The Murder of Tutankhamen

A respected Egyptologist, the author of Tutankhamen and the Tomb that Changed the World, examines the compelling mystery behind the death of King Tutankhamen.

Today, Tutankhamen is the most famous of the ancient Egyptian pharaohs. After his death at the age of nineteen, “King Tut” was forgotten from history, until the discovery of his tomb in 1922 propelled him to worldwide fame. But the circumstances of his death remain shrouded in mystery....

X-rays of Tutankhamen’s skull suggest a violent death. Was it accident or murder? Several members of his family died around the same time—was is coincidence? Why did Tutankhamen’s widow send desperate messages to the Hittite king, requesting marriage to one of his sons? And who murdered the Hittite price on his journey to Egypt? Who ordered the removal of Tutankhamen’s name from all monuments and temples, and thus from Egyptian history?

This fascinating, painstakingly researched book is the first to explore in depth the questionable circumstances of Tutankhamen’s demise—and to present a shocking scenario of betrayal, ambition, and murder. In The Murder of Tutankhamen, renowned Egyptologist Bob Brier reveals an exciting journey into ancient history—and a 3,000 year-old mystery that still compels us today.

“Brier's 3,000-year-old mystery steadily draws the reader into the curious and exotic world of Egyptology.”—The New York Times


INCLUDES 16 PAGES OF PHOTOSPraise for The Murder of Tutankhamen

“Can the truth be known about a possible murder that would have been committed 3,000 years ago? Respected Egyptologist Bob Brier, specialist in paleopathology and host of The Learning Channel's acclaimed series The Great Egyptians, believes it can. Skillfully combining known historical events with evidence gathered by advanced technologies, Brier has re-created the suspenseful story of religious upheaval and political intrigue that likely resulted in the murder of the teenage king Tutankhamen...Breathing life into old bones and artifacts, Brier examines all available evidence to arrive at ‘the most reasonable explanation for a tragic event,’ an explanation that, he says, is testable through the use of current technology on the mummified remains of the ancient king.”—Booklist (starred review)

“Persuasive...accessible...exciting.”—Boston Globe

“A clear and convincing case...an intriguing piece of speculation.”—Publishers WeeklyDr. Bob Brier has spent more than twenty years studying ancient Egypt, focusing on paleopathology, the study of disease in the ancient world. He is one of the world's most authoritative and respected Egyptologists and the author of two previous books, Ancient Egyptian Magic and Egyptian Mummies. Currently, he hosts the Learning Channel's most successful series ever,The Great Egyptians. Dr. Brier is chairman of the philosophy department at the C. W. Post Campus of Long Island University, in Brookville, New York.

X rays of Tutankhamen’s skull suggest a violent death. Was it accident or murder? . . . Why was the king’s tomb so small and insignificant? Was it intended for someone else? . . . Several members of Tutankhamen’s family died around the same time—was it coincidence? . . . Why did Tutankhamen’s widow send desperate messages to the Hittite king, requesting marriage to one of his sons? And who murdered the Hittite prince on his journey to Egypt? . . . Who ordered the removal of Tutankhamen’s name from all monuments and temples, and thus from Egyptian history? . . . This fascinating, painstakingly researched book is the first to explore in depth the questionable circumstances of Tutankhamen’s demise—and to present a shocking scenario of betrayal, ambition, and murder. From one of our most renowned Egyptologists, this is an exciting journey into ancient history—and a 3,000-year-old mystery that still compels us today.

“Using forensic, archaeological, and historical evidence, Brier dramatizes the turbulent times in which Tut lived and pieces together the explanation of his murder.”

—Natural History

“Persuasive . . . accessible . . . exciting.”

—Boston Globe

“For the first time we see Tutankhamen as a real person, not just the famous boy in the golden mask . . . Brier [paints] a cast of surrounding court characters worthy of Agatha Christie. In addition, he provides a very entertaining and readable account of Egyptian history leading up to the time of Tutankhamen’s reign.”

—Margaret George, author of The Memoirs of Cleopatra

“All the right ingredients for the perfect murder—a death centuries old; lives steeped in mysticism and mystery; a great love affair; deceitful priests; power-mad politicians and soldiers waiting to strike on the command of a betrayed leader . . . it all adds up to one killer of a thriller . . . A breezy blend of Indiana Jones and Ann Rule working away under the scalding Egyptian sun.”

