The Last Camel Died at Noon (32 page)

'It tastes worse than the beer.'

Reggie had finished his beer. He held out his cup and one of the attendants rushed up to refill it. Though he had retired early the night before, he had been late joining us for the morning meal, and he was looking rather seedy. He refused my offer of medication, however, saying that he was only feeling the delayed effects of his imprisonment.

'Have some of this porridge stuff, Forthright,' Emerson said solicitously. 'It's not half bad if you pour a pint of honey over it. Some variety of dura, do you think, Peabody?'

Reggie pushed the bowl away with a grimace of distaste. 'I can't eat a mouthful. I wonder that you can.'

'We need to keep our strength up,' Emerson declared, spooning up the last of his porridge. 'Perhaps you ought to have a rest, Forthright. Mrs Emerson and I are going out for a while.'

Reggie looked up in alarm. 'Where are you going?'

'Oh - here and there, around and about. I would hate to miss any opportunity of studying this fascinating culture.'

'Your nonchalance astonishes me, Professor,' Reggie exclaimed. 'I don't think you fully realise the peril of your situation. A wrong word here, a thoughtless action there -'

'Your concern touches me,' said Emerson, patting his lips with the linen squares that had been (at my insistence) supplied us in lieu of serviettes. Such articles were unknown here, and it pleased me to think that I had contributed in some small measure to the development of civilisation in this backwards culture.

Reggie offered to go with us, but was easily dissuaded by Emerson, who flatly refused to entertain such a notion. Somewhat to my surprise Ramses also decided to remain behind. I assumed he was hoping to find his friend the cat, for he went into the garden as soon as he had finished eating.

The guards made no difficulty about our leaving the building, but we had to accept an escort. Emerson fussed about it until I reminded him they were only following orders. 'Furthermore,' I added, 'Reggie's story must inspire a certain degree of caution even if one assumes, as I do, that his view of the situation is unduly pessimistic.'

'Oh, bah," said Emerson, thereby admitting the truth of my argument.

The soldiers took up their positions, two marching ahead of us, two bringing up the rear. Emerson set a brisk pace, bounding down the staircase like a mountain goat and turning immediately onto the causeway. I looked down at the village below; I fancied I could smell it, even from this distance. 'What are we going to do, Emerson? There has been no word from... you know who. If Reggie really can make arrangements for... you know what, shall we - er - you know?'

'I don't see how we can decide yet,' Emerson said. 'There are too many unknowns in that equation.'

'Then we ought to resolve them, Emerson.'

'Precisely what I am doing, Peabody.'

'Where are we going, then?'

Emerson slowed his pace and took my arm. 'You sound a trifle breathless, my dear; was I going too fast for you? We are going to look for Willie Forth's tomb.'

As we walked on, Emerson explained what he had learned from Murtek concerning the mortuary customs of this society. The tombs were all of the rock-cut variety, for with cultivable land so scarce it would have been impractical to build pyramids. 'It's a wonder these cliffs haven't collapsed,' Emerson said. 'They are honeycombed with tombs and temples and storerooms. The cemeteries are reserved for kings and nobles, of course.'

'What do the rekkit - '

'Don't ask, Peabody.'

'Oh.'

'There are several such cemeteries,' Emerson went on. 'A few generations ago a new one was begun on this side of the valley. Forth should be there, if he is anywhere. As a royal councillor he would rate a fairly handsome tomb. If we don't find it, we will have reason to question the veracity of our informants.'

'Very clever, Emerson,' I said approvingly. 'And while we are searching for the tomb in question, we can make observations about burial customs. I am glad I brought notebook and pencil.'

There was no difficulty in locating the entrance to the cemetery. It was marked by the monumental pyloned gateway I had noticed during our journey to the temple. The sloping sides and flat lintel had been carved with figures of the mortuary deities - Anubis, the jackal-headed god of cemeteries, Osiris, ruler of the dead, Ma'at, goddess of truth and justice, against whose feather symbol the heart of the deceased is weighed at the final judgment. The traditional conventions had been accurately, even slavishly, followed, but the crudeness of the carving indicated how much of the old artistic skill had been lost.

While we examined and discussed the reliefs, our escort stood watching us uneasily, but they did not interfere until we started up the stairs beyond the pylon. Then the young captain sprang forwards, barring the way. His speech was exceedingly agitated, but I caught the words 'forbidden,' and 'sacred,' repeated over and over. Emerson settled the matter by pushing him out of the way and going on. When I looked back I saw the four men were huddled together as if for protection, staring fearfully after us and making agitated gestures.

Despite the bright sunlight and sweltering heat the place had an air of brooding desolation. We met no one until we reached a stone-paved landing from which paths led out on either side, winding up and down and along the cliff.

Our booted feet thudding upon the stone of the stairs must have made the guardian priest doubt the evidence of his own ears. When he emerged, in stumbling haste, from the open doorway of the little shrine at the back of the platform, his eyes and mouth opened wide at the sight of us. Presumably he had been at his prayers, for his long white skirt was crumpled and dusty. His head had been shaved; sunlight striking off the stubble of grey hair made it glow like a saint's halo.

Emerson gave him no time to recover from his surprise. 'It is good that you are here,' he announced. 'We have come to pay our respects [lit. make offering] to our friend and countryman, the Royal Councillor Forth. Where is his tomb [lit. House of Eternity]?'

'Well done, my dear,' I remarked, as we followed the path the astonished religious person had indicated.

'If you take a man by surprise, Peabody, and behave with sufficient arrogance, he will generally do what you ask. But I expect that as soon as the fellow gets his wits back, he will rush off to ask for advice and assistance. We had best make haste.'

The path was wide, but on the left hand there was no parapet, only a sheer drop to a tumble of jagged rocks twenty feet below. On the right-hand side were the tombs, some on the same level as the path, some reached by flights of stairs. I had to fight the impression that I was looking at models or reconstructions, for although the plans were similar to many such tombs we had excavated in Egypt, I had never seen one in its original condition. Before each tomb the cliff had been cut back to form a shallow forecourt with a columned portico behind and a quaint miniature pyramid above. The white-plastered walls and painted reliefs shone bright in the sunlight. The doors leading into the rock-cut chambers of the tomb were closed with blocks of stone and flanked on either side by statues of the occupant. On each shady porch stood a large stela on which had been painted a portrait of the deceased, with his name and titles and the conventional offering formulas.

We hurried along, pausing at each tomb to read the hieroglyphic inscriptions on the stelae. 'Most of them seem to be high priests and councillors, and their families,' Emerson said, lingering to admire an attractive painting of the Last Judgment - Osiris enthroned, watching the weighing of the dead man's heart against the feather of justice. The deceased did not appear to be incapacitated by the absence of this organ; looking quite sprightly and dressed in his finest, he raised his hands in adoration to the god. His elegantly attired wife stood by his side. 'Curse it, Peabody,' Emerson went on, glaring at the blocked doorway of the tomb proper, 'I would give ten years of my life to get a look inside. What the devil, haven't these people enough gumption to rob tombs and leave them open for visitors?' 'Language, Emerson,' I said. 'I share your sentiments but I don't suppose tomb robbing is a very popular profession here.

Where would a thief spend his ill-gotten gains? Oh, curse it, where is the cursed place? Here's another confounded Cushite, and his wife and four of his children.'

'Language, Peabody,' said Emerson. `I think - ah! Look here!' The tomb entrance was the last on that section of the path.

In size and in the richness of the decoration it was at least the equal of the others we had seen.

'Yes,' Emerson murmured, tracing a line of hieroglyphs with his finger. 'Not the way I would have transliterated the name, but poor Forth's knowledge of the hieroglyphs was somewhat superficial. No doubt about it, though.'

'You think he composed his own funerary inscriptions?' I asked.

'I would have done. Oh, damnation I hear someone coming. Hold them off, can you? I need more time here.'

The guardian priest had sought instructions and had returned with reinforcements - two of his fellows and a more impressive figure carrying a long gilded staff and wearing a leopard skin slung over his white robe. I stationed myself squarely in the middle of the path, arranged a smile on my face, and opened my parasol.

It was quite a large parasol. Without pushing rudely past it, and me, the delegation could not proceed. They stopped. I explained that we had come to honour our friend, expressed innocent surprise when I was told that no one was allowed near the tombs unless he had undergone the proper ritual purification, apologised for our inadvertent error, and asked for details of the ritual. The higher-ranking priest sputtered and brandished his staff, but that was all the action he took. He was still sputtering when Emerson joined me.

'Thank you, my dear,' he said. 'We may now retreat with honour.'

So we did. The priest followed us partway, wearing the same expression I have seen on the face of our former butler when he was required to escort some of our more unconventional visitors to the door.

'Well?' I demanded, as we descended the stairs. 'Did Mr Forth leave a message for us?'

Emerson stumbled, but caught himself. 'Upon my word, Peabody, you have the most remarkable imagination! How could he have managed that? The texts are as formularized as The Lord's Prayer; any deviation would be noted and questioned.'

'What kept you so long, then? I thought our purpose was to learn whether or not Mr Forth had a tomb in the necropolis. It appears he did, and its size and location prove that he had attained high rank. It does not rule out the possibility that he met a sticky end, however. If he fell into disfavour - '

'You asked a question some time ago,' said Emerson. 'Would you like to know the answer, or would you prefer to go on speculating indefinitely?'

Our escort fell into place, before and behind, as we began to retrace our steps. I thought they looked a little gloomy.

'What else could you have discovered, if the texts were only conventional mortuary formulae?' I demanded, a trifle nettled at his critical tone.

'In this society,' said Emerson, 'a man's wives, and sometimes his children, are buried in the same tomb. You noted that, I believe.'

'Yes; their titles and figures appear on the... Emerson! Do you mean -'

'She isn't there, Peabody. The only name is that of Forth himself."

The sun was high and hot. From a persea tree on the hillside above, a small bird soared up, its feathers glittering bright as emeralds. A sand-coloured lizard, alarmed by our approach, slid over the edge of the parapet and disappeared. The rhythmic slap of the guards' sandals sounded like muffled drumbeats.

After a time Emerson remarked, 'You are uncharacteristically silent, Peabody. I hope that means you are considering all the possibilities before you make one of your dogmatic pronouncements.'

'I cannot imagine what you mean, Emerson,' I replied. 'I always weigh the facts dispassionately before reaching a conclusion. In this case we have not enough information about funerary customs to assert unequivocally that Mrs Forth must have been interred in the tomb of her husband. If our informant was correct, she passed on long before he did. She may have insisted upon Christian burial instead of succumbing, as I am sorry to see her husband did, to the influence of pagan ceremonial.'

Emerson gave me a suspicious look. 'Quite,' he said.

Despite the shade of my parasol (which Emerson irritably refused to share) I was bathed in perspiration by the time we reached our temporary abode. I was quite looking forwards to a bath and a cool drink, and the opportunity to discuss the conclusions I had reached with the others. However, there was a brief delay. Instead of dispersing, as they usually did, our guards formed up in a row. The leader, a handsome chap who appeared to be no more than twenty years old, barked out an order. With mechanical precision the quartet raised their spears and clashed them together, then flung them away. The weapons clattered and rang on the stone. The men dropped to their knees in a deep obeisance, then rose and began to march away, leaving their spears on the floor.

'What the devil,' I exclaimed, forgetting myself in my surprise.

Emerson stroked his chin. 'I wonder if this could be a Meroitic version of "morituri vos salutamus." Hi, there - halt! Come back here! Abadamu, curse it!'

His shout made the metal blades of the spears ring, and brought the marching men to a stop. None of them turned or answered, however. Emerson strode forwards. Taking the leader by the shoulder, he whirled him around. 'Why do you not obey?'

The young man swallowed convulsively. His face was dusky pale and his lips scarcely moved when he replied. 'O Father of Curses, we are dead men. The dead do not hear.'

It was the first time I had heard him address Emerson directly and I noted that the Meroitic words were a literal translation of the affectionate title by which Emerson was commonly known in Egypt. Tarek and his two lieutenants who had worked for us at Napata were the only ones who could have known of it; one of them must have mentioned it and the word had spread -together, I felt sure, with tales of the well-nigh supernatural awe in which my remarkable spouse was held by those who knew him.