by Mary Deal
“Maybe young Tut had a clandestine affair,” Clifford said, suggestively raising his eyebrows a couple of times.
“That would explain the riches of the tomb and him being in here,” Kendra said.
“Pharaohs took many wives,” Bebe said. “However, documented history tells us Tutankhamon had only one queen.”
The others speculated, sniffed the air, and wiped sweat from their brows. Chione picked her way around the fallen debris studying the walls, deciphering pictures and symbols that now relinquished hidden messages left only for the dead. “There's so much written here,” she said.
“As if the Egyptians could leave a blank space anywhere,” Clifford said. “Like Aaron's doodling.”
“Any other clues?” Dr. Withers asked. At times seemed a little too impatient about making progress.
“Have you looked closely at these?” Chione asked, motioning to tall figures in the picture writing. “They represent gods of the Underworld, where the soul goes.” She gestured across the mural. “Did you notice out in the passage, the messages got more and more mystical as we moved toward this Hall?” She smiled, onto something the others had not seen.
“What I saw,” Aaron said, “had a lot to do with children and life and death.”
“So what are you saying?” Clifford asked. “That these scenes of a woman administering to others, that was her work?”
“Exactly,” Chione said. “Also here, lots of spells, magic, verses, chants, that sort of cryptography. But many of the glyphs are unfinished.” She pointed across the chamber. “That mural over there too.”
“What about the finished ones?” Dr. Withers asked. “Do they give a clue?”
“It'll take time to decipher.”
“You have all the time you need.”
“Did you notice?” Bebe asked. “On all the walls, there's a figure of what looks to be a young boy, always with the woman.” She pointed out several scenes.
“Most curious,” Kendra said.
“Perhaps when the chambers are cleared,” Chione said, “I'll spend some quiet time in here.”
“Anything you need,” Dr. Withers said. “But for now, take another look around folks.” He chuckled. “Then look at yourselves.” They did and found themselves drenched in perspiration from captive heat that had stood still for thousands of years. “I suggest we all go topside to cool down and have lunch.”
Chione suddenly needed to sit, which she did. Immediately, she heard Aaron calling her name. He sounded far away. Then, unexpectedly, she saw him…
…approaching in sunlight outdoors on the promenade, with naked and near-naked golden-skinned people all about.
Aaron without his shirt? The scene confused her. She froze, not knowing what to do, not knowing if she should try to do anything. Aaron approached again, fully clothed and handsome in khaki, from between the pillars.
“Chione?” he asked. “Why are you sitting in Tut's chair?”
“Chione?” Clifford asked, too, coming up behind Aaron. “Are you play-acting?”
She could not move, could not even blink as she heard Pharaoh softly call her by a different name.
“Chione? Hey, Chione….”
Then that eerie haunting whimper came again, sounding like from another world, yet so close, it could have come out of her own mouth!
“Oh, boy,” Aaron said. “Anyone else hear that?”
Clifford had not reacted.
Chione had heard it while hearing the voices in the Pillared Hall. Somehow, she floated between that room and an ancient one as scenes intermingled.
“Hear what?” someone asked.
“The sound, the whimpering,” Aaron said.
Dr. Withers looked helpless but she was powerless to explain. “What happened at the moment we turned to leave?” he asked.
The noises sounded confusing. Aaron knelt at her feet with a questioning look. The whimper came again, like someone's voice stifled in the middle of uttering a cry of desperation, chilling and muffled. Had that come from her? Again, she heard the whimpering. It ended suddenly. Her head flopped forward as if pushed quite abruptly. In slow motion, she felt herself falling out of the chair.