—Lorenzo Carcaterra, author of Sleepers and Apaches

“A clear and convincing case . . . an intriguing piece of speculation.”

—Publishers Weekly

“The miraculous sort of book that makes the arcane understandable. Brier brings the study of archaeology alive and transports the reader back to a vibrant, if vanished, world.”

—Michael and Kathy Gear, authors of People of the Masks

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ALSO BY BOB BRIER

Egyptian Mummies:
Unraveling the Secrets of an Ancient Art

Ancient Egyptian Magic

Encyclopedia of Mummies

The
Murder of
Tutankhamen

A True Story

Bob Brier, Ph. D.

Acknowledgments

In Egyptology it is normal to have a team of specialists working on a single project; this book is no exception. When knowledge failed me, which was often, colleagues always were there, ready to help.

On the medical-forensic front I have been doubly fortunate in that many of the experts are close personal friends and I often called on them at strange and inconvenient times. Dr. Gerald Irwin, head of Radiology at Winthrop University Hospital, was the first to suggest that Tutankhamen may have survived for quite a while after receiving a blow to the back of the head, and remained a close consultant throughout the writing of this book. Dr. Michael R. Zimmerman, director of Clinical Laboratories, Maimonides Medical Center, Brooklyn, New York, read an early draft of the manuscript and made important suggestions about the actual cause of Tutankhamen’s death following the blow. Dr. J. Michael Parry, Director and Traumatologist, Advanced Trauma Life Support, Maryland Institute for Emergency Medical Service Systems (MIEMSS), also made important suggestions about how to determine if Tutankhamen did indeed linger before death. As always, I have benefited from discussions with Ronald Wade, director of the State Anatomy Board, Maryland. In Egypt, Dr. Fawzi Gabella, head of the Department of Anatomy, Kasr el Einy Hospital, kindly permitted me to examine the two human fetuses discovered in Tutankhamen’s tomb. Dr. Nasri Iskander, Curator of Mummies, Egyptian Museum, Cairo, was most helpful in making available to me the mummy of Tutankhamen’s grandfather, Amenhotep III. I must also thank my collegues in the Paleopatholgy Association who were always willing to discuss the medical aspects of the case.

On the Egyptological front, my colleagues have been equally helpful. Dr. Ali Hassan, former Secretary General of the Supreme Council of Antiquities, permitted me repeated access to closed tombs. Dr. Mohamed Sallah, director of the Egyptian Museum, Cairo, kindly gave permission to examine objects in storage in the museum. In Germany, Dr. Dietrich Wildung, director of the Ägyptisches Museum in Berlin, allowed me to examine and photograph the finger ring indicating that the Vizier, Aye, married Tutankhamen’s widow. I will never forget the day when Dr. Hannelore Kischkewitz, curator at the museum, placed the ring in my hand. Thanks are also due to Diana Magee of the Griffith Institute, Ashmolean Museum, Oxford, for supplying a photocopy of Percy Newberry’s letter to Howard Carter describing the ring. Closer to home, I would like to thank Dr. Dorothea Arnold, curator of the Egyptian Department, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, for granting access to the funerary collars worn at Tutankhamen’s burial meal, and for permission to reprint Harry Burton’s 1920s photographs of Tutankhamen’s mummy. I would also like to thank Dr. Rita Freed, curator, Department of Egyptian and Nubian Art, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, for the discussions about what daily life at Amarna must have been like.

Special thanks are due the administrators at Long Island University, who made it possible for me to reduce my teaching load and reschedule classes so that I could research this book. My colleagues in the Philosophy Department were both supportive and understanding when their chairman was away, crawling through tombs in Egypt.

I am very appreciative of everyone at The Learning Channel. When I first agreed to make a documentary about the murder of Tutankhamen I must admit, I had misgivings—that they would ask me to say things that I didn’t want to, that there would be limitations on what I did say, etc. I was delighted to discover how wrong I was. If anything, when my enthusiasm got the better of me, my director, Peter Spry-Leverton, was there saying, “Now, Bob, are you sure you can say that?” When it became crucial to see the ring in Berlin, or go back to the Egyptian Museum to check an object, The Learning Channel was always agreeable. In the end, I viewed it as private industry supporting research.

