Seeing a Large Cat (10 page)

"Yes, yes," said Emerson. He studied me with mild curiosity. "A trifle warm, are you? Small wonder. Why do you insist on wearing a coat and buttoning your shirt clean up to your chin? Nefret has better sense; she has removed hers."

I spun round with a gasp and was relieved to see I had mis taken his reference. It had not been to Nefret's shirt, but to her coat, which David was carrying.

Her working uniform, like mine, consisted of boots and trousers below, shirtwaist and coat above. Now her costume resembled that of Ramses and David, for she had pushed her sleeves up and unfastened the top buttons of the shut, and she walked with a lad's easy stride. No one would have taken her for a boy, though, not even with her hair hidden under her pith helmet. It was not only the delicate, flower-fair face that defined her gender. The trousers must have shrunk in the wash.

"Put your jacket on at once, Nefret," I exclaimed.

"Oh, Aunt Amelia, must I? It is so cursed hot!"

"And don't swear."

"That was not swearing," said Ramses. "You ought to hear her when she is really angry."

He ducked the playful blow she aimed at him and continued, "Hatshepsut's tomb is just ahead. I don't hear any sounds of activity; perhaps Mr. Carter has stopped for the day."

"Hmph," said Emerson, thereby indicating his contempt for excavators who curtailed their activities because of a mere one hundred degrees of heat.

"All the same, I would like to have a look," Nefret said.

Ramses and David immediately declared their intention of doing the same, and the trio started off. The path was steep and quite rough; this part of the Valley was seldom visited by tourists, so the Antiquities Service had not gone to the trouble of making access easy.

As in all parts of the Theban mountains, the opposite wall of the wadi was pocked with holes and crevices. The place was deserted, except for a motionless bundle of cloth at the base of the cliff-one of the guards, taking his midday nap. His dusty robe blended so well with the rock I had not noticed him until then. The only parts of his person visible to me were the soles of his bare feet, and he appeared to be sleeping as soundly as an Englishman would rest on a soft feather bed. Nevertheless, I lowered my voice when I addressed my husband.

"As I was saying, Emerson, I know your true purpose in coming here. You hope to locate the mysterious tomb mentioned by our anonymous correspondent."

Emerson leaned against a boulder and began filling his pipe. "Your habit of jumping to conclusions has served you badly this time, Peabody. I regret having to inform you-"

"That there is no tomb numbered Twenty-A. I knew that, of course."

"You did? Then why the devil didn't you say so?"

"For the same reason you didn't say so." I smiled at him in a kindly fashion and he had the grace to look embarrassed. "Our minds were following along the same track. The number indicates a tomb that has not been discovered-except by our mysterious informant. In so designating it, he has given us a clue as to its location. It lies somewhere between Twenty and Twenty-one. Hatshepsut's tomb, number Twenty, is at the end of that small finger of the wadi, so Mr. Wilkinson must have started back toward the main Valley after numbering it. If we begin at the tomb of Hatshepsut, and follow the cliff toward tomb Twenty-one-"

Emerson drew a breath so deep it strained the buttons of his shirt. "I do not propose to waste time on such nonsense, Peabody."

So we went to join the children, who were, as I had expected, arguing. Nefret was taunting Ramses because he had refused to enter Hatshepsut's tomb or allow her to do so, and David was trying unsuccessfully to make peace between them.

The prospect was certainly not enticing. Above the sloping, tunnel-like entrance the cliffs soared sheer toward the sky. Mounds of loose scree, washed down to the Valley floor by rainstorms and weathering, rose on either side. Some of the mounds had been formed by the debris removed from the

88 tomb; they were darker than the pale limestone visible elsewhere, and the bits of stone had the jagged look of shale or some other soft rock.

It was a forbidding place. One look inside the dark hole tucked under the cliff convinced me I did not want to enter it either, at least not that afternoon. If a pyramid is not available, I will settle for crawling into a nice deep tomb, but from what I had heard of this one it had nothing to offer except bat guano, a temperature like that of a blast furnace, and the possibility of being brained by a chunk of falling rock. Besides, I was anxious to begin the search for the lost tomb.