11
Noontime at the site was quiet, with many being called regularly to pray by a man's voice, at times melodic, at other times staccato, against the backdrop of Egyptian desert stillness. Hearing the bell ringing and the chanting five times a day became synonymous with the camp routine, particularly noticed if it did not happen on time. Many of the laborers took advantage to sleep off the high noon heat. Tarik, the young boy responsible for ringing the prayer bell, did not go with the men to pray. Instead, he hung around camp, helping where he could. Each time Chione saw him he would smile and wave. Somehow, his over-friendliness seemed strange, almost as if he had some sort of hidden agenda. Many young children, who seemed to belong to no one, had already taken to bribing workers, saying they wanted to help, only to gain access wherever they could in order to steal. Tarik also seemed like an orphan, because of his ragged, unchanged clothes. His eyes were those of a child wizened to exploiting every opportunity with stealthiness. Chione felt sympathetic and dismissed her curiosity about his attraction to the group. His accent and mannerisms were cute, when he spoke his attempts at English quite admirable.
Seeking shelter from the hot blowing sands, which never seemed to bother Tarik, Chione and Bebe shared a moment inside Chione's yurt.
“You really should keep an eye on your man,” Bebe said softly so no one passing outside the yurt might hear.
“My man?” Chione asked, pausing mid-stroke while applying sun block on her face.
“You and I will spend a lot of time away from the others, deciphering and all.”
“My man?” Chione asked again.
Occasionally, men's laughter could be heard from a distance among those who chose not to pray but to stoop in a circle, throw stones and wager their coins.
“Doesn't it always seem that Kendra is after Aaron?”
Chione was momentarily stunned. “Well, Aaron is not my man.” What Chione was more concerned about was that they all thought she was some sort of mental case.
Bebe smiled. “Aaron and Kendra. That is, I mean….” She stopped using the hair pick and looked sideways at Chione.
“Bebe, you surprise me.”
“I don't mean to. I certainly don't want to sound like a busybody, but Kendra's all over your guy.”
“Aaron and I aren't together anymore, never really were. It's been the better part of a year.”
“Oh my, how foolish I am,” Bebe said. She rolled her eyes. “I thought… weren't you and… am I the last to hear?” Bebe accepted the tube of lotion.
Chione smiled at Bebe's bewilderment. “I thought you all knew. As soon as one person gets hold of a story like that—”
“Aren't you two just being discreet?”
“Is that how it looks?”
“But why? You belong together.”
“We didn't part as enemies, really,” Chione said. “When I first told Aaron about my being adopted, he made an innocent statement—said he was thankful he'd never have to tell someone he had raised from childhood that he wasn't their biological father.”
“That broke you up?”
“Not really. I learned I could never have children.”
“Oh, yes, that.”
“I think it's best if Aaron had his own family, don't you?”
Bebe turned to face Chione and looked at her in friendship, something they had both begun to feel. “I have a feeling Aaron would sacrifice the world for you.”
“I couldn't ask that of anyone.”
“So you broke it off? Guess Kendra can have him, huh?”
“If she doesn't lose her rich husband in the process,” Chione said. Hearing about a close friend making moves on Aaron made her heart sink, Kendra being married at that. So the rumors of Kendra's flirtatiousness might be true after all.
Bebe touched her arm. “Forgive
me, Chione.”
Chione smiled. “I forgive,” she said. She knew Bebe's motives. Bebe's great looking Kenneth had an affair with the nurse who all but forced him back to health at Clark Air Force Base in the Philippines after he was wounded in Viet Nam. That much she knew about Kenneth. Bebe said other affairs came after that. So, of course Bebe would be preoccupied with who might be interested in whom. “If there was any way I could have a child, I'd marry Aaron without thinking twice.”
“Say that again,” Bebe said quickly. “Then tell me you don't love him.”
“It's a moot point,” Chione said. She felt a pang of deep sorrow. “If there was any way I could have a child….” Chione felt like she was about to come apart. For the first time, something someone said forced her to face her feelings. “I wish I could have….” Bebe's look of empathy made her feel rotten.
“Let's get back to the cook tent,” Bebe said.
