Children Of The Storm Part 20

CHAPTER SEVEN

I presume you searched the entire area thoroughly," I said, neatly decapitating my boiled egg. "But perhaps I ought to have a look round myself."

Emerson lowered the piece of toast he had held poised in midair ever since Ramses began his account of the Affair at the Temple of Hathor, as I may term it. Slowly he turned his piercing blue gaze from his son to me.

"Amelia," he said.

"More coffee for the Professor, Gargery, if you will be so good."

"I don't want any d.a.m.ned . . ." He did, however, so he neglected to finish the sentence. Gargery, who had been a fascinated listener, immediately obliged, and Emerson said, in the same ominously mild voice, "Thank you, Gargery. Ramses, why did you wait until breakfast to tell us about this?"

"We agreed-all of us-that there was no need to wake you," Nefret said, emphasizing the phrase in a manner that made me suspect agreement had not been reached without a certain amount of disagreement. "There was nothing you-or Mother-could have done. We did search as thoroughly as was possible. It wasn't easy, with so many people milling about and only torches for light, and-and . . . I'm sorry, Father."

"Sorry," Emerson repeated. He rose, magisterial as Jove, even without the beard. "Is anyone coming with me to the dig, Amelia, or have you made other plans for them? Not for all the world would I venture to interfere with your arrangements; I ask only out of curiosity."

"Don't you want to discuss the affair, Emerson?"

"No, Amelia, I do not." Fixing me with a horrible scowl, he added, "I am motoring to the site. If anyone cares to join me, he or she must come at once."

With long measured strides he left the room.

"Oh dear, he is angry," Lia murmured.

"He'll have got over it by midday," I replied. At least I hoped he would; the fact that he had addressed me by my given name three times in a row indicated a degree of exasperation beyond his usual norm. "However, it might put him in a better humor if some of you went with him this morning. You will not have to risk your lives in the motorcar; it seems to have slipped his mind that he and Selim had one of the wheels off last night and did not replace it. Not you, Evelyn, or you, Walter."

"Do you want me to go with the Professor, Aunt Amelia?" David asked.

"If you don't mind, my dear. Just for a few hours."

"Not at all." He looked at Ramses, who nodded agreement. "We meant to have another look round in daylight anyhow."

"I am going too," Walter declared, squaring his jaw and settling his eyegla.s.ses firmly on the bridge of his nose. I knew the signs; he was suffering from an attack of detective fever. I didn't suppose he would discover anything useful, but he would enjoy himself puttering around and finding clues the others had already discovered. I got rid of Gargery by asking him to accompany Evelyn and Sennia to the Castle, and that left me alone except for Nefret.

"I'd like to talk to you, Mother," she said.

"We are, as always, in rapport, my dear. I was about to request a chat with you."

We found a secluded spot in the garden between our two houses, where no one could overhear. I was proud of that garden; though Egypt's climate is salubrious, allowing for the cultivation of both tropical and temperate blooms, it had required a great deal of effort to keep the plants irrigated and fed. Once a barren stretch of ground, it was now shaded by young lebakh and tamarisk trees. Rose and hibiscus bushes flaunted their colorful blossoms, and beds of nasturtium and other homely flowers were nostalgic reminders of old England.

"Now," I said, pinching off a dead rose with my nails. "Tell me everything. Ramses's narrative was somewhat terse."

"Of necessity," said Nefret, with a faint smile. "He knew Father wouldn't let him get more than a few sentences out."

"From the beginning," I urged. "Recall, if you please, every sight and sound and your reactions to them. One never knows what seemingly meaningless detail may be seen to be relevant."

Her narrative was complete and detailed, though I felt certain she omitted a few things-such as the effect of moonlight and solitude on four young persons. I doubted that any of them had been in a proper state to respond with alacrity to the astonis.h.i.+ng events of the evening. Of course I did not say this, or reproach her for not inviting me to be present.

