In addition to finding Queen Tiye, Davis’s workers had excavated an ancient trash heap. Inside they found eight large sealed pots bearing Tutankhamen’s name. As it turned out, the jars were filled with embalming supplies and leftovers from a long-ago feast, along with floral collars stitched with berries and flowers.
Very likely, this feast took place after Tut’s burial. The flowers were a sort that bloomed between March and April, offering a clue as to when this mysterious pharaoh had died.
Carter lit a cigarette and reread the descriptions of the tomb in which Davis purported to have found Tut. In his opinion, the gold-flaked and alabaster objects present inside that tomb were of too low a quality for a pharaoh’s burial chamber. Davis was a fool not to see as much himself.
More likely they had been placed there years later, when the tomb was reopened. Owing to the growing connection between Amarna and the tomb, it seemed plausible that Queen Tiye had been relocated from Amarna to the valley at some point after her death.
No, Tut hadn’t been found. But other discoveries in the valley—jars of embalming fluid, the faience cup, remnants of a final meal bearing inscriptions showing it had been part of Tut’s burial feast, seals bearing his symbol stamped on tomb doorways—clearly showed that he had existed.
“To explain the reasons for this belief of ours, we must turn to the published pages of Mr. Davis’s excavations,” Carter went on to write. “Davis claimed that he had found the burial place of Tut.Ankh.Amen. The theory was quite untenabl…. We had thus three distinct pieces of evidence: the faience cup found beneath the rock, the gold foil from the small pit tomb, and this important cache of funerary material. Which seemed definitely to connect Tut.Ankh.Amen with this particular part of the valley.”
Now all Carter needed was an opportunity to find it. “With all this evidence before us, we were thoroughly convinced in our own minds that the tomb of Tut.Ankh.Amen was still to be found, and that it ought to be situated not far from the center of the valley.”
But he needed Davis to abandon his concession.
Two years later, the American did just that.
Chapter 51
Valley of the Kings
February 8, 1915
LORD CARNARVON SNATCHED UP Theodore Davis’s concession without hesitation. Just like that, after eight years of waiting, Carter was back in the valley. He finally began scouring the area for his long-hoped-for virgin tomb on February 8, 1915.
When Davis had walked away from his concession, saying that the valley was “exhausted,” few members of the Egyptology community disagreed. “We remembered, however, that a hundred years earlier Belzoni had made a similar claim and refused to be convinced. We had made a thorough excavation of the site and remained convinced that there were areas, covered by the dumps of previous excavators, which had never been properly examined,” wrote Carter.
Carter clung to the belief that Davis’s evidence was incredibly slipshod and that he’d made assumptions about the discovered mummy’s identity that couldn’t be verified. “Clearly enough, we saw that very heavy work lay before us and that many thousands of tons of surface debris would have to be removed before we could find anything. But there was always a chance that a tomb might reward us in the end, and that was always a chance we were willing to take.”
So February 8, 1915, should have been a triumphant day for Carter, as what amounted to the pinnacle of his life’s work was about to begin.
There was just one problem: the world was at war.
All digging in the Valley of the Kings had been stopped. Even worse, orders arrived from the British army drafting Carter into service.
How dare the venal, tawdry modern world intrude on his search for an ancient king.
Chapter 52
Egyptian Desert
1324 BC
THE BONFIRE LIT UP THE NIGHT, its crackling flames reflecting off the pale tents of Egypt’s great army. Tut sat on his traveling throne, with sword-carrying sentries on either side. He was close enough to feel the fire’s warmth but distant enough that he was safe from any drunken soldier who might suddenly decide to settle a grudge with the pharaoh.
Tonight such a confrontation was unlikely. The men were beyond euphoric after slaughtering a hated enemy. Blood still flecked many of their faces; desert grime ringed their eyes.
