Chapter Five
Charlotte
Egypt, 1936
Charlotte’s excitement at possibly finding an untouched tomb plummeted when she noticed that the door at the bottom of the steps had a broken seal. Someone else had been inside after the priests had closed it up. Still, it would be a new addition to the Valley of the Kings, and her name would be listed in the history books as the one who discovered it.
Mr. Zimmerman held up his lantern as he, Charlotte, and the inspector walked through the doorway and found themselves in a narrow tunnel. They all had to stoop, as the ceiling was only about five feet high. The hallway’s walls were covered in hieroglyphics, but most were so faded as to be unintelligible. The only exceptions were the two wedjat eyes painted across from each other about halfway down the incline. Charlotte had always loved the design: an almond eye with an elegantly raised eyebrow, a mark like a teardrop below, and a swirl that curved along the upper cheek that represented well-being, healing, and protection. It thrilled her to think that an ancient Egyptian artist had stood on the very spot where she was right now and carefully traced the outline before filling it in with a mixture of ocher and soot.
They continued deeper into the tomb, and she heard the voices of the other team members following behind, including those of Henry and Leon. The end of the tunnel opened to a burial chamber that Charlotte guessed to be around twenty feet square. She’d seen photographs of Tut’s burial chamber after it was discovered, a jumble of treasures from floor to ceiling, and this couldn’t be more different, completely bare except for a large object at the far end of the chamber and a long bundle that lay in the middle of the floor.
As light filled the space and her eyes adjusted, she let out a soft cry.
The large item was a sarcophagus, and the bundle lying beside it, a mummified corpse.
They drew closer. The mummy on the floor was wrapped in strips of linen, but the left thumb poked through the cloth, the thumbnail intact. After thousands of years, a perfect thumbnail. The Egyptian mummification process was a long one, lasting seventy days, but by removing all the moisture from the body, the embalmers were able to preserve it so well that, other than a natural darkening of the skin, the result was incredibly lifelike—even strands of hair were preserved.
The process was rather ghastly, in Charlotte’s opinion. All the internal organs were removed, including the brain, which was pulled out through the nostrils in pieces. The heart was left behind, while other organs—the lungs, liver, stomach, intestines—were placed in canopic jars, to be interred with the deceased. Then the body was covered in a type of salt and left to dry out, before being wrapped in hundreds of yards of linen and finally placed in a coffin.
And now she was looking at the result.
“Interesting,” said Mr. Zimmerman, kneeling down.
“What’s that?”
“One of the mummy’s arms is crossed over the chest, a sign of royalty in the Eighteenth Dynasty.”
“Do you think someone took it out of the sarcophagus?”
“Perhaps. Tomb raiders were certainly here at some point, looking for any amulets and jewels that the priests left in the wrappings of the body. Wonder what else they made off with.” He rose and together they approached the sarcophagus. “Will you look at that?” Mr. Zimmerman said, pointing at the side.
Charlotte translated the marking. “?‘Great Royal Wet Nurse Bennu.’?”
“The royal nurse of Hathorkare,” said Mr. Zimmerman.
Charlotte had heard of Hathorkare and the supposed curse associated with her, along with the accusation that she had stolen the throne from her stepson. Her mummy had never been found.
After another consultation with the inspector, Mr. Zimmerman called for two of the stronger workers to help lift the lid of the sarcophagus.
It turned out that the mummy on the floor had not been entombed alone. Inside lay another wrapped figure, arms straight along its sides. Which meant the mummy with the bent arm had had its sarcophagus stolen and been abandoned on the dirt floor, a terrible injustice.
“If the arm is crossed, could she possibly be Hathorkare, buried with the mummy of her former nurse to keep her company?” asked Charlotte.
Mr. Zimmerman threw the mummy on the floor a quick glance—he was more interested in studying the sarcophagus’s markings. “Perhaps. In any event, she’s a minor player in Egyptian history, one who stole the throne in a blatant power grab from the true pharaoh, whose tomb has already been picked through. I’m afraid there’s nothing new here to add to the canon.”