This suggestion delighted Nefret and made her forget her annoyance with her brother. Turning to him with a sunny smile, she said, "Shake hands, Ramses, and let us be friends. I am sure your intentions were good, and I did not mean to imply you were afraid."

"I am pleased to hear it," said Ramses, folding his arms and frowning at the little hand she had offered. "Ordinarily the word 'coward' does carry that implication, especially when it is shouted at the top of one's lungs."

Nefret only laughed and threw her arms around him in an affectionate hug. Instead of softening, his face became even gloomier.

The distance involved was less than a hundred and fifty meters, in a straight line. But there were no straight lines in that ravine; the cliff face was as uneven as broken teeth and the foot of it was deep in loose scree and fallen rock, with piles of debris on every hand. We began at the opening that marked the entrance to Hatshepsut's tomb and followed the base of the cliff back toward the main wadi, scrambling, climbing up and down, poking at interesting depressions-all of us except Emerson, who had flatly refused to participate. He stalked along parallel to our erratic path with his nose in the air. He was obliged to walk quite slowly in order to keep level with us, and his progress rather resembled that of a military funeral, with pauses between each step. I called out a jocund comment to this effect; Emerson responded with a growl and a grimace, and David, who had kept close by me, looked anxious.

"Is he angry? Have I done something?"

I paused to wipe my wet forehead and gave him a reassuring smile. David took life very seriously. Small wonder, some might say, after the distressing time he had had before he joined our family; but I sometimes wondered whether the lad lacked a sense of humor. Some individuals do. It is necessary to make allowances for cultural differences, of course; it had taken Abdullah a good many years to understand some of my little jokes.

"The Professor is pretending to be annoyed with me," I explained. "Pay no attention to him, David."

However, it was necessary to pay attention to him, for he let out a roar. "Nefret! How many times have I told you not to put your bare hand into a crevice like that one? Ramses, what are you thinking of to let her do such a thing?"

Nefret began, "I was only-"

"Come here." Emerson had halted near the entrance of tomb Nineteen. Scowling blackly, he waited until we had gathered round him before speaking. "Snakes and scorpions live in holes in the rock. They are not aggressive creatures, but they cannot be blamed for attacking when their nests are invaded." He transferred his frown to Ramses, who was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and inquired gently, "Am I boring you, Ramses?"

"Yes, sir," said Ramses. "All of us, I believe, are aware of the facts you have mentioned. Nefret was only-"

"You are supposed to be looking after her."

Ramses's lips parted in indignant rebuttal, but Nefret, equally offended, anticipated him. "Don't blame him! He is not responsible for me. I knew better. I forgot. I will not forget again."

Emerson glanced at his son. I thought I detected the suspi cion of a twinkle in his keen blue eyes. "Hmmm, yes. I was unjust. It was entirely Nefret's fault, and she ought to have known better, and if I catch her doing such a foolish thing again, I will confine her to the house. To which," he continued, "we will now return. It is late and we have a long walk ahead of us."

No one felt inclined to argue with him, but at my insistence we all had a refreshing drink of water before we started back. Except for Emerson, whose capacity for going without water resembles that of a camel, we all carried canteens.

"Where is the gaffir?" Emerson asked suddenly.

"What gaffir? Oh, that fellow." I glanced around. The dusty bundle was not in evidence. "He has gone about his business, I suppose, whatever that may be."

"I didn't see anyone," Nefret said.

Inevitably, Ramses said that he had. "Was he doing something to arouse your suspicions, Father? For when I observed him he was, or appeared to be, sound asleep."

"So he did," Emerson agreed.

He had not answered Ramses's question. I concluded he was being deliberately vague and mysterious in the hope of getting me off on a false trail. He does that sort of thing when we are engaged in one of our friendly little competitions in crime.

To be sure, there was no indication as yet that a crime had been committed. Perhaps Emerson knew something I did not. Cheered by this thought, I allowed him to lead me away.

Chapter Four

If someone lies down and invites you to trample upon him, you are a remarkable individual if you decline the invitation.

