Leila could feel hundreds of eyes following them as Soliman led the way into the dark opening. Her stomach twisted as she entered the antechamber. Every archaeologist in the world would love to be a part of this, but here she was, of all people.
What would Dad think?
Not a word was spoken and hardly a breath was taken as they marched through the empty tunnels and chambers, brightly lit with the newly installed overhead lighting system. The queen’s brother lay peacefully in his stone sarcophagus, which was now settled on the other side of the room, covered with a clear plastic tarp so he could remain undisturbed as much as possible. They made their way down the stairs and through the hall. Silently, they stopped in front of the doorway, the rope twisted around the handles with the clay seal the focus of each gaze.
Emma elbowed her way to the front of the group. “Hold on a second,” she said with her camera already to her face. “I need more light.”
Someone switched on his hard hat light and pointed it as she directed. The shutter clicked wildly as she snapped the final pictures of the seal, crouching for some and standing on the tips of her toes for others. She then glanced at her camera screen and shuffled back.
Soliman motioned for Leila to move closer. “The first thing I will do is attempt to remove the rope in as few pieces as possible. I want to keep the clay seal intact for further study,” he explained to the group, peering into the camera on Leila’s collar.
He then knelt before the door and took out a knife. Tiny, dry flakes flew from the edge of the razor-sharp blade as he slowly sliced downward along the rope wrapped around the left handle. He caught the pieces of rope as they fell toward the floor and held them out to Leila. She held open a plastic bag, and Soliman carefully put them inside. He repeated the procedure on the right handle, albeit even more slowly.
Leila let out her breath while he took the intact seal, a piece of rope still attached, into his hand and placed it into the bag with the other remnants.
Soliman called Hamza and a few others forward. A renewed silence fell among them. They all took a small step away from the door as the men began to work with crowbars around the edges, trying to ease the slats outward. At last, a thin black line appeared in the center along its length.
With the door loosened from its place, Soliman motioned for them to ease the panels out by a few more inches. Hamza wrapped his hand around the handle and heaved until the crevice was large enough for Soliman to put an arm through. He struck a match and held the flame into the crack.
After a moment, he drew his hand out and shook it to expel the flame. He then focused on the camera on Leila’s collar.
“Rotting wood and rusting metal could have used up the oxygen,” he explained. “If that were the case, we would have to let the air circulate or put on oxygen masks before going into the chamber for a closer look. However, the color of the flame remained normal, so there aren’t any dangerous gases in the air.”
Soliman watched from the sidelines to allow the others to continue working. After more careful pushing and tugging, they removed the door and carried it off to the side. A gust of warm air from the dark opening hit them, air that no one had felt in three thousand years. Leila’s skin prickled as they switched on their headlamps and gathered in the doorway to peer into the blackness.
Multiple beams of light crisscrossed into a chamber. A collective gasp filled the air. Three pairs of black jackal eyes glimmered back at them, belonging to three-foot-tall statues of alabaster. The canines sat at attention, ears pointing at the ceiling, their eyes unwavering at the bridge of their elongated, narrow noses.
Leila craned her neck to see what lay beyond the guard dogs. Tables, chairs, and couches had been stacked up on one side of the antechamber, forming a haphazard pile with no immediate sense of order. A mound of pots and urns filled the other side of the room in a small mountain of baked clay. Life-sized statues of ancient Egyptian gods and goddesses with falcon and dog heads stood among the chaos, reflecting a golden shimmer as beams of light fell across them. Eyes stared back in vacant indifference at the intrusion. Behind the piles, shadows danced against four walls adorned with brightly colored paintings.
Words failed her. It was nothing like she imagined. It was more. Each of these items had been handcrafted thousands of years ago then lovingly, dutifully, placed inside by priests, mourning family and friends, and the queen’s devoted subjects.
Leila smiled. They had done the right thing to open the tomb as soon as possible. The ancient Egyptians had gone to so many lengths to keep the tomb protected. It would have been a dishonor to them to give Amir the chance to get his hands on any of it.
“This will take years to sort out,” Soliman said to no one in particular. Leila tore her eyes from the chamber to see a smile spreading from ear to ear on his face. “And this is only the antechamber. The actual burial chamber will lie somewhere beyond this room. If we’re lucky, there are two or three more behind the mess.”
The team murmured in anticipation, each of them standing on their toes and craning their necks to get a better view. No one dared to go inside, not until they could decide on the best way to proceed.
“It’s incredible,” someone whispered.
“I see a harp!” another one squealed under her breath.
“All right, everyone,” Emma declared, holding her camera above her head. “It’s time to start some very important documentation.” No one argued with her as she squeezed her way to the front.
Even though she was tempted to follow after Emma, Leila waited to the side. Her heart clenched, yearning to start examining the artifacts. They had their work set out for them, but by the looks of it, it would be more than fulfilling.
• • •
Festivities began the minute the team arrived back at the dig house. The entire downstairs was full of people holding cups and plates. Excited chatter filled the rooms. Leila mingled but a headache began to set in, exhaustion catching up with her. She eventually found herself in a corner next to Karl, and they observed the crowd together.
“What’s on the agenda tomorrow?” he asked before taking a bite of bread.
“Well, we’ll start mapping out the artifacts,” Leila started. “After getting measurements, we need to number each item and take pictures of the locations. Do before and afters, that kind of thing. So if we’re lucky we might be able to remove the first few things tomorrow afternoon. It’ll be slow, tedious work.”
“Cool,” Karl said, spraying crumbs everywhere.
Leila took a step back. “Yeah, some of the artifacts look very intricate. We’ll have to try to preserve them the best we can before moving them to the lab.”
“I’ve already got files ready for the archiving process, but I’ll have to wait to finish them when you’re done with the zoning. And I can digitize your maps.”
“That’ll be great.” Leila took a sip of her soft drink, glancing over the rim as she absently scanned the room.
“How long do you think it’ll take to get all the stuff out?”
“It’s hard to say. We can’t rush this, so it could be years.”
“Oh. That’s too bad. I’m only here for the next three weeks, but maybe I can find a way to come back next year. It’s been fun.” Karl examined his piece of bread thoughtfully before popping it into his mouth.
“Oh really?” Leila frowned. But then it was already December. The fall semester was coming to an end but most people had decided to extend their stay so they could get as much done in the tomb as possible.
“Yeah, I need to go back to Berlin for next semester. My wife will be there. It’ll be nice to see her again.”
She took another sip, thinking of how she would miss Karl’s conspiracy theories. But his wife—Leila widened her eyes and choked on her drink.
“You’re married?”
“Yeah, two years now,” he replied, eyeing the remaining morsels on his paper plate.
“Oh.” She couldn’t believe they had been working together since field school in September and she never realized this. Her face began to warm. Surely he’d mentioned it and she had forgotten. Her eyes darted to his left hand but his fingers were bare. Odd. But then maybe he wasn’t wearing a ring so he wouldn’t lose it during the excavation.
