The Murder of King Tut Read online

  In winter he maintained a luxurious and spacious suite at the Winter Palace Hotel. Little by little, Carnarvon was transformed from a man consumed by the here and now into a man consumed by the past-the ancient past.

  Chapter 38

  Thebes

  1908

  NOW, LIKE MANY WEALTHY MEN who’d become smitten by Egypt and treasure hunting, Lord Carnarvon wanted to fund his own excavation.

  The successes of Carnarvon and Theodore Davis were well known, and Carnarvon could easily see Davis ’s yacht Bedouin moored across the street from his hotel. British acquaintances Robert Mond and the Marquis of Northampton also had minor concessions, and Carnarvon began to believe he would enjoy digging up an important bit of history. He thought it should be great fun indeed.

  Unfortunately, his first season’s results weren’t promising. Or much fun. Arthur Weigall-who now held Carter’s former job as chief inspector for Upper Egypt -had dismissed Carnarvon for the rank amateur that he was. He assigned Carnarvon to a rubbish heap known as Sheikh abd el-Qurna, with predictably dismal results.

  The sole find during that first six-week season was a mummifiedcat contained inside a wooden cat coffin.

  Carnarvon, while disappointed, actually treasured the discovery. It was his first, after all. Egyptology was now officially in his blood.

  The only problem, it seemed, was Carnarvon. Rather than hire an experienced professional, he led the digs himself. Each day he would sit inside a screened box that kept away flies, and smoke cigarette after cigarette, as his men, and not a top-notch crew, worked in the heat and dust.

  What Carnarvon needed-he was told repeatedly-was a seasoned professional to guide his digs.

  And Howard Carter needed a wealthy patron with a concession to get him back in the game.

  Between seasons, Carnarvon wrote Weigall from England, asking for “a learned man, as I have not time to learn up all the requisite data.”

  The common thread in all of this was Maspero, who had arranged Carnarvon’s concession in the first place.

  So it was that Carter was summoned to the Winter Palace to stand before Carnarvon and Maspero to discuss the possibility of once again leading a full-scale excavation. His clothes were nearing the point of no return, and his ever-present portfolio was tucked under his arm, as if he had been called to sketch the moment, which, he believed, was a depressing possibility.

  Did Carter want back in the game? he was asked.

  The disgraced Egyptologist, thrilled that fate was giving him a second chance, hastily answered yes.

  He even managed to keep his famous arrogance and temper in check-for the first meeting anyway.

  Chapter 39

  Amarna

  1333 BC

  “WHAT’S WRONG, MOTHER?” asked Tut.

  The handsome little boy stood beside Nefertiti in a garden surrounded by fig trees and date palms and a rich green carpet of grass. His mother sat in the shade of a small palmetto. Her beautiful face was a tightly clenched mask. They both knew that she was unwell, and yet she pretended that nothing of the sort was true.

  To be eight and faced with the prospect of losing his mother, so soon after losing his father, was something that no child could be prepared for.

  But Tut was no ordinary child-he had royal blood-he was divine.

  So he joined his mother on the small settee. He watched as she slowly leaned back and tried to relax, then flinched in pain as her skin came in contact with the hard chair.

  “I’m dying, Tut, and I need to ask you to do something that you might think odd.”

  “Don’t say that, Mother. You’re not dying.”

  “I am. Either I am being poisoned-or there is a sickness inside my body that Aten does not wish to remove. I have ordered my servants to hasten their preparations of my burial chamber, because there may not be much time for me.”

  Nefertiti closed her eyes as pain shot through her body. Tut placed his hand on top of hers, but did so gently, so as not to hurt her.

  This small act of kindness and compassion made Nefertiti smile. “You will be a great pharaoh. I am sure of it.”

  “Thank you, Mother.”

  He paused, reluctant to say what was on his mind.

  “What is it?” Nefertiti asked.

  “Do you promise not to be angry?”

  She let a moment pass as she weighed her answer. “I promise. Now ask your question. You must always speak your mind, Tut.”

