"Of course you did. Quite right, too. I will make further inquiries, but don"t get your hopes up."
"Sure appreciate it," Cyrus said, his hopes obviously rising. "Well, I better get on home. Sorry for busting in on you like this." He had avoided looking directly at Maryam. Now he went to her and held out his hand. "Good to have you back in the family, young lady. We will see you at our soiree on Sunday, I hope."
His tact and kindness brought a becoming flush to her cheeks. "Thank you, sir. I don"t know . . ." She glanced at her father, who said easily, "We accept with pleasure. Please convey my thanks and regards to Mrs. Vandergelt. I look forward to seeing her and her son again."
"Oh, say, that reminds me." Hat in hand, Cyrus turned to me. "Katherine told me to ask whether some of you folks might want to stay with us at the Castle. We"ve got plenty of room, and you must be getting a mite crowded here."
Such was certainly the case. I had had to move Sennia out of her pleasant little suite of rooms and give them to David and Lia and their children. She was in David"s old room, with the one next to it serving as a schoolroom. Evelyn and Walter occupied the guest rooms at the other house. What with additional offices and storage rooms, both houses were full up, and I had been forced to ask Sennia to share her schoolroom with Maryam, an arrangement that did not please Sennia. I would have consigned the Luxor gossips to the devil and sent Maryam to stay with her father on the Amelia, but she needed a little more time to be comfortable with him. Besides, I wanted her with me, where I could keep an eye on her. The girl had been attacked once already, and that incident had yet to be explained.
I was tempted to send Sennia to the Castle, along with Basima and Gargery, whose constant surveillance was beginning to get on my nerves. However, Horus would have had to accompany them, and he had no manners, particularly with regard to the Vandergelts" cat Sekhmet.
I was about to tell Cyrus I would think it over and let him know, when Evelyn spoke up. "That is very good of Katherine, Cyrus. If you are sure, Walter and I will take advantage of your kind offer. I will speak to Katherine about it tomorrow."
Evelyn was the mildest and most accommodating of women, but when she spoke in that decisive tone I never attempted to differ with her. I waited until after Cyrus had left us before venturing to ask what had prompted her decision.
"Having houseguests for a protracted period becomes inconvenient" was her smiling reply. "Ramses and Nefret would never say so, but I am sure we are putting them out. Katherine and I enjoy each other"s company; she has been feeling a bit neglected, I think."
Ramses leaned over the back of the sofa and put his arm round her shoulders. "You needn"t be so tactful, Aunt Evelyn. Being in the same house with my children is enough to drive anyone into a nervous collapse."
He was laughing and she laughed too, as she looked up at him. He was standing between her and Maryam; the girl shifted position slightly.
"Very well," I said. "It will be a nice rest for you, Evelyn, being away from the little darlings for a while. The accommodations at the Castle are quite luxurious, and you will be waited upon like a queen."
Somewhat belatedly, it occurred to me to ask Walter what he thought about the scheme. The little darlings had not bothered him, since he was deaf and blind to all distractions while he was working. Nudged by his wife, he said absently, "Certainly, my dear, whatever you say. I will take the papyrus with me. It is proving to be most interesting."
"I"m afraid it is my fault that you are all being put to so much trouble," Maryam murmured.
"Not at all," I said. "This will work out nicely for everyone. You can move into the other house tomorrow. I expect you are tired; come along and I will show you where you are to sleep tonight."
The schoolroom-no longer to be referred to as the day nursery-was not directly connected to Sennia"s bedroom-not to be referred to as the night nursery. The doors of both rooms opened onto the courtyard behind the house. A cot had been moved in, and Fatima had made certain all was neat and tidy, but I had not realized how shabby the room looked. The calico curtains, moving gently in the night breeze, were threadbare, and the tiled floor bore certain indelible stains-ink and paint and the evidence of feline visitation.
"I am afraid it isn"t very elegant," I said apologetically. "But it is only for one night."
She said something under her breath-something about "no better than I deserve." Since I believe in striking when the iron is hot, I decided to take the bull by the horns. I motioned her to sit down. "I have been wanting to talk to you about your mother, Maryam. She was an unfortunate woman who behaved very badly and who died violently-but not at our hands, or at those of your father."
She gasped as sharply as if I had struck her, and looked up into my face. "You don"t believe in beating round the bush, do you?"
"There is no sense in that. I don"t know what you have heard about her, but I intend to set the record straight and remind you that you are in no way accountable for any of her actions."
"My father was not present when she . . . when she died?"
"No. Shall I tell you what really happened that day?"
She nodded, her eyes wide.
"Her-er-a.s.sociation with your father followed other-er-a.s.sociations of a similar nature," I said. "I am giving you the bare facts, Maryam, without attempting to explain or excuse them, though you must bear in mind that she had no chance at a better life. That is tragically true of many women, but Bertha was not the sort to submit meekly. She formed a criminal organization of women and was, in a somewhat unorthodox way, a supporter of women"s rights. She came to dislike me because she believed-er-"
"That my father was in love with you."