In the preparation of the manuscript I have been very fortunate. My wife, Pat Remler, spent many long hours on the computer, improving the manuscript. I may not have always been happy to hear “Brier, this doesn’t make sense,” but it certainly helped the book. My friend and colleague at the C. W. Post Campus of Long Island University, Dr. Hoyt Hobbs, read many drafts, made essential suggestions—both Egyptological and structural—and was a one-man support team throughout the revising of the manuscript. Also on the editorial front, Elizabeth Himelfarb was always there, ready to do what was needed. Above all, I would like to thank Liza Dawson, my editor at Putnam. I am sure she never knew what she was getting into when she first became involved in The Murder of Tutankhamen. It is her unerring vision of what the book should be that has made it as coherent as it is. If this book succeeds in telling the story of Tutankhamen, it is largely due to Liza’s efforts.

Tutankhamen and Ankhesenamen
Painting by Winifred Brunton

Introduction

It is now seven years since the first edition of this book, and quite a bit has happened on the Tutankhamen front. As I write, a major exhibition of the treasures from the tomb is beginning a worldwide tour, Hollywood has optioned the film rights to my book, and the Egyptian authorities have announced they intend to examine the mummy of Tutankhamen to determine if the murder theory presented in these pages is correct.

This book is not the first place I presented the murder theory.

The first time was in a television documentary about the boy-king that caused far more interest than I had expected. Documentaries about Egypt are common, but the idea that this eighteen-year-old pharaoh was murdered touched the public. After the program aired, the New York Times reported the theory, and soon newspapers around the world proclaimed PROFESSOR PROVES BOY-KING MURDERED. The truth was, I hadn’t proven anything; I had merely presented a theory—a good theory—that seemed to explain a remarkable set of events that transpired on the banks of the Nile some three thousand years ago. As the theory traveled around the world, however, those who reacted fell into two categories: those who thought I had proven Tutankhamen was murdered, and those who felt I had overstated my case. High school and college students wrote and e-mailed their enthusiastic convictions that I had conclusively demonstrated murder on the Nile. Perhaps these young people identified with the eighteen-year-old pharaoh? I spent many hours replying, cautioning them not to jump to conclusions. Those who felt I had overstated the case were often older, more cautious. Some were Egyptological colleagues. I will never forget one close friend, who had read one of the over-the-top newspaper accounts, chastising me: “You know, Bob, you can’t say just anything.” After several back-and-forth letters, complete with footnotes (we both live in New York but academics tend to write), we realized where we differed. The character I had fingered as the murderer, she viewed as a kindly old man, helping to raise the orphaned Tutankhamen. In her eyes, I had libeled a beloved grandfather figure. In the end she wisely said, “These are not just cold stones.” How right she was. Although the events reported in this book took place more than thirty centuries ago, when you study them for decades, the characters live and breathe; you feel you know them. She was not the only colleague who thought I was wrong. Others wrote that yes, Tutankhamen was murdered, but I had the wrong murderer. One felt there was no murder; the young king died in a chariot accident.

As the responses came, I realized that in spite of the great interest, no one had all the facts. They were reacting either to the television documentary or the newspaper reports. Often they believed I had said things I hadn’t. In a television documentary one can never give all the details, include all the reservations by which the academic survives. So in self-defense, to make my case clear, I began writing The Murder of Tutankhamen. In a book I could give all the details, explain my doubts, reservations, and perhaps most important, tell the story of Tutankhamen and his young bride, Ankhesenamen, and their early deaths.

It might surprise the reader that after so many centuries it is possible to investigate an alleged murder and even suggest who the killer might be. Egypt is a very special place; information does not disappear. The dry climate preserves papyri, and frequently records were carved on durable stone on the walls of the temples. Fortunately for us, the ancient Egyptians were a nation of accountants. They recorded everything—the number of enemies killed in battle, how high the Nile rose at inundation, herds of cattle in the pharaoh’s fields, the jars of oil donated to the temple each year. On their tomb walls we have accurate and detailed depictions of the ancient Egyptian’s daily life: how they made wine, how they partied, how they served their pharaohs. The dry Egyptian climate has preserved these records in vivid color. On the walls of Tutankhamen’s tomb we can see the hearse bringing his mummy to the tomb—it is as close to an ancient snapshot as we will ever come. We even have the victim’s body—the mummy of Tutankhamen still lies in the tomb in which it was discovered in 1922.

