The Sleeper in the Sands by Tom Holland Page B

studying how Tyi’s features had been represented, that they confirmed a theory I had heard long before from Petrie: that the great Queen of Egypt had not herself been an Egyptian. Petrie, I knew, believed that Tyi had been of Semitic origin; but on the evidence of the portrait I now held in my hand, it struck me as likelier that she had been of Nubian descent. I frowned. Though I had come to it myself, I found this conclusion a hard one to accept. For it had been the universal custom of the Pharaohs, I knew, to pick a Chief Wife from amongst their own family; more than custom, indeed, it had been a cast-iron religious decree, affirmed and imposed by the priests of Amen, who had feared lest the royal blood-line be polluted. Where, then, had Tyi come from? If she had been not only a commoner but a foreigner as well, how could she possibly have risen to become the great Queen of Queens, indeed the first Queen in all of Egypt’s long history to be portrayed as the equal of her husband, the Pharaoh? She must have been as formidable as her portrait suggested, to have seduced King Amen-hetep so utterly, and then to have prevailed over the priesthood of Amen. In that success, I wondered suddenly, what clues might there not be towards the character of Akh-en-Aten, her son -- clues, perhaps, which lay buried in the very sands beneath my feet?
    It was in a fever of anticipation, then, that I waited to continue with the dig. I was disappointed, though, when Ahmed returned, to see that he had brought no more than ten men with him and that these, to judge by the expressions on their faces, had been summoned much against their wills. ‘There is a great fear,’ Ahmed whispered to me, ‘and much superstitious nonsense abroad. For everyone has heard of the find that was made, of the lion with the woman’s head. And so they are afraid lest they disturb the tomb which it guards, and set the demon free a second time.’
    ‘There is no demon,’ I answered loudly, for the benefit of the workmen gathered before me. ‘No demon, and nothing to fear. Now . . .’ -- I reached in my pocket and brought out a coin -- ‘this for the first man who comes across a find.’
    The labourers reached for their picks and set to work; yet I could see, in the flickering light of the torches, that their faces were still tense and twisted with dread. Even I, affected no doubt by the labourers’ mood, began to feel strange flickerings of tension and rather than continue with my perusal of the portrait of Tyi, I covered it carefully and set it aside, as though to inspect it by moonlight might somehow bring bad luck. I picked up a spade and set to digging myself; and indeed, if I am honest, I must admit that I welcomed the chance to work off my nerves -- for there is nothing like labour to keep one’s fancyings at bay.
    Or so at least I have always found; yet the case of my workmen was to suggest the contrary. We had been digging for a couple of hours, clearing the sand and loose rubble from the site, when there arose - just as there had done before -- a sudden, piercing scream. I looked up. One of the workmen had dropped his pick and was shrinking backwards, his mouth set in a twisted grimace of fear as he pointed at something he had clearly just exposed. The others too had all paused in their work, and then, as their fellow had done, begun to shrink backwards. I heard a low, dreadful moan, and one of the workmen turned on his heels. ‘Stop!’ I cried out, ‘stop!’; but there was no holding him. I stepped forward, to try to persuade the others to remain, but they too were flinging their tools upon the ground and scrabbling out of the trench they had dug. ‘Stop them!’ I yelled at Ahmed, but though he tried his best, there was nothing he could do. The men had soon vanished for good into the dark, and the two of us were left in the abandoned trench alone.
    I swore angrily, and stepped forward to see what could have caused such a stampede. At first, I