It's Christmas Eve, and I'm feeling full of the spirit of Chrimbley. Subsequently, I thought I'd post the first Chapter of 'The Time Hunters and the Spear of Fate' as a small tease of what's to come when I release the next TH book in March (hopefully). Anyway, may I wish everyone a fantastic Xmas and here it is:
'THE TIME HUNTERS AND THE SPEAR OF FATE'
By
Carl Ashmore
Chapter
1
Tut’s
Toy
Egypt. The Valley of the Kings. November 26th
1922. 2.00pm.
Howard Carter’s hand wouldn’t
stop trembling. He mopped a thick line of sweat from his brow and stepped back
to admire the sealed door illuminated orange from the torchlight behind him. The
outline of the Royal Necropolis seal, the jackal and nine captives, was faint
but unmistakable. Lightly, he brushed away a layer of dust, to reveal the pictogram
behind. Carter recognised it immediately. In that instant, an older man’s voice
met his ears.
‘This is it, Howard,’ Lord
Carnarvon exhaled. ‘Look at the seal impressions, the cartouche. It’s him. I
know it.’
Carter examined the doorframe. ‘It
doesn’t mean this is his tomb, sir,’ he replied, keeping his voice as steady as
he could. ‘Remember when Davis found the cache of Akhenaten. It was similar to
this.’
‘Similar but different,’ Lord
Carnarvon said eagerly. ‘On the other side of this door lies the forgotten one.
I’m certain of it.’ His eyes shone with child-like glee. ‘You’ve found him,
Howard. You’ve found him.’
Deep down, Carter believed his
benefactor to be right, but he wasn’t about to voice it out loud. He’d suffered
too many disappointments to feel anything less than cautious. ‘We shall see,
sir. We shall see.’
‘Damn it, man - call me George,
will you?’ Lord Carnarvon insisted. ‘You’re on the precipice of the greatest discovery
of the century. I think we can drop the formalities. What say you, Evelyn?’
A young dark-haired woman with pearl-white
skin clasped the older man’s hand. ‘Daddy, I really don’t think Mr Carter cares
how we address each other at this particular moment. Isn’t that correct, Mr
Carter?’
Carter’s heart was pounding so
loudly he didn’t hear a word. ‘I beg your pardon, Lady Herbert?’
Lady Herbert smiled kindly. ‘It
doesn’t matter.’
‘Go on then, man,’ Lord
Carnarvon urged. ‘What are you waiting for?’
Carter swallowed hard. His gaze fell
nervously on the hammer in his right hand, before settling on the chisel in his
left. The same chisel his grandmother had given him on his seventeenth
birthday. He angled the chisel’s nib on the door’s left hand corner and raised
the hammer. BUMPH – a chunk of plaster
fell away.
Inhaling a lungful of warm,
stale air, he struck the chisel again. With a puff of dust, it broke through to
the other side; he heard the soft crackle
of plaster speckle the floor beyond.
His pulse racing wildly now,
Carter pulled the chisel free to expose a small circular hole. Slowly, meticulously,
he chipped away its edges, until the hole was the size of a dinner plate. Then
he turned to the tall, moustached man on his left, ‘Arthur, could you pass me a
candle, please?’
‘Certainly, old chap.’ Arthur
Callender drew a candle from his shoulder bag, lit it and passed it over.
Dabbing his brow again, Carter inserted
the candle into the blackness and watched the flame flicker left and right. ‘No
foul gases,’ he said in a relieved voice.
‘Thank God,’ Lord Carnarvon
said. ‘Then come on, man. Don’t keep us in suspense… take a look.’
‘And the best of luck, Mr
Carter,’ Lady Herbert said sincerely. ‘You deserve it.’
Carter glanced back at her. ‘Thank
you, ma’am.’ A nervous smile split his face. ‘Here goes nothing…’ He leaned forward
and his head disappeared from sight.
It took a while for Carter’s
eyes to adjust to the soft glow of candlelight, but when they did he saw a mass
of objects surface from the gloom: golden objects - glistening, gleaming, as clean
and flawless as the day they had been placed there.
In that moment, Carter knew he
had fulfilled his lifelong dream. As a boy, he had visited William Amherst’s ‘Egyptian Room’ at Didlington Hall, and since
then had been obsessed with Ancient Egypt. And now he had made the most
important discovery in the history of Egyptology. Tears misted his eyes.
He had found the Boy King.
He
had found Tutankhamen.
‘Can you see anything?’ Lord Carnarvon asked
impatiently.
Carter took a long time to reply. ‘Yes,’ he said
in barely a whisper. ‘Wonderful things …’
‘Let me see …’ Lord Carnarvon shuffled to
Carter’s side. ‘Mr. Callender, would you be so kind as to get an electric torch?’
‘Certainly, sir,’ Callender said, turning away
and exiting the passageway.
