THE TREASURE OF AHTKA-RĀ.
Kāra went to the cavity beside the arch and took from it a small bronze
lamp. It was partly filled with oil, on the surface of which a cotton
wick floated. The lamp itself was of quaint design, and the young man
remembered it since the days of his childhood, but had rarely seen it in
use.
Having lighted the wick and spread it with his fingers until it flamed
up brightly, Kāra turned his back to the arch and carefully examined the
rear wall of the room. The house, as has been explained, was built
against a shallow cave of the mountains; but, owing to the irregularity
of the hollow, part of the rear wall was of solid masonry, while the
other part was formed by the cliff itself. Kāra had never before paid
much attention to that fact, but now it struck him as very evident that
the masonry had been constructed to shut off an orifice too deep or too
irregular to be utilized as part of the dwelling. Otherwise, the
continuation of the cliff would have rendered a wall unnecessary. The
stones were of large size and were built up and cemented as far as the
overhanging rock that formed the greater portion of the roof.
The Egyptian’s eyes rested upon the third layer of these stones, and he
counted from the corner to the seventh stone. In appearance this was
not different from the others; but Hatatcha’s directions had been exact,
and she knew.
He walked to the spot and pressed hard against the right edge of the
stone. It moved, and gradually swung inward, the left edge being
supported by solid pivots of bronze at the top and bottom.
The opening disclosed was about four feet long by three feet in height,
and Kāra at once crept through it, holding his lamp extended before him.
Yes; his surmise had been correct--a low, but deep and irregular cavern
was behind the wall.
His first care was to close up the entrance by pressing the block of
stone back to its former position. There was a bronze handle on the
inner side that would permit him to open it again easily.
The cavern felt damp and cool, and when he raised his lamp he saw some
deep fissures leading far under the mountain. He selected the second
from the left of these rifts and cautiously made his way along the rough
floor. At first it seemed that he had made a mistake, for this way was
less promising than several of the others; but when he stopped and
thought upon Hatatcha’s directions, he knew that he was right.
The rift made a sudden turn and sank downward; but the rocks under his
feet were now more even and the way became easier to traverse. A hundred
paces farther, the passage ended abruptly in a sharp point where the
rock had originally split.
The young Egyptian walked to the extreme end and then carefully measured
three paces back again. Raising his lamp, he examined the right wall of
the tunnel closely. It contained many irregular cracks and hollows, but
one indentation seemed, on observation, to be surrounded by a tiny
circle of black, or a color darker than the other portions of the rock.
Kāra uttered an ejaculation of pleasure. He had feared he might not find
this spot, in spite of his grandmother’s assurances that it was plain to
keen eyes.
Drawing a short, pointed dagger from the folds of his burnous--a weapon
he had found in the crypt beside the arch of the living-room--the
Egyptian thrust it into the orifice of the rock and pushed until it had
sunk in to the very hilt. Then he turned the handle, and a sharp “click”
was audible.
Kāra stepped back a pace, and a part of the rock, circular in shape,
swung slowly out into the passage, revealing another tunnel running at
right angles with the first. Unlike the other, this was no natural
fissure of the rock, but an excavation cleverly made by the hands of
man. The roof was arched and the floor level and smooth.
The man slipped through the opening and proceeded along the arched
passage. He did not close this door behind him, for Hatatcha had warned
him not to do so. The floor had a gradual slope and he knew that he was
going still farther beneath the mountain at every step. The atmosphere
now became hot and stifling and he found it difficult to breathe; but
he continued steadily walking for a matter of five minutes--which seemed
an hour--holding the lamp before him, until finally he noticed the blaze
of the wick flicker, as if a breath of fresher air had reached it.
By this time his breast had seemed ready to burst, and his breathing was
fitful and gasping; but he hurried forward and now found the air cooler
and fresher and drew it into his lungs gratefully.
The path was no longer downward, and before him he presently discovered
a huge pillar of rock, which at first sight seemed to block the tunnel.
Rude hieroglyphics were graven upon it. Passing around this at the left,
he found himself in a high, vaulted chamber, and stopped with a sigh of
satisfaction.
The chamber was circular in shape, and not more than sixteen feet in
diameter. An air-shaft in the dome evidently led to some part of the
summit of the mountain, for Kāra found himself breathing naturally
again.
“This,” said he, “must be the library that Hatatcha mentioned.”
All around the walls of the vault were niches, cut in regular rows and
containing box-like receptacles covered with inscriptions and pictures
in gaudy colors. In the center of the room stood a large round slab of
granite, finely polished upon its upper surface.