"In essence, that is correct," I said with a little cough. "Such is no longer the case, if it ever was, but jealousy drove her on several occasions to try to kill me. The final attempt occurred on the day of which I am speaking. She had taken me prisoner the previous afternoon. Thanks to your father, I was able to escape; but when I came out of the house of my friend Abdullah, where I had found refuge the night before, she was lying in wait for me. I was saved by Abdullah, who threw himself in front of me and took in his own body the bullets meant for me. Several of the men who were present-friends of ours and of Abdullah-had to wrestle her to the ground in order to get the gun away from her. I do not know-I doubt anyone knows-who actually struck the fatal blow. My full attention was on Abdullah, who lay dying in my arms. They did not set out to kill her, Maryam; they were mad with anger and grief, and she would have gone on shooting if they had not prevented her."
"Abdullah," she repeated. "Little Dolly"s great-grandfather? Selim"s father, and the grandfather of David . . . You all loved him very much, didn"t you?"
Her composure worried me. It was unnatural. "Yes, we did."
"They were present-Selim and David?"
"Why, yes. So were . . . See here, Maryam, if you suspect Selim or David of striking the fatal blow-"
"That was not what I meant."
"Good Gad," I exclaimed in horror, as her meaning dawned on me. "Are you suggesting that one of them-one of us-blames you for your mother"s actions and wants revenge? That one of them-one of us-hired an a.s.sa.s.sin to attack you? Nonsense, child. Aside from the fact that none of us would perpetrate such an act, your true ident.i.ty was unknown to us until after the event. Get it out of your head this instant."
The curtains flapped violently. Maryam let out a little scream and I let out a m.u.f.fled swear word as a portly form climbed laboriously through the window. Once Horus had been able to leap through it. Age and weight had taken their toll; now he had to scale the wall. Poised awkwardly on the sill, he looked round the room, spat, and vanished into the night.
"He was looking for Sennia," I explained. "I hope you are not frightened of cats."
"I like them very much. I never had one."
"Don"t waste your time trying to make friends with Horus. He detests all of us except Sennia and Nefret. He won"t bother you again tonight. Can you sleep now?"
"Yes." Impulsively she put her hand on mine. "Thank you. You have cleansed my mind of some very ugly thoughts."
It was a pretty gesture and a pretty little speech. "You do believe me, then?" I asked. "It is a sad story, but we must not judge others or feel guilt for their actions. Each of us has enough on our consciences without taking on the guilt of others."
FROM Ma.n.u.sCRIPT H.
Emerson"s hopes of resuming his full work schedule were doomed from the start. Only he, as his wife acerbically remarked, would have trotted blithely off to Deir el Medina when so many duties, domestic and investigative, took precedence. Immediately after breakfast she intended to help Evelyn and Walter pack for their removal to the Castle, and arrange for Maryam to move into their rooms. Lia was ordered (it was couched as a request, but no one doubted it was an order) to go through her wardrobe to see if she could find something for Maryam to wear. A long monologue, to which Ramses listened with only half an ear, explained her reasons-something about relative sizes and the absence of practical garments in the girl"s wardrobe. At the last minute Nefret received an urgent summons to the clinic; the word of its opening had spread and her services were increasingly in demand.
Emerson listened openmouthed to this ruthless depletion of his work force. "Curse it," he exclaimed. "The fill is piling up, Peabody. How long is it going to take you to pack a few clothes?"
"You know nothing about it, Emerson, so kindly refrain from putting your oar in." Obviously pleased with this bit of slang, she added, in a more amiable voice, "I will be along later, perhaps. You can have Ramses and David, if you like."
"Good of you," muttered Emerson. "Let"s go, boys, half the morning is gone."
It was just after 7 a.m.
Despite Emerson"s complaints they had managed to make some progress in deciphering the plans of the various shrines north of the village and the Ptolemaic temple. Some were better preserved than others, but all had been damaged by time and amateur diggers, and it required skill and experience to untangle the original plan. Bertie, the best draftsman of the group, had been faithful in his attendance. He arrived soon after they did, apologizing for his tardiness, and produced the latest of the plans he had been working on for over a week.
"Ha," said Emerson, studying it. "Yes, that seems to be acceptable, so far as it goes. I want to identify the deity to whom this structure was dedicated." He took out his pipe and stabbed at the incomplete outline of what appeared to be a smallish chapel.
It was, in Ramses"s opinion, a futile task. The little private shrines had not been constructed of stone but of mud brick, plastered and painted. By now the plaster had flaked off and disintegrated. They hadn"t found a flake larger than a thumbnail.
