Seeing a Large Cat (15 page)

My companions had recovered themselves. Abdullah was morosely peeling an orange, and bright-eyed interest had replaced Howard's initial astonishment.

"Was it the condition of the fabric that led you to suggest a date of less than ten years?" he asked respectfully.

"No. I recognized the pattern. Mr. Worth, the famous couturier, used it in a ball gown he designed for ... I believe it was Lady Burton-Leigh . . . eight years ago. He was-for he is now deceased-a leader of the world of fashion, so it cannot have been procurable much before that time."

"Incredible!" Carter exclaimed.

"My dear Howard, that is only one of the deductions a trained observer may make. I know, for instance, that the owner of that garment was well-to-do. Even if it was not purchased from Mr. Worth, but at a later tune from one of the lesser designers who imitate him, the fabric itself is costly. That does not mean that the body is necessarily that of the woman who owned the frock. It might have been stolen from her. However, the remains are those of a female with fair hair, and since the color of the garment was azure, one may provisionally conclude that it belonged to her." Observing his bewildered expression, I explained, "Blue is a shade favored by blond ladies."

"You amaze me, Mrs. Emerson!"

The long walk and the excitement of the discovery had given me quite an appetite. I unwrapped a tomato sandwich.

"The trouble with you men is that you dismiss 'women's things' as frivolous and unimportant. Fewer crimes would remain unsolved if we had a female at the head of Scotland Yard!"

When Emerson returned he was accompanied by more of our loyal men and by a number of extraneous individuals, several of whom appeared to be tourists. Driven back by his eloquent curses, some of them wandered off, but the majority settled down some distance away and prepared to watch. Luncheon baskets were unpacked, and one of the dragomen began lecturing his group in atrocious German. "Meine Dame und Herren, hier sind die Archaeologer sehr ansgezeichnet, Herr Professor Emerson, sogennant Vater des Fluchen, und ihre Frau. ..."

"Ignore them, Emerson," I said to my seething spouse. "The more you fuss, the more convinced they will be that we have made an important discovery. Let us all have a spot of lunch. If we do nothing but eat, the cursed tourists will become bored and go away."

The others had gathered round, awaiting orders. After a moment of cogitation, Emerson nodded grudgingly. "Right as always, Peabody. We will take twenty minutes. But we must have the cursed-er-the poor thing out of there today. By evening false rumors of a rich find will have reached every tomb robber on the West Bank." He turned to glare at one of the robbers-a younger member of the notorious Abd er Rassul family, who smiled guilelessly back at him-and then transferred the glare to Howard Carter.

"Why are you hanging about? Don't you have an excavation of your own?"

"He only wants to help," I explained. "After all, Emerson, he is chief inspector for Upper Egypt. He has a responsibility to be here, especially considering the unusual circumstances."

"Hmph," said Emerson, accepting a cup of tea.

Howard shot me a grateful look. "Unusual is hardly the word. Mrs. Emerson tells me the remains are modern-less than ten years dead, according to her."

"Lower your voice," Emerson growled.

"How did you arrive at that conclusion, Mother?" asked Ramses.

I remained modestly silent while Howard repeated what I had told him. It gave me great satisfaction to see the expression on Emerson's face. He was always teasing me about my interest in fashion. Of course he felt bound to express doubts about my theory.

"Jumping to conclusions again, Peabody. The fabric may be modern, but-"

"I believe, Father, that we must accept her conclusions," said Ramses. "Provisionally, at least."

"I appreciate your condescension, Ramses," I said.

"How can you discuss this so coolly?" Nefret demanded, rising impetuously to her feet. Her cheeks had lost some of their color, and her eyes flashed. "It is horrible! Let us get her out of there at once."

"If she has been there for ten years, a few more hours won't matter," said Emerson. "You must cultivate detachment, Nefret, or you will never make an archaeologist."

"I should emulate Ramses, I suppose," the girl said scornfully. "He is impervious to sentiment."

One would certainly have supposed so. Seated cross-legged on the ground, devouring bread and cheese, Ramses only raised one eyebrow and went on eating.

The audience did not go away. If anything, the number of gaping watchers increased, and Emerson declared there was no sense in further delay. Ibrahim the carpenter began nailing together the boards he had carried with him, and the men returned to removing the rubble.

