Tutankhamun Uncovered by Michael J Marfleet Page B

layout was still evident. The outdoor shrine where the icon of the Aten had been sheltered was now pretty much destroyed by vandals of the restoration, but he was pleased to observe that elsewhere, and more particularly within the house itself, there was little evidence of wilful damage. The painted walls had some stains on them and the colours had faded somewhat, but the pigments still retained much of their original body. There was no furniture Vizier Nakht had taken that with him during the exodus but the rubbish of recent, alien habitation was everywhere.
    The two stopped in the principal reception room. They looked at each other. The king turned to his followers. “Pharaoh and his queen shall take refreshment here.”
    Two of the guards quickly assembled a couple of gilded folding chairs they had been carrying and the royal couple took their seats. The queen’s elder maidservant, Tia, presented her with a tray of fruit.
    “What does this remind you of, my Queen? Imagine these columns are palm trees, there are flowers all about us, ducks are singing from within the papyrus. Over there...” The king pointed to a corner of the room. “Look beyond the walls...”
    Ankhesenamun chewed on a date and thought a moment. “The great oasis, my lord. Our family would sometimes picnic there. We would play games all of us together. My father would tell stories. Mother would sing to the music of the servants. Sometimes father would hunt. His kill would be prepared then and there. It would be roasted and we would feast on it. But fresh food and fresh water are not always good. To our eternal cost we learned that here, in this place.” She looked around the chamber. Tia bent close to pour the queen a cup of water. The king placed his hand over the mouth of the vessel. “We shall drink wine.”
    The two took some wine and a little more fruit and were soon finished.
    “I wish to make an offering at the cenotaph of my family,” said the queen.
    “Of course,” acknowledged Tutankhamun. He instructed the carriers to bear them to the place.
    As the party walked on to the threshold of the short ornamental avenue that led to the front portico of Akhenaten’s mortuary temple, the queen suddenly stopped, raised her hand to her mouth, and gasped in horror. The entire building had been razed to the ground. In their frenzy, the vandals had seen to it that not a single piece of masonry, not one fragment of statuary had been left whole, let alone standing. All images of the royal family had been excised from the massive columns, chipped out completely by the vandals’ chisels, or smashed beyond recognition. Snakes and scorpions infested the rubble.
    Ankhesenamun broke down in tears.
    The king realised immediately there could be much worse to come. “My Queen,” he consoled, “you must be strong. The infidels who did these things may not have stopped here.”
    He turned at once to the guards and ordered, “We shall go to the tomb of Pharaoh Akhenaten. Bring me horse and chariot! I know the way. Towards where Amun riseth.” He pointed eastward towards a steep wadi emerging like a gash in the hillside beyond the city wall. “Two guards will accompany us. We need no other.”
    With only a rough track to the ‘Royal Wadi’, it took the party almost an hour to reach the site of the lonely tomb. It was befittingly solitary, cut low into the side of the valley. As they had dreaded, but expected, the giant doorway lay open, a gaping black portal at the base of the white limestone cliff that towered above it. Evidence of vandalism and looting was spread all about the threshold. Pieces of broken pottery, splinters of furnishings, linen rags and beads spilled from roughly handled jewellery littered the valley floor.
    “Light the torches!” ordered the king. “We will enter.”
    Tutankhamun held his wife’s hand firmly as they stepped into the mouth of the tomb. The guards followed closely behind, carrying the torches. The lively flames