Masks of the Lost Kings (Suzy da Silva Series)

by Tom Bane

  “Don’t you think it was a little disrespectful for you and Piper to gang up on me at my lecture? You tried to destroy my research instead of just listening.”

  “We didn’t gang up on you. And, anyway, it was you who wasn’t listening,” Suzy said, uncomfortably aware of how childish she sounded now.

  “Come on! It was prearranged.” Brooking laughed, but not unkindly. “Admit it. Piper has it in for me and you were helping him!”

  “Is that what you think?” She looked up at him trying to see if he was serious. “You must have a very inflated sense of your own importance. And,” she added, as she turned her gaze back to the newspaper and flicked the pages, “if it had been up to me, I wouldn’t even have been there at your lecture. I only went because my friend fancied you …”

  Glancing up, she saw him grin.

  “Is that right? Or maybe it’s you who fancies me,” he teased.

  “Yeah, right,” she said, as the waiter set her breakfast down. “So, why did you fight dirty at the judo club?” He looked at her in mild surprise.

  “I didn’t fight dirty. I’m a brown belt in Aikido. I’ve practiced it since I was a kid. But I’ve never done judo before. I didn’t know the rules.”

  “Yeah, but you’d still know that bear hugs and grapevining are bad form, huh?” Suzy said, filling her mouth with dry bread and chewing.

  “No, honestly, I didn’t know those were against the rules. Look, I really am sorry about the fight. It’d just been a real bad day and to make it worse, there you were, attacking me and,” he blushed, “you know, if a man’s getting defeated by a woman in front of everyone, what do you expect him to do? It’s not like I meant to be rough, I’d just never seen techniques like that before.”

  Suzy kept chewing, saying nothing. Secretly, she was enjoying watching him squirm.

  “Sorry if I hurt you,” Tom ended.

  “OK.” She shrugged, feigning disinterest. “Look, Dr. Brooking, don’t hover over me. If you want to share my table while I eat, then all right, just please sit down.” She folded her paper and set it to one side. “I can’t recommend the bread rolls but the coffee’s good.”

  Tom laughed. “Sure, but only if you drop the ‘Doctor’ and call me Tom.” Suzy waved to a passing waiter.

  “So, why are you following me?” Her eyes fell to his bare arms below the short sleeves of his shirt, scanning for teeth marks. There weren’t any, which meant he was not last night’s attacker.

  “I’m not following you, I booked this trip three months ago. I hired a jeep and drove from Cairo to here. I’ve had a look round Luxor and now I’m ready to leave—next stop the Valley of the Kings and then back to Oxford. OK?”

  Suzy lay back in her chair, fiddling with her long hair.

  “So what are you researching? Wait, I know, don’t tell me,” she jested, “‘Why the Orion Correlation Theory can be disproved a second time because you failed the first time.’”

  “Well, actually, yes.” replied Tom. Suzy frowned, looked down at her coffee cup and then lifted her gaze back up to Tom.

  “Are you joking?”

  “Yes. Well, no, not exactly. I’m looking at the Orion Correlation Theory from a different angle. In fact, if you must know, it was you who made me reconsider. Your explanation of the hidden doorways allowing the souls of the pharaohs to ascend and be reborn as stars was a real eye-opener for me.”

  “That’s good, but it’s hardly a new theory, after all.”

  “True. But your theory of the exact alignment of the stars of Orion to the hidden doorways of the pyramid’s mortuary temples is.”

  “Well, I hope you’ll give me a citation in your next write-up,” Suzy said, eyes twinkling. “But has it helped you find anything different?”

  “Not yet, but I’m hoping I might tie up some loose ends with a visit to Tutankhamun’s tomb today.” Suzy looked at him, thoughtful.

  “How about you take me with you to the Valley of the Kings? You never know,” she winked, “I might be able to help you some more.” Maybe the professor had been right; she would feel a bit safer if she had someone with her. Tom hesitated.

  “Uh, sure, OK.” Tom said looking at his watch. “I’ve got some personal stuff to sort out first, but if you don’t mind waiting …” Suzy waved her hand.

  “Don’t worry if it’s a problem.”

