Children of the Storm (27 page)

“What papers?” Walter asked blankly.

Evelyn picked them up from the floor and handed them to him. “He has been working on a very important manuscript,” she explained. “I expect you wanted to read us your translation, Walter?”

“Oh, yes, to be sure.” Walter smoothed the papers out. Someone had drawn an object that may have been meant to be a pyramid on the back of one.

“He isn’t supposed to bring his work to a social occasion,” Emerson grunted. “Ramses, have a look at these.”

He extracted a roll of paper from a portfolio beside his chair and handed it over. “David’s work?” Ramses inquired, examining the meticulously tinted sketch of a section of coffin lid.

“Evelyn’s,” Emerson corrected. “This is David’s. He’s finished drawing the decoration on the robe.”

“They’re both marvelous,” Ramses said in sincere admiration.

“Put them away before someone spills tea on them,” I said. “You ought not have brought them to a social occasion, Emerson.”

Emerson ignored this dig with the skill of long experience. “How much longer are you going to work on Vandergelt’s collection? How many more objects to copy?”

“We could spend years at the job,” David answered, taking a cup of tea from me. “Obviously that’s not practical. We’ll have to settle for the most important and fragile objects. That decision is up to you and Cyrus.”

Emerson opened his mouth but before he could voice his opinion I cut in. “We will have a little committee meeting, Emerson, and solicit the advice of all those concerned—including Cyrus. Tomorrow afternoon, perhaps? Excellent. I will inform Cyrus. Now let us listen to Walter’s translation.”

“Oh, very well,” said Emerson. “What is this text you find so important, Walter?”

“I told you about it a few days ago, Radcliffe. The horoscope.”

“Ah, yes,” said Emerson, who obviously had no recollection of any such conversation.

“The word isn’t entirely accurate,” Walter explained eagerly. “It doesn’t seem to be based on astrology, or any other system familiar to us. It lists the days of the year, classifies them as good or bad, and predicts what is likely to happen. For example: ‘First month of Akhet, day twenty-four. Very good. The god sails with a favorable wind. Anyone born on this day will die honored in old age.’ “

“Akhet is the first season of the year, isn’t it?” Lia asked.

Her father nodded. “The season of inundation, when the Nile rose and overflowed its banks. The first day of the year was marked by the reappearance of the star Sirius.”

“Well, well,” Emerson said, making a valiant effort. “Most interesting.”

“Isn’t it?” Walter beamed at him. “But that’s not the most interesting section. I came across this bit yesterday. ‘The day of the children of the storm. Very dangerous. Do not go on the water this day.’ “

He had succeeded in capturing Emerson’s attention—and mine, and that of several others. Ramses’s eyebrows lifted.

“You remember what our—er—what—er—Sethos said the other evening, about the children of the storm?” Walter went on with innocent enthusiasm. “It gave me quite a strange feeling to see the same phrase in an ancient Egyptian text. Of course the reference is not at all the same. Er—Sethos—was speaking poetically and figuratively, whereas this has a specific religious meaning.”

Somewhat belatedly he became aware of the unblinking stares of his companions. “Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?” he asked uncertainly.

David was the first to speak. “Yes. Quite a coincidence.”

“And that is all it is,” Emerson declared with considerable vehemence. “Coincidence is the foundation of all the occult sciences—coincidence, and the desire to believe. One fortuitously accurate guess is remembered by the gullible, while a thousand inaccurate predictions are forgotten. Even if the date proved to be . . .” His voice trailed off.

“What is the date, Uncle Walter?” Nefret asked.

Walter looked at the paper. “Third month of Akhet, day nineteen. In modern terms . . . Impossible to say offhand. As you are all aware, the Egyptian calendar consisted of three hundred and sixty-five days, but since the solar year is actually longer than that, the Egyptians were one day off every four years or so. It would be difficult to calculate the correspondence. One might try, of course . . .”

“One won’t,” declared Emerson. “It would be a complete waste of time. Gargery, what do you want? Don’t bother removing the tea things now.”

“It’s no trouble, sir,” said Gargery, collecting cups.

“Good of you to say so,” said Emerson sarcastically. “I assure you, Gargery, you won’t be missing a thing. We are discussing an ancient Egyptian text.”

