Lord of the Silent: A Novel of Suspense (17 page)

Jamil was hollow-eyed and half asleep next morning. He sat on his horse like a bag of rags. Jumana greeted them in her usual high-pitched shout. "Good morning! How are you? It is a fine morning! Did you enjoy a happy night?" "Yes, thank you," Nefret replied, avoiding her husband's meaningful look. "That is good. I have read all the notes I wrote down yesterday and I have sharpened my pencil. Jamil would not tell me where we are going today, but I asked my father and he said-" "What did I tell you about keeping quiet unless you are asking questions?" Nefret prompted. "It is true," said Jumana. "I am as stupid as Jamil. I will ask the right question. What are you looking for in the Valley of the Monkeys?" "What do you know about the place?" Ramses asked. "I thought I was to ask the questions. Oh-it is a test?" Her face fell, and so did the pith helmet, down to the bridge of her nose. She pushed it back. "I have never been there. I have been in the other valley many times; I worked as a basket carrier for Vandergelt Effendi when I was little. At the school of Mrs. Vandergelt the teachers took us to see the tombs. I have seen Seti and Thutmose and Amenhotep-" Nudged by a stern look from Nefret, Ramses cut in. "It is the tomb of another Amenhotep we are visiting today. His is one of the few in the West Valley, which you call the Valley of the Monkeys. Mr. Carter worked in the tomb this past spring for a short time. We want to see if anyone else has been digging without permission." He would have left it at that, but the concentrated regard of two pairs of eyes, one blue, one black, demanded more. Reluctantly, for he disliked lecturing, he went on, trying to use words simple enough for her to understand. "Amenhotep the Third was the builder of the temple of Luxor and the two colossi on the road to Deir el Medina. He ruled at a time when Egypt was at the pinnacle-the high point-of its power and wealth. His chief queen, Tiy, was a commoner-that means she was not of royal birth-but she had great influence. Kings of other countries wrote to her asking her for gifts and favors. Their son was Akhenaton, who abandoned the worship of the old gods in favor of one .. ."Jumana was nodding vigorously. "Oh. You know about him from school? Good." They had followed the road that led from the public ferry landing past the temple of Seti I and the slopes of Drah Abu'l Naga, into the wadi that formed the approach to the two valleys. Several hundred yards before the entrance to the East Valley a track led off to the right. They were the only ones to turn into it. Few people came this way; the ground was uneven and littered with fallen stones. The rough trail twisted and turned between rugged cliffs and rocky outcroppings. They went on in single file, holding the horses to a walk. No one spoke, not even Jumana. It was so still they might have been the only living creatures for miles. The weird wavering call fell into the silence like a scream. Nefret's hands clenched on the reins. The others had stopped too. She laughed self-consciously. "A jackal." "At this time of day?" Ramses's head lifted. The sound was not repeated, but he must have heard something, for he turned in the saddle and spoke to her. "Stay with them." He dug his heels into the black's sides and urged him into a trot, bending low over his neck and guiding him with hands and voice. Nefret swore under her breath. He'd been too quick for her. Jackals prowled and hunted by night. The cry must have been a signal. It had certainly not been a shout of welcome. Jumana and Jamil were also familiar with the habits of jackals. Both of them looked hopefully at her. Jamil was not interested in archaeology, but he would probably love a fight. Nefret felt an unexpected stab of sympathy for her mother-in-law. Was this what she had had to deal with all those years-young people who didn't have sense enough to be afraid? Someone had to stay with them. Of course it would have to be me, Nefret thought. She acknowledged the logic behind Ramses's decision; he was a better rider, and better equipped by size and strength to handle a thief if he caught one. If there was only one ... Ramses was already out of sight, behind a spur of rock, when she reached her decision. "Stay close behind me," she ordered, and started forward. After a short distance the wadi opened up into a wider gorge, walled by cliffs like the ruined ramparts of a giant's fortress. The sun was high enough to paint the rock walls with a bewildering mixture of light and shadow, where deep clefts and ragged apertures broke the surface. There was no sign of life, and no sign of her husband. Nefret went on. She was afraid to let the mare go faster than a walk, the surface was bad and the uneven contours of the rock face offered concealment for any number of men. The tomb they'd come to see was about halfway between the entrance and the far end of the valley. They were almost upon it before she saw