By the time we reached the house, thoughts of crime had been replaced by thoughts of water-not of drinking it, but of immersing myself completely in it. The usual arrangement for bathing consisted of having pots of water poured over one's person by a servant. Obviously this is not appropriate when the person is of the female gender, so I had had a bath chamber built and equipped it with an elegant tin tub. The tub had to be filled by hand, of course, but a drain led from it into my little flower garden, so the precious water was not wasted. (The tub had not been used all winter, so the flower garden, like the vines, now survived only as a fond memory.)

When I emerged from the bath, refreshed in mind and body, I found that Emerson had availed himself of the primitive arrangement heretofore mentioned. He was in our room, vigorously toweling his person and his wet black hair. By the time we adjourned to the verandah the sun had dropped below the western mountains and stars shone in the darkening eastern sky.

Nefret had lit a lamp and was reading, with Sekhmet draped across her lap. A soft breeze drifted in through the open arches, stirring her loosened hair so that it shimmered in the light like golden threads. I asked after the boys and was informed that they had decided to dine on board the dahabeeyah.

"Dine? What are they going to eat?" I demanded.

"Whatever the crew is eating, I presume." Emerson had gone to the table. He handed me a brimming glass of whiskey and soda. "Put your feet up and rest, Peabody, you appear to be a trifle-er-stiff. I hope the exertion I put you through today was not excessive?"

Emerson was obviously in one of his humorous moods, so I deemed it advisable to ignore the query. I began looking through the pile of letters and messages that had arrived that morning, for I had not had an opportunity to do so earlier. The European community of Luxor was growing, thanks in part to the Cook's tours and in part to the growing reputation of the area as a health resort. Visitors and residents exchanged calls and invitations, gave dinner parties at the hotels and on their dahabeeyahs, played tennis, and gossiped about one another. As the Reader may suppose, Emerson detested this community, which he referred to contemptuously as "the dahabeeyah dining society."

Among the messages was one from our wealthy American friend Cyrus Vandergelt, who had arrived several weeks before us and taken up residence in his magnificent home, "the Castle," near the entrance to the Valley of the Kings. Cyrus had financed expeditions in the Valley for many years before finally giving up his concession and turning to what he hoped would be more a productive area-the cliffs of Drah Abu'l Naga, where we had found the tomb of Tetisheri. Poor Cyrus had had no luck at all in the Valley, and the immediate success of Mr. Theodore Davis, who had taken over his concession, had galled him a great deal. During the past winter a new royal tomb, that of Thutmose IV, had been found. Though robbed and vandalized, it still contained fragments of the funerary equipment, including a magnificent chariot. (Our chariot had been the first, of course.)

Mr. Davis was not a person I much admired, and it did seem unfair he should have had the luck Cyrus had not. Davis had something else Cyrus had not had, however: to wit, the active participation of Howard Carter. Howard did the work, Davis financed it; Howard carried on the hard, dirty job of excavating, Davis dropped by whenever he was so inclined, accompanied by a horde of friends and relations. He also received a generous share of the objects Howard found.

"Cyrus asks us to dine," I said to Emerson.

"Too late," said Emerson, with satisfaction.

"Not tonight At our convenience, any time we choose."

"Curse it," said Emerson.

"Don't grumble. You know you are fond of Cyrus."

"He has his good qualities," Emerson admitted. "But he is altogether too fond of company. Who else wants to waste our time?"

I sorted through the messages. "Mr. Davis is having a soiree on his dahabeeyah-"

"No."

"I admit he can be annoying, but he is Howard's patron and a fellow enthusiast."

"I am surprised you should countenance him, Peabody." Emerson fixed me with a stern stare. "The man is a pompous, arrogant ignoramus, and that Andrews woman who travels with him-"

"That is just idle gossip, Emerson. She is his cousin."

"Ha," said Emerson. "Who else?"

I concealed the message from Enid Fraser behind the others. It said that they were staying at the Luxor Hotel and that she hoped for a meeting soon.

"The others are only greetings and messages of welcome, Emerson. Dr. Willoughby, M. Legrain, Mr. de Peyster Tytus- he is digging at Malkata with Newberry-"

"An interesting site," said Emerson, diverted. "We must go round one day and . . . Confound it! We haven't been here twenty-four hours, and already people are dropping in. Oh, it is you, Carter. Is this a social call, or have you come in your official capacity?"