My specialty is mummies. My involvement in the murder theory presented in this book began when I was watching a rather dull BBC documentary on Tutankhamen that became riveting when X rays of the boy-king Tutankhamen’s chest, skull, legs, and arms appeared on the screen. Pointing to a cranial X ray, Dr. R. G. Harrison, head of the Anatomy Department of the University of Liverpool, explained a black area on the film. His opinion was that it was:

. . . within normal limits, but in fact it could have been caused by a hemorrhage under the membranes overlaying the brain in this region. And this could have been caused by a blow to the back of the head and this in turn could have been responsible for death.1

Harrison was not an Egyptologist. He didn’t know the details of the last months of Tutankhamen and Ankhesenamen’s lives, but I did. Had Harrison known of the desperate letter written shortly after Tutankhamen’s death by his young widow to a foreign king—asking that he send her a prince whom she could marry—he might have suggested foul play. The widowed Ankhesenamen wrote, “I am afraid. Never will I marry a servant of mine.” Why was the Queen of Egypt afraid? Who was the servant she was being forced to marry? That letter is the last piece of communication we have from Ankhesenamen. In the 1930s an ancient finger ring was discovered in Cairo with two names on it, indicating that the widowed Ankhesenamen had indeed been married to a commoner.

For two delightful years I tried to pull together all the facts I could find about Tutankhamen’s life and death. Like any good murder investigation, I began with the victim’s body. There is a tremendous amount of information in a mummy, and I asked myself, What if we examined it with the goal of answering the question of murder? I had many questions I wanted answered: Did Tutankhamen die immediately from the blow to the back of his head, or did he linger? Was he robust and healthy when he died or had he been ill? What was his last meal? How soon before death did he eat? I knew I would probably not be given permission to examine the body—it was sealed in the Valley of the Kings—and the Supreme Council of Antiquities wasn’t about to give permission to remove it from the tomb for an autopsy. Still, there were the X rays, the photographs of his internal organs, the reports of the 1925 examination of the mummy. I realized there was plenty that could be investigated; in addition to the body, there are records of his reign, tombs of his officials with biographical details painted on the walls, political statements made when he first became pharaoh, and the thousands of items found in his tomb. It became clear to me that the last word on Tutankhamen had not been written.

Over dinners at home, and inside several Egyptian tombs, colleagues and I discussed clues, translated hieroglyphs, peered at X rays of Tutankhamen and his relatives, and argued considerably. When all the facts relating to the boy-king’s untimely death were examined, after I’d held that ancient ring in my hand, considered the unstable times Tutankhamen ruled in, and examined the forensic evidence with trauma experts, murder and intrigue emerged as the best explanation to unify all the facts.

The murder theory is really not mine. It was first suggested soon after the discovery of Tutankhamen’s tomb in the 1920s and has been around ever since. All I have done is pull the pieces of the story together, order them in a coherent manner, and come to what I believe is a reasonable conclusion. Playing Hercule Poirot in an ancient setting has been great fun, and I must admit that at some point the project grew beyond the academic; I became emotionally involved. As I gathered clues, I grew fond of Tutankhamen and began to hate the prime suspect. I was delighted to discover that the murderer’s portraits in museums in Berlin and Cairo are decidedly sinister. I was unexpectedly moved when I examined the bodies of two tiny girls that were mummified and buried in Tutankhamen’s tomb—Anhkesenamen had had two miscarriages. Still, in spite of these nonobjective feelings, I believe the presentation of the facts is undistorted. Murder and political intrigue provide the most reasonable explanation for a drama that occurred three thousand years ago.

When The Murder of Tutankhamen was published in 1998 it set off another wave of interest, even larger than the one begun by the documentary. This time I was not surprised. By now I realized that the story had all the elements of an Agatha Christie murder mystery. During Egypt’s most turbulent time, and against the spectacular backdrop of ancient temples and palaces, we have a cast of characters that include young, orphaned lovers—Tutankhamen and Ankhesenamen—struggling to return Egypt to greatness, who suffer the tragedy of two miscarriages. We also have a deceitful prime minister who wants power. Add to this the story of the discovery of the greatest archaeological treasure of all time and you have a truly compelling set of elements.