There were steps under the loose stone-twelve of them, rock cut and regular. The men could have cleared them in short order had it not been for Emerson's insistence that we examine every square inch of the fill for extraneous objects. It was his invariable rule, but in this case he had an additional reason. The murderer might have left a clue.

"What murderer?" Emerson demanded after I had commended him. "We have no evidence that a crime has been committed."

"Ah, so that is to be your excuse for not notifying the authorities immediately."

"Excuse be damned," said Emerson. "At this moment we know only that there is what appears to be a mummified body in that pit. It may or may not be ancient; it may or may not be human. It may even be a perverse joke perpetrated by a modern tourist or by one of my professional enemies. Some of those fellows-I name no names, Peabody, but you know to whom I refer-would like nothing better than to see me make a fool of myself over a bundle of sticks or a dead sheep. Wallis Budge-"

"Yes, my dear," I said soothingly. When Emerson gets on the subject of his professional rivals, especially Wallis Budge, the keeper of Egyptian antiquities at the British Museum, it is necessary to cut him short. "You are right. We must not jump to conclusions."

"Ha," said Emerson.

He appeared to be in a state of some exasperation, so I went to join Nefret, who was inspecting the objects found in the rabble. It was an unimpressive collection-brittle bones and fragments of coarse pottery.

"Animal?" I asked, picking up a piece of bone.

Nefret wrinkled her pretty brow over the bone and put it aside. "Certainly not human. Goat, perhaps."

It was the hottest, drowsiest time of the day. The dry air was utterly still. The sky was bleached to a pale blue. I found it hard to keep my eyes open, especially since there was not a single object of interest in the collection, not even a collar button.

After a time I was roused from a half doze by Emerson. Dropping down beside me, he drew his sleeve across his wet forehead and asked if there was any tea. I did not tell him to use his handkerchief or ask what had become of his hat. I make certain Emerson always begins the day with his pith helmet on his head and a nice clean white handkerchief in his pocket. By afternoon he has usually lost both of them.

"Are you stopping work, then?" I asked, for Ramses had joined us and the men had laid aside their shovels and baskets.

"For the moment only," Emerson said "Something odd is going on."

Looking in the direction he indicated, I understood what he meant. By midafternoon most of the tourists had retreated to their hotels, and even archaeologists and Egyptians knocked off work. Yet the crowd of watchers, held at bay by our men, seemed to have increased, and not one but two lecturers were competing.

"... the famed Mister Professor Emerson and his family... un sepulcre nouveau... what will be unclosed when the door flies open... tresor d'or magnifique..."

The last phrase was too much for Emerson, who bounded to his feet, fists clenched. I caught hold of his booted ankle.

"Sit down, Emerson, for pity's sake. It is the fault of your reputation," I added as Emerson, grumbling like a thunderstorm, resumed his seat. I handed him a glass of tea. "Our last discovery made headlines in every newspaper in the Western world. The poor credulous creatures are expecting something equally sensational. But how did the news spread so fast, I wonder?"

"Daoud, most probably," said Ramses. "You know how he loves to tell tall tales. But it could have been any of the others, or one of Mr. Carter's chaps. I only hope ..." He checked himself, but the look he gave me made his meaning only too clear.

An involuntary gasp of dismay escaped my lips. I knew- who better?-how fact can be distorted and embroidered by gossip, and I did not doubt our men had overheard Ramses's description of what lay within the tomb. No wonder the curious crowd lingered! Long golden hair, silken wrappings- by this time the description probably included golden diadems and jewel-encrusted ornaments. If Donald Fraser got wind of this, he would be certain we had found his imaginary princess. I must speak to him and to Enid before word reached them.

"Emerson," I said, "would it not be better to delay in removing the mummy so that we can contradict the rumors and reduce public interest? The mere sight of it, as it now appears-"

Emerson shook his unruly black head. "Delay will only whet curiosity, and wild rumor will increase the expectations of our neighbors from Gurneh, curse the tomb-robbing swine."

"Then let us get at it," I agreed.

Nefret, assisted by David, was taking photographs of the closed door and its surroundings. Long exposures were necessary since Emerson refused to employ magnesium flares or black powder for lighting. Reflectors of polished metal had served us well in the past and would continue to do so until the entire Valley was electrified. The generator Howard had installed lighted only a few of the tombs.