Ramses's horse. The saddle was empty. She heard the rattle of loose rock and he came into sight, halfway down the cliff next to the tomb entrance, and she realized that the sharp line of shadow above him was a fissure or chimney. He was a skilled climber, but she always hated watching him; even an expert could miscalculate, and the cliff face below him was practically sheer. Bits of rock broke away from under his feet as he lowered himself from one hold to the next. She dismounted and handed the reins to Jamil. "Stay here," she said again. By the time she got to him he was on the ground. "Damn it!" he said furiously. "I was too slow. He got away. So did the others, I suppose. I could only follow one of them." His narrowed eyes scanned the surroundings. There was no one else in sight and no sound of movement. The futility of pursuit was obvious; there were hundreds of hiding places in the cliffs and probably a dozen ways out of the Valley for those who knew the paths. His hands were scraped and bleeding. He'd lost or removed his hat; perspiration trickled down his face from under his hair. "Come and have a drink," Nefret said, torn between brushing the damp curls off his forehead and shaking him. "Why the devil couldn't you have waited for me before you went off like that? Following someone when he is climbing above you is asking for a kick in the head." "I never got that close to the bastard," Ramses said sourly. "I take it none of them passed you on their way out?" "No." In emulation of her mother-in-law she had taken to carrying first-aid supplies and a few other useful "accoutrements." He let her bathe his hands and apply alcohol to the open cuts while he talked. "They heard the signal and were out of the tomb and running in all directions by the time I got here. It was quite an orderly retreat, almost as if they had rehearsed it beforehand. I never imagined they'd have the bloody gall to operate in broad daylight." "Why not?" Nefret said. "Nobody ever comes here. They did have enough common sense to post a lookout." "Yes." He took a long drink and passed the water bottle to Jamil, who was squatting on the ground watching him. "Jamil, did you tell anyone where we were going today?" Jamil choked. Water spilled down his chin. He wiped it with his sleeve and looked guilty. Sensing that he was trying to think of an acceptable lie, Nefret said, "There is no reason why you should not have spoken of it, Jamil. We did not forbid you to do so." "Ah." The boy's handsome, sulky face brightened. "I told my father, yes, of course. You did not forbid-" "It was talked about at the house when two of my uncles and five of my cousins were there," Jumana broke in. "No doubt they talked of it in the coffee shop later, and Jamil too. He is always at the coffee shop. If you wonder who could have known of your plans, the answer is: the whole of Luxor. But none of them would face the Brother of Demons." She was so much quicker than Jamil. For the first time Ramses spoke to her as he would have spoken to an equal. "I thought the same. Does that mean these men were strangers?" "That, or they had found something so important they were willing to take the risk. It was not such a great risk, perhaps. They did get away." "So they did," Ramses agreed ruefully. "Shall we see what they were doing?" It was a bit of a scramble up the slope of loose talus to the wide cleft in the rock. Sunken and deeply shadowed, the tomb entrance had been closed by an iron door. It stood open. Piles of fresh debris, presumably from Carter's recent excavations, surrounded it. "Foundation deposits," Ramses said, indicating several pits. "Carter must have cleared them out. Jumana, why don't you stay-" "I am your scribe," Jumana said, brandishing her notepad and pencil. "Yes, of course. Take my hand, then. It's rather rough going." Nefret motioned Jamil to follow them. This was a far cry from the popular tombs of the East Valley, with their electric lights and accessible chambers. The long entrance passage sloped steeply and was broken by several flights of steps. The tomb had lain open for years before the Department of Antiquities installed the iron door, long enough for a considerable amount of windblown sand and water-driven rubble to accumulate. Rock fragments and bits of plaster from the walls added to the debris. Emerson would not have approved of Carter's methods; he had left a lot of stuff underfoot. The daylight faded as they descended, their torches the only illumination. The well at the end of the passage had been bridged with planks. They crossed it and stopped, at Ramses's low-voiced order. His voice echoed in a rather unpleasant manner, and the beams of the torches were lost in the enclosing darkness. The air was hot and dry. "Carter cleared the well," Ramses said. "He couldn't have done much more, he was only here for a few weeks." He moved the light slowly around the room, which had two pillars and the opening of a flight of stone-cut steps that led down. The