Tut had drunk more wine than was prudent, but he didn’t feel it that much. As he strapped a cloak about his shoulders to stave off the cold night air, Tut sensed the men watching him. He detected a new respect. Their eyes said that today, on the field of battle, he had behaved as a true king.
Women also ringed the fire, some of them quite beautiful. Several were camp followers who had endured the long trek from Thebes. But many were captured enemy women—the prettiest ones—bound at the wrists after having been dragged from their homes. Their faces were masks of terror, shame, and loss. They had already seen their husbands and sons slain. Now, once the fire died, they would be passed from man to man—a fate that made many wish that they had died too. Soon, a few would get their wish and go to the afterworld.
Tut felt one of the women gazing at him. Across the fire sat a solitary maiden with the most beautiful hair. Someone’s daughter, thought Tut. She was his age, perhaps younger. Raven hair flowed down her back. Dark brown eyes. Full lips and a strong chin.
His stomach felt funny, a sensation that he at first blamed on the wine. But now he knew it was nerves, the same insecurity that had threatened to paralyze him before battle. Tut shrugged it off and turned away from the gorgeous girl who dared to stare at him. He forced himself to think of Ankhesenpaaten, who was pregnant with their second child. His queen, his lover, his friend since childhood.
But then Tut found himself staring at the female prisoner. The girl looked even more desirable than before, tossing the ringlets of her hair to better show her profile. If she would have to submit to an Egyptian, she clearly preferred to spend the night with a pharaoh.
He watched as the woman stood, the firelight revealing the sort of full-breasted figure that he had long coveted. Her skirt rode high on her thighs, leaving Tut’s imagination free to wander, which it did. How could it not? He was far from home and had just won a great battle.
I am the pharaoh, Tut reminded himself. What does it matter what others think? Let my wife be angry with me. My father had lovers. So did my father’s father, and his father before him. What does it matter if I take this woman to my bed—or take her for my wife, for that matter?
Tut moved forward until he was sitting on the edge of his seat. By the look in her eyes, it was clear that the girl sensed that she was about to be beckoned. Her hard look had softened.
Tut rose and stared at her. He could feel a deep and powerful longing. He studied the girl—her face, lips, every curve—and then he turned and walked to his tent.
Alone.
He remained faithful to Ankhe.
Chapter 53
Tut’s Palace
1324 BC
ANKHESENPAATEN STAGGERED into the throne room holding her bulging belly in both hands. She was six months into her second pregnancy.
Each morning she had said a quiet prayer to Amun that this time he would let the baby live. Those prayers had been answered so far, but now something was happening, something new that had her terrified.
“Tut,” she whispered from the doorway. “Tut, please.”
Tut’s advisers stood in a semicircle before his throne, midway through their morning discussion about an upcoming invasion of Nubia. The pharaoh wore just a royal kilt and a decorative collar, for it was summer in Thebes, and at midmorning the temperature was already stifling. When Tut had decided to move the capital back to Thebes, he had not anticipated such extremes of weather.
At the sound of Ankhesenpaaten’s voice his head turned toward the doorway. Then he walked quickly to his queen, not caring that his advisers might disapprove.
“What is it, Ankhe?” he asked. After he had returned from war, the
two of them had become closer than ever.
“Tut, I can’t feel anything.”
Tut glanced back at his advisers, who were trying—and failing—to somehow pretend that they weren’t smug about the conversation.
“I’m sure the baby is just sleeping,” Tut said in a low voice.
Ankhesenpaaten shook her head. “It’s been a whole day. Usually he moves inside me all the time. Here,” she said, taking Tut’s hand and placing it against the curve of her abdomen. “Feel that?”
Tut nodded. “That’s his foot,” she told him. “He normally kicks all the time, but that foot hasn’t moved today.”
She suddenly gasped in pain and crumpled to the floor. The advisers rushed to the pharaoh and his queen.
“Guard!” Aye yelled. “Send for the royal physician.”
