by C T Cassana
Max decided not to request a study to corroborate the age of the sample. Given where the sentinel had found it, it seemed certain that it had been left in Tutankhamun’s tomb when he was buried, along with other offerings made to the dead king. It was too extravagant a story for Mr. Jones to have risked his life by inventing it. But of course, as the little man had said when they had met in the run-down hotel in Luxor, its presence there made no sense. If someone were to discover that the chocolate was more than three thousand years old, it would set off alarm bells because that was simply impossible.
Indeed, cocoa didn’t even reach Europe until the discovery of America. Christopher Columbus had brought it back from his fourth voyage to the New World, although at first it didn’t attract much attention because of its unpleasant taste and appearance. In 1528, Hernán Cortés introduced it at the court of Emperor Charles V, but this time preparing it just as the Aztecs did, as a sweetened drink seasoned with spices. It became a hit with the royalty and nobility, and thus turned into a luxury product. Over time, chocolate consumption spread across Europe, and then all over the world. Preparation methods also evolved, but it wasn’t until 1849—three hundred years after Europeans were first introduced to it—that the first chocolate bar was sold, and with it the possibility of eating it in solid form, as until then it had only ever been consumed as a drink. It was therefore completely impossible that the ancient Egyptians could even have known about chocolate, much less how to prepare it in solid form.
The only mystery that Max had to solve was whether this chocolate belonged to “C. W.”; whether it was this careless traveler who had gone back in time to meet Tutankhamun, one of the most famous pharaohs in our time and yet one of the most insignificant in the history of ancient Egypt.
A DNA study to check for biological traces of the traveler was totally out of the question. Mr. Jones appeared to have handled and even chewed on the sample, which meant it would have been contaminated. Traces of the traveler would not have survived the passage of time, and in any case in the process the labs might have detected that the chocolate was much older than it logically could have been. Once again, there was a risk of setting off alarms, and Max might be asked to answer some difficult questions. And that was one of the very few things that Max Wellington could not do.
. . .
Maggie knocked gently at the door to Miss Rotherwick’s office.
“Come in, my dear,” answered the woman. “Have you managed to arrange it?”
“Mozart, Violin Concerto No. 3,” said Maggie, referring to the music playing on the stereo. “I love this movement.”
“It’s one of my favorites,” replied Miss Rotherwick.
“Yes, it’s all arranged,” said Maggie, smiling broadly as she took a seat. “I have to be in Paris tomorrow to meet Mr. Chartier, the director of the museum. I’ve got them to let me stay the whole week and to allow me to review their Egyptian collection personally.”
“That’s wonderful, my dear!”
“Helen, why don’t you come with me? This discovery is as much yours as it is mine. It would be so exciting if we both found the papyrus scroll together.”
“Thank you, my dear, but I loathe traveling,” replied Miss Rotherwick good-naturedly. “Besides, somebody has to stay here to make sure that the preparations for the exhibition continue as they should.”
“The others are here to take care of that...”
“Really, I’d prefer to stay. But make sure you let me know if there’s any news.”
“You’ll be the first to know,” said Maggie, rising from the chair to leave. “By the way, I almost forgot. Lisa gave me this book for you. She said that you’d lent it to her and asked me to thank you.”
Miss Rotherwick reached out to take the book with the picture of Queen Nefertiti on the cover and placed it to one side on her desk.
“I hope she enjoyed it,” said Miss Rotherwick.
“Yes, I think she did,” answered Maggie. “Lately she and Charlie have been quite excited about all this. All they seem to do is read books and ask about Nefertiti and the papyrus scroll. I think they’re conducting their own investigation into it,” she said, smiling.
“They are wonderful children.”
“Yes, they are... Well, I’d better get home. They still don’t even know I’m leaving.”
. . .
After the first few moments of shock, Charlie and Lisa took a few steps around, trying to recognize the place. Initially, Lisa wasn’t sure exactly what was different, but just had a vague feeling that something had changed. Then she remembered the pile of rocks next to the tomb and felt her heart sink when she realized they were no longer there. Nervously, she approached the small portico entrance and had to restrain her rage when she saw that the wall protecting the tomb was gone. All that was left was some rubble scattered on the ground that would have done nothing to keep out the tomb raiders.
Charlie looked at it in dismay, but said nothing. Lisa would blame him for the whole thing. Knowing her like he did, he could tell that the rage was boiling up inside her and would explode at the slightest provocation. He was sure that his sister blamed him unfairly for what had happened, but he preferred to assume this rather than have it confirmed. If Lisa said anything to him that even sounded like a reproach, he might just give her his opinion of how she was managing things. And at that moment a new argument would not help at all.
Lisa took the powerful flashlight out of the backpack and crossed the threshold of the entrance, jumping over the rubble. The shaft of light shone down a passage some ten yards long, according to her calculations. She knew that normally there would be several walls to seal, separate and protect the tomb from the outside, and she prayed that the others were still intact. She walked down the dark passage, neither very slowly nor with great haste, pointing the flashlight a few steps ahead of her. She was afraid of reaching the end and having her worst forebodings confirmed.