floor was inches deep with debris, an unholy mixture of broken stone, bits of wood, and unidentifiable fragments of other kinds. Except . .. Before she could get a better look, Ramses turned the light up. The ceiling was moving. Jamil let out a howl, and Nefret said irritably, "It's only bats. Keep quiet, they are attracted by voices." Jumana hadn't uttered a sound but she had edged closer to Ramses. Maybe she knew bats would approach a taller target first. Ramses handed her his torch. "Go back up and wait for us outside," he said. "I am not afraid of bats," Jumana said. "Nor I," Jamil said. "I stepped on a sharp stone, that was why I cried out. It was not fear." "Do as I say," Ramses snapped. "We won't be long." The two retreated, bickering in low voices. Nefret moved closer to her husband. Carefully though she stepped, things crunched under her feet. "You should have let her stay. Jamil was the one who was making all the noise." "I wanted them both out of here." "Why?" "Several reasons. First and most important . . ." One arm went round her waist. The other hand took firm hold of the torch, and she was laughing as she raised her face for his kiss. "That makes twenty-two," he said, after awhile. "Did you think I was going to hit you on the head again?" "I can hardly blame you for losing your wits when I kiss you," he said magnanimously, and kissed her again. "There's another reason," he went on. "The thieves were able to get out in a hurry, so they couldn't have been far inside. I think they were in this room when we interrupted them." He pointed the torch toward the left-hand wall. Someone had certainly been doing something. She would have assumed it was Howard Carter; the cleared space was neatly defined, leading from the door to the base of the wall and along it for several feet. The hiding place was a rough hole which had been hastily enlarged from a fault in the stone. She could only guess at what it might once have contained; the only things remaining were a scattering of beads and a narrow strip of gold-a spacer or part of the fastening of a bracelet. Swearing softly and comprehensively, Ramses scooped up the objects, handed them to Nefret, and swept his fingers through the dust. He found one small item the thieves had overlooked: a ring, the golden hoop surmounted by a bezel of turquoise or blue glass with several tiny figures in gold relief. "They must have had most of it out before they heard the signal," he muttered. "Then they grabbed and ran. Damn!" "Damn," Nefret agreed. "How did they know where to look?" "Good question. It was probably an ancient thief's cache; some enterprising workman or priest scooped up a handful of jewelry- or maybe a small box, there are splinters of wood here-possibly when the tomb was being inspected, or was reopened for another burial, and tucked it away, meaning to come back for it later, when nobody was around. Carter would have found it if he had gone a bit farther. He'll be sick when he hears about this." He rose to his feet. Nefret said, "You didn't answer my question. How did they know where to look for the jewels?" "I don't know the answer. But he has an uncanny talent for finding such things." The backlight from the torch cast odd shadows across his face. "He's dead," Nefret said, after a moment. "Is he?" They had been talking too loudly. An irritable, dry rustling began. They left the chamber and started back up the sloping passage to the entrance. "Don't mention what we found to Jamil or Jumana," Ramses said. Nefret nodded agreement. She knew as well as he did the effect the word "gold" had on the men of Gurneh, and how gossip would exaggerate the find. Upon their emergence they were greeted with flattering enthusiasm by their companions. "Is it time to eat?" Jamil inquired hopefully. "We may as well," Nefret said. "Ramses?" He was inspecting the rock surface around the entrance. She saw it almost as soon as he did: a rough circle cut into the rock, divided by a flattened curve. There were times when the man Nefret adored with all her heart and soul made her so angry she wanted to hit him. According to her mother-in-law, this was a normal, even positive, feeling. "Not that I would ever condone striking a man," she had added. "It would not be playing the game. A firm expression of annoyance generally inspires a loud response and a brief discussion, which serves to clear the air." It seemed to work for her in-laws, but Ramses didn't have his father's explosive temper. She had assumed they would go straight back to the boat so they could discuss the astonishing idea he had planted in her mind. It inspired other ideas, other conjectures, other theories; but instead of letting her talk about them, her husband proceeded to spend the rest of the day methodically exploring the valley and dictating notes to Jumana, who trotted after him like an energetic puppy. They went into the other royal tomb, where Ramses muttered over its neglected state and pointed out the wall painting of