“Yes, sir. However, sir, I couldn’t help overhearing—”

“Damnation!” Emerson shouted. “Eavesdropping again?”

“I happened to be passing by the door, sir.” Gargery’s face took on an expression of hurt reproach. “That there calendar Mr. Walter was reading from—”

“Is a pack of nonsense,” Emerson broke in.

“Well, sir, those Egyptians may have been heathens, but they knew things. It seems to me that you ought to read more of it and find out what else is going to happen.”

Ramses cleared his throat. “Speaking of the papyrus, Father, I’ve been wondering if I might—”

“Curse it!” Emerson shouted. “Damn you, Gargery, how many times have I told you—”

“Father,” Ramses said loudly. Emerson’s bulging eyes followed the wave of his hand toward the corner where Sennia sat, rigid with shocked surprise.

“Oh,” said Emerson. “Er. I didn’t see you, Sennia. I apologize for my language. I—”

“You should apologize to Gargery,” Sennia said severely. “He was only trying to help.”

“That is quite all right, sir,” said Gargery, with an infuriating smile. “I have said my say, as was my duty. Come along, Miss Sennia, it is time for your supper.”

They went out together, holding each other’s hands, and Emerson, still boiling with repressed fury, looked round for a victim. “See what you’ve done, Walter,” he exclaimed. “Filling that child’s head with nonsense!”

“It’s Gargery’s head that’s the problem,” Ramses murmured. “Father, I’ve been meaning to ask you—”

His father paid no attention. “And another thing, Walter. Will you kindly refrain, in future, from referring to our brother as—‘er—Sethos’? Can’t you pronounce the word without stuttering?”

The injustice of this brought a flush to Walter’s face, and he spoke up with unusual vehemence. “No, I cannot, Radcliffe. What sort of name is that for an Englishman and a Christian?”

“I don’t know that he is a Christian,” Emerson said, diverted. “Never asked.”

“Didn’t you ever ask his real name? Don’t tell me he was christened Sethos.”

“Thus far he has avoided our attempts to discover it,” Emerson said grumpily. “Why the devil don’t you ask him, if it is so important to you?” As far as he was concerned, that ended the discussion. He turned to me. “Isn’t it time for these children to go to bed?”

“Past time,” I said. “Nefret . . . Oh, she is still with Charla.”

“Superstitious idiot,” his father muttered. He meant Gargery, as his next words made plain. “He’ll tell Fatima and the rest of them about the cursed papyrus, and they’ll wring their hands and find ominous omens all over the place. Probably want me to exorcise the evil spirits. Damnation! Oh—what was it you wanted to ask me, my boy?”

“It can wait.” Ramses slung Davy over one shoulder. Davy, who favored unorthodox methods of transport, chuckled appreciatively. “I want to see how Charla is.”

“Oh, good Gad,” said Emerson in consternation. “I completely forgot the poor little creature. I will come too. Perhaps a few biscuits would cheer her up.”

He emptied the remaining biscuits into his pocket. I did not object. Children have cast-iron stomachs. I had seen Charla devour a huge supper an hour after the latest such episode. (A handful of scarlet poinsettia leaves. The color red obviously attracted her.)

In my opinion, Emerson had been extremely rude to Walter, and deserved to be put in his place. Instead of scolding him, I determined upon a more subtle form of punishment, which would have the additional advantage of arranging matters as I thought best. I waited until the following afternoon to put my scheme into effect. The first step was not accomplished without some little difficulty, for Emerson resisted my “suggestion” that we stop work early. It was not really a suggestion, though, and once he had got that into his head he did as he was told. We went straight to the Castle, where Cyrus awaited us.

I had not seen my old friend for several days, and was distressed to observe that his goatee showed signs of wear. He continued to tug at it as he showed us to his office, where he had made the arrangements along the lines I had tactfully proposed in my note. The mahogany table had been cleared and chairs arranged around it, with paper and pen set out neatly at each place. Cyrus offered me the chair at the head of the table, but I insisted he take it, adding, “I will just sit here at your right, Cyrus, and act as secretary. You have prepared an agenda, I presume?”

“Not exactly,” said Cyrus, eyeing the papers I removed from my bag. “I sort of figured you would.”