His lack of excitement dimmed Charlotte’s, but she continued exploring. In one corner lay several mummified animals that resembled geese, most likely left for the deceased to dine on. The Egyptians expected their afterlife to be as satisfying as their actual one, which was why King Tut had a chariot placed in his tomb, along with containers for food and drink, several pairs of underwear, and even a couple of board games.
How sad, if this was Hathorkare’s final resting place, that she was stuck with only fowl to eat and nothing to play with? What else had been inside before the plunderers had struck?
After the tomb had been thoroughly examined and explored, Charlotte reluctantly followed Mr. Zimmerman back along the tunnel that led to the opening. While the discovery was important, the tomb itself was fairly unremarkable, with its faded walls and almost empty chambers. She paused in front of one of the wedjat eyes in the tunnel. Just below it, level with the dirt floor, was a tiny hole, large enough for a mouse. Charlotte reached down and poked her finger inside. To her surprise, the wall there was quite thin, and there was space behind it.
“Mr. Zimmerman, come quick!”
Mr. Zimmerman joined her, with Henry close behind.
“What is it?” asked Mr. Zimmerman.
“I noticed a hole, and the stone crumbles easily.” She pointed to the gap near the floor. “I think there might be a niche.”
Mr. Zimmerman crouched down and called out for some tools. Leon appeared out of nowhere and edged his way in front of Charlotte, holding a pointing trowel in one hand. He knelt and followed Mr. Zimmerman’s instructions to delicately expand the hole. “Give us some room,” said Mr. Zimmerman.
Charlotte held her ground, resenting Leon for taking her place. Henry stood right behind her and touched her waist lightly with one hand, sensing her irritation. Ever since their kiss at Karnak, they’d done their best to keep their affection for each other a secret from their colleagues, stealing a kiss or two only when the coast was clear.
Slowly, Leon extricated what looked like a chain of sorts, covered in dust, which Mr. Zimmerman carefully brushed off. It was around two feet long and involved some kind of intricate webbing.
Henry pointed a flashlight at the piece as Mr. Zimmerman held it up for examination. The reflected light burned Charlotte’s eyes, and she was forced to squint.
The chain was made of metal, and not just any metal.
Gold.
And it wasn’t a chain at all. Charlotte immediately recognized it as a broad collar, a wide, layered necklace made up of several rows of connected amulets. An important find, for certain.
The thieves hadn’t gotten everything after all.
The next day was Sunday—the team’s day off—and, still buzzing from her discovery, Charlotte agreed to accompany Henry on a trip into Luxor right after breakfast. The air was crisp and clear, the sky blue, which rarely happened in Egypt. The constant swirl of sand tended to cast a yellow glow instead, as if they were on some planet other than Earth.
The city of Luxor lay along the east bank of the Nile, and Henry helped Charlotte into one of the small boats that made the crossing and sat next to her on the bench, their legs touching. Together, they watched as water buffalo grazed in the tall marshes and young boys splashed each other and shouted as the boat pulled away from the shore.
Luxor brimmed with life, the open-air bazaar filled with the cries of vendors selling mangoes and figs, as well as the cackle of hens. The aromas of exotic spices mingled with the colorful tapestries of local craftsmen, while children raced around their mothers’ skirts and skinny dogs lolled in the shade panting. Not long into their stroll, Charlotte and Henry were mistaken for tourists and beset by men in robes offering antiquities. “True antiquities, sir, I promise you,” they insisted.
Charlotte had been warned early on about the forgery trade that flourished in the city, but Henry became engaged in conversation with a tall man in black. When Charlotte shot him a look, Henry just shrugged. “I’m curious. Let’s see what he has to offer, shall we?”
They followed him into a house where hundreds of supposed antiquities were displayed in a small room off the salon. Limestone tablets carved with crude hieroglyphs, amulets, and dozens of scarabs littered a large table.
Henry picked up a scarab and studied it. “I still find it odd that a beetle best known for rolling its dung into a ball is one of the great symbols of ancient Egypt.”
“Because their young are hatched in the ball, and the rolling of it resembles the journey of the sun across the sky,” said Charlotte.
