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Vernet fell prey to the heat and deprivation. He was forced to return to England, leaving his brother to
     finish Naville’s job alone.
    Carter had enjoyed the time with Vernet, but he never once contemplated returning home with his brother.
    The life of an Egyptologist had its perils to be sure. It wasn’t everyone’s idea of the ideal job. But for Howard Carter,
     it was
paradise.
    And one day, he hoped to be a modern-day king—in the Valley of the Kings. He dreamed of making the greatest tomb discovery
     of them all, even though he had no idea what it might be.

Chapter 18
Deir el-Bahri
    1899
    THERE WAS NO SHADE to be had in the valley of Deir el-Bahri, not so much as a dancing speck. So as Carter set up his easel
     atop the ruins of an ancient and quite spectacular mortuary temple, the clock was ticking.
    The rising March sun was just now lining the horizon. Within an hour, the heat of the day would get uncomfortable, and beads
     of sweat would drench Carter’s hatband.
    Within two hours, his brushstrokes would dry almost as soon as he applied the watercolors.
    And within three hours, the lead of his pencil would become too soft to sketch even a single line.
    So he worked quickly, drawing the exterior of the temple, making sure that its massive proportions were in scale with the
     equally massive cliff rising like a great wall behind it.
    The precision and symmetry of the sprawling complex, with three levels and sculpted columns, evoked images of an army of craftsmen,
     at the height of their talent, proudly building a structure that would last for all time.
    What an idea.
No wonder he could never leave this magical place.
    Carter had acquired a reputation as a very good artist—indeed, his subjects ranged from the animals in the Cairo Zoo to intricate
     tomb interiors. But he had been in Egypt eight years now. It was impossible for him to paint a watercolor like the one on
     which he now labored without mentally filling in the history behind it.
    A bead of sweat trickled down his face, but he was already lost in a reverie.
    The temple before him had belonged to Queen Hatshepsut. It had taken fifteen years to build, but then the queen had been buried
     someplace else. The building looked more like a palace than a tomb and was peculiar for being so ostentatious. At the time
     of its construction, back in the fifteenth century BC, pharaohs were trying to conceal their burial places, not flaunt them
     for tomb robbers.

    Hatshepsut’s temple, where Carter spent many years excavating. The Valley of the Kings lies on the other side of the cliff.
    But just as this was no ordinary temple, Hatshepsut had been no ordinary pharaoh. After her husband (who was also her half
     brother) died, she ruled as one of the first female pharaohs. Her reign had been prosperous, as were those of her children
     and her children’s children.
    Carter knew that Hatshepsut had once been deeply in love, for she was a queen before she was a pharaoh. He knew also of her
     father, Tuthmosis I, the first pharaoh to be buried in what came to be known as the Valley of the Kings rather than in a pyramid.
    The pyramids, so obvious and tempting, had been easy to plunder, which meant the pharaohs were deprived of their possessions
     during their journeys into the afterworld. Carving a tomb in a desolate valley seemed the best way to discourage thieves.
    Sadly, the architect Ineni had been wrong about that.
    So had Hatshepsut.
    Despite the fact that the massive mortuary temple sprawled like a small city across the valley floor, no trace of Hatshepsut
     had yet been found.
    Carter dabbed more paint on the paper—quickly. The sun was low on the horizon and directly in his eyes. He averted his gaze
     to reduce the risk of ophthalmia, bleeding of the eyes that came from looking too long at the sun. The disease was common
     among Egyptologists and could easily end a career.
    A few hundred yards off, tourists and their Egyptian guides were dismounting mules