A stone lying on the floor told her she was right. Then another, and another larger one, convinced her. They were in the tomb of Queen Nefertiti, a tomb unknown to history, that had yet to be discovered... but only by the inhabitants of the twenty-first century, because it was clear that somebody had gotten there ahead of them.
The two siblings jumped over a second pile of rubble that was all that remained of the seal to the actual tomb, and entered a small antechamber. They were utterly devastated to find that it was totally empty. Lisa swept the light over the walls and floor, checking every corner, trying to find some forgotten object, however insignificant it might be, that might make them feel better. But there was nothing left.
On one side there was some more rubble and another doorway, which they passed through with more sadness than curiosity, as if weighed down with grief by what they were about to see. Another, smaller room opened before them, also empty. There was nothing, absolutely nothing that could give them a clue as to the whereabouts of Queen Nefertiti.
Lisa was furious. Her disappointment was so great that she couldn’t think of how else they might try to find the queen. She didn’t consider that if she wasn’t there at that moment, she would not be there in the twenty-first century and thus Maggie would never be able to find her. She only felt a fuming rage that she could barely control and that had begun to bring on a mind-numbing headache.
For Charlie, however, the disappointment hadn’t had the slightest effect on his usual astuteness, and he knew at once that his mother would never be famous for discovering Nefertiti’s tomb. Unless, of course, they helped her out, because they must have found a time-travel cape for something. They only had to discover what on earth had happened since they’d left Anki at the foot of the tomb. Everything that was happening only served to confirm that they had to find all the annuli mentioned by the professor in his letter, in case there was one that might help them communicate with the people they visited.
The boy looked furtively at Lisa and saw that this wasn’t the best moment to bring all this up with
her. It would be wiser to wait until she had calmed down a little and could think clearly. Unaware of her brother’s ruminations, Lisa continued moving the flashlight around the chamber, determined to find something there.
It was then that Charlie realized. They were so obsessed with discovering the treasures and the mummy of the poor old queen that neither one of them was paying attention to the details.
“Lisa, doesn’t this tomb seem strange to you?” he asked, taking the flashlight from his sister to shine it over the walls.
“Because it’s empty, perhaps?” replied Lisa sarcastically.
His sister was looking for a fight, but Charlie took the chance of sharing his discovery with her anyway.
“Look at the walls and tell me what you see,” he continued.
“Nothing, Charlie. I see nothing. Just like in the rest of the tomb.”
“Exactly! And didn’t it occur to you how weird that is? There should be something...”
“Yes, of course,” interrupted Lisa, whose anger prevented her from pondering what he was trying to tell her. “There should be a sarcophagus, treasures, statues...”
“And paintings on the walls,” added Charlie. “But there’s nothing at all. Not a single painting of the queen, or a hieroglyphic... nothing.”
The girl held her tongue rather than admit that her brother was right.
“Come on, Lisa. The Egyptians painted absolutely everything, even their bridges. Remember what the temple and the palace looked like. In all the books there are always paintings decorating everything, and yet...”
“And yet what? That doesn’t mean anything.”
Now it was Charlie who held his tongue.
“It means something, Lisa, but we don’t know what,” he said at last, unable to reach a more definitive conclusion. “The fact that there are no paintings might be a clue.”
“And what do we do with that clue, Charlie? Do we tell Mum so that she can come here and become famous for finding a tomb with nothing in it? ‘Dr. Margaret Wilford has discovered the tomb of Queen Nefertiti, we think, because actually it’s totally empty and there’s nothing that might confirm that it was hers,’” she said, imitating the voice of a news reporter. “‘But we have the assurances of her children, who received the information from the daughter of the deceased queen more than 3,000 years ago...’”
Charlie burst out laughing at his sister’s sarcasm.
“Well, I don’t see what’s funny,” she retorted furiously. “If you hadn’t...”
Lisa cut herself off before making the accusation. A good argument might help her to release the tension she had built up, the rage she felt at finding the tomb empty; perhaps even to relieve the headache that not only wouldn’t leave her, but was growing stronger every minute. But it wouldn’t help Charlie to keep calm.
“If I hadn’t what?” asked the boy defiantly.
Now he was looking for a fight almost as keenly as Lisa.
“If you hadn’t broken the bracelet. We would have come when I said we should have and it would all still be here. But you never listen to me!”
“I ALWAYS listen to you! YOU’RE the one who never listens to me, Lisa. In spite of the fact that I’M right and YOU’RE not,” replied Charlie. “We always have to do what you say, because you’re not capable of listening to others.”
Lisa stared at him in silence, not knowing what to say. She didn’t feel better and her headache was getting worse. But now Charlie was on a roll.
“You don’t take my opinions into account. The only thing you do is give orders. And that’s why I’d rather travel in time on my own; I don’t need you at all.”
“Well, I’d say you need me a lot, runt. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be looking up words in Dad’s Latin dictionary,” replied Lisa in a mocking tone. “Not to mention who found the cape and the annuli. Or the number of times you’ve made a mess of things.”
At that moment she knew that she’d crossed the line, and she regretted having spoken so harshly. Charlie’s face made it clear that he was upset that she gave him no credit at all for his part in their adventure.