They squeezed in at the tables well shielded inside the largest yurt. The crude kitchen and eating area consisted of appliances, shelving, and dining tables standing on rare hard ground. One entire section near the kitchen had fresh vegetables and other foods being stored under pyramid forms. Irwin, the Chinese-American cook, poured Bebe a cup of coffee. Yafeu, the Egyptian cook, had Chione's favorite Karkade ready and waiting. The tantalizing food odors of both Irwin's cooking and Yafeu's Egyptian delicacies often left the team having difficulty deciding which to eat.
“I meant to ask,” Bebe said to the others. “What kind of animals do that scary screeching out in the hills at night?”
“Jackals,” Clifford said quickly, taking delight in the fearful look that came over Bebe's face.
“Jackals?” she asked, swallowing hard. “I thought they disappeared with the Ancients.”
“Don't anybody worry about scorpions or snakes or jackals,” Clifford said, affectedly teasing. “We've got enough activity out there to keep the pests away.” He tried hard not to burst out laughing as he watched Bebe's look of despair.
Dr. Withers grinned and shook his head at Clifford being Clifford. Then he announced, “I've just gotten word of Randy's condition from the clinic at Luxor. He might have a dislocated shoulder. The x-ray equipment at Luxor isn't the greatest. They've sent him on to Cairo.”
“It's that bad?” Clifford asked.
“If anything's broken, they'll have to operate,” Dr. Withers said. “I understand he was experiencing mild shock and fever by the time they arrived across the river.”
“Poor unfortunate Randy,” Clifford said.
“I guess one of us should go stay with him,” Dr. Withers said.
“What can any of us do while he's lying in a hospital bed?” Aaron asked. “What about our tight budget and time constraints?”
“Randy's a grown man,” Bebe said. “Certainly, he realizes the nature of our situation.”
“That's right,” Aaron said. “I'm sure Dakarai will check in on him and keep us posted.”
“Okay,” Dr. Withers said. “If one of us needs to accompany Randy back here, I'll go, or you, Aaron. When the time comes.” Then he flashed his famous beaming smile. “But for now, let's get to work.”
“Yeah!” Clifford said.
“We're going to open the three side chambers in the Pillared Hall first. I want the full team present to identify exactly what's stashed. No sense in sending Kendra and Clifford back to the beginning to start tagging while the rest of us find all the goodies.”
“I love you, Dr. Withers,” Kendra yelled from the end of the long table.
Bebe raised an eyebrow.
“Randy should be here, too, for that matter,” Dr. Withers said, casting a dubious look of regret.
“What about the spouses?” Clifford asked, wrapping an arm around his wife.
“I thought of that,” Dr. Withers said, addressing Rita. “If you're going to be helping with—”
“Rita? Helping?” Clifford asked, nearly choking on a gulp of water.
“Doesn't she always work by your side?”
“Well, yes, but only when asked to do so by the head honcho.”
“Excuse me!” Dr. Withers said. “I guess this head honcho's been taking too many naps.” He smiled his silly grin, begging forgiveness. “I just assumed since Rita worked with you in the past, she'd be at your side this time.”
“You mean—”
“In fact,” Dr. Withers said. “After the crew finishes installing the temperature control equipment, Rashad and I don't see any harm in the entire party going in.” Then he quickly raised a hand in warning. “Just our little party though.”
“Here, here!” everyone said, lifting glasses. They used any excuse to toast themselves.
“Where's my wife?” Dr. Withers asked, leaning in his seat to peer out the fly.
“Over there with Siti,” Bebe said, pointing. “Charming some of the laborers with her chocolate cake.”
“Darned woman,” Dr. Withers said, shaking his head. “Could bake a cake over two cans of Sterno if she had to.”
“It's not the baking I'd be concerned with,” Kenneth said, also teasing.
“How's that?”
“The men,” Kendra said. “Some of the men are downright charming.”
“Is that a fact?” Bebe said, in a voice that accused if anyone should know, it would be Kendra.
“Marlowe's no slouch either.” Royce said. He seldom spoke.