“A few notes,” I said modestly.

“Hah,” said Emerson, seated opposite me. “What I want to know—”

I rapped sharply on the table with my pen. “You are out of order, Emerson. We must have the committee reports first.”

“Committees?” Emerson burst out. “What committees?”

“But before that, a few preliminary remarks from the chairman.” I nodded at Cyrus.

“You better make them, Amelia,” said Cyrus, trying not to smile as he glanced at Emerson’s darkening countenance. “This was your idea.”

I had expected he would say that, so I was able to begin speaking immediately, before Emerson could do so. “It has become evident to me, as it must have done to the rest of you, that we must define our aims and goals and decide how to allocate time and personnel most efficiently to the various projects presently underway. We are fortunate indeed to have so many talented persons with us—” I directed a series of smiles and nods at those persons. I got a few nods and smiles in return. From Emerson I got a silent snarl. Nefret, seated next to him, with her hand on his, was trying not to laugh. David had put his elbows on the table and propped his chin in his hands; his fingers covered his mouth, but I could see it twitching.

“. . . but the very amplitude of the talent available renders organization imperative,” I went on. “Otherwise we run the risk of dissipating our collective energy and wasting valuable time.”

Ramses, who had been watching his father, said smoothly, “Well put, Mother. Have you by chance made a list of these projects?”

I took the hint. “Yes, certainly. These are not necessarily in order of importance, mind you, I simply jotted them down as they occurred to me. The princesses’ treasure is first. M. Lacau will turn up again at any time and he has not had the courtesy to inform us of what he means to do. For all we know, he may demand we pack and remove everything. Therefore David and Evelyn should concentrate on finishing their copies of the most important objects. We are agreed on that, I expect? Good. I felt certain we would be. I suggest that after this meeting we adjourn to the storage rooms and go over the objects together. I trust that is agreeable to all of you? Good. One other question concerning the treasure requires to be considered, but I will postpone that until Cyrus is ready to make his report.

“The second project is the excavation and copying of the Deir el Medina tombs. The latter will have to be postponed until David and Evelyn are finished here, but in my opinion Cyrus should start making the preparations.

“Project number three is the inscribed material we have found—the ostraca and papyri. They should be collated, translated, and published.”

I turned over a page, cleared my throat, and proceeded. “Project number four is, of course, the excavation of the village and its surroundings.”

Even Nefret’s touch could not control Emerson any longer. “I wondered when you would get round to that, Peabody,” he burst out. “I have been under the naive impression that it was our primary purpose.”

“There is no reason why you cannot proceed with the excavations, Emerson.”

Emerson was so outraged he choked on the words he had been about to utter and began coughing violently. Raising my voice, I went on, “I suggest the following allocation of personnel. Ramses and Walter on the textual material; Evelyn and David on the princesses’ treasure. That leaves you, Emerson, with Lia and Nefret, Selim and me—more than adequate, especially since Bertie will be working with us until the princesses’ treasure has been sent off to Cairo, and Cyrus is ready to return to the cemetery. If we are agreed, I suggest we retire to the storeroom and evaluate the situation there.”

“What about the committee reports?” Ramses asked, in a suspiciously muffled voice.

I was ready for that. “As your father so cogently indicated, until now we have had no committees. We will have those reports at our next meeting.”

I gathered my papers into a neat pile and stood up, indicating that this meeting was at an end. The others immediately followed suit—except for Emerson. As I passed him on my way to the door, he said softly but distinctly, “I will have a few words to say to you later, Amelia.”

I didn’t doubt that he would. It was an exhilarating thought.

FROM MANUSCRIPT H

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Contrary to Ramses’s expectations, he didn’t have to invent excuses to keep his parents from joining them on their moonlight ride to Deir el Medina. His mother gave him a sentimental smile and murmured, “Enjoy yourselves, my dears.” His father only grunted. Emerson had been brooding over his defeat, as he would consider it, and could hardly wait to get his wife alone. After dinner he hastily swallowed his coffee, announced that it was time to retire, and invited her to join him. They went out together, Emerson’s face set in a lordly frown and his wife’s bright with gleeful anticipation.

“Why are they retiring so early?” Walter asked in mild surprise. “I plan to put in a few hours’ work.”