"The former, of course." Howard accepted the chair I indicated. "None of your activities, Professor, could inspire a visit from the inspector for Upper Egypt. At least I hope you have not been engaging in illicit digging, or selling stolen antiquities?"

I acknowledged his little joke with a smile, Emerson with a grunt. Howard went on, "I hear you paid me a visit this afternoon. I am sorry I was not at the tomb to greet you."

"Any sign of a burial chamber?" Emerson inquired.

"The passage appears to be endless," Howard said with a sigh.

"It is Hatshepsut's tomb, though, isn't it?" Nefret asked eagerly.

Howard turned to her. "The foundation deposit we discovered last season makes the identification certain."

"The great Queen Hatshepsut herself," Nefret said dreamily. "How astonishing it is to think that the tomb has been known since Greek times, and yet no one thought of excavating it before. It was clever of you, Mr. Carter!"

I honestly do not believe she realized what a devastating effect those wide, admiring blue eyes had on persons of the opposite gender. Howard blushed and coughed and tried to look modest.

"Well, you know, some of my predecessors did make the attempt. One can hardly blame them for giving up, however. It has been a deuced difficult job; the corridor is almost entirely filled with rubble."

"That only makes your achievement more impressive,"

Nefret declared. "Do you think you will find Hatshepsut's mummy?"

As any woman would be, she was fascinated by this remarkable female, who had assumed the title of pharaoh and ruled Egypt in peace and prosperity for over twenty years. Dazzled by cornflower blue eyes and sweet smiles, Howard would have promised her Hatshepsut and twenty other pharaohs if Emerson had not thrown cold water on the idea.

"Few royal mummies have been found in their own tombs. It is much more likely hers was removed and hidden by the priests, like the mummies found in the Royal Cache. Hers may even be one of them; there are several unidentified females in that group."

All three of them were enjoying their archaeological argument, and I was anxious to hear the latest news, so I invited Howard to stay for dinner. Not until later in the evening, when Nefret had retired to her room and Emerson was in his study looking for something he wanted to show Howard, did I have an opportunity to ask the young man a question that had nagged me for days.

"Why didn't you tell me the other evening, when I asked about tomb Twenty-A, that there was no such place?"

"What?" Howard stared at me. "Tomb Twenty ... Oh! Yes, I recall. I thought you said 'Twenty-eight.' It is only a pit, Mrs. Emerson, uninscribed and empty of all but insignificant fragments."

"As simple as that, then," I said with a rueful smile. "I owe you an apology, Howard. I had wondered . . . Curse it, Emerson, how long have you been standing there in the doorway?"

"Not long," said my husband. "So you claim you misunderstood Mrs. Emerson, Carter? I wonder if you are speaking the truth."

Howard's long chin quivered nervously. "Sir, believe me! I would never, ever, be guilty of lying to you or Mrs. Emerson."

"Of course not," I exclaimed. "Emerson, stop bullying him."

The archaeological discussion resumed, to Howard's obvious relief, and the evening ended with Howard begging us to come round to the tomb again next morning. "If you are in the neighborhood, that is," he added.

"I doubt we will," Emerson said with a sniff. "I have not yet determined where I mean to begin. Logic would suggest I start with number Five, which is the first of the anonymous tombs, but it is close to the entrance to the Valley and I would prefer to work in an area where the cursed tourists won't bother me. I want to have another look round before I decide."

After Howard had gone, I turned with some exasperation on my spouse. "You are becoming too cryptic for words, Emerson. What did you mean to imply when you accused Howard of lying?"

"I did not say he lied. I said he had not spoken the truth."

"Curse it, Emerson-"

Emerson grinned. "Peabody, if you told Howard Carter in that firm, let-us-hear-no-argument voice of yours that you were looking for the tombs of the rulers of lost Atlantis, he would not have the courage to tell you they don't exist. The truth is, my dear, that I am the only man alive who dares disagree with you. That is why you have remained passionately attached to me for so many years."