"Curse it," I remarked. "Just when I had everything under control, including Emerson! This new development is unexpected and unwelcome."

"To say the least," Nefret replied wryly. "But is it really unexpected, Mother?"

"You expected something of the sort? My dear, I wish you would confide more freely in me. I am a firm believer in premonitions. They are the workings of the unconscious mind, which fits together clues-"

"Yes, Mother, I agree. In this case, though, it was my conscious mind at work. Ramses's escape from the woman in Cairo must have disappointed her, considering the effort she made to get her hands on him. Isn't it logical that she would try again?"

"If that was another attempt at abduction it was very poorly organized," I said critically. "She'd have needed a dozen st.u.r.dy henchmen to deal with all four of you. Not to mention that hysterical boy and his entourage."

Nefret's lips parted in a reluctant smile. "It was ludicrous, really-pure melodrama, without a competent stage director. Everyone was rus.h.i.+ng around, getting in one another's way, tripping over things and shouting. Francois and his lot-there were three of them, crewmen from the dahabeeyah-tumbled over the wall and joined in the confusion." Her smile faded. "I was too worried about Justin to enjoy the farce, however. When I saw him stretched out across that slab, white-faced and rigid, his eyes wide open, staring up at the moon, I thought he was dead."

"But he wasn't."

"He was alive and fully conscious," Nefret said somewhat sourly. "Francois wouldn't let me examine him. I didn't insist, since the little wretch was as happy as a schoolboy on holiday, laughing exultantly and crowing about how the G.o.ddess had smiled and held out her hands to bless him."

"Did she?"

"d.a.m.ned if I know. I lost my head," Nefret admitted. "I took my bow because . . . Well, because I felt someone ought to be armed with something, just in case. You know how Ramses feels about guns."

"A firearm would have been excessive."

"One couldn't have shot the woman in cold blood," Nefret conceded. "I'm better with a bow than with a gun anyhow, and I aimed at her feet, or rather, at the ground in front of where I thought her feet must be. Ramses s.n.a.t.c.hed the bow from me-he had to detach Maryam first, she was hanging on to him and screaming. By the time we reached the temple entrance she was gone. Ramses and David searched, but she had plenty of time to get away if she knew the plan of the place, which she obviously does."

I filed this fact away for future consideration. By itself it meant nothing-or rather, it might mean a number of different things. Once all the facts were put together, a picture might emerge. I would have to find the time to make one of my little charts, which had proved useful in earlier investigations.

"I expect we had better get out to the dig," I said. "Emerson's initial reaction to any annoyance is to blame me, but once he cools off he is the most reasonable of men. Don't worry, my dear, I will get everyone back on track tomorrow, and Ramses will have the chance to work on his texts."

"You think of everything, Mother."

"I have let one or two matters slip of late," I admitted handsomely. "For one thing, I am concerned about Sethos. I hope he is well enough to travel soon; I want to get Maryam away from that unpredictable boy and his grandmother, but I would rather not beard Mrs. Fitzroyce in her lair until Sethos is here. She was most uncooperative when I asked if Maryam could visit us."

"Perhaps you can catch the old lady in one of her senile moods," Nefret suggested.

"That would be convenient. Then there is M. Lacau to be dealt with," I continued, as we strolled slowly along the path. "The missing jewelry is now a dead issue, in my opinion. It, and the thief, are probably out of the country and there is no possibility of recovering it. I will break the news to Lacau myself, when he condescends to turn up, but I see no advantage in inviting him to do so."

Nefret nodded agreement. Her brow was still furrowed, however, so I endeavored to make her look on the bright side. "That leaves only the matter of Maryam to be settled, and we can do nothing until her father comes-which he will, in his own good time. I will, of course, turn my a.n.a.lytical talents to bear on the ident.i.ty of the imitation Hathor, but in my opinion she is only a red herring-a nuisance, a distraction. What actual harm has she done?"