The Murder of Tutankhamen has been translated into more than a dozen languages, and has inspired numerous documentaries. Most important, it has created new interest in Tutankhamen scholarship. Researchers are looking at Tutankhamen and his remarkable times with new eyes, questioning old established theories. My hope is that soon, with modern forensic equipment, the murder theory will be tested and either proved or disproved. It is possible that the results will be inconclusive, but it is also possible that very soon we may know for sure how Tutankhamen died. Often I am asked how I will feel if it is shown that Tutankhamen did not die from a blow to the back of the head. The truth is I will not be terribly disappointed. The murder theory is just a theory, and one shouldn’t become too invested in one’s theories. Theories are made for testing, and if we discover that Tutankhamen did not die by a blow to the back of the head, that is progress. No matter what, the incredible story of Tutankhamen, Ankhesenamen, and their tragic lives will remain to fascinate all of us. It is a timeless tale; enjoy it.

Bob Brier

January 30, 2005

Tutankhamen Time Line

Early Dynastic Period

3150–2686 B.C.—Dynasties 0–II

Narmer—First king of Egypt unites Upper and Lower Egypt

The Old Kingdom

2686–2181 B.C.—Dynasties III–VI

Zoser builds the Step Pyramid

Pharaoh Khufu builds the Great Pyramid;

Pharaoh Khephren has the Sphinx carved with his features

The First Intermediate Period

2181–2040 B.C.—Period of anarchy and chaos

Middle Kingdom

2040–1780 B.C.—Dynasty XII

Pharaoh Mentuhotep II restores order to the land

The Second Intermediate Period

1780–1570 B.C.—Period of weak rulers and invasion by the Hyksos ruling in the north

The New Kingdom

1570–1070 B.C.—Egypt’s Golden Age

Dynasty XVIII—1570–1293 B.C.

1570–1546 B.C.—Ahmose I—Hyksos are expelled from Egypt

1551–1386 B.C.—Pharaohs Tuthmosis III, Hatshepsut, and Amenhotep III increase Egypt’s wealth and power

1386–1349 B.C.—Amenhotep III (Tutankhamen’s grandfather)

1350–1334 B.C.—Amenhotep IV (Akhenaten) (Tutankhamen’s father)

1336–1334 B.C.—Smenkare (Akhenaten’s son and Tutankhamen’s brother?)

1334–1325 B.C.—Tutankhamen

1325–1321 B.C.—Aye

1321–1293 B.C.—Horemheb

Dynasty XIX

1297–1212 B.C.—Ramses the Great—probable pharaoh of the Exodus

The Third Intermediate Period

1069–525 B.C.—The power of the pharaoh weakens

The Late Period

525–332 B.C.—Persian kings rule Egypt

The Graeco Roman Period

332 B.C.—Alexander the Great conquers Darius III, ruler of the Persian Empire

Egypt hails Alexander as a divine being and a savior

50 B.C.—Cleopatra VII becomes queen of Egypt

30 B.C.—Cleopatra VII dies and Egypt becomes the private estate of the Roman Emperor Augustus

I

The King Must Die

Stay away from hostile people,

Keep your heart quiet among fighters.

—The scribe Ani
circa 1400 B.C.

We possess a remarkable amount of evidence about Tutankhamen—enough to re-create what his last days may have been like. So let’s start with a fictional account, but one that is probably very close to the truth.

Sometime in late autumn, during the eighteenth year of his life, Tutankhamen went to bed alone. Although peasant husbands and wives slept in the same room, Egyptian pharaohs lived in separate palaces from those of their queen and the ladies of the harem. Conjugal visits were one thing, sleep was another. Tutankhamen reposed in a large room, sparsely furnished—a few stools, tables, and a single wood bed with feet shaped like lion’s paws. Fish, ducks, and marsh grasses painted on the room’s plastered walls glowed spectrally in the dim light.

In the depths of this night the door slowly, silently opened, just wide enough for a single man to creep through before closing it behind him. Somehow he had slipped past the sentries. Had they been told to look the other way? Stealthily the night intruder made his way to Pharaoh’s bed, the sound of his steps perhaps obscured by the drip, drip of a water clock. He found the king sleeping on his side, his head supported by an alabaster headrest. From under his clothes the man drew out a heavy object, possibly an Egyptian mace that joined a solid three-inch stone to the end of a substantial two-foot stick. After a single deep breath, he swung the heavy object at Tutankhamen’s skull.

Waiting just a moment for the sudden sound in the night to be forgotten, the intruder retraced his steps through the Royal Bedchamber, out the door, and stole through the palace to the safety of night.