  “No, really, it’s fine. It’s just my dad rang me yesterday and he seemed a bit worried about something. I want to make sure he’s OK, before I disappear off into the desert.”

  “Is he ill?”

  “No, no, … it’s just that the police came to see him yesterday. One of his old students is this Indiana Jones type—you know, running around the world discovering ancient tombs and such—and he’s apparently disappeared in the Mexican jungle near some old Mayan Pyramids. The police think he’s been kidnapped.”

  “Why does that concern your father?”

  “I don’t think it does, really. I imagine they were just following up every possible lead. But he’s getting on, he’s seventy-seven, and I think it freaked him out a bit. I just want to check and make sure he’s OK.”

  “So, your father is an archaeologist then?”

  “Yeah, he’s a professor of archaeology at Harvard.” Suzy gave a start. Harvard?

  “What’s his name?”

  “George Logan.”

  Suzy choked on the stale roll she was chewing, and took a gulp of her coffee. Professor Logan? Her secret confidante? The research helper she’d been consulting on the Internet was Tom’s father?

  “So, uh, how come your name is Brooking?”

  “I took my mother’s name when I went to university. Partly because I didn’t want everyone to compare me with the famous George Logan, and partly because he and I had a disagreement and I wanted to piss him off. A bit childish, really.”

  “Well, it sounds as if you’re getting on well enough with him now. I mean, he felt he could ring you when something was worrying him. That says something. Anyway, it’s not so weird to want to change your name. I use my mother’s name because I like the idea of sounding South American. Da Silva has kind of a romantic dash to it, don’t you think?” Her expression became more solemn. “So, what did you fall out about?” she asked.

  “Well, I never quite went in the direction he wanted. First, he tried to get me to take up Buddhism, but I think that was his own guilt at having dabbled and failed.” Suzy couldn’t quite imagine Tom in sandals, meditating.

  “But, really, well, you know I have pretty strong views,” he frowned. “You see, the thing about you archaeologists is that you sometimes take such an unscientific approach to things. It used to annoy me even more than it does now. I really believe that if you guys would team up with good scientists, you’d find out a lot more.”

  “I look at it the other way round. A scientist would not get very far without a great archaeologist’s intuition.” She flashed him a glance. “You know, Orion and the pyramids correlation theory and all that.” Tom flushed and Suzy felt a bit guilty for needling him. Having someone to talk to was making her feel a lot better and she was rethinking her plans. Maybe she didn’t need to turn herself into the police just yet. She swigged down her coffee. “So, do you think you’ll be ready to leave by lunchtime?”

  “You’re in a rush!” Tom looked at his watch. “Well, Boston is six hours behind us, but Dad’s usually an early riser so I could probably call around twelve our time. Want to meet out front at 12:30?”

  “OK,” Suzy said, standing up and dropping her napkin onto the table. “That would be great, thanks.” To her surprise she realized she actually meant it.

  “So, what really happened to you then?” Tom said, pointing to her throat.

  “I told you. I fell over.” He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t pursue it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “How’s your father?” Suzy had been waiting by Tom’s jeep, as arranged.

  “I don’t know. There was no answer. I kep
t trying. That’s why I’m late, sorry.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine. He must have gone out early.”

  “Maybe, but it’s not like him. He likes to putter around in the mornings. Anyway, it’s time for our tour. I guess I’ll catch him later. Climb aboard. Let’s go!”

  Suzy shielded her eyes against the clouds of dust as they bounced along for nearly an hour. She rested her head back, enjoying the heat-induced drowsiness and the sound of Tom’s voice as he rambled on about the Nabta Playa. She opened her eyes when the jeep stopped and looked around. They were at the Valley of the Kings, on the Western side of the Nile. Tom climbed over the jeep door and stretched out his limbs.

  “We’ll spend the day here,” he said, “Then drive to Amarna when the sun goes down, OK?”

  “OK,” Suzy said, eyeing the crowds of tourists. Despite Tom’s presence, she felt better keeping a low profile, and fastened her scarf round her head. “I don’t want to burn,” she said when she saw him watching her. They set off up the side of the cliff that stood between them and the Valley.