“That’s still something of a stretch.”
“Renewal, my dear. They offer protection.” Charlotte took it from him and studied its crude markings. It was a fake, but a decent one.
“Would you like one? A magical charm?”
At this, the seller’s face brightened. “I have a wonderful one in carnelian for your wife, you will find it perfect. It’s upstairs, I’ll be right back.”
Charlotte blushed at the man’s mistake.
Henry drew near. “Mrs. Henry Smith. I rather like that.”
“You’re going to buy your fake wife a fake scarab?” teased Charlotte.
Henry stood only a foot away, looking down at Charlotte as if she were made of gold. Her breath caught in her chest.
“I’ll buy my wife anything she likes,” said Henry quietly. “I read somewhere that the forgers roll the fake scarabs in chewed food and have geese swallow them whole. Apparently, the fowl’s digestive system adds to the patina.”
Charlotte made a face and dropped the scarab, and they both laughed.
Henry wandered around the room, eventually opening a door near the back. “Look!” he whispered.
Charlotte joined him. The room was dominated by a workman’s bench with tools strewn about: brushes, saws, a magnifying glass, files, and gravers. In one corner lay a large sycamore mummy case that had been chopped in half, the wood used for fake funerary statues, no doubt. They’d stumbled into a forger’s workshop.
“What are you doing?”
The man had returned, carrying several amber-colored scarabs.
Henry quickly made excuses, and soon they were back out on the street, the man scowling at them from the doorway.
“You’re going to get us both in deep trouble one of these days,” said Charlotte. “You know that, don’t you?”
“I liked being mistaken for your husband, so that made it all worth it. Besides, it’s not as if he can call the police to complain.”
“It doesn’t seem right, to sell these fake wares to unsuspecting tourists. Some of those replicas were quite good, you’d need to be an expert to spot them.”
“They’re just making a living; I don’t blame them.”
“But it diminishes what ends up in museums, what we go to great lengths to excavate.”
“Think of it like this,” said Henry. “If an unsuspecting tourist brings home a fake scarab or a pottery bowl and that gets their friends interested in ancient Egyptian culture, the better for the Met Museum or archaeologists like us. They, in turn, might bring their children to the museum, or donate to the Egyptian Art collection, or even fund a dig.”
Charlotte wasn’t so sure. “You don’t think forgeries diminish the artistry of the ancient workers? Shouldn’t they be the ones to get all the acclaim?”
“I hate to break it to you, but those workers are all long gone. I doubt they have an opinion either way.”
“Unless the Egyptian view of the afterlife is correct. In that case, you might be struck by lightning any day now.”
“Oh, I think that’s already happened.”
The way Henry looked at Charlotte made her forget all about the long-dead artisans or the angry forger. By the time they got back to the Metropolitan House, Charlotte wanted nothing more than to disappear into Henry’s room for the afternoon. She was still buzzing from the high of finding an undiscovered tomb; for the first time, the idea of being an archaeologist here in Egypt didn’t seem so crazy. In Egypt, she could make her own rules and lead the life she chose, not the one her parents expected of her. And if ancient Egyptian women got to enjoy the pleasures of the body without censure, it was only fair that she should as well.
As they neared his room, Charlotte took Henry’s hand in hers. Henry fumbled with his key and, once he finally got the door open, pulled her inside, where Charlotte eagerly melted into his embrace, losing herself to the cadences of their movements and the contours of his body.
After, Henry told her he loved her, and she said it back, without any hesitation. He was charming and kind, and they made a perfect match with their love of archaeology and this wonderful, wild, mysterious country. What the future held for the two of them was opaque, but she didn’t want to worry about that right now.
That evening, after dinner, ten or so of the team gathered on the veranda. Charlotte would miss this terrace when she was back in New York, as it was the perfect place to have coffee first thing in the morning while the desert turned pink with the sunrise, or to enjoy a glass of wine in the starry darkness, Henry by her side. She wanted to savor every minute of the time she had left in Egypt. Being in this exotic country, far from her parents, made Charlotte understand how small her life in New York City was, with its rules and social mores.
