotep III.

  Yes. I will be magnificent. Let them attach it to my name.

  Horemheb instantly knew what he must do next: wipe the slate clean.

  Then and there, the fierce general resolved to level Amarna, the city that had been erected by Akhenaten.

  The entire city.

  All of it.

  Gone.

  And wherever the names of Tut and Aye were carved on the temple walls, they would be chiseled off. His name alone would remain.

  His soldiers would search throughout the land. The job might take years, but the names of Horemheb’s predecessors would be obliterated. Pharaohs like Tut would molder in their tombs, edicts undone and commandments overruled. It would be as if Tut and that pretty young wife of his had never existed.

  Horemheb was deep in thought as he took hold of the reins to his chariot. Now that he was pharaoh, a procession of bodyguards traveled with him, but he did not acknowledge them. Instead, as he raced down the dusty road back to Thebes, all Horemheb thought of was his plan to erase history.

  For more than three thousand years, it had actually worked.

  Chapter 97

  Palm Beach, Florida

  Present Day

  I SAT IN MY OFFICE looking out at the view of Lake Worth and the large homes across the water, but my mind was lost in the desert. When I am writing a draft of a book, I occasionally scribble the words Be There at the top of a page. This reminds me to make each chapter come alive for the reader, to place myself in the scene. I knew this story was vivid-in my imagination at least. And nothing could be more stunning than what happened to poor Tut in 1925, more than two full years after his tomb was discovered. I could hardly believe it myself.

  The investigation would have been impossible without Howard Carter, of course. It had taken him years just to extract Tut’s remains from the burial chamber. The process began the moment the plaster wall separating the anteroom from the burial chamber was knocked down. Reporters clustered outside the tomb and breathlessly awaited news. Doubters in the Egyptology community still believed that Carter had found nothing more than an elaborate closet. And still there was no sign of Tut’s mummy.

  Poor Carter! And it only got worse for him.

  Once his workers had pried the wood apart at the joints and hauled away the protective panels, he was surprised to be looking at another, smaller shrine.

  This too had to be disassembled, piece by piece.

  But inside was another shrine. And then another.

  In all, there were four shrines, one within the other, like Russian nesting dolls.

  Finally, however, Carter reached the sarcophagus. He saw that the lid was made of pink granite and cracked across the center, as if someone had struck it with a hammer or stone club. But who would do such a thing? And for what reason?

  At least Carter was fairly certain he had found Tut. The two outer coffins were opened. Politics intruded. Carnarvon died mysteriously. And the Egyptians expelled Carter for a year.

  He returned in October 1925 to open the final golden coffin. The mummy was coated with black unguent. When Tut was seen for the first time in modern history, he was covered in black resin and so was still cloaked in mystery.

  What happened next was as shocking as anything else in the story.

  Dr. Douglas Derry of Cairo University was brought in to examine the body. As a professor of anatomy, he was seen as a more suitable choice for this task than Carter. That was debatable. With Tut stuck inside the tomb, Derry got extreme, to say the least. First he tried to chisel Tut out. Then he used hot knives to melt the resin. And then Derry did the unthinkable: he took a saw and cut Tut’s body in half.

  Chapter 98

  Tut’s Palace

  1324 BC

  THE SOLDIER, SEFU, silently tiptoed into Tut’s bedroom. He had stood behind a statue as the queen left her ailing husband, right on schedule. He knew that he had only a few minutes to do the deed and escape the palace and then Thebes.

  The young pharaoh looked so innocent and helpless as he lay in his bed, like a child. A sliver of remorse flitted through the soldier’s mind but was quickly replaced with grim resolve and the knowledge that what he was about to do was for the good of Egypt. The general had promised him money and a promotion in rank. The royal vizier had sweetened the deal with a land grant and some cattle.

  So the cold-blooded assassin walked to the edge of the pharaoh’s bed. He planted his feet wide. Now balanced and stable, he grasped the club with two hands and brought it up high over his head. Though he wasn’t tall, he was broad shouldered.

  Could it really be this easy to murder a pharaoh? He kept waiting for a guard to spring from hiding or for Tut to rise up and catch him in the act, to forbid his own murder.