“Come on, Charlie, don’t get mad. I know I went a bit too far, but there’s no need to get like that. We’re not such a bad team...”
“As long as you keep calling me ‘runt’ and treating me like that, this isn’t a team at all,” the boy answered furiously, seizing his sister by the arm. “And you’d better hug me because I’m leaving,” he added, reaching for the clasp on his bracelet.
. . .
Maggie was surprised to find that the kids didn’t seem happy that she had come home early that day. They were both very serious and appeared to be angry, although neither one would explain what was wrong. She looked at Marcus with a worried expression that revealed the guilt she felt for spending so little time at home. Marcus’ kindly gaze returned her look with a knowing and comforting smile. They had discussed the topic many times when they were alone and he always encouraged her to go on with her research.
“It’ll only be for a little while longer,” he would say. “It’s too important a finding for you to pass up.”
Maggie shut herself up in the kitchen and prepared a good dinner, forgetting about Charlie’s strange reaction the last time she’d done so.
When it was ready, they all sat down at the table and she announced her news to the children.
“I have to go to Paris tomorrow,” she said, almost apologetically. “I’m going to the Louvre, to review their collection with them, in case the papyrus scroll happens to be there. Maybe we’ll get lucky... I’ll be back on Friday.”
The children said nothing, while Marcus gave his wife another smile.
“We’ll be fine, Mum,” he said in a falsetto tone, as if imitating one of the kids. “We hope you get lucky and find it there.”
He then tried to liven up the conversation a little, asking the children about trivial matters, in the hope that one of them might go along with it. But he wasn’t very successful. Lisa said only that she’d had a bad day and that her head hurt. Charlie didn’t even bother to offer any explanations at all.
CHAPTER XIII: Ankhesenpaaten
Ankhesenpaaten broke away from the funeral procession for a moment and went to look at the offerings for her husband, the foods and drinks that the pharaoh would need on his journey to the next life. Despite the efforts of the priests to arrange them appropriately, they were all crowded together and looked rather disorderly due to the limited space in the cubicle.
Indeed, the king had died unexpectedly before his twentieth birthday and would have to be buried in a tomb that was not at all in keeping with his royal rank.
The young queen stood still, gazing at the delicacies, when suddenly her thoughts took her away from there and her whole life flashed before her eyes in an instant.
The happy years of her childhood came back to her, and she saw herself surrounded by all her family. Those were the days when her mother, the beautiful Queen Nefertiti, was happy at the side of her father, Pharaoh Akhenaten. Back then he was still a bold reformer with a vision, who sought to liberate his people from the yoke of oppression that the priests of Amun had placed upon them; but he was also a proud man who lacked the skill to deal with the fierce resistance that such profound changes would provoke. Every hardship, every problem, every setback had the effect of gradually grinding him down, until he had turned into a ruler who lived in fear of treason, an arrogant despot who would listen to no one. Not even to his wife, whom he had begun to despise for having blessed him with six beautiful and loving daughters but no male child.
Little by little, the king turned his back on his wife, his family and his people. He paid heed only to his sycophants, to the servile courtiers who applauded his increasingly erratic decisions, and concealed from him the real problems that were afflicting the country.
Ankhesenpaaten was still a child when death came into their lives, and with it the pain and tragedy that would hound their family from that t
ime on. In a little more than two years it took three of her sisters: the two youngest and the beloved Meketaten.
Pain consumed the beautiful Nefertiti, abandoned by her husband and besieged by sickness and sorrow. The queen convinced herself that she was responsible for all their misfortunes, for such tragedy could only be a punishment from the gods for having offended them by denying their right to exist and to be venerated by men, as they had been since the dawn of time.
She had supported her husband; she had backed his decision to ban the worship of any deity other than Aten, the Sun God; she had participated actively in all the rites and ceremonies led by the pharaoh. Indeed, she never tried to dissuade him, although in her heart and her soul she knew that it was utter madness. And now the gods were punishing her, denying her the male child that she and her husband so desperately wanted, and snatching from her the daughters that she loved so dearly. She had to do something to bring an end to so much misfortune. And she had to do it at once.
In the utmost secrecy she contacted the high priest of Amun in the city of Thebes, who since the prohibition had been continuing his priestly duties surreptitiously. He helped her win back the favor of the gods, to obtain their forgiveness, and to make a pact with them that would change the fate of her family and of all the people of Egypt. The gods would grant the beautiful queen a son, the heir that would bring her husband back to her side. In exchange, she promised to ensure that the boy would restore the worship of all the gods that her husband had proscribed, and especially the great Amun.
But something went wrong, and before the queen could conceive the promised child, the pharaoh discovered her betrayal. Blinded by rage, he carefully considered the punishment that his wife should receive, and finally chose the one that would surely be the cruelest and most humiliating. Nefertiti would be confined to the Northern Palace, far from the court and deprived forever of her daughters. Her only company would be Tutankhaten, the pharaoh’s only son, who had been conceived with a secondary wife. For the rest of her life, the ill-fated queen would be forced to look upon the sign of her failure, the heir that she had been unable to give her husband.