The conversation turned to the wet nurse’s tomb, and she stopped her ruminating to pay attention.
“You did good work excavating that piece, Leon,” said Mr. Zimmerman. “We’ll be including it in our journal submission early next year.”
“I’m sorry, what?” asked Charlotte.
“We’re talking about the discovery of the broad collar. From your tomb.”
Charlotte had eagerly examined the artifact after it had been properly cleaned. The broad collar was indeed made of gold, exquisite and in almost perfect condition, missing only one tiny amulet on the bottom row. What made it most intriguing was the name inscribed on the clasp: Hathorkare. Mr. Zimmerman had surmised that it had once belonged to the pharaoh, but was unwilling to jump to any conclusions as to what that meant regarding the exposed mummy. The team had looked around for any other hidden niches, including under the wedjat eye opposite, but had come up empty.
Leon tipped his chair back on two legs. “Shouldn’t it be our tomb? After all, I was assigned it in the first place, and I helped uncover the treasure.”
The afternoon of lovemaking, followed by a large glass of wine, made Charlotte more assertive than she normally would have been. “You gave up your dig site because you didn’t think it was any good. And then, once inside the tomb that I discovered, you practically pushed me out of the way to get to the niche, which—may I remind you—I also discovered.”
One of the other archaeologists spoke up. “Enough with the squabbling. Be happy you’re a footnote, as that’s all you’ll be getting. The Met Museum, and our esteemed leader, Mr. Zimmerman, should get all the credit for putting us here in the first place.”
“Of course,” Charlotte conceded. Leon said nothing.
“In any event, half of everything we find goes to the Egyptian government, don’t forget,” said Henry. “Let’s hope we can hold onto the broad collar.”
“I heard from the Department of Antiquities inspector today,” said Mr. Zimmerman. “I’m afraid it’s bad news. They will be taking the broad collar.”
Leon let his chair crash down onto the porch loudly. “That’s not fair!”
For once, Charlotte and Leon were united in their reaction.
“In return, we have a number of more important items from another dig that will be sent back to the States,” said Mr. Zimmerman. “And don’t forget the Hathorkare curse. I might have saved you both from certain death.” He held out his drink with a laugh. “You’re welcome, my friends.”
“What’s the point of even bothering,” whined Leon, “only to have the antiquities end up in the Egyptian Museum? They might as well toss them into the trash.”
“How so?” asked Charlotte.
“The museum isn’t well-run,” explained Henry. “There’s not much money, which means the works don’t get the treatment they deserve.”
“It’ll end up covered in as much dust as when it was in the tomb,” added Leon.
“What about the mummies?” asked Charlotte. “What happens to them?”
“They’re still there,” said Mr. Zimmerman. “The door will be locked and gated so no one else can gain entry.”
Charlotte found that strange, and said so. “Why are they left behind? I mean, they’re actual people, not things. No one wants the mummies?”
Leon sniffed. “Why would you? There’s nothing valuable about a pile of bones and tendons.”
Charlotte begged to differ, and his cavalier attitude rankled her. “They were once as alive as we are, and might have wielded great power, even. The one with the crossed arm could have been royalty.”
“We’ll never know that for sure,” corrected Mr. Zimmerman. “Not without a sarcophagus. For now, they’ll both remain on-site.”
Charlotte pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. It seemed wrong, to have gone into the tomb and extricated the last of the riches, leaving the possible queen and her nurse with nothing but a few mummified geese. The conversation turned to the international situation, what would happen to the other excavation teams in the Valley of the Kings as uncertainty clouded Europe, with Hitler’s forces reoccupying the Rhineland against the terms of the Treaty of Versailles. Dark clouds were gathering.
That night, she dreamed of the mummies wandering around the tomb, bemoaning the loss of the necklace in the darkness of their burial chamber. Who had these women loved in their lifetimes? What had they accomplished? Why were they forgotten? Charlotte got up and splashed water on her face, and then she and Henry made love once more.
After, she dreamed of a little girl with thick eyelashes and alabaster skin, and a month later, she discovered she was pregnant.