water. The walls of the tunnel flickered in blue light.
Following the illuminated path, we came to a grand entryway carved into the rock.
“Wow,” Gannon said, his eyes wide with wonder. “Look at that!”
We slowly moved closer.
“Recognize this?” I asked, pointing to a stone overhead that was carved with hieroglyphics. It was the same inscription Dr. Aziz had translated earlier, but even if we hadn’t noticed it, I could see that this was a tomb fit for the Queen of the Nile.
“Cleopatra!” Serene shouted. “This is it! This is her tomb!”
To the right of these hieroglyphics was another inscription. It read, “M·ANTONIVS·M·F·M·N.”
“That’s Latin!” Gannon shouted.
“Do you know what it says?” I asked.
“Well, I’m far from fluent,” Gannon said, “but I remember the alphabet pretty well.”
He studied the inscription for a moment.
“This is crazy,” he said, “but I’m almost positive it says Mark Antony.”
All at once, I was hit with an incredible rush of pride at being the first to find this tomb—a tomb that has escaped archeologists for centuries! At the same time, I felt awful that Dr. Aziz wasn’t with us. This was his discovery, not ours. He had worked for over a decade in the hopes of one day enjoying this moment. He was far more deserving than we were. Be that as it may, events transpired as they did and there we were, entering the tomb of the world-famous Egyptian Queen, Cleopatra, and the legendary Roman General, Mark Antony.
“You’re getting this all on video right?” I asked Gannon. “No one’s going to believe it unless we have proof.”
“Sorry, I’m so worried about being cursed, I almost forgot,” Gannon said.
Gannon turned on his camera and started filming.
Framing the entryway to the tomb, two pillars of solid gold rose about fifteen feet into the air. Dimmed by thousands of years of dust, they were still spectacular. Each was etched with hieroglyphics and decorated in faded colors. When we stepped inside, what we found was almost incomprehensible. Channels of blue water ran beyond the pillars into the tomb, illuminating a treasure I couldn’t have imagined in my wildest dreams. No disrespect to Howard Carter’s discovery, but this made King Tut’s treasure look like the collection of trinkets you might find in a little girl’s jewelry box. And it was all displayed so neatly, like it had been placed by a museum curator.
There’s an old saying, “you can’t take it with you when you die.” Well, the ancient Egyptians believed that you could. Inside the tomb were alabaster vases, elaborately decorated chairs with ivory and gold inlay, small painted boxes filled with gemstones, a magnificent wooden chariot with seats wrapped in leather, and numerous gilded statues carved into the likeness of animals—lions, jackals, and other unique creatures. There were also lots of other objects I couldn’t identify, objects that would require further study of Egyptian art to describe accurately. In each of the four corners, life-sized, pharaoh-like figures stood guard.
“This is so beautiful!” Serene said.
We made our way through the tomb, doing a detailed examination of all the artifacts as we went. Serene and I made notes in our journals. Gannon continued taking video. Finally, we neared Cleopatra’s sarcophagus. It lay flat on a slab of limestone against the far back wall of the tomb. Mark Antony’s sarcophagus was to her right. There was a bust of each directly behind their coffin, which made them easy to identify. On either side of Cleopatra’s bust was a golden asp, the snake she had chosen to initiate her journey into the afterlife.
Between the coffins sat a large chest, decorated with red and green stones and painted in colors that had somehow maintained their brightness over time. It, too, had Cleopatra’s name inscribed on the top, along with other writing I couldn’t translate. Given the chest’s placement, perfectly centered
Following the illuminated path, we came to a grand entryway carved into the rock.
“Wow,” Gannon said, his eyes wide with wonder. “Look at that!”
We slowly moved closer.
“Recognize this?” I asked, pointing to a stone overhead that was carved with hieroglyphics. It was the same inscription Dr. Aziz had translated earlier, but even if we hadn’t noticed it, I could see that this was a tomb fit for the Queen of the Nile.
“Cleopatra!” Serene shouted. “This is it! This is her tomb!”
To the right of these hieroglyphics was another inscription. It read, “M·ANTONIVS·M·F·M·N.”
“That’s Latin!” Gannon shouted.
“Do you know what it says?” I asked.
“Well, I’m far from fluent,” Gannon said, “but I remember the alphabet pretty well.”
He studied the inscription for a moment.
“This is crazy,” he said, “but I’m almost positive it says Mark Antony.”
All at once, I was hit with an incredible rush of pride at being the first to find this tomb—a tomb that has escaped archeologists for centuries! At the same time, I felt awful that Dr. Aziz wasn’t with us. This was his discovery, not ours. He had worked for over a decade in the hopes of one day enjoying this moment. He was far more deserving than we were. Be that as it may, events transpired as they did and there we were, entering the tomb of the world-famous Egyptian Queen, Cleopatra, and the legendary Roman General, Mark Antony.
“You’re getting this all on video right?” I asked Gannon. “No one’s going to believe it unless we have proof.”
“Sorry, I’m so worried about being cursed, I almost forgot,” Gannon said.
Gannon turned on his camera and started filming.
Framing the entryway to the tomb, two pillars of solid gold rose about fifteen feet into the air. Dimmed by thousands of years of dust, they were still spectacular. Each was etched with hieroglyphics and decorated in faded colors. When we stepped inside, what we found was almost incomprehensible. Channels of blue water ran beyond the pillars into the tomb, illuminating a treasure I couldn’t have imagined in my wildest dreams. No disrespect to Howard Carter’s discovery, but this made King Tut’s treasure look like the collection of trinkets you might find in a little girl’s jewelry box. And it was all displayed so neatly, like it had been placed by a museum curator.
There’s an old saying, “you can’t take it with you when you die.” Well, the ancient Egyptians believed that you could. Inside the tomb were alabaster vases, elaborately decorated chairs with ivory and gold inlay, small painted boxes filled with gemstones, a magnificent wooden chariot with seats wrapped in leather, and numerous gilded statues carved into the likeness of animals—lions, jackals, and other unique creatures. There were also lots of other objects I couldn’t identify, objects that would require further study of Egyptian art to describe accurately. In each of the four corners, life-sized, pharaoh-like figures stood guard.
“This is so beautiful!” Serene said.
We made our way through the tomb, doing a detailed examination of all the artifacts as we went. Serene and I made notes in our journals. Gannon continued taking video. Finally, we neared Cleopatra’s sarcophagus. It lay flat on a slab of limestone against the far back wall of the tomb. Mark Antony’s sarcophagus was to her right. There was a bust of each directly behind their coffin, which made them easy to identify. On either side of Cleopatra’s bust was a golden asp, the snake she had chosen to initiate her journey into the afterlife.
Between the coffins sat a large chest, decorated with red and green stones and painted in colors that had somehow maintained their brightness over time. It, too, had Cleopatra’s name inscribed on the top, along with other writing I couldn’t translate. Given the chest’s placement, perfectly centered
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