Egypt (12 page)

W
hat happened after Dr. Aziz confirmed that it was, in fact, the tomb of Cleopatra is as great a tale as Howard Carter’s discovery of King Tut. However, our story has a very different outcome.

Let me explain …

Our celebration was cut short, interrupted by the explosive sound of gunfire, as the military police shot their rifles into the air. They then turned their guns on the crew. The commander climbed to the top of the scaffolding and spoke in Arabic. His voice was stern and authoritative. The workers quietly shared glances with one another.

After the commander finished, he spoke to us in English.

“For those of you that do not speak Arabic,” the commander said, “I will give you the abbreviated version in English. From this point forward, you all will do as I say, no questions asked. You obey my orders, and I will allow you to live. If you try to escape or disrupt our operation in any way, you will be dealt with swiftly. We are not interested in preserving the integrity of this tomb. We are only interested in the treasure that is buried inside. And since time is of the essence, we are going to blow up this stone slab with dynamite.”

He lowered his gun on me.

“First, we need the young fellows working with Dr. Aziz to crawl through this opening and tell us what they see inside. If the treasure is just behind this wall, we will have to use less dynamite so we do not destroy it. If it is deeper inside the tomb, we will blast the wall to pebbles.”

“It’s not safe to explore inside,” I said, my voice shaky. “The structure is not secure. The whole thing could collapse while we’re in there.”

“That is not my problem,” the commander said coldly. “But for your sake, we will hope that it holds.”

Being forced through a tiny crack into a crumbling tomb at gunpoint was like a nightmare coming true. James buckled under the pressure. When he reached the top of the scaffolding, he started shaking and suddenly dropped to his knees.

“I can’t do it,” he said. “I can’t go in there.”

When the men tried to lift him, he fought like a man being sent to his death. Finally, the commander stepped in.

“Forget this one,” he said. “Take him away. We will just send the other three.”

James was forced from the scaffolding, tied up, and dragged, kicking and screaming, across the sand towards the camp. I was afraid we would never see him again.

“You others get inside!” the commander said. “I expect detailed notes of your findings. And you, with the camera,” he said to Gannon. “Take video of what you find. I want the truth. Try to fool me, and I will line you up in front of a firing squad.”

I went in first. My chest tightened as I squeezed through the crack, pulling myself forward on my stomach across the sandy stone. Once inside, I braced myself against the wall and dropped to the ground.

It was dark and dusty. I turned on the flashlight and set it atop a flat stone so I could help the others climb down. All three of us were now behind the stone slab that was put in place thousands of years ago to keep people out. Flashlights in hand, we moved over the rubble, further into the tomb. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. We were nearing the burial chamber of Cleopatra!

Scaling a large pile of crumbled rock, we found another doorway at the base of the debris. It was almost completely blocked off. Only a small passage in the shape of a half moon remained open.

“Oh, jeez,” Gannon said. “I don’t know how much further I can go.”

“You can do this, Gannon,” I said. “Just take a deep breath and stay calm.”

We slid down the rubble pile to the opening and shined our flashlights inside. Behind the doorway was a tunnel. It descended about fifteen feet and then leveled off.

“What do you think is down there?” Serene asked.

“Only one way to find out,” I said.

“But if these rocks slide it could close off this opening and trap us inside the tunnel,” Gannon said.

“That’s a good point,” Serene said. “We have to do something to make sure it doesn’t get closed off. If we get trapped in there, we’ll never get out.”

“Let’s see if we can fix some support around the opening,” I said.

We found a large flat stone and with all of our might wedged it into the rubble pile, propping it over the opening to create a small protective barrier. It seemed sturdy enough to stop a rockslide. Or so we hoped.

Again, I took the lead. It was very hard to maneuver through the first part of the tunnel. The space was so tight we had to get down on our hands and knees and crawl. We’ve been in some hairy situations before. Several during this fellowship alone. But inching through this narrow shaft was easily one of the most uncomfortable situations of my life. The idea of getting buried by a rockslide made our anxiety even worse. There would be no getting out. Ever. At one point, I thought Gannon might lose it. We all stopped and I tried to calm him.

