Page 14 of The Stolen Queen

Mr. Zimmerman threw the mummy on the floor a quick glance—he was more interested in studying the sarcophagus’s markings. “Perhaps. In any event, she’s a minor player in Egyptian history, one who stole the throne in a blatant power grab from the true pharaoh, whose tomb has already been picked through. I’m afraid there’s nothing new here to add to the canon.”

His lack of excitement dimmed Charlotte’s, but she continuedexploring. In one corner lay several mummified animals that resembled geese, most likely left for the deceased to dine on. The Egyptians expected their afterlife to be as satisfying as their actual one, which was why King Tut had a chariot placed in his tomb, along with containers for food and drink, several pairs of underwear, and even a couple of board games.

How sad, if thiswasHathorkare’s final resting place, that she was stuck with only fowl to eat and nothing to play with? What else had been inside before the plunderers had struck?

After the tomb had been thoroughly examined and explored, Charlotte reluctantly followed Mr. Zimmerman back along the tunnel that led to the opening. While the discovery was important, the tomb itself was fairly unremarkable, with its faded walls and almost empty chambers. She paused in front of one of the wedjat eyes in the tunnel. Just below it, level with the dirt floor, was a tiny hole, large enough for a mouse. Charlotte reached down and poked her finger inside. To her surprise, the wall there was quite thin, and there was space behind it.

“Mr. Zimmerman, come quick!”

Mr. Zimmerman joined her, with Henry close behind.

“What is it?” asked Mr. Zimmerman.

“I noticed a hole, and the stone crumbles easily.” She pointed to the gap near the floor. “I think there might be a niche.”

Mr. Zimmerman crouched down and called out for some tools. Leon appeared out of nowhere and edged his way in front of Charlotte, holding a pointing trowel in one hand. He knelt and followed Mr. Zimmerman’s instructions to delicately expand the hole. “Give us some room,” said Mr. Zimmerman.

Charlotte held her ground, resenting Leon for taking her place. Henry stood right behind her and touched her waist lightly with one hand, sensing her irritation. Ever since their kiss at Karnak, they’ddone their best to keep their affection for each other a secret from their colleagues, stealing a kiss or two only when the coast was clear.

Slowly, Leon extricated what looked like a chain of sorts, covered in dust, which Mr. Zimmerman carefully brushed off. It was around two feet long and involved some kind of intricate webbing.

Henry pointed a flashlight at the piece as Mr. Zimmerman held it up for examination. The reflected light burned Charlotte’s eyes, and she was forced to squint.

The chain was made of metal, and not just any metal.

Gold.

And it wasn’t a chain at all. Charlotte immediately recognized it as a broad collar, a wide, layered necklace made up of several rows of connected amulets. An important find, for certain.

The thieves hadn’t gotten everything after all.

The next day was Sunday—the team’s day off—and, still buzzing from her discovery, Charlotte agreed to accompany Henry on a trip into Luxor right after breakfast. The air was crisp and clear, the sky blue, which rarely happened in Egypt. The constant swirl of sand tended to cast a yellow glow instead, as if they were on some planet other than Earth.

The city of Luxor lay along the east bank of the Nile, and Henry helped Charlotte into one of the small boats that made the crossing and sat next to her on the bench, their legs touching. Together, they watched as water buffalo grazed in the tall marshes and young boys splashed each other and shouted as the boat pulled away from the shore.

Luxor brimmed with life, the open-air bazaar filled with the cries of vendors selling mangoes and figs, as well as the cackle of hens. The aromas of exotic spices mingled with the colorful tapestries of local craftsmen, while children raced around their mothers’ skirts andskinny dogs lolled in the shade panting. Not long into their stroll, Charlotte and Henry were mistaken for tourists and beset by men in robes offering antiquities. “True antiquities, sir, I promise you,” they insisted.

Charlotte had been warned early on about the forgery trade that flourished in the city, but Henry became engaged in conversation with a tall man in black. When Charlotte shot him a look, Henry just shrugged. “I’m curious. Let’s see what he has to offer, shall we?”

They followed him into a house where hundreds of supposed antiquities were displayed in a small room off the salon. Limestone tablets carved with crude hieroglyphs, amulets, and dozens of scarabs littered a large table.

Henry picked up a scarab and studied it. “I still find it odd that a beetle best known for rolling its dung into a ball is one of the great symbols of ancient Egypt.”

“Because their young are hatched in the ball, and the rolling of it resembles the journey of the sun across the sky,” said Charlotte.

“That’s still something of a stretch.”

“Renewal, my dear. They offer protection.” Charlotte took it from him and studied its crude markings. It was a fake, but a decent one.

“Would you like one? A magical charm?”

At this, the seller’s face brightened. “I have a wonderful one in carnelian for your wife, you will find it perfect. It’s upstairs, I’ll be right back.”

Charlotte blushed at the man’s mistake.

Henry drew near. “Mrs. Henry Smith. I rather like that.”

“You’re going to buy your fake wife a fake scarab?” teased Charlotte.

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