Chapter Twenty-Four

Valley of the Kings, November 29, 1922

There weren’t supposed to be any journalists at the official opening of the tomb. This was an occasion to be witnessed by dignitaries, both British and Egyptian, who had made their way to Luxor from Cairo. Pecky Callender had arranged a hook-up with the Valley’s electricity supply so the interior could be lit and the visitors wouldn’t have to scramble around in torchlight.

Howard had warned Eve and her father to be wary of talking to journalists. He didn’t want the place overrun by curious sightseers before he’d had time to get adequate security in place. They would have to pretend they were entering the tomb for the first time, and they mustn’t let slip about the existence of the burial chamber, because it wasn’t going to be officially opened until after he had catalogued the antechamber.

Twenty-six of them were present when the gate was unlocked and the entrance was formally unblocked. Eve and Lady Allenby, wife of the British high commissioner, were the only women. Everyone was chattering with excitement as they waited in the sandy rubble field outside but Eve felt a tightening in her stomach as she worried that their previous entry might be detected.

They fell silent as they were led into the antechamber in twos. When Eve’s turn came, she didn’t need to fake astonishment at the sights. With better lighting, she could see the incredible jumble of objects more clearly—gilded thrones, a narrow golden bed, and the three bizarre animal couches. They took her breath away. She realized that the item she had knocked over in her haste must have been a chariot wheel, as one lay on its side.

“The couches have the heads of a cow goddess, a leopard, and an Ammut,” Howard explained to the visitors, “a mythical creature that is part crocodile, part hippo, and part lioness.”

“Golly! They look so modern,” Lady Allenby exclaimed. “I’d love one for my parlor.”

“And here”—Carter showed them—“we have some shoes with images of Nubian captives on the soles, so that Tutankhamun would quite literally have walked on his enemies.”

Lying beneath the furniture there were falcon collars, alabaster vessels, and a white wishing cup that Eve blushed to see was the twin of the one they had smuggled out in Howard’s jacket pocket. It was a huge storage room, brimful of objects the king might have needed in the afterlife. The sheer number of items, and the clear artistry of their design, made her shiver.

At the other end of the antechamber was the entrance to the burial chamber, guarded by the two life-size statues. Eve held her breath, hoping no one would spot the evidence of the hole Howard had chipped in the wall, but they were too overawed by what they could see.

“The guardian statues are similar but not identical,” Howard said. “One shows Tutankhamun in life, the other in the afterlife.”

“Are you quite convinced it is Tutankhamun’s tomb?” Lady Allenby asked. “Not someone else’s?”

“I am,” Howard affirmed. “There are other names engraved here and there, but his is the main one.”

Eve knew that he had been finally convinced only when he saw the name on the seal of the shrine, but he couldn’t admit that. It didn’t matter. He was the voice of authority now. Everyone present listened to his pronouncements with unquestioning respect. The Egyptian officials whispered to each other and Lady Allenby kept exclaiming, “Oh golly!”

Eve’s nerves began to settle and she felt a buzz of excitement at the enormity of the events she was part of. Of course, they’d talked about the possibility of finding an undisturbed tomb, but the reality was overwhelming. She was desperately proud of Howard and Pups.

The following day brought more visitors: Pierre Lacau, director of the antiquities service, Paul Tottenham, adviser to the Ministry of Public Works, and Eve’s uncle Mervyn, first secretary at the British Embassy. She was disappointed he hadn’t brought his wife, Mary, and speculated that it might be because she was pregnant but Mervyn said no, it wasn’t that.

“I’ll bring her another time,” he said. “For now, I’m here as a representative of His Majesty’s government.” He pulled a comic face, making Eve laugh.

“Dignified as always, Uncle Merv,” she said. “I’m glad you are bringing suitable gravitas to your role.”

“Talking of gravitas,” he said, “I hear you’re to become a respectable married lady. Congratulations, young Eve. When do I get to meet the man brave enough to take you on?”

“I can’t risk you meeting him before the wedding in case you talk him out of it,” Eve joked, poking him in the ribs. “But in all seriousness, I hope he’ll be able to come and see the tomb before long, and I shall introduce you if you promise to be on best behavior.”

Thinking about Brograve made her miss him terribly, but she busied herself handing around some of the heavy stone water bottles and helping to explain to visitors what they were about to see. In answer to their questions she told them there was no doubt this was the burial place of Tutankhamun, and that unlike every other tomb in the Valley, it had lain undisturbed since ancient times. She was enjoying her new role.

One man was firing more questions than any other and when she asked his name he told her he was Arthur Merton, a reporter from The Times.

Eve was nonplussed. There weren’t supposed to be any press there.

“I wangled my way in,” he admitted with a wink. “You do know how big this story is, don’t you? Your name is going to be in the history books.”

“All the credit goes to Howard Carter and my father,” she said. “I just tagged along for the ride.”

“But you must be interested in archaeology,” he insisted. “You seem very knowledgeable.”

As he probed, Eve’s enthusiasm got the better of her. She told him about Howard’s hunch years ago that Tutankhamun’s tomb might be around here, and about his gridblock plan of the Valley identifying this spot beneath some old workmen’s huts. She told him about Hussein the waterboy stumbling over the top step, and Howard excavating the staircase, then sending them a telegram that made them rush out from England. Whenever she stopped talking, Arthur asked more questions, keeping her divulging more until it was his turn to be shown inside.

“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful,” he said, and it was only then it occurred to Eve that perhaps she should have checked with Howard before letting her mouth run away with her. It was just too thrilling to keep to herself. Besides, the story would come out sooner or later.

After Uncle Mervyn had been shown around the tomb, she traveled back to the Winter Palace Hotel with him via donkey cart and then felucca. He was clearly impressed by what he had seen in the antechamber and kept asking questions.

“What makes Mr. Carter so convinced that Tutankhamun’s coffin lies behind that wall?” he asked. “It looks to me more like a furniture repository than a king’s burial place.”

“Oh, he’s very sure,” Eve said. “There are all kinds of signs.”

Mervyn was still puzzled. “But Tutankhamun artifacts have been found in other tombs over the years. I hope he is not going to be disappointed when he breaks through. Maybe it’s another one of these red herrings you keep finding in archaeology.”

“I promise you it’s not a red herring . . .”

It was so frustrating not to be able to convince him that finally Eve couldn’t keep quiet any longer. Mervyn was family. Surely it was safe to confess to him? “If I tell you a secret, do you promise you will never tell another soul for as long as you live?”

After he promised, she told him, in hushed tones, about their nighttime visit, when they had broken into the burial chamber and seen the shrine with Tutankhamun’s seals intact. “Without a doubt,” she told him, “it was the greatest moment of my life.”

Mervyn stared at her, openmouthed. “Oh god, I hope that never comes out. It would be disastrous. Carter should have known better.”

Straightaway, Eve regretted telling him. What was she thinking of? That was the second time she had been loose-tongued in the matter of a few hours, but she simply couldn’t help herself.

“You won’t say anything, will you?” she pleaded, clutching his arm. “My head would be on the chopping block.”

“I promised, didn’t I?” He drew a finger across his lips. “I want no part of it. As far as I’m concerned, this conversation never happened.”