Tutankhamun Uncovered Read Free

when a woman whose husband is absent from her reveals her charms and beckons you to her every day and says there is no one present to bear witness and so arranges her net to snare you, you must resist. For a married man to harken to her is a most abominable deed which surely merits the penalty of death even if she does not succeed in her objective!” (Quotations of Ptahhetep, the sage, and the scribe, Ani. See Budge, 1926.)
    The scribe was dumb struck. He had not faced so direct and eloquent a lecture before; least of all from an artisan, a man who worked stone. Speechless to respond in any meaningful way, he shrugged his shoulders and promptly changed the subject.
    “We are rekhit, you and I, and should behave accordingly.”
    “Rekhit. Hrrmph. Rekhit in caste, but little more than aperu in deed. Most of us are forever grubbing around in the dust and heat. You less so because of your learning clean, fresh papyrus and good inks there is much honour in the knowledge and application of writing. I envy you, Parneb... And your ability to irritate the competent artisan at your every whim!”
    “I cannot help it if you and your men keep losing your tools. I have my masters, too. The priesthood is unforgiving. You should have my problems. It is I who must satisfactorily explain the misdemeanours of your team. I have to deal with the likes of Parranefer. I’d like to see you try that just once!
    We each have a job to do. Mine just happens to be, among other things, one of control. It’s no fun being the perpetual bad guy.”
    “We do not make you so. You should take your job less seriously... Where’s that beer you promised me?” The black man banged his fist down on the table between them.
    Parneb signalled to Hammad.
    “...And how about one for me?” The new arrival was a short, spare man all sinew and bones it seemed, but not at all weak for all that. The apparent frailty of his body belied the strength of his character and the power of his will.
    “Dashir! The gods be with you. We thought you were working the foundry this night.”
    “No, not this night. Mentu has taken my place at the foundry. Tonight I am to work my wife. She has summoned me. She feels the fertile time. I fear she will have me work very hard this night. I am, therefore, in need of drink!”
    “Count your blessings. Would that my wife were so inclined! I fear she has closed that particular avenue off to me forever. I fear her tunnel is as dry as an old brick!”
    “Count my blessings? Aye... perhaps,” Dashir sighed. “But there is no sport in it any more. The mechanics of it have made it a mundane pastime. Hours of anticipation days sometimes all over in a few brief seconds. But, I admit, the tunnel of my sister is not dry! At least, tonight it will not be so!”
    The three men laughed together, as the beers arrived.
    “Tell me,” enquired the lecherous Parneb, eager to get the details, “what will she wear tonight to excite your loins?”
    “Not a lot!” Dashir answered, grinning. “But I hope she doesn’t scent herself up as she is sometimes wont to do. In my passion I am likely to grab her hair and the cursed stuff gets all over you. Uncomfortable afterwards. Difficult to get to sleep with wax hardening in your creases. Know what I mean?”
    Experienced nods from the other two.
    Dashir’s tale of anticipation had taken a firm hold on the attentions of his colleagues. Parneb leaned forward. As he was about to press for more information he felt a strong hand take a grip on his shoulder. He turned to look up into the face of his close neighbour, the master carpenter in the village, standing over him with a jar of beer in his other hand.
    “Meneg! Didn’t see you here. What kept you?”
    “The gods be with you all. Been talking outside with the spirits of my parents. It is a lovely night. Osiris is bright within the glittering firmament.”
    “Ah. The gods protect them. Come, sit. Dashir entertains us with personal secrets! Haven’t