The Expedition - 8. Chapter 8

It took us several minutes looking at the sight before us. Directly in the center was a raised platform and in the middle of the platform was a golden chair. Facing the door, on the right side of the chair, was the figure of Zeus, with an eagle on his right and a rod in his left hand. On the left side of the chair was the Egyptian representation of Amun. A figure of an Egyptian Ram was one of the representations of Amun. Between the front legs of the Ram was a figure of a man holding an ankh in each hand with his arm crossing his chest. Seated on the chair, the figure of a man dressed as a warrior with a face similar to the face on one of Alexander’s coins holding a spear in his right hand. If there was any doubt of who was being honored in the temple, the raised platform provided the answer.

Along the walls were statues, a total of three on each side. Below each statue was a sarcophagus with an urn sitting on a gold box. Above each statue was a name written in Greek.

“Howard, there must be another sarcophagus, six isn’t a holy number in Egyptian theology, but seven is.”

“There should be another room behind the raised platform. It’s called opisthotonos. They used it to store objects used in the offering to the dedicated god. In this case, to Alexander. Let’s check that area.”

Walking behind the platform, we found another sarcophagus and a skeleton laying on a mat of reeds. There was a scroll lying beside the skeleton. Mostafa puts on a pair of gloves and gently picks up the scroll. “I can unroll this at the Institute. If we do it here, it might disintegrate.”

“What about the urns? Should we take them back as well?”

“Yes, Howard. We have a special room that we use to open any artifact we have found in other temples and pyramids. Moving them may be a problem.”

“We should build special crates and fly them to Cairo.”

Mostafa took the truck to Aswan and made arrangements to fly the crates to Cairo in a helicopter. Returning with the crates, we wrapped the urns with our bed clothing and transferred them to the crates.

Mostafa and Mahmoud flew to Cairo with the crates. I stayed at the temple. I had someone to be appropriately buried. I sent a truck back to Aswan for a coffin. While they were gone, I studied the platform and the three figures that adorned that platform. Looking closely, there was something engraved at the foot of the statue of Alexander.

I carefully brushed the engraving. In Greek, “A tomb now suffices him for whom the whole world was not sufficient.”

I read those words several times. If Alexander hadn’t died, would he have pushed further east? When and where would he have stopped.

The men returned with a wooden coffin. I carefully and reverently placed the bones in the coffin. I added three coins and closed the coffin, and put it in the front of the platform. On the lid, I wrote, ‘He guarded the temple in life and now he will guard the temple in death.’

While I waited for Mostafa and Mahmoud to return, I spent my time taking photos. I was intrigued by the platform and the figures on the platform. There was no mistake in who the figures represented. The question we hadn’t answer, who built this temple. It was apparent that Ptolemy was behind it.

I began to remove the light system we had installed to see the inside of the temple. Mahmoud arrived as I was going to close the door. “Howard, are you going to seal the temple?”

“Yes, Mahmoud. I have photos. We have removed the urns. Let’s leave the sarcophagi and those who have attended to the gods.”

We sealed the doors, removed the covering, and left the temple to the sand and the wind. We packed up our tents and supplies. When the site was clean, we watched for a few minutes as a wind blew sand across the site. Once again, the wind and sand covered the temple and the last remains of Alexander the Great.

“Alexander, rest in peace knowing the world acclaims you and your achievements as Alexander the Great.’ Standing there looking to the temple and the final resting place of Alexander of Macedon, known in history as Alexander the Great. I offered the words of Alexander, ‘I am not afraid of an army of sheep led by a lion, I am afraid of an army of lions led by a sheep.’

I walked away, got into the truck, and headed to Luxor. We would take a plane back to Cairo with the equipment we brought with us.

Arriving in Cairo, Mostafa met us. We agreed that Mostafa would keep us informed of what they found in the urns. We would meet up in the spring to review Mostafa’s findings.

On the trip back to England, I was quiet as I thought about Alexander. His short life of 33 years, of which 13 were spent at war. He will be remembered for what he had conquered at an early age. Maybe thinking about his success, he may have been the son of a god.