as high as it had been in the lower reaches of the tunnel, perfectly
domed and proportioned. The walls and the curved roof were of
beautifully dressed blue granite blocks, keyed into each other with
marvelous precision and symmetry. The whole was a masterpiece of the
mason's art, majestic and portentous. There was both a promise and a
menace in this vestibule to the unknown. Its simplicity and lack of
ornamentation made it even more impressive.
Royan tugged softly at Nicholas's hand and together they stepped on to
the first tread of the stairway. It was carpeted with a fine layer of
dust, soft and white as talcum powder. The dust rose in soft eddies and
wisps around their knees and then subsided as they passed on upwards. It
muted the harsh glare of the electric lamp that Nicholas carried high in
his right hand.
Gradually, as they went on upwards, the top of the staircase came into
view ahead of them. Royan dug her fingernails into the palm of
Nicholas's hand as she saw what lay ahead. The staircase ended on
another level landing, across which a rectangular doorway faced them.
They stepped up on to the landing and stood before the doorway. Neither
of them had words to express this supreme moment: they stood in silence
for what seemed like an eternity, holding each other's hand with a
fierce and possessive grip.
Finally Nicholas tore his eyes off the gateway, and looked down at
Royan. He saw his own feelings mirrored in her face, her eyes shone as
though lit from within by an incandescent passion. There was no other
person alive with whom he would wish to share this moment. He wanted it
to last for ever.
She turned her head and looked at him. They stared deeply and solemnly
into each other's eyes. Both of them were aware that this was a high
tide in their lives, one that could never be repeated. She tightened her
grip on his hand, and looked back to the doorway facing them. It had
been plastered over with white river clay, a surface that had mellowed
to the shade of ivory. There was no crack or blemish in its smooth
expanse, like the flawless skin of a beautiful virgin.
Their eyes fastened avidly on the two embossed seals in the centre of
the expanse of white clay. The upper one was in the shape of the royal
cartouche, the rectangular knot surmounted by the scarab, the homed
beetle that signified the great circle of eternity.
Royan's lips formed the words as she read them from the hieroglyphics,
but she uttered no sound. "'The Almighty. The Divine. Ruler of the Upper
and Lower Kingdoms Egypt. Familiar of the god, Horus. Beloved of Osiris
and of Of Isis. Mamose, may he five for ever!"'
Below this magnificent royal seal was a smaller, simpler design in the
shape of a hawk, with one broken wing drooping across its barred breast,
and the legend: 7, Taita the slave, have obeyed your command, divine
Pharaoh." Underneath the maimed hawk was a single column of
hieroglyphics that spelled out the stem warning: "Stranger!
The gods are watching. Disturb the king's eternal rest at your peril!'
reaking the seals on the doorway was a momentous act, and despite the
fact that the time before the onset of the rains was fast running out,
neither of them was prepared to undertake it lightly.
They had to make every effort to keep permanent re ds cor of everything
they discovered, and to inflict as little damage as possible while
gaining access.
They spent one of their precious remaining days preparing for the
break-in to the tomb. Naturally, Nicholas's first concern was the
security of the tomb area. He asked Mek Nimmur to place an armed guard
on the causeway over the sink-hole in the approach tunnel, and access
beyond this point was restricted. Only Nicholas, Royan, Sapper, Mek,
Tessay and four of the monks whom Nicholas had selected were allowed
across the bridge.
Hansith Sherif had proved himself repeatedly during the clearing of the
lower tunnel. Physically strong, willing and intelligent, he had become
Nicholas's principal assistant. It was Hansith who carried the tripod
and spare camera equipment while Nicholas photographed the approach
tunnel and the sealed doorway. He shot three rolls of high-speed film to
make certain that they had a complete record of the unbroken seals and
the doorway surrounds. Only when the filming was completed would
Nicholas allow Hansith and the other three monks to bring up the tools
needed for the break-in.
Sapper moved the Honda generator up as far as the sink-hole, to reduce
the voltage drop over the distance that the current had to travel down
the cable. Then he set up, the floodlights on the upper landing of the
staircase and focused them on the white expanse of the plastered
doorway.
VAen they assembled at the threshold they were all in a sober mood.
Despite the fact that the tomb was thousands of years old, it was still
an act of desecration that they were about to perpetrate. Royan had
translated the hieroglyphic warning on the sealed doorway to Sapper, Mek
and Tessay, and none of them was prepared to take it lightly.
Nicholas marked out the square opening he intended cutting through the
plaster covering, This was large enough to afford access, but it also
enclosed the royal cartouche and Tatia's maimed hawk seal. He intended
lifting these out in one piece, and preserving them intact. In his
imagination, he could already see them displayed in a prominent position
in the museum at Quenton Park.
Nicholas began on the right'hand upper corner of the opening. First he
used a long, needle-sharp awl as a probe.
He pressed and twisted the needle point through the dried clay in an
attempt to determine exactly what lay beneath the surface. Very soon he
found out that the plaster had been laid over laths of finely interwoven
reeds.
"That makes it a lot-easier," he told Royan. "The reed mat will help to
hold the plaster together and prevent it cracking and breaking up."
He kept working the point of the awl deeper, until suddenly the
resistance gave way and the blade ran in Its full length.
"Six inches," he said, measuring the thickness of the door off the
blade. "Taita never skimps, does he? It's a heavy bit of work."
Still using the awl, Nicholas drilled all four corners of the square
opening he intended cutting. Then he stepped back and gestured for
Hansith to bring up the heavy four-inch gimlet to enlarge them. This was
the type of drill that fishermen use for cutting through lake ice in
winter.
As soon as the gimlet broke through, Nicholas impatiently pulled Hansith
aside and peered into the hole.
Beyond the opening all was completely dark, but he caught a whiff of the
faint breath of ancient air that washed through the opening. The odour
was dry and dead and austere, the smell of the ages long past.
"What do you see?" Royan demanded at his elbow.
"The light! Give me the light!" he ordered, and when Sapper handed it to
him, he held it to the opening.
"Tell me!" Royan was dancing beside him with impatience. "What do you
see now?"
"Colours!" he whispered. "The most marvelous, indescribable colours." He
stepped back and, lifting her around the waist, held her so that she