Chapter 54
Tut’s Palace
1324 BC
ANKHESENPAATEN’S FACE HAD TURNED a sickly shade of pale. She cried out as wave after wave of excruciating pain coursed through her body.
“What is it?” asked Tut, holding her hand tightly. “What is happening?”
“The baby is coming, Tut. Right now.”
And at those words, Ankhesenpaaten began to cry. She knew that no child should enter the world so early in a pregnancy. There was no way it would live.
It was as if Tut and his advisers did not exist now. Alone with the child, she curled into a ball on the floor and sobbed bitterly, pressing her face into the cool, smooth stone.
“I am so ashamed,” she whispered.
“My queen… ,” said Tut.
“I am not worthy of being called your queen,” she said, sitting up straight and looking deeply into Tut’s eyes. The bile in her throat rose as she stared at the three advisers. “I cannot give you an heir. Don’t you see? I am incapable.”
The advisers said nothing to this, but none would have disagreed. Thanks to their spies within the royal household, the aging men knew that she referred to them as the Serpents. The girl was arrogant and disrespectful, but she was also very smart.
“Don’t speak nonsense,” Tut said in an unconvincing voice. This was the moment he had feared since Ankhesenpaaten had announced that she was with child again. “We’ll put the child in my burial tomb. Much of it is already finished.”
“You’re not listening to me,” said Ankhesenpaaten, just as a contraction sent a new wave of pain through her body.
“She’s right,” Horemheb pronounced. “She sees things clearly.”
Tut got to his feet and stood toe-to-toe with the general. “Do you dare tell the pharaoh that he is in error?”
Horemheb didn’t back down all the way. “No, sir. I am merely agreeing with your queen. You heard her. She is telling you to take another wife. Listen to her.”
Tut bent to the floor and scooped up Ankhesenpaaten. Lovingly, he kissed her cheek as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he carried her to the royal bedroom.
“I will deal with you later,” Tut said to Horemheb. “Egypt is a land of many generals. Do not forget it.”
Then, to Aye, he added, “Send the doctor to the bedroom. Do it quickly, Scribe.”
Chapter 55
Tut’s Palace
1324 BC
TUT STRIPPED DOWN at his bedside, letting his kilt fall to the floor for a servant to clean in the morning.
He took off his eye paint, which was black and extended to his temples. He rinsed his mouth from a tumbler of water on the nightstand, then slid into bed. The pillow was cool against his bare, shaved head, and the sheets gently caressed his torso. Like most Egyptians, he was obsessed with hygiene and cleanliness. The hair on his body was regularly removed with razors and clippers.
Now he lay back and wondered what would happen next.
All night long the palace had been buzzing about the angry confrontation between Aye and the pharaoh. Tut could feel it in the way the servants brought his dinner, keeping their eyes more downcast than usual.
“Egypt is once again powerful and prosperous,” the royal vizier had bellowed. “This is due to me, Pharaoh. Not you. Not your queen. Your father ran this country nearly into ruin, and I have built it up again. Now you threaten all we have worked for by not producing an heir.”
The vizier continued: “This thing you two call ‘love’ is a greater threat to Egypt than the Canaanites, the Nubians, and all our other neighbors. And yet you revel in your cozy affections. You rub our noses in it. These people”—now Aye threw his arm out toward the city—“deserve a pharaoh who puts the nation first.”
“I am pharaoh. I can do whatever I want to do. You are but a man, Scribe.”
As Tut entered his bedroom alone, after seeing Ankhesenpaaten to her room, he was aware that every person in the palace waited to see what would happen next.
Would Aye make good on his promise to bring a handmaiden to Tut’s bed?
At midnight, with the full moon pouring into his open window, Tut got his answer. He heard two sets of footsteps in the corridor outside. The first was heavy and labored and the other soft.
Then came a delicate rustle as the lighter footsteps tiptoed into his room. Tut could sense hesitation, perhaps fear, as the feet came closer and closer to his bed. He could almost feel the pounding of the young girl’s heart.