  “Tell me something about the Valley,” Tom said as they climbed. “I heard its name in Egyptian is ‘The Great Place.’”

  “Spot on. Its Egyptian name is Biban el-Muluk,” she said, “or ‘Gateway to the Kings.’It is composed of two dry river gullies, the eastern one is called ta set aat, or The Great Place, and is where most of the tombs of the royal family can be found. You see, the pharaohs of the New Kingdom wanted a more secure burial, away from potential looters of the pyramids, something less obvious, hidden in a more desolate place, but they still needed the magic qualities of the pyramid to mimic the divine light of the sun’s rays and steer their spirits into the afterlife in the stars. And the hill in this valley just happens to be shaped like a pyramid. It’s called El-Gurn, and it gave the Pharaohs their own natural pyramid on the earth. Pretty neat, eh?”

  “You really do know your stuff, don’t you?” Tom said, with a note of admiration in his voice. “Wanna give me a guided tour of the tombs?”

  “Just stick with me,” she laughed.

  Suzy’s principal goal was Tutankhamun’s tomb, but she was more than happy to inspect the tombs of Rameses VI, Amenhotep II and Seti I en route, leaving King Tut until last. There were already throngs of tourists jostling and loitering, and she had to admit it was comforting to have Tom around. She still wasn’t quite certain she could trust anyone at the moment, including Tom, but his presence was reassuring, making her feel less alone.

  “I’m interested in the astronomical alignment of the tombs,” Tom said later, as they strolled through the crowds toward Tut’s tomb.

  “I’m just really interested, full stop,” Suzy said, walking up to the entrance.

  “Hang on, Suzy, we’ve got to wait for Dr. Haworth.”

  “Who?”

  “I told you in the jeep, remember? He’s showing me around. He’s from the American University in Cairo and he’s coming out here especially to give us a private tour, so we have to wait.”

  Suzy felt a twinge of anxiety at the thought of meeting another stranger and having to wait among the other visitors. She instinctively tugged her scarf further over her face.

  “He’s a friend of Professor Piper’s and he knows my father,” Tom went on, oblivious. “You’ve probably read some of his articles.”

  “The name does sound familiar,” she admitted. While Tom chattered on about Haworth, Suzy was only half-listening, her eyes drawn to the monuments that surrounded them. Everything had been happening so fast; she was glad of a moment just to sit and look.

  A few minutes later Dr. Haworth arrived, a portly man of about sixty, dressed in a white linen suit and cream fedora, the archetypal gentleman explorer. Tom introduced them. The professor’s interest was directed toward his friend’s son as he led them through the entrance.

  “How is that rogue of a father of yours?” Haworth boomed, slapping Tom on the back as they walked.

  “He’s good, thanks.”

  “Glad to hear it.” The professor stepped forward to the steward at the visitor’s entrance and jabbered away to him in Arabic. The steward nodded and unlocked a low iron gate to give them access. They swept through, the gate clanging shut behind them. “So, young Tom, you want to see inside the tomb. Is there anything in particular I can help you with?”

  “Yes, Dr. Haworth, you can,” Tom replied, as they descended the sixteen steep steps. “I’m very interested to know about any astronomical alignments in the tomb.”

  “Certainly, I will try and help you out, but I’m not an astronomer, you know. The only alignment I know of the tomb is to the points of the compass.” He let out a loud bark of a laugh that made the walls echo. Suzy tucked in close behind them. “These tombs are as much cosmological vehicles of rebirth and deification as they are houses of history. The king is supposed to become Osiris in a mystical way; he is equipped with his very own Underworld in the tomb itself. Originally there were seven door seals on this entrance doorway of the tomb.” He paused before the door that led into the descending passageway, the same route that had been filled with rubble when Howard Carter first discovered it.

  “Tutankhamun’s tomb has four chambers, like the compass. The burial chamber, with a ritual if not an actual orientation toward the West, is the chamber of departure toward the funeral destinies. The West was where the Underworld lay. It was the place where the sun went at night before being reborn in the East. The Egyptians saw the dead as departing into the West.”

  “Are there any direct references to Orion in the tomb?”

