Amelia Peabody Omnibus 1-4 (100 page)

‘That will do, Ramses,’ I said, with a sigh. ‘Brother Ezekiel, will you come in? Your sister is here, safe and sound.’

‘So you say.’ Brother Ezekiel pushed past me. ‘Well, she’s here, at any rate. Charity, where’s your penknife?’

The girl rose. Head bowed, she murmured from under the hair that veiled her face, ‘Under my pillow, brother. There was such confusion I forgot – ’

‘Didn’t I tell you never to take a step without that weapon?’ Brother Ezekiel thundered.

‘I am guilty, brother.’

‘Yes, you are. And you’ll be punished.’

‘A moment, sir.’ Emerson spoke in the purring rumble that often deceived persons unfamiliar with his temperament into believing he was in an affable mood. ‘I don’t believe we have been formally introduced.’

‘It ain’t my fault if we wasn’t,’ Ezekiel replied. ‘At least this here unfortunate event gives me a chance to talk to you, Professor. I know who you are and you know me; let’s skip the formalities, I don’t hold with ’em.’ He sat down.

‘Have a chair,’ Emerson said.

‘I already have one. I could fancy a cup of tea, if you ain’t got coffee.’

‘By all means.’ Emerson offered him a cup. I resignedly awaited the explosion I knew was coming. The longer Emerson’s appearance of mildness continued, the louder the eventual explosion would be.

‘Do I understand,’ Emerson continued blandly, ‘that Miss Charity goes about armed with a knife? Let me assure you, Mr Jones, that such precautions are not necessary. This is a peaceful country, and I doubt that she is capable of using such a weapon.’

‘She’d be able to use it on herself,’ Brother Ezekiel retorted. ‘And that’s what she was supposed to do before she let a male critter lay hands on her.’

‘Good Gad,’ I cried. ‘This is not ancient Rome, sir.’

I expected the allusion would be lost on Ezekiel, but to my surprise he replied, ‘They was heathens, but that Lucretia female knew the value of a woman’s purity. Well, in this case no harm done. I come to fetch her home, but long as I’m here I may as well tell you what’s on my mind.’

‘By all means unburden yourself,’ Emerson said earnestly. ‘I doubt that the organ you mention can stand any undue weight.’

‘What? It’s about the Christian cemetery you’ve been digging up. You’ll have to stop it, Professor. They were heretics, but they was laid to rest in the Lord.’

I braced myself for the explosion. It did not come. Emerson’s eyebrows rose. ‘Heretics?’ he repeated.

‘Monophysites,’ said Brother Ezekiel.

I had believed Emerson’s eyebrows could rise no higher, but I was wrong. Mistaking the cause of his surprise, Brother Ezekiel enlightened him.

‘Our Lord and Saviour, Professor, has a double nature – the human and the divine are mingled in him. ’Twas all laid down by the Council of Chalcedon, anno Domini 451. That’s doctrine, and there’s no getting around it. These Copts wouldn’t accept it, though. They followed Eutyches, who insisted on the absorption of the human part of Christ by the divine into one composite nature. Hence, sir, the term Monophysite.’

‘I am familiar with the term and its meaning,’ Emerson said.

‘Oh? Well, but that ain’t the issue. They may of been heretics, but they was Christians, of a sort, and I demand you leave their graves alone.’

The twinkle of amusement in Emerson’s eyes was replaced by a fiery glow, and I decided to intervene. ‘Your sister is on the verge of fainting, Brother Ezekiel. If you don’t take steps to relieve her, I shall. Charity – sit down!’

Charity sat down. Brother Ezekiel stood up. ‘Come along, girl, a handmaiden of the Lord has no business swooning. I’ve said my say, now I’ll go.’

‘Not just yet,’ said Emerson. ‘I haven’t had my say. Mr Jones – ’

‘Brother Ezekiel, sir.’

Emerson shook his head. ‘Really, you cannot expect me to employ that absurd affectation. You are not my brother. You are, however, a fellow human being, and I feel it my duty to warn you. You have aroused considerable resentment in the village; last night’s fire may not be the last demonstration of that resentment.’

Brother Ezekiel raised his eyes to heaven. ‘If the glorious crown of the martyr is to be mine, O Lord, make me worthy!’

‘If it weren’t such an entertaining idiot it would make me angry,’ Emerson muttered as if to himself. ‘See here, sir; you are doing everything possible to increase the justifiable annoyance of the local priest, whose flock you are stealing away – ’

‘I seek to save them from the fires of hell,’ Ezekiel explained. ‘They are all damned – ’

Emerson’s voice rose to a roar. ‘They may be damned, but you will be dead! It would not be the first time Protestant missions have been attacked. Court danger as you will, but you have no right to risk your innocent converts and your sister.’