While fairly good looking, Royce always had a wary look in his eyes, like he was onto something, like he knew something no one else fathomed. The set of his mouth combined with those steely blue eyes and quiet self-absorbed nature made Chione feel uneasy. She did not know why, but her intuition always sent caution signals when he was around.
“My wife will have those laborers eating out of her hand,” Dr. Withers said with a crooked smile. “They'll work harder.”
“Guess we'll be seeing a lot of chocolate cake,” Bebe said.
“And fresh vegetables,” Kendra said. “Since Chione's convinced our cooks to store items under pyramids.”
After both Clifford and Dr. Withers had a snooze, during which time Aaron edited records and Bebe clarified some of hers, the team gathered in preparation for re-entry. This time they would enter via the way they had exited the passageway, on a ladder in the portcullis shaft.
“Chione, you might try to identify where those sounds are coming from,” Dr. Withers said.
“Strange no one else heard them,” Bebe said.
“Don't forget,” Dr. Withers said. “That Egyptian grave robber heard them first.”
“Why haven't the rest of us?”
“Would you really want to?” Clifford asked. “Considering how we jumped out of our skins when we heard Randy?”
“Some of the laborers surely heard them,” Bebe said. “Among us, why only Chione and Aaron?”
“Well,” Dr. Withers said with a sideways smile. “If I were Randy, I'd have to say because Chione looks Egyptian and Aaron resembles Tut.”
Everyone had a good laugh. Clearly, Dr. Withers was unaffected by not having heard the sounds. Chione had heard them and was thankful he believed in her.
Aaron believed in her too. Chione needed to be careful not to give Aaron the impression she knew more than she did.
Once inside the passageway, they paused long enough for those who had not seen the opened chambers to view them. Quite adept with a camera, Kenneth's candid photos would provide additional history for Bebe's documented manuscript.
Making their way down to the Pillared Hall, Chione lagged behind, her mind transfixed by the ancient etchings. A sinister voice came up behind her asking, “Are you lost, little girl?” She turned to see Clifford tiptoeing toward her with clutching hands raised.
“Are you the big bad wolf?” she asked.
“Today I'm Anubis, jackal god of embalming, looking for work!” Everyone laughed at the enviable spontaneity she and Clifford enjoyed. Again, he raised his crimped hands above her head as if ready to snatch
her and got up close to her face. “Wanna go for a walk in the woods to Granny's house?” As the others laughed again, Clifford ducked inside the First Chamber before Dr. Withers had a chance to sound off his name in frustration.
“So are you able to come up with answers?” Dr. Withers asked finally.
“Getting a feel for the overall message of these spells,” Chione said. “I've written down some which seem more significant. I can go over them later.”
“Heard anything else?” Aaron asked.
She shot a glance in his direction, and then quickly looked away. “Not really,” she said quietly. If he had not heard what she had been hearing or smelled the same odors, perhaps he was only receiving what he was supposed to perceive and no more.
A little later, they were ready to open the first of the three annexes, side chambers to the Pillared Hall. Lighting was strategically placed directly in front of the two doors of the first annex. Quaashie and Naeem, laborers who worked closely with Dakarai and Masud, stepped before the doors that, like the others, were flush against the south wall and looked more like niches carved into the stone in which to place wooden panels. They carefully slipped the long wooden dowel from between the door handles, and gently pulling at the doors until they moved freely. No rope, no dollop of mud had been installed. The doors had simply been closed and remained that way. Accumulated dust in the cracks and seams provided little resistance. The wood creaked and made strange rustling sounds as the wood was shifted to the opened positions.
Kenneth extensively photographed his wife's reactions.
“Gold,” Bebe said, stepping directly in front and getting first peek as the two doors came free and opened out. “More gold!”
As flashlight beams probed, gold foil gleamed from furniture haphazardly stacked. Golden treasures and jewels twinkled in response to photographer's lights.
“Everything looks thrown in,” Chione said with dismay.
“Someone was in a hurry to close shop,” Clifford said. Though he was tall, he still stretched to see over the others and all the equipment.
Then another vision rattled through Chione's mind.