  “Not that I know of, apart from the god Osiris painted on the Burial chamber wall. Some say Osiris is represented by the constellation Orion.”

  “You said the burial chamber was only ritually oriented toward the West?”

  “Yes, that’s right but it does point west along its axis. It’s just not absolutely precisely west you might say; but a few degrees offline.”

  Tom paused to get his GPS equipment out of his bag, fiddling around with it for several minutes.

  “Are we OK?” Haworth inquired. Tom looked puzzled.

  “It’s not working for some reason.”

  “Does GPS work through fifty meters of rock?” Suzy inquired, with a mischievous grin. Tom rolled his eyes and put the GPS equipment back in his bag. Suzy wandered ahead of them into the antechamber, surprised by how plain and empty it was, the walls undecorated. She had a few moments alone to savor being in the space she had been hearing about all her life, before Tom and Haworth bustled in beside her.

  “This room has four niches in the wall,” Haworth was saying. “Each contained a magical figurine; Anubis on the western wall, Osiris on the east, a djed pillar in the south and a shabti in the north, just as you would expect.”

  “OK, nothing much,” Tom said, somewhat disappointed by the nondescript room.

  “Yes, I know,” Haworth gave another bark. “It is small, but originally there were around seven hundred objects in this antechamber alone. In the annex over there, there were over two thousand objects. Let’s go through to the Burial Chamber.”

  As Suzy stepped to the right into the Burial Chamber she felt a shiver of excitement run down her spine. In the center of the room stood the wooden casket that held the golden coffin of Tutankhamun. The decoration was Amarna art nouveau style on three of the walls but on the western wall it was different. She walked over to study it in more detail. There were twelve turquoise monkeys, representing the twelve hours of darkness in the Underworld. At the top was the scarab beetle, Khepru, in a boat with two upright gods. To the right of it were three more gods and two goddesses. She noticed how the walls had a yellow background, almost the color of gold, and she remembered that the ancient Egyptians referred to the Burial Chamber as the Golden Room.

  “Ah, here we are,” Haworth sighed with satisfaction, fanning his glowing face with the brim of his hat. “This is the last sarcophagus of the noble King Tut.” He noticed Suzy staring
at the western wall and walked over to stand beside her. Gazing at the paintings, he spoke in a reverential voice. “The twelve good genii or baboons, ornamented with an extract from the Book of the Underworld, and joined by seven further gods and a scarab beetle. Turning to the south we see Tut with Anubis and Nepthys. Originally there were four other figures, but these were knocked down by Carter with the other half of the wall when Carter entered the tomb through the Akhet or hidden doorway. The eastern wall illustrates the transport of the royal sarcophagus coffin of Tut himself, set inside a shrine mounted on a sledge, drawn by twelve characters, or disciples we might say, of whom two are dressed differently from the others, indicating a superior social standing.”

  Suzy turned and looked at Haworth, who continued to talk. Disciples? Was this a hint of the possible similarity to Christianity, she wondered. Even more interesting was the fact that the twelve disciples were hauling the sarcophagus coffin of Tutankhamun to the burial chamber. The sarcophagus was lying prostrate whereas all the figures on the wall murals were upright, indicating they were alive, whereas the sarcophagus indicated Tutankhamun was dead.

  “Finally, on the north wall you have three scenes: the first shows Ay, Tutankhamun’s successor, first minister and possible uncle, performing the ‘Opening of the Mouth Ceremony’ with an adze. In all, there are seven characters.”

  “That adze,” Tom said, moving in between them, “was shaped like the plough star constellation as the ancients believed it to be sacred. It always pointed toward the North Star, Polaris, which the Egyptians called ‘the indestructible,’ as it never changed its position in the sky. I have a theory, based on the fact that they have found other adzes made from iron. Iron was not supposed to exist in 1300 BC; it was still the Bronze Age, and I propose it came from a falling star. When meteors fell in the desert, you could find the meteoric iron on the ground. Nowhere else in the world would you stand a chance of finding meteoric iron, but in Egypt it was possible in the desert. It was still enormously rare, more precious even than gold. The metal of the gods.”