‘God’s will be done,’ Ezekiel said.

‘No doubt,’ Emerson agreed. ‘Oh, get out of here, you little maniac, before I throw you out. Miss Charity, if at any time you need our help, we are here, at your command. Send word by John or any other messenger.’

Then I realized that in his own peculiar way Ezekiel had exhibited a variety of self-control comparable to that of my husband. Emerson’s final insult cracked the missionary’s calm facade. A thunderous scowl darkened his brow. But before he could express in words the outrage that filled him, another sound was heard – the sound of a low, menacing growl. I thought Ramses might have let the lion cub out, and looked around. But the source of the growl was Bastet, who had appeared out of nowhere in that unnerving way of hers. Crouched on the table near Emerson, she lashed her tail and rumbled low in her throat, sensing the anger that filled the room and prepared to defend her master.

Charity let out a thin cry. ‘Take it away – oh, please, take it away.’

‘You must conquer this weakness, Charity,’ said Brother David, shaking his head. ‘There is nothing more harmless than an amiable domestic cat…’ He put out a hand to Bastet. She spat at him. He stepped hastily back. ‘An amiable domestic cat,’ he repeated, less confidently.

Charity retreated, step by stumbling step, her wide eyes fixed on the cat’s sharp white snarl. ‘You know I would do anything to please you, brother. I have tried. But I cannot – I cannot – ’

Observing her pallor and the perspiration that bedewed her brow, I realized her terror was as genuine as it was unusual. No wonder the mere mention of the lion had caused her to lose consciousness!

I glanced at Ramses, who was sitting quietly in a corner. I had fully expected a comment – or, more likely, a long-winded speech – from him before this. No doubt he knew I would order him out of the room if he ventured to speak. ‘Take the cat away, Ramses,’ I said.

‘But, Mama – ’

‘Never mind, we’re leaving,’ snapped Ezekiel. The look he gave Bastet showed that he found Charity’s fear as hard to comprehend as Brother David’s affection for such creatures. Then he turned to Emerson. ‘Don’t concern yourself about my sister, Professor, she’s been taught right; she knows a woman’s place. I remind you, sir, of First Corinthians, Chapter fourteen, Verses thirty-four and thirty-five: “Let your women keep silence … for it is not permitted unto them to speak… And if they will learn any thing, let them ask their husbands at home.” You’d best apply that in your own household, Professor, before you start interfering with them that knows better.’

When he and his entourage had gone, Emerson burst into a great roar of laughter. ‘Henpeckery!’ he shouted cheerfully. ‘The old charge of henpeckery. Will I never live it down?’

I stood on tiptoe and threw my arms about his neck. ‘Emerson,’ I said, ‘have I had occasion in the recent past to mention that my feelings for you are of the warmest nature?’

My husband returned my embrace. ‘You mentioned it in passing a few hours ago, but if you would care to enlarge upon the subject …’

But after an all-too-brief interval he gently put me aside. ‘All the same, Peabody,’ he said seriously, ‘we cannot let those fools rush headlong to destruction without trying to stop them.’

‘Are matters that serious, do you think?’

‘I fear so.’ He added, with a refreshing touch of malice, ‘You have been too busy playing detective to notice what has been going on. Already there is a visible division among our workers; the converts are shunned by their fellows, and Abdullah has reported several cases of fisticuffs. I really believe that wretched preacher wants to achieve martyrdom.’

‘Surely there is no danger of that, Emerson. Not in this day and age.’

‘Let us hope not. What the devil, we have wasted too much time on the creature. The men will be on the dig. I must go.’

With a hasty embrace he departed, and I sat down to have another cup of tea. Scarcely had I taken a seat, however, before a cry of outraged fury reached my ears. I recognized the beloved voice and hastened to rush to his side, fearing I know not what – some fresh outrage from Brother Ezekiel, perhaps.

The pastor had gone, and Emerson was nowhere in sight. The volume of his complaints led me to him, on the far side of the house. I do not believe I had inspected that region since the day of our arrival, when I had made a circuit of the walls to see where repairs were needed. On that occasion the walls had been intact, if aged. Now a gaping hole confronted my astonished eyes. Emerson was stamping up and down waving his arms and shouting at Abdullah, who listened with an air of injured dignity. Seeing me, Emerson turned his reproaches on a new object.

