I’m tired of King Tut. He’s almost a cliché for Egyptology, largely because his was the only undisturbed pharaoh’s tomb. Various exhibits of his grave furniture have dazzled crowds throughout the world and turned a short-lived, historically insignificant pharaoh into an ancient celebrity. The manner of his death has triggered speculation for genertations. He’s been a war casualty and a murder victim, killed by a blow to the head---the list goes on and on. Every time some new finding about his mummy surfaces, international headlines ensue. Now, at last, we have some decisive hypotheses. Genetic testing and other state-of-the-art radiological investigations that show the young king was a very sick teenager indeed. He suffered from a recent leg fracture, which might have contributed to a life-threatening condition in an immune system already weakened by malaria. An international team of researchers is now pretty sure that Tutankhamun died from a severe bout of malaria combined with a degenerative bone condition. He suffered from a bone disorder called Kohler Disease II, which, in itself, is not fatal. But he also endured avascular bone necrosis, which diminishes blood supply to the bone causing much weakened tissue. His left foot was structurally altered—which may account for the walking sticks in his tomb. Then there’s genetic fingerprinting, which appears to establish that Tutankhamun’s father was Akhenaten, the so-called heretic pharaoh. There are, of course, the inevitable questions about his parentage that will continue as long as there are Egyptologists.

         So the Tutankhamun death mystery appears laid (forgive the pun) to rest. Hopefully, the cliché will recede into history, for there is so much fascinating research on ancient Egyptian society and its many nuances that is just as interesting as the fate of an obscure ruler.