Kāra drew a box from its niche and set it upon the granite slab beside
his lamp. Then he took from it a roll of papyrus, which he examined with
interest.
Yes; he had read it before. It was one of those so often mysteriously
produced by his grandmother to assist in his education. He examined
another roll, and a third, leisurely and with care. These also he knew
well. There were two hundred and eighteen rolls of papyrus in this
ancient library, and the knowledge they contained had all been absorbed
by the young Egyptian years before. He read them easily, and knew at
once from their context the different meanings of many signs that are
yet puzzling less-favored students of the hieroglyphics.
The manuscripts dated from the fourth dynasty down to the days of the
Ptolemies, and, in a large cavity below the rolls of papyrus, were
ranged the earlier works of Herodotus, Diodorus Siculus, Manetho,
Horapello, Strabo and others, as well as the volumes on modern Egyptian
and European history that old Hatatcha had purchased in Cairo within the
last few years. Several historical stelæ of the earlier kings of Egypt
also leaned against the walls, arranged in chronological order, and this
library, founded by Ahtka-Rā, which had been preserved and added to for
so many centuries, was a veritable storehouse of the records of his
remarkable country.
Kāra smiled queerly as he glanced around the room.
“Others argue concerning ancient Egypt,” he muttered; “but I alone know
the truth.”
A pile of papyrus rolls in another cavity seemed of less importance than
those so carefully arranged in boxes. Kāra brought an armful of them to
the central slab, dusted them with his rope, and selected fifteen of
their number after a cursory glance at their contents. The others he
restored to their place. This being accomplished, he took up his lamp
and returned to the passage, this time circling the pillar of rock to
the right.
It led into an immense oblong chamber, so vast that the light of Kāra’s
bronze lamp seemed to penetrate the blackness but a few feet in advance.
But other lamps were suspended from huge bronze brackets, and several of
these the Egyptian proceeded to light, finding them nearly all supplied
with oil.
Then, stepping backward, he gazed about him with an irrepressible
sensation of awe. The huge chamber was filled with mummy-cases, arranged
upon solid slabs of Aswan granite. Nearest to the entrance were a dozen
or so slabs that were unoccupied. Then appeared a splendid case of solid
ebony, elaborately carved upon every inch of its surfaces. This had been
made for Hatatcha in London, during her residence in that city, and
secretly transported to this place by devices only known to her. The
inscriptions were all in the sign language except the one word,
“Hatatcha,” which appeared in Roman letters upon the cover. It was
empty, of course, and Kāra proceeded to the next slab. Upon it lay the
mummy of his great-grandmother, Thi-Aten, the one so naturally embalmed
by the dwarf Sebbet. Her limbs were bandaged separately and the contour
of her face might be clearly seen through the thin and tightly-drawn
linen that covered it. Kāra sighed and made a profound obeisance to the
mummy before proceeding up the chamber.
As he advanced, the mummies increased in age and also in the
magnificence of their cases and the importance of their inscriptions.
Some of the slabs were covered thickly with hieroglyphics relating the
life history of their occupants, while on them were crowded curious
ushabtiu figures, amulets and scarabs. Finally Kāra reached the end of
the chamber and paused beside the mummy of the great Ahtka-Rā, who,
while not king in name, had nevertheless ruled Egypt during his lifetime
through the weak Rameses II, whom men ignorantly call “the Great.”
Long the Egyptian knelt before the remains of his great ancestor.
Rameses himself, and Seti his father, and many other kings of Egypt were
lying in the museum at Cairo, to be impudently stared at by crowds of
curious modern tourists; but this famous one had wisely provided for his
own seclusion and that of his posterity. It was Ahtka-Rā who had
constructed this hidden tomb during his lifetime, and he kept the secret
so well that no painted or graven record of it existed to guide a
meddling foreign race to its discovery in the years that were to come.
Kāra’s eyes fairly gloated upon the mummy case of his wonderful
ancestor. It was studded thick with precious stones, any of which might
be deemed a fortune to one who, like himself, had existed so long in a
lowly condition. But he did not disturb these gems. Instead, he touched
a spring in the slab, a portion of which slid forward and revealed an
opening.
Kāra took his lamp and crept into the aperture. There were seventeen
steps leading downward; then came a short passage, and he entered
another large chamber hewn from the solid rock.
Here was the treasure house of Ahtka-Rā, its contents doubtless
primarily rifled from the treasure cities of Pithom and Raamses, which
after his death were found to have been despoiled.