The next morning servants discovered the unconscious, but not yet dead, pharaoh and quickly summoned the vizier, Aye, and Tutankhamen’s wife, Ankhesenamen. A priest-physician skilled in head injuries was ordered from the temple. The physician has seen many trauma injuries. Blocks of stone sometime fell on workmen during construction; infantrymen received blows to the head. But this was the pharaoh; the physician must be very careful what he does and says. He instructed his assistant to shave Pharaoh’s head so a proper diagnosis could be made. As the bronze blade removed the fine dark hair, the surgeon was already thinking about the consequences of treatment—both for the pharaoh and for his own career. If he took decisive action and Tutankhamen died, he could be blamed. Now the head was shaved, revealing one wound, a large, warm swollen mass. It was in an unusual place for such an injury, at the back of the head where the neck joins the skull. The great surgical papyrus did not describe how to treat such an injury.

The blow has caused unconsciousness, but only a slight fracture to the skull. There are no bone fragments that must be removed. Relieved, the surgeon replaces his bronze probe and tweezers in their wooden case. Still, blood is oozing from the pharaoh’s nostrils, a sign that the meninges, the skin enclosing the brain, has been damaged. Aye, the prime minister, stands silently next to the bed, calm, weighing what the pharaoh’s death will mean to Egypt and himself. Ankhesenamen, frightened, looks to the physician for his prognosis. He has been trained to give one of three responses: 1) “this is an ailment which I will treat,” 2) “this is an ailment with which I will contend,” and 3) “this is an ailment not to be treated.”1 If he says the ailment can be treated, he implies that the treatment will be successful. If he instead says he will merely contend with it, he implies an uncertain outcome.

The physician quickly evaluates the situation. With no splinters to remove, no bones to set, there was little he could do physically for the king. To say that he will treat the ailment asserts that the king will survive, and of this he is not sure. Should Tutankhamen die, the physician will be blamed. There are only two real alternatives, and given the importance of the patient, it is safer to say that this is an illness not to be treated. Better to hand the fate of the king over to the gods.

The predicament faced by this priest-physician was no different from modern physicians called to treat a famous patient. Doctors in emergency rooms around the world have observed and named it the “famous-patient syndrome.” When confronted with a famous patient, medical personnel are afraid to act quickly, to do instinctively what they have been trained to do. Junior staff members defer to senior staff members, discussions take place before actions are taken. Tutankhamen was probably not the first ruler to suffer the consequences of his exalted position, and he was certainly not the last.

Abraham Lincoln may have died because of his fame. After the President was shot in the head, the young surgeon attending him at Ford’s Theater did everything right. He examined the entry hole with his finger, determined there was no exit hole, and let the president rest. Then the Surgeon General was summoned, while President Lincoln was removed to a nearby boardinghouse. The Surgeon General was a bureaucrat who had not treated a patient for years, but he immediately took control of Lincoln’s treatment. He inserted a probe into the entry hole and slid it in, almost up to Lincoln’s eyes. The Surgeon General did not know that the latest medical wisdom, taught in medical schools, was not to probe—the brain is so soft you can’t tell if you are following the path of the bullet or causing additional damage. Recent reevaluation of the case suggests that Lincoln might have survived with the bullet lodged in his brain. He was a victim of famous-patient syndrome.

So the surgeon-priest turned to Ankhesenamen and spoke the very words she feared: “This is an ailment not to be treated.” As Ankhesenamen sobbed, the surgeon’s assistant was instructed to clear the king’s nostrils of blood. The pharaoh breathed more easily now, lying peacefully on his low bed. Magician-healers would be called to assist the king.

By afternoon the healers had gathered the ingredients for their poultice: equal parts of berry of coriander, berry of the poppy plant, wormwood, berry of the sames-plant, berry of the juniper plant. Mixed with honey, it formed a paste that they spread on the wound and covered with a square of finely woven linen on which had been drawn the Eye-of-Horus symbol. Horus the falcon god had lost his eye in the battle with Seth, but it was magically regenerated by Toth, god of magic. The markings around a falcon’s eye became a sign for healing.

For the first few days there was optimism. Tutankhamen briefly regained consciousness and was able to eat. Ankhesenamen brought him chopped figs mixed with eggs because eggs had regenerative properties. The magician-healers placed “flour of egg”—powdered egg shells—in Tutankhamen’s wine, so the damaged skull would knit smooth, like an eggshell.2 Yet, as days became weeks, the pharaoh, drifting in and out of consciousness, weakened. His vision blurred and the pain in his head became almost unbearable, as if something were pressing on every part of his skull. To dull the pain, Ankhesenamen brought more and more of his favorite wine, made