‘Howard, would you widen the breach so an old
man can share in your glory?’
‘Of course.’
For ten minutes, Carter chiseled neatly at the
hole, until it was as wide as a dustbin lid. At the same time, Callender returned with an
electric torch, which he promptly handed to Lord Carnarvon.
‘I feel like a boy again,’ Lord Carnarvon said,
his voice aquiver.
‘And you look like one, Daddy,’ Lady Herbert
said. ‘I’ve never seen you happier.’
‘Aside from your birth, child, I doubt I have
been.’
Lord Carnarvon gripped Carter’s arm, steadying
himself, before directing the torch ahead. He sent a beam of misty light into
the opening.
At once, the two men gave simultaneous gasps
of astonishment.
The antechamber was overflowing with
artefacts – gilded chests, ornamental plates, silver vases, a golden throne,
disassembled chariots – all of them piled shambolically from floor to ceiling. Two
life sized ebony-black
statues of Tutankhamen faced each other on the North wall, as if guarding the way
ahead.
Carter and Lord Carnarvon stood there for an age,
silent, motionless, as the sheer enormity of the moment swept over them. Then
Carter lowered his gaze. It was then something caught his eye - something he
would never have expected in a million years. His head reeled. ‘Shine the light down there, please, sir.’
Lord Carnarvon noted the confusion in his
voice. ‘What is it, Howard?’
Carter pointed downwards. ‘The light … there, please.’
Lord Carnarvon complied. To his surprise, the
torchlight illuminated a wide assortment of children’s toys. ‘But they’re just
toys, Howard. Tut was barely out of childhood when he died, it makes sense
they’d be buried with him.’
Carter didn’t respond. Instead, he extended
his arm, gesturing for Lord Carnarvon to move back. ‘Stand with Lady Herbert, please,
sir.’
Lord Carnarvon looked confused. ‘What do you –?’
‘Move back!’ Carter bellowed, his voice
rebounding off the walls.
Shocked by Carter’s tone, Lord Carnarvon stepped
into the arms of his equally bewildered daughter.
Carter flung the chisel aside, and raised the
hammer high. There wasn’t a trace of precision this time as - BAMMM - he slammed the hammer into the
door. The walls shook; heavy clumps of plaster pounded the ground.
Callender had never seen his friend act in
such a way. ‘What are you doing, Howard?’ he yelled.
Carter ignored him. Teeth gritted, he struck
the door again, harder this time. The hole widened further; his legs were engulfed
in a cloud of dust and plaster.
‘Howard, what the hell is going on?’ Callender
asked. ‘You’re acting like a lunatic.’
‘Quiet, Arthur,’ Carter replied forcefully.
Then, slowly, he leaned into the hole, his top half disappearing from view. He
appeared to be scrambling for something on the floor. A moment later, he stood
upright, utter confusion on his face.
‘Howard,’ Lord Carnarvon barked. ‘What has come
over you?’
Wordlessly, Carter turned towards them. Cradled
in his hands was an object, an ornately carved wooden object, painted in the
most vibrant of reds.
Lord Carnarvon couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘My
Lord!’
‘I - I don’t understand,’ Lady Evelyn gasped.
Callender had turned as white as a sheet. ‘I -
it can’t be,’ he gasped. ‘It’s just not possible.’
Silence surrounded them.
Finally, Carter spoke, ‘What should we do?’
‘Put it
back, man,’ Lord Carnarvon said at once. ‘We need time to think about this. Let
us secure the tomb for the day, put it under armed guard, allow no one to
enter, and we shall discuss the implications of all of this over dinner.’
‘But we’re having dinner with Charles Butterby
tonight, Daddy,’ Lady Herbert said. ‘He’s made the trip from England.’
‘I don’t even know this Butterby chap,’ Lord
Carnarvon sighed irritably, ‘but very well. We have dinner with Butterby and
then the four of us meet up at my accommodations afterwards. Either way, we
tell no one about any of this until we’ve had time to discuss it.’
‘You’re right, sir.’ Carter said. ‘And I apologise
for raising my voice.’
‘Not at all, Howard,’ Lord Carnarvon said kindly.
‘I’m certain I would have been somewhat quick-tempered if I’d have been the
first to spot it.’
Carter nodded. Returning the object to the
antechamber, he delicately placed it beside the model of a funery ship, and allowed
his gaze to fall on it one last time. His head reeled as he pondered the
all-important question.
What was a toy double-decker bus doing in the
tomb of the most famous Pharaoh of them all? A tomb sealed from the outside
world for over three thousand years.
2 comments:
Carl,
Stop teasing us.
When will the third Time Hunters book be published / available for kindle?
Cheers - Mark
Hi, Mark. I'm hoping early to Mid March. Possibly, late Feb :)
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