  “Did Aye do this to you? I see the way he looks at you. It’s hard to tell whether he loves you or hates you.”

  “I think it’s a little of both. But no, I do not fear Aye-though you should. You are just a boy and need to be protected from powerful, unscrupulous men who might want to see you harmed.”

  “Do you think he wants to be pharaoh?”

  “Yes, Tut, I do. And he is not the only man with a dream of ruling Egypt.”

  “But he is a commoner.”

  “So are you, Tut. Remember, your natural mother was of common birth. You are only half royal. Your sister is the only child in this palace who is full-blooded royalty. This is why I have asked you to come see me.”

  “What do you mean? What are you saying, Mother?”

  “Ankhesenpaaten cannot reign as pharaoh because she is a woman. But for you to rule as pharaoh, and to produce an heir who ensures the succession of our royal blood, you must blend your blood with that of a woman who is fully royal. Do you understand?”

  “But Ankhesenpaaten is the only such person.”

  “That’s right, Tut.” Nefertiti flinched once again from the pain. “Ankhe is the only one.”

  “So you’re saying that…”

  His voice trailed off in confusion, so Nefertiti finished the sentence for him.

  “You must marry your sister.”

  Chapter 40

  Luxor

  1909

  HOWARD CARTER was once again in the world that he loved more than anything else. A little older perhaps, a few belt holes thinner, but he was definitely back in the game.

  As the sun rose over the glorious Nile, he gazed out across a site at a small army of workers, just as he had so many times before. True, he was digging in what many called the “unfashionable district” of the Theban necropolis, where, at best, he could hope to find the tombs of nobles and wealthy businessmen instead of pharaohs. But after years of living hand to mouth, Carter didn’t mind at all.

  Howard Carter and Lord Carnarvon in the Valley of the Kings. Theirs was one of history’s most successful partnerships.

  It was good to have a job. So Carter lit a cigarette and gave the order for his men to start digging.

  Lord Carnarvon stood at his side, dressed smartly in a suit and skimmer.

  Their relationship would clearly be different than the ones Carter had enjoyed with Lord Amherst and even Theodore Davis. The old days of Carter being stubborn to make a point were over. He was a hired man now and would not be treated as a member of the family.

  But he didn’t much care. He had plans in his head, plans to bring professionalism and accountability to Carnarvon’s ragtag style of digging. Wealthy patrons were hard to come by. With Carter’s expertise and Carnarvon’s money, there was a chance they might actually find something important.

  And someday, if this all worked out, they would move into the Valley of the Kings and do some real digging, for real treasure.

  Chapter 41

  Amarna

  1330 BC

  THERE HAD BEEN no public ceremony and no special words from the high priests to mark the moment of their marriage union.

  Ankhesenpaaten had simply moved her belongings to Tut’s side of the palace, where their father had once laid his head.

  That had been three years ago. They had slept in separate rooms since then but had also become closer friends. Now, on the day they had put Nefertiti in her tomb, Tut would rule alone.

  Ankhesenpaaten fumbled with her gauzy white gown as she and Tut prepared to share a
bed for the first time. He wasn’t yet a teenager, like his sister and bride, who was a few years older, but Tut had begun to physically develop into a man, and this wasn’t lost on his wife.

  It was time they produced an heir-or at least, given their ages, began practicing.

  Tut untied the cumbersome, false pharaoh beard from around his head and laid it on a bedside table. Nefertiti had coached them both, in individual discussions, and Tut thought he had a good understanding of how it all worked. But he had never visited a harem, as the royal scribe Aye seemed to do each afternoon after lunch, and what was about to transpire was unnatural and awkward to him.

  Ankhesenpaaten turned her back discreetly as she slipped her dress off her shoulders. Tut watched the fabric drop down past her narrow hips and land silently on the floor.

  Ankhesenpaaten covered her budding breasts with one hand as she turned to pull back the bedcovers, then slid between the warm sheets. He could smell the perfumed oils she used on her body and hair.