‘What kind of housekeeping do you call this, Peabody?’

I pointed out the injustice of the charge in a few brisk but well-chosen words. Emerson mopped his brow. ‘Pardon my language, Peabody. It has been a trying morning. And now this!’

‘What is it?’ I asked.

‘It is a hole, Peabody. A hole in the wall of one of our storage rooms.’

‘Oh, Emerson, I can see that! How did it come there?’

‘I do not know, Peabody. Perhaps Ramses has stolen an elephant and attempted to confine it in the room.’

I ignored this misplaced attempt at humour. ‘The wall is old, and some of the mortar has fallen out. Perhaps it simply collapsed.’

‘Don’t talk like an idiot, Peabody!’ Emerson shouted.

‘Don’t shout at me, Emerson!’

Abdullah’s head had been moving back and forth like someone watching a tennis match. Now he remarked, not quite sotto voce, ‘It is good to see them so friendly together. But of course it was the spirit of the old priest, trying to get back into his house from which the Father of Curses expelled him.’

‘Abdullah, you know that is nonsense,’ I said.

‘Quite right,’ Emerson agreed. ‘When I expel a spirit, he stays expelled.’

Abdullah grinned. Emerson wiped his forehead with his sleeve and said in a resigned voice, ‘Let’s see what the damage is. Which of the storerooms is this, Amelia? I cannot quite get my bearings.’

I counted windows. ‘This is the room where I keep the mummy cases, Emerson. The ones from the Roman cemetery.’

Emerson struck himself heavily on the brow. ‘There is some strange fatality in this,’ he muttered. ‘Abdullah, go to the dig and get the men started. Come around to the door, Peabody, and we will see what is – or is not – inside.’

We did as he suggested. The coffins had been jumbled about, but I noticed that none of the bricks had fallen inside – which cast a doubt on my theory of a spontaneous fall. I had not really believed it, of course. The bricks had been removed one by one until a sufficiently large opening was made. It would not have been difficult to do. The mortar was old and crumbling.

‘… five, six, seven,’ Emerson counted. ‘They are all here, Amelia.’

I cleared my throat. ‘Emerson …’

‘Oh, curse it,’ Emerson exclaimed. ‘Don’t tell me – you put the baroness’s mummy case in this room.’

‘It seemed the logical place, Emerson.’

‘Then there ought to be eight mummy cases here.’

‘My reckoning agrees with yours, Emerson.’

‘One is missing.’

‘It seems a reasonable conclusion.’

Emerson’s fingers clawed at his chin. ‘Fetch John,’ he said.

I turned to obey; this was not the time to cavil at an unnecessarily peremptory tone. From one of the doors along the line of cells a head protruded. ‘May I come out, Mama?’ Ramses inquired.

‘You may as well. Find John.’

‘He is here, Mama.’

The pair soon joined us and Emerson, with John’s help, began removing the mummy cases from the storeroom. When they were lined up in a grisly row, Emerson looked them over.

‘These are the coffins we found, Peabody,’ he announced. ‘It must be the one belonging to the baroness that has been stolen – again.’

‘Wrong, Emerson. That’ – I pointed – ‘is the mummy case John and I put in this room last night. I remember the patch of missing varnish on the foot, and also the relative location, which I noted when you removed them.’

‘Wrong, Peabody. I know each and every one of these mummy cases. I could as easily be mistaken as to the identity of my own mother.’

‘Since you haven’t seen the dear old lady for fifteen years, you might easily make such a mistake.’

‘Never mind my mother,’ Emerson retorted. ‘I can’t imagine why we brought her into this. If you don’t believe me, Peabody, we will check my notes. I made careful descriptions of the coffins, as I always do.’

‘No, no, my dear Emerson, I need no such verification; your memory is always accurate. But I am equally certain that this’ – again I pointed – ‘is the mummy case brought to us last night.’

‘De conclusion is obvious, surely,’ piped Ramses. ‘De mummy case brought here last night, purportedly de one stolen from de lady, was not in fact de one stolen from – ’

‘I assure you, Ramses, that possibility had not escaped either of us,’ I replied with some asperity.

‘De inevitable corollary,’ Ramses went on, ‘is dat – ’

‘Pray be silent for a moment, Ramses,’ Emerson begged, clutching his ambrosial locks with both hands. ‘Let me think. What with mummy cases whizzing in and out of my life like express trains … There were originally seven mummy cases in this room.’

I murmured an encouraging ‘Quite right, Emerson,’ and fixed Ramses with a look that stilled the words hovering on his lips.