"Until we know who she is and why she is doing this, we cannot predict what harm she is likely to do." Nefret stopped. Avoiding my eyes, she plucked a bright-yellow zinnia and began pulling off its petals. "Mother, I can't discuss this with Ramses, but you must have thought of the possibility that she is a past . . ."

"Lover? Don't be afraid of shocking me, Nefret, I am quite familiar with the word and tolerably familiar with Ramses's-er-history along those lines."

"How familiar?" She looked up from the poor mutilated flower.

"Perhaps 'suspicious' would be more accurate. Naturally he never admitted anything. All of it took place before you were married. Surely you have no reason to doubt his fidelity. He loves you-"

"Madly, pa.s.sionately, not at all," Nefret murmured, plucking a petal with each word. "I don't doubt him, Mother. I only wondered if there was one in particular. But I wouldn't ask you to talk about him behind his back."

She tossed the flower away without finis.h.i.+ng the little verse.

"That would not be fair or well-bred," I said. "But I will give the matter some thought."

She took my arm and we walked on. On the path behind us the golden petals of the flower shone bright in the sunlight.

AFTER FATIMA HAD PUT THE finis.h.i.+ng touches on one of her extravagant picnic lunches, Nefret and I rode to Deir el Medina. Upon our arrival we had to avoid a large group of Cook's tourists and their morose little donkeys. We did not avoid their attention, however; I heard one of the cursed guides proclaim our ident.i.ties in a loud voice. Cameras began to click, and one very stout lady shouted, "Stop for a moment, Mrs. Emerson, so that I can get a good picture."

Needless to say, I went on without halting or replying.

"You ought to be used to it by now, Mother," Nefret said with a chuckle. "We are among the most popular sights of Luxor."

It was Emerson's fault that we were. As one of our journalistic acquaintances had once observed, he made splendid copy, always shouting and hitting people. He hadn't actually hit anyone lately, but he had made quite a spectacle of himself during our clearance of Cyrus's tomb, waving his fists at tourists and threatening importunate journalists-who delightedly wrote down every bad word.

I was relieved to observe that none of the tourists had dared come near the area which Emerson had roped off. Within its parameters the rudiments of a plan had begun to emerge, though only a trained eye (like my own) could have made sense of the fragmentary walls and occasional column bases. Nefret and I left our horses with the others and approached Emerson, who was standing over Bertie, his hands on his hips, while the boy plotted out the fragments on his drawing paper.

"Coming along nicely, I see," I observed amiably. "This must have been the forecourt of the Seti the First temple."

"As a matter of fact, it is the pillared hall of an even older temple," Emerson replied. "Where have you been, Peabody? The debris is piling up."

"I will get to it at once. Well done, Bertie. How neatly you have drawn all those bits and pieces!"

"Thank you, ma'am." Bertie pushed his pith helmet back and wiped his perspiring brow. "Selim and David have been helping with the measurements, but it's a tricky plan."

"Where is Ramses?" Nefret asked.

"Over there." Emerson gestured. "Running a test trench along the north side of the enclosure wall, to see if he can find a place that wasn't disturbed by our b.l.o.o.d.y predecessors digging for artifacts. I don't know which are worse, local thieves or cursed Egyptologists. How can I make sense out of the stratigraphy when they've jumbled everything together?"

"All the more credit to you, my dear, for making sense out of the chaos they have left."

Emerson gave me a rather self-conscious look, and drew me aside. "I apologize, Peabody," he said, squaring his magnificent shoulders. His black hair shone like a raven's wing. This did not seem the time to ask what he had done with his hat.

"It is forgotten, Emerson."

"Oh, really? Are you sure," inquired Emerson, "that you have not filed it away for future reference, along with my other sins?"

"My dear, I couldn't possibly keep track of them all."

Emerson chuckled, reached for me, glanced at Bertie, and let his arm fall to his side. "We gave the place a thorough search, Peabody. The ground had been trampled by bare and shod feet. The only thing we found was a sc.r.a.p of fabric caught on the enclosure wall, on a section where it would be fairly easy to scramble over it. There is debris piled on both sides."

