Diggers

While King David ruled in Jerusalem, a tall, strapping Egyptian general, named Unjebanenjebet began to have intimations of mortality. Like any Egyptian noble, what concerned him most was the proper accouterments for his journey to the Land of the Dead. His Pharaoh, Psousennes, who ruled at Tanis, near present-day Port Said, had assigned him a burial chamber in the wall of his own royal tomb. But the next essential, a proper stone sarcophagus, was hard to find.

Egypt was plagued with foreign wars and domestic turmoil; Nile transportation had broken down, and the supply of granite blocks from the upriver country had ceased. Unjebanenjebet combed the showrooms of the local coffin makers, but found no coffin or unhewn block big enough for him. He was 6 1/2 ft. tall.

As death stepped closer, Unjebanenjebet was at last obliged to accept a hand-me-down: a roomy, elegant coffin of pink granite which had obviously belonged to a high priest of Amun. Then death came. Embalmers laid the General's linen-wrapped mummy in the secondhand sarcophagus, put the lid on, and built the coffin into its niche in the royal tomb.

Soon Psousennes joined his General, and then the main tomb, too, was sealed. Outside, history marched past; the splendid city of Tanis fell into ruin; sand drifted over the tomb, and hid it. It lay undisturbed by wars and warriors--Assyrians, Macedonians, Roman legions, the cavalry of the Mamelukes, the sweating, roaring British truck drivers of World War I.

"Do Not Betray Me." In 1929 an accomplished grave robber came to Egypt. Professor Pierre Montet of Strasbourg University, well financed by a French subsidy, dug for more than ten years in the salty soil near the ruins of Tanis. At last he found the tomb. In 1940 Pharaoh Psousennes, with all his treasure, was exposed to modern stares.

But in his secret chamber General Unjebanenjebet slept on. A new war raged in Africa. Professor Montet, his funds cut off by the German invaders, returned to defeated France. When peace came, he hurried back. Sand had drifted again over the tomb, but gangs of chanting laborers soon cleared a suspiciously thick wall. Probing between its limestone blocks, Professor Montet felt an empty space. His workmen lifted the blocks; through the ancient dead air, they saw the gleam of gold.

Inside the sarcophagus lay Unjebanen-jebet's almost disintegrated mummy, swathed in golden chains. A golden mask covered his face. On his breast lay a jasper scarab with the inscription: "Do not betray me, O heart, on the day of judgment." Beside him, to aid him on his journey, were jeweled or golden images of his gods, and golden dishes, beautifully wrought. One dish showed a bas-relief of women swimming through lotus flowers.

Last week, General Unjebanenjebet and his secondhand sarcophagus were ready to follow Psousennes to the Cairo museum. His secret, hidden for 3,000 years, was out.

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