The entire room was faced with polished granite, and around the walls
were granite tables to hold the treasure, as well as immense
wide-mouthed vases of porphyry, malachite, lapis lazuli, carnelian and
bronze. Upon the tables were heaps of chains, bracelets, ornaments and
utensils of pure gold. In the center of the room stood twelve alabaster
pedestals, two rows of six each, and each pedestal supported a splendid
vase containing gems of various sorts. On the floor were numerous other
vases and receptacles for jewels and golden ornaments, and one of these
Kāra noticed was yet more than half filled with the precious coins of
Darius Hystaspes, some of which his grandmother had used to provide
herself with necessities because they were of a comparatively modern
date and would arouse no suspicion that the source of their supply was
the ancient tomb of Ahtka-Rā.
Indeed, it was easy to be seen that many of Ahtka-Rā’s successors had
added to this treasure house instead of pilfering from it. The original
store, contained in the twelve great malachite vases, was practically
untouched, although Hatatcha must have drawn upon it at one time. All
the treasure littering the tables and floor had been added since
Ahtka-Rā had lain in his tomb.
Kāra’s face was unmoved, but his eyes glistened brightly. He thrust his
hand into a jar and drew it out filled with rubies. They were of all
sizes and shades of coloring and were polished in flat surfaces instead
of being cut into rose facets according to modern methods. Some of the
stones had small characters graven upon them, but usually they were
smoothly polished.
The Egyptian now turned to the wall tables. Here were also rubies,
diamonds, amethysts and emeralds, set in golden ornaments of many
designs. Some of the stones were of so great a size as to be extremely
valuable. A casket of dark wood inlaid with silver hieroglyphics
attracted Kāra’s attention. He threw back the lid and took from it a
massive chain of gold, which he threw over his head. Each link was
finely engraved with characters relating the name of some king and a
deed he had accomplished. Kāra read some of the inscriptions and was
amazed. The chain had originally been made in twelve links by
Bā-en-nĕter, the twelfth king dating from Mēnēs, during whose reign the
Nile flowed honey for eleven days. His successor, Uătch-nēs, took the
chain and added another link, and so the chain had grown through
succeeding ages down to the time of Ahtka-Rā. No wonder it was long and
heavy!
Kāra did not like to replace this marvelous chain. He dropped its links
inside his burnous and left it hanging around his neck.
After an hour or more devoted to the inspection of these treasures,
which the young man naturally regarded as his own, forgetting that
Hatatcha had warned him he but held them in trust, Kāra reluctantly
prepared to leave the chamber. First, however, he selected twenty-three
great diamonds from a jar and concealed them in the folds of his turban.
The turban is called the Egyptian’s pocket, because a burnous seldom has
pockets, and many things can be secreted in the voluminous cloth of a
turban.
“Here is one diamond for every year I have lived,” said Kāra. “Surely I
am entitled to that many.”
But it did not satisfy him. He thrust his hand into the jar of rubies
again and took all that his fingers could clutch. He loved the color of
the rubies. They appealed to him.
Then he crept up the stairs, reëntered the mummy chamber, and closed the
secret slide in the malachite slab upon which lay the mighty Ahtka-Rā.
Who, not initiated, would ever suspect the enormous wealth lying so
close at hand? Kāra sighed deeply and held himself proudly erect. He
was just beginning to realize his own importance.
Extinguishing the lights of the lamps he had kindled in this chamber, he
retraced his steps to the library, where he gathered up the fifteen
rolls of papyrus, carrying them in the front breadth of his burnous
while he held fast to the hem. In this way he returned along the arched
passage until he came to the rock door which he had left ajar. He
climbed through the opening and thrust the rock back into place,
listening while the heavy bolt fastened itself with a sharp click.
He was now in the natural fissure of the mountain cavern, and it did not
take him long to reach the stone wall which alone separated him from
Hatatcha’s dwelling.
He paused a moment, with his ear to the wall; but hearing no sound, he
extinguished his light and then caught the handle imbedded in the stone
and swung the block upon its pivots. In a moment he was in the
living-room, and the wall through which he had passed seemed solid and
immovable.
He must have been absent for several hours during his exploring
expedition into the mountain, and the night was now far advanced.
Kāra flung the papyri into a corner, covered them with loose rushes from
his grandmother’s couch, and then threw himself upon his own bed to
sleep. He had been awake the better part of two nights, and his eyelids
were as heavy as if weighted with lead.
[Illustration: He thrust his hand into the jar of rubies again, and took
all that his fingers could clutch]