While Nefret and David completed their work I studied the wooden door, now fully visible. It is difficult to find large pieces of wood in Egypt, since the native trees are small and spindly. The door had been pieced together, but it was a neat bit of carpentry, and it fitted snugly into the aperture. There was no visible bolt or bar; plaster filled the uneven joins between the wood and the stone.

Emerson inserted the end of a crowbar. Abdullah cleared his throat.

"Emerson."

"What is it?" Emerson heaved on the crowbar.

"The curse."

"The what?" Emerson turned to glare at his foreman.

"I know there is no such thing," Abdullah said selfconsciously. "But Daoud, and these other fools ..."

"Hmph. Abdullah, we are rather short on time. Supposing I perform the exorcism first thing tomorrow?"

Abdullah looked doubtful. Ramses cleared his throat. "I will be happy to say a few words, Father."

"You?" Emerson turned the glare on Ramses. He enjoys performing exorcisms, for which he is famous in Egypt, and did not appreciate being supplanted.

Nefret, who had been looking very solemn, could not repress a giggle. "They call him 'Akhu el-Afareet,' you know. Have at it, Ramses, and I will add a word or two of my own."

I had wondered what affectionate nickname the Egyptians had given Ramses. I started to expostulate, but Emerson spoke first.

"Make it quick," he grunted, turning back to the door.

So my son, also known as the Brother of Demons, began waving his arms and chanting in a mixture of languages from medieval French to classical Arabic. He kept one eye on Emerson, however, and when the portal showed signs of yielding he brought his incantation to a sudden end. Turning to Nefret, he grasped her hands and raised them high.

"Hear the blessing of the daughter of the Father of Curses, the sister of the Brother of Demons, the Light of Egypt," he intoned, adding in English and under his breath, "Speak up, my girl, don't stand there gaping."

Nefret's first word was hardly more than a gurgle, but she was quick to recover, reciting the sonorous testimonial of the call to prayer and "May the Lord bless thee and keep thee." The performance would have been more impressive, however, if she had not concluded with, "How did you like that, my boy?"

"Perhaps Father and I should leave it to you from now on," was the reply.

All our faces were grave and unsmiling, however, when we gathered round the opened portal. At that very moment, with an uncanny suggestion of celestial stagecraft, a ray of sunlight reflected off the sheet of tin one of the men was holding and fell full upon the head of the shrouded form.

It woke no spark from the long strands of curling hair.

Jewelry made of intricately braided human hair had been popular in the recent past. Even more common was the custom of placing a lock of a loved one's hair under crystal or glass, in a brooch or ring or bracelet. Father had given me a brooch enclosing a raven curl of my mother's. I cherished it as a sacred relic, but I never wore it. The hair was dry and dull and dead.

As was this hair. The shrouded face was no less disturbing. I could now make out details that had been obscured by the shadows cast by candlelight-the curving cheekbones, the shape of full lips. Impossible, I thought. The silken fabric had faded and begun to shatter; it had covered the quiet breast and slender limbs for years. The soft flesh of the face could not have endured unmarred.

I heard a smothered sob from Nefret. Emerson, whose formidable facade conceals an extremely tender heart, sniffed loudly. Rude and unfinished, empty and barren though it was, none of us wished to take the first step into that final resting place of the dead.

Except, of course, Ramses. Slipping past his father, he approached the recumbent form. "Note the arms, Father. They appear to be placed vertically, alongside the-er-hips."

"Hmph," said Emerson, discarding sentiment in favor of scholarship. "That position became general in the Twenty-first Dynasty. However, this individual is decidedly later in date. Come back here, Ramses, you may be treading on important clues-er-artifacts. David, how long will it take you to make a sketch?"

"I will be as quick as I can, sir," was the quiet response.

By the time he had finished the drawing, and Nefret had taken several exposures, Emerson and I had explored the small room. It was a curious place, scarcely two meters wide and four meters long. The surface underfoot was not smoothed stone, but a layer of smaller pebbles packed hard to form a level surface. The ceiling sloped sharply down from the entrance till it met the floor. The side walls were of dressed stone, with no trace of carving or inscription.