"One of the reasons," I said, unable to resist his smile or the hand that had taken mine in a firm, warm clasp.

"Quite so," said Emerson, and blew out the lamp.

The boys returned to the house bright and early next morning. They knew Emerson would put an end to their scheme of independence if it delayed his work, and both of them preferred a good hearty English breakfast to the peculiar kinds of food Egyptians consume at that meal.

I asked how they had got on the night before and was assured the arrangement had worked admirably. The assurance came, I hardly need say, from Ramses. David usually let him do the talking-since it would have been difficult to stop him-but my infallible instincts informed me that Ramses's interminable description of their activities was incomplete. I felt certain they had done something of which I would not approve.

I did not pursue the matter at that time. Emerson was impatient to get to the Valley. When I asked where he meant to work that day, he changed the subject.

The temperature was cool and pleasant, and although certain of my muscles were still stiff, I strove to conceal discomfort-all the more so because Abdullah accompanied us, along with several of the men. Abdullah was not as nimble as he once had been either, though he would rather have died than admit it. In my case a few days of exercise would restore me to my old form. In his case the passage of time would only worsen his condition. So I let him help me on the steeper parts of the path and insisted on stopping at intervals to catch my breath.

During one of these pauses he said, "It is good to be at work again, Sitt. But I do not understand why the Father of Curses is not searching for another royal tomb."

"You know his methods, Abdullah," I replied. "He cares more for truth and knowledge than for treasure."

"Huh," said Abdullah.

I smiled affectionately at him. "I could not agree more, old friend. It will be a dull season, I fear."

Abdullah's bearded lips twitched. "I do not think so, Sitt. Not while you are here."

I was touched and flattered and I said as much. "As a matter of fact, Abdullah, something has come up that offers a possibility of interesting activities. Yon recall the message about tomb Twenty-A?"

opening the picnic basket and summoning my family to luncheon when I recognized a familiar form. I had to look twice, in fact, before I recognized it. The Colonel had exchanged his formal black for a tweed suit and sturdy boots, and his face wore a benevolent smile. The face of his daughter, who clung tightly to his arm, was flushed with exercise and heat. Unlike her father, she had not had the good sense to select suitable attire; her trailing skirts were white with dust and her corsets were clearly too tight.

"Good morning, Mrs. Emerson," the Colonel said, removing his hat. "One of the gaffirs told us you were here; I hope we are not intruding?"

Courtesy demanded that I tell an untruth. "Not at all. Will you sit down and rest for a moment?"

"We were about to pause for a bite of lunch," the Colonel said. "Perhaps you will join us."

Turning, he beckoned the servant who had followed them. The poor man was loaded down, not only with a heavy basket but with a folding stool and several cushions. After he had arranged these he immediately retreated, and Dolly lowered herself onto the cushions and assumed a graceful pose.

"Where are the others?" she asked.

"Working," I said.

The Colonel had remained standing. "I will go and have a look, if I may. As I told your husband in Cairo, I have an interest in the subject. I had thought of sponsoring some excavations myself."

"There are areas other than the Valley of the Kings that would repay investigation," I said.

"It is one of the questions I had hoped to consult Professor Emerson about," was the courteous reply. "If you will excuse me, ladies?"

I did not bother trying to carry on a conversation with Dolly. It was not my company she wanted. Her face fell when the first person to join us was Nefret.

"Are the others coming?" I asked, before Dolly could do so.

"Shortly," Nefret answered. "Colonel Bellingham began asking questions, and you know how the Professor is when someone gives him the opportunity to lecture."

A rattle of pebbles nearby brought a little squeal from Dolly. "Is the cliff going to fall on us? Oh, heavens, what a horrid place this is!"

"Nothing is going to fall on you," Nefret said with a contemptuous curl of her lip. She turned and looked up, shading her eyes with her hand. "There is something on the path."

There was a path of sorts, though few creatures other than goats would have ventured on it. The way we had come that morning, over the gebel from Deir el Bahri, was frequently used-a virtual highway compared with this steep and hazardous ascent. I was about to comment when I heard a small, faint sound from above. Nefret stiffened.