“Just try to relax, Gannon,” I said, as calmly as I could.

“Sorry, but that’s just not going to happen,” he said, “so please just keep going so we can get the heck out of here.”

Finally, the tunnel ended. I climbed out, stood upright. A wave of relief came over me. Serene came next, then Gannon, who was on the verge of hyperventilating.

“There better be another way out of here,” he said, gasping. “Because there’s no way I’m going back through there.”

“Everyone follow me,” I said, and took a step, but Serene reached out suddenly and pulled me back.

“Don’t move,” she said, and shined her flashlight along the ground.

Ahead of us was a dark void. If I had taken another step I would have gone hurling into an abyss. I moved my flashlight around and saw only darkness and empty space. We stood still, not wanting to make a wrong step, as the beams of our flashlights searched for a safe path that would lead us further into the tomb.

“Looks like there’s some kind of bridge over there,” Gannon said.

We shuffled along the ledge to the stone bridge, which was about as wide as a pillar, maybe two-feet tops. The bridge ran off further into the emptiness. On either side was more darkness.

“To cross this thing it’s probably best if we slide one foot forward and then the other,” I said. “That will make it easier to keep our balance.”

I looked into the abyss.

“How far down do you think that goes?” Gannon asked.

“Let’s not find out,” Serene said.

I inched out onto the narrow bridge and started moving across. Serene followed. Gannon was last.

“Whatever is on the other side better be worth it, because this is totally insane,” Gannon said.

“I have a feeling it will be,” I said.

I checked to make sure the bridge was sturdy and then slid my right foot out, followed by my left. I was completely on the bridge. Shining the flashlight just ahead of me, I continued to cautiously make my way across.

“A hand railing would have been nice,” Gannon said.

I almost laughed.

As I moved towards the middle, I noticed a sound, the low whoosh of wind, and felt a cool breeze coming from below.

Finally, I made it across and was back on solid ground. I took Serene’s hand and helped her off the bridge. Gannon was close behind.

“Let’s go,” I said. “It can’t be much further.”

The air grew even cooler. The wind stronger. The whooshing sound louder. There was a flickering light up ahead.

As we rounded a limestone wall, an incredible phosphorescent waterfall came into view, illuminating the area with a fluorescent blue glow. Probably 20 feet across, it fell into a round area that had no bottom as far as we could see. Another abyss. We shined our lights up, searching for the waterfall’s starting point, but found none. The water had no beginning and no end.

“This is the craziest thing I’ve ever seen,” Gannon said.

“Where do you think all this water is coming from?” I asked Serene.

“We’re very deep in the earth,” she said. “It could be runoff from one of the massive aquifers that flows beneath the desert.”

We kept on, moving behind the waterfall. A mist swirled around us. The rocks under our feet were slick. We moved slowly to keep from slipping. Narrow culverts ran along the walkway on either side of us, carrying a stream of glowing 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 between the two coffins, we gathered that it held significant importance.

“What do you think is inside?” Gannon asked.

“Only one way to find out,” I said.

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

Nerves shot through my arm as I reached out and put my hand atop the lid of the chest. Cautiously, I raised the lid and shined my flashlight inside. A sheet of yellowed linen was draped across the top. Gently, I lifted the corner of the sheet and pulled it back. Underneath were dozens of scrolls, tightly rolled, yellowed with age and bound by golden thread.

Serene gasped.

“The secret scrolls,” she said.

“I can’t believe it,” I said. “It’s all true.”

Gannon moved in with his video camera.

The idea that the information contained in these scrolls explained many of ancient Egypt’s greatest mysteries was almost unfathomable. The urge came over me to carefully pile the scrolls into our satchels. They looked to be in decent condition, but I couldn’t be sure. As old as they were, I was afraid they might crumble in my hand if I moved them. It was too risky. If I made the wrong decision, all of the secrets contained within the scrolls could be lost. I dropped the linen cloth back over the top of the scrolls and closed the chest.