He searched his pockets, and after removing pipe, tobacco pouch, sc.r.a.ps of pottery, and a variety of the odd items men carry about with them, produced a strip of white stuff, which he handed to me.

"Hmmm," I said, examining it. "Fine linen, with, I do believe, the remains of pleating. I will keep this, if I may. Put your pipe away, Emerson, before you drop it. Why do you have a pocketful of nails?"

"I was putting up a sign," Emerson explained, p.r.i.c.king his finger on one of the nails. He sucked it, and then went on, "A more emphatic sign, warning the cursed tourists off. One of them actually offered me money to pose for a photograph."

"Kodaking has become another curse of the working archaeologist," I agreed. "But I hope you didn't strike him, Emerson."

"It was a female," said Emerson gloomily. "I couldn't even swear at her. Lia had to do it for me, since you weren't here."

I decided I had better have a look at the sign. It began, "I will kill with my bare hands . . ." and went on in the same vein for several more sentences. While I was inspecting it, Selim, relieved of his surveying duties, joined me.

"I am to make another one, in Arabic," he announced with a grin. "With the exact words."

"We may as well do German and French too. Find more boards, Selim. Is there any news?"

"About last night? It is a great mystery, Sitt Hakim. The other men were as astonished as I."

"Was it known in Gurneh that Ramses and the others were to be here?"

"Oh, yes, Sitt. They made no secret of it." Selim delicately scratched his beard and glanced at me from under his lashes. "It is also widely known that the White Lady has come before, on the night of the full moon."

"How many people have actually seen her?"

Selim thought about it, frowning. "It is a good question, Sitt. I have not spoken with any who saw her; they heard the stories, as did I, from others."

"The women do not come here, seeking her favor? The ancients prayed to Hathor for happiness in love, and for children."

"They would be afraid to come after dark, Sitt. They fear demons and ghosts."

"Interesting," I said thoughtfully.

"Yes, Sitt. But what does it mean?"

Another good question, and one to which I had no answer.

Selim had one piece of relatively good news. The boat had been located a few hundred yards downstream, run up against the bank. The men who had found it had immediately reported the discovery to Daoud; though the damage was extensive, it was not beyond repair, and the boat had already been towed to the landing near Luxor.

"Until the repairs on the boat are completed, Sabir is without a means of income," I said, after we had all gathered round the luncheon basket. "Tell him to purchase another vessel, Daoud. We will pay for it, of course."

"It will be a loan," said Daoud firmly. "He will repay you."

"Bah," said Emerson. "It is our responsibility-unless Sabir had a business rival who resented his success. Can you think of any such man?"

"They are all jealous," said Daoud proudly. "All the boatmen. Because Sabir made more money than they. But none would destroy another man's boat, it would not-it would not be . . ."

"Honorable," I suggested, as Daoud groped for the right word. "A matter of professional ethics."

"Yes," said Daoud, relieved. He looked inquiringly at the last of the sandwiches and I said, "Take it, Daoud, the rest of us have finished. Even if your a.s.sessment is not correct-and I feel certain it is-I cannot imagine anyone daring to risk injury to us."

"The wrath of the Father of Curses is more dangerous than a sandstorm in the desert," Daoud agreed.

EMERSON IS ALWAYS IN A better state of mind after he has been fed. After Fatima's excellent luncheon he agreed without demur to the dispersal of his staff. Ramses said he would stay to finish excavating the trench, and I returned to my rubbish heap, with Lia to help. When we returned to the house that afternoon I fully expected Emerson would retreat to his study with Bertie's plan and his own field notes, but he declared he did not want to miss his time with the dear children.

"We don't see enough of them," he complained, returning from the bath chamber and hastily a.s.suming clean garments. "You won't let them take breakfast with us, and they go to bed so early-"