  The soldier felt the smooth ebony in his hands, and the heft of the stone seemed right for what he was about to do-not so light that it would bounce off the king’s head, and not so heavy that it would throw him off balance as he swung.

  He was startled as the pharaoh spoke softly in his sleep. “Mother,” Tut said.

  The soldier put down the club. It wouldn’t be right to kill the pharaoh like this. Instead, he placed his strong hands firmly on either side of Tut’s windpipe and applied great pressure.

  Tut’s eyes opened wide. He tried to fight back but was too weak. And then he was dead.

  The soldier picked up his club and left the room as quickly and quietly as he’d entered. Later that night, the soldier himself was hacked to death.

  Chapter 99

  Palm Beach, Florida

  Present Day

  THE PAINTINGS INSIDE THE TOMB were what told the true story and helped to solve the murder mystery.

  On the walls of Tut’s tomb are images of Aye peering down at anyone inside the burial chamber. He is shown performing the Opening of the Mouth ceremony and wearing a king’s crown. This was the job of the new pharaoh. So not only did Aye perform the task, but he was pharaoh soon enough after Tut’s death to commission an artisan to paint his own likeness on the wall of Tut’s tomb.

  Ironically, these two men, mortal enemies in life, were now linked for eternity inside this dank chamber. Tut would never be able to escape his tormentor.

  My research showed similar paintings on the walls of Aye’s tomb. As with Tut’s burial chamber, there was an ocher and yellow painting of twelve guardian baboons, representing the twelve hours of the night. There was a painting of Aye hunting in the marshes. Upon Tut’s death, Aye was in charge of the wall paintings for the young pharaoh’s tomb and, of course, his own.

  More important, Aye didn’t have Ankhesenpaaten depicted on the walls of Tut’s tomb. Ankhesenpaaten was Tut’s favorite and only wife. But Aye wanted her all to himself so he could claim the royal throne. His plan was clearly to make Ankhesenpaaten his queen, almost as if Tut had never existed.

  So who was responsible for the murder? Who conspired to kill Tut? And why?

  They all killed him. Remember, the queen actually ruled as pharaoh immediately after Tut’s murder. She clearly wanted power-witness her attempt to marry the Hittite prince. That was treason of the most desperate sort. And for what reason? The power to rule Egypt.

  All three of them-Ankhesenpaaten, Aye, and Horemheb-succeeded Tut to the throne. Aye double-crossed Ankhesenpaaten by killing the Hittite prince. He was getting on in years, after all, and knew he wouldn’t have another shot at the throne. First he murdered the Hittite prince, and then he killed Ankhesenpaaten. The queen had agreed to Tut’s murder. No doubt worried that he might die anyway, she believed she could m
arry her Hittite prince, produce an heir, and continue to sit on the throne.

  Ankhesenpaaten had no idea she would be double-crossed by Aye and then murdered.

  Nor did Aye know he would be killed by his ally, General Horemheb, who would then succeed him as pharaoh.

  Tut was killed by a conspiracy of the three people closest to him in life-Ankhesenpaaten, Aye, and Horemheb. Hundreds of thousands have visited the Tut exhibits, many millions believe they know the story, but few understand the sad tragedy of the Boy King.

  Case closed.

  Today, Tut’s mummy resides in a plain wooden tray that Carter had built for him. Investigators over the years have discovered that he had a broken right ankle that seems to have been in a cast; he had suffered a fracture of the right leg that was severe and possibly infected; he even suffered from an impacted wisdom tooth.

  But Tut was murdered.

  Tut, as he can be seen today, still inside the tomb where he has lain for thousands of years.

  Chapter 100

  London

  March 2, 1939

  HOWARD CARTER DIED ALONE, attended by only a niece who stood to inherit the treasures he had found while toiling more than thirty seasons in the Valley of the Kings.

  Four days passed between his death and the burial, long enough for the Times to eulogize him as “the great Egyptologist… who gained fame for his part in one of the most successful and exciting episodes in the annals of archaeology.”

  Now, finally, as sleet threatened South London, Carter was being laid to rest.