What must she be thinking, Tut wondered, lying flat on his back, his eyes still adjusting to the near darkness. She has come to have sex with the pharaoh. Of course she is a virgin, so the mere act of making love is mysterious and frightening.
But to lie down with the ruler of all of Egypt? With me?
Tut rolled onto his side to have a look. His fierce loyalty to his queen almost caused him to send the girl away, but he held back for the moment, though he was unsure why.
Now he saw her.
The girl looked to be sixteen or seventeen. Tut remembered admiring her at a state dinner and thinking she might be the daughter of a local dignitary. That she was a great beauty, there was no doubt. She stood at the side of the bed, very demure, moonlight shining through her sheer robe. Tut was mesmerized at the sight of her: her shape, her long black hair, her dark eyes still painted. Her perfume was a pleasing combination of lemon and flowers.
“What is your name?” he said softly, surprised to feel the beating of his own heart, surprised that he cared about her feelings.
“Tuya,” she whispered.
“Take off your robe, Tuya. Don’t be afraid. There’s no need of that. Not here.”
Tuya did as she was told, pulling the fabric from her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor.
“Turn around for me. Slowly. You’re very beautiful. Please, don’t be fearful.”
She spun in a circle, her shoulders back and head held high. Then she took a tentative step toward him.
“Wait,” Tut said, seized by a sudden image of Ankhesenpaaten. What was his queen doing now? And what would she say if she could see him? How would this affect their love—what Aye had called “cozy affections”?
Tuya stopped and self-consciously placed her hands over her breasts.
Tut got out of bed then and walked to her. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of him, which only increased his arousal.
Next, he kissed Tuya’s lips and found them to be soft, even more so than Ankhe’s. Her breath was fresh and sweet, and she hungrily thrust her tongue into his mouth.
The young pharaoh didn’t think of his queen for the rest of that long sleepless night.
Chapter 56
Tut’s Palace
1324 BC
ANKHESENPAATEN COULDN’T SLEEP. The mere thought of what was happening in Tut’s bedroom filled her with jealousy and more than a little sadness. From the time they were children, she had always loved Tut. And the men in the palace had always gotten in the way.
She stood and slipped on a robe, then walked quietly outside into the gardens. The air was cold, and she shivered from the chill. There was much on her mind. She thought of Tut again and that girl and then
quickly banished the image from her mind.
He’s not enjoying it, she assured herself.
Oh, yes he is, shot back an inner voice.
That night at dinner she’d overheard the servants laughing at her, scornful that a queen was incapable of bringing children into the world.
Yes, I can! she’d wanted to scream. I have brought two wonderful children into this world. The gods have seen fit to send them to the afterworld, but I will bear more.
Why does no one point the finger at Tut?
Why does he not endure the pain of childbirth, only to have the infant perish? Why is he allowed to take a woman to his bed to produce an heir, while I am left here alone? What if I felt like taking a man to my bed? What then? Maybe I do feel like it sometimes.
She stood and paced. The queen was barefoot, and the path had many small pebbles that dug into the soles of her feet, causing her to step gingerly. One sharp stone made her stop completely. Yet she reveled in the petty annoyance. This is nothing like childbirth, Tut! That was pain!
She considered racing to the other side of the palace and confronting the lovers, all tangled and sweaty in his bed.
You told him to do it, she reminded herself.
Yes, but I didn’t mean it.
She would march in and claw the girl’s face until her beauty was gone forever. And then she would strike out at Tut.
No, I can’t do that. I do love him. He is my king, the king of all of Egypt.
But he abandoned you. He is in another woman’s arms this very minute. They are speaking intimate words—whispering and laughing and touching one another. That’s treason, in its own way. Why shouldn’t he die?
He is a pharaoh, and pharaohs have harems. This is just one girl.
But we promised each other. We promised to be true.
He would kill me if I broke that promise.