  “Now you, Pharaoh.”

  Tut felt butterflies in his stomach and was unnerved at the thought of shedding his clothes right there with Ankhe in the room, especially since his own longings were on full display.

  “Did you ever feast as much as today?” he asked somewhat randomly, referring to the whirlwind of revelry surrounding Nefertiti’s funeral. All the priests of Aten had feted her. Aye had been there too, and Tut had noticed that the royal vizier drank quite heavily while huddling in the corner with Tut’s generals.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much food in my life,” Ankhesenpaaten agreed.

  “I wish Mother could have been there.”

  “Now you can make your claim to the throne. No one can deny you.”

  “Yes,” Tut said softly, feeling for the first time the crushing weight of being the pharaoh of all of Egypt. It pressed down on him like a block of limestone.

  “We are alone, Tut,” Ankhesenpaaten whispered, realizing a different sort of burden. “Just the two of us in this difficult and complicated world. Not a parent to guide us. Just us.”

  “It’s scary when you say it like that.”

  “Yes. But Tut, let’s promise that we will always look out for each other and protect each other from those who would do us harm.”

  “I promise, Ankhesenpaaten. I will never let anyone harm you.”

  “I promise too.”

  The bedroom was still then, uncomfortably so. The warm desert air flowed in through the open window, and Tut could smell the faint and wonderfully familiar musk of the Nile.

  Ankhesenpaaten took a deep breath, and then she pulled back the sheets, unafraid to show herself to her husband.

  In their many years together, Tut had never seen his half sister naked, and now he gasped at the realization that she was exceptionally shapely and beautiful.

  “Take off your kilt, Tut,” she said.

  The pharaoh did as he was told. And he was beautiful too.

  Chapter 42

  Thebes

  1326 BC

  THE NIGHTS OF PASSION were but a bittersweet memory to Ankhesenpaaten now. Still the young queen had never been more excited-or frightened.

  “I’m late,” she whispered, rolling over in bed and propping her chin on Tut’s chest. She could feel her breasts pressing against his ribs, as she reached down to touch between his legs.

  “How often have I heard that?” Tut replied, doing his best to sound pharaoh-like, instead of utterly smitten.

  “Tut,” Ankhesenpaaten whispered, mounting him. “I am three months late. We are going to have a baby. I’m certain of it. So tonight, let’s celebrate.”

  Tut gazed up at her and supported her body by clasping her breasts. She leaned forward and began rocking slowly, all the while caressing his face with her hands.

  “Think of a name,” she said softly, closing her eyes as pleasure coursed through her body.

  “Nefertiti,” he said.

  “What if it’s a boy?”

  “Nefertiti.” Tut laughed.

  “What about Tuthmosis? Or Amenhotep? Those are royal names.”

  Ankhesenpaaten moaned then; names no longer seemed important to her.

  She was usually very quiet in bed, but on that morning she was sure she woke all of Thebes as she climaxed. The sensation seemed to go on and on, a wave of pleasure that rolled through her once-barren body just as surely as the Nile flowed through Egypt ’s desert sands.

  She looked down at Tut and watched his shoulders tense as ecstasy contorted his beautiful face. Then he let out a most unpharaoh-like cry.

  “We are going to have a baby,” repeated Ankhe-senpaaten.

  Chapter 43

  Tut’s Palace

  1326 BC

  THAT HAD BEEN five months ago.

  Now, perched atop a royal birthing stool, Ankhesenpaaten clenched her abdominal muscles and pushed one last time-at least she prayed this was the last time. As Tut stood by her side, clasping Ankhe’s hand, their child finally joined them, delivered into the waiting hands of the royal physician.

  It was stillborn.

  The poor baby was obviously deformed, with one shoulder much higher than the other and a spine curved sideways, and just as obviously dead.

  “Summon the royal magician,” the doctor said emphatically, speaking to a courtesan standing just behind Ankhesenpaaten.

  The royal magician would be charged with healing whatever illness had caused the queen to miscarry, burning hot coals on the floor between her legs as she remained on the low stool, allowing the smoke to enter her womb and clean out all impurities.

  “Is it a boy or a girl?” Ankhesenpaaten asked in a weak voice. She felt like crying but held back the tears. She had always been a strong girl.

  “I do not think it matters, Queen,” said the doctor.

  “Boy or girl?” barked Tut in a voice that indicated he would not brook such insolence.

  The physician sat up straight, remembering his place. “A girl, Majesty.”

  Ankhesenpaaten held out her arms. The umbilical cord connecting mother and daughter was still intact, and now the queen pulled her dead child to her bosom and sobbed in anguish.

  Ankhesenpaaten ran a finger over the baby’s head, touching the small nose and stroking the soft black tufts of hair. The child’s eyes were closed, and she kissed each one.

  All too soon, she knew, the royal embalmer would mummify this newborn and place it in the royal tomb to await the death of her parents.

  “We will get to know one another in the afterlife,” Ankhesenpaaten whispered. “I love you, my darling Nefertiti.”

  Chapter 44

  Egyptian Desert

  1324 BC

  IT WAS HIS TIME NOW, but was he ready-quite possibly to die? Tut stood alone in his tent, his stomach a knot of nerves and fear. Adrenaline raced through his body as he anxiously clenched and unclenched his fists, then bounced lightly on his toes a half dozen times. He was all of seventeen years old, and he was going to war.

  Outside, he could hear swords clanking and horses whinnying as his great army assembled on the morning of battle. His army. Egypt ’s army.

  Tut whispered a silent prayer to Amun. He strapped on his leather chest armor, slid a sword into the scabbard at his waist, then stepped out into the harsh desert sunlight to join his soldiers.

  Unlike many of these men, whose wives followed the army, Tut had traveled alone. Sadness over the loss of their child had changed things between Tut and Ankhesenpaaten. Even though she had become pregnant again, things weren’t the same. She was moodier, more grown-up.

  Unlike his father, who stayed home with Nefertiti every day of his life, Tut began traveling. He hunted deer with Aye, whom he continued to distrust. And he fell under the spell of General Horemheb, particularly on the subject of warfare. To be a real man, Tut decided he needed to do battle. He needed to be here with the army.

  Now he had a chance to fight for the first time. He would test his mettle today, and p
erhaps he would die.

  The great Egyptian army was encamped near the Canaanite city of Megiddo, a desert fortress surrounded by towering walls of mud and limestone. There was a good chance the Canaanites would refuse to come out and fight, preferring to endure an Egyptian siege than to be slaughtered in full view of their women and children.

  Tut prayed that this would not be so. He ached for his first taste of battle.

  The gleaming sword weighed heavily against his hip as he inspected his chariot team. Like soldiers before him, Tut vowed to be strong and to show no fear, but he worried that he might turn and flee.

  “You have a talent for drawing, Pharaoh. Your images of the gods are so powerful that I feel the urge to bow down at the sight of them,” said Horemheb, who had stepped up to Tut’s side. It was a snake-like compliment about Tut’s passion for art, a not-too-subtle insinuation that the boy was timid like his father.

  “Are you saying I should have stayed in Thebes, General?” Tut was unafraid to ask hard questions, even of men decades his senior.

  Now he wiped the sweat from his brow. He surveyed his men-infantry, archers, and charioteers assembling in long orderly columns. A simple sweep of the eyes brought into view an arsenal the likes of which few had seen before: powerful bows and maces, highly sharpened axes, spears, and daggers glistening in the sun.

  Having so much power at his disposal excited Tut in a way that he never could have imagined. No, he was not his father’s son. He was a warrior!

  Chapter 45

  Egyptian Desert

  1324 BC

  “I WAS PAYING YOU a compliment, Pharaoh,” said the crafty Horemheb.

  “Then I accept your compliment. Tell me, General, what is our strategy today?”