He took the liberty of pointing this out to his father. "A votive stela," said Emerson dogmatically. "That"s all we need. Even an ostracon inscribed with a prayer. Something may yet turn up in the area we haven"t finished clearing. Anyhow, the plan isn"t complete. Where"s the back wall? Selim!"
Selim hadn"t been listening. His head thrown back, he was staring at the brightening blue of the sky with a bemused expression. Looking for another aeroplane, Ramses thought, with inner amus.e.m.e.nt. Emerson had to call him twice before he responded.
Emerson"s luck was proverbial. They found his votive stela, or part of it, dedicated by the workman Nakhtmin to the deified king Amenhotep I and his mother, Ahmose Nefertari. Emerson carried it off in triumph to the shelter while Selim"s crew went on clearing the sanctuary.
"Where the devil is your mother?" Emerson demanded, delicately brushing encrusted sand from the brief inscription. "The rubble is piling up!"
She arrived a little before midday, bringing the hamper of food Emerson had forgotten, and accompanied by Lia and Sethos. Emerson hurried to meet them.
"The rubble," he began.
"Yes, Emerson, I know. You may as well stop for luncheon now. As you see, we have a guest."
"Ha," said Emerson, studying his brother"s elegant tailoring and spotless pith helmet. "He can help you with-"
"Not today," said Sethos amiably. "I only came along to keep the ladies company and have a look round. There"s not much here to interest an enthusiast," he added, with a disparaging survey of the monotonous grayish-brown foundations and scattering of stones.
"We have just found evidence that Amenhotep the First and his mother were worshiped here," Emerson exclaimed. "A stela fragment."
"How exciting," Sethos drawled. "If it had been a statue-"
"You"d try to steal it," said Emerson, glowering.
"Your finds are safe from me," Sethos said, emphasizing the p.r.o.noun.
Emerson wisely decided not to pursue this. "Where is everybody?" he demanded.
His wife began unpacking the hamper. "Where I told you they would be, Emerson. Evelyn and Walter are settling in at the Castle, Nefret is tending to a patient, and the children are running wild as usual. I was under the impression that you meant to spend more time with them."
The blow was expertly calculated. Emerson closed his mouth, rubbed his chin, and looked self-conscious. "Never mind, never mind." He raised his voice to a shout that made everyone jump. "Selim! Rest period. A quarter of an hour."
They were still eating when another rider approached. It was Cyrus Vandergelt, urging his reluctant mare to a trot and waving a large envelope. He dismounted with more haste than grace and ran toward them.
"Just got this from Lacau," he panted. "It has to be a list of the objects he wants. Look at the thickness of the envelope! I came here for moral support, didn"t have the nerve to open it."
"Get a grip on yourself, man," said Emerson, taking the envelope from him and ripping it open.
The sheaf of papers inside was indeed depressingly thick. Emerson scanned the pages. "He wants the coffins and the mummies. Well, we expected that. The robe Martinelli restored, the storage chests with the rest of the clothing, the canopic jars-"
"All of them?" Cyrus cried in anguish.
"Hmph," said Emerson in acknowledgment. Concluding that it would take less time to read out the objects Lacau did not want, he proceeded to do so. "Half the ushebtis-his choice, naturally-three small uninscribed cosmetic jars, an ivory headrest . . ."
Everyone waited with bated breath until he finished, "Two beaded bracelets and two rings."
Cyrus groaned and dropped onto a stone column base.
"Rotten luck, Cyrus," Ramses said sympathetically, while his mother patted the afflicted American"s bowed shoulder.
"He says he is being excessively generous," Emerson reported, after reading the enclosed letter. "By rights the Museum ought to keep everything. Except for Tetisheri, this is the only royal burial that has been found, and the Museum has few pieces from this period."
"It"s a reburial, though," Bertie said. "Doesn"t that change the terms?"
"Lacau defines the terms. He requests that we begin packing the objects. He is sending a government steamer for them."
"Why not ship them by train?" Bertie asked.
"Too rough a ride," Ramses replied. "They will be jostled less in the hold of a boat. When will the steamer arrive?"
"He doesn"t say."
"Let him send his d.a.m.ned steamer," said Emerson through his teeth. "He can sit here twiddling his thumbs until we have finished the job, which we will do at our leisure."
"No." Cyrus rose slowly to his feet. "What"s the use? May as well get it over with, the sooner the better. I can count on your help, I know, Amelia."
"I commend your fort.i.tude, Cyrus," she said. "We will all help, of course."
Emerson"s black brows drew together. "Now see here, Peabody!"
"No one expects you to a.s.sist in such menial tasks," she informed him. "It is woman"s work, as usual. At least this will be one thing off our minds. I believe we still have the packing materials we used when we transported the objects to the Castle. I will begin tomorrow morning, with Lia and Evelyn, and Nefret, unless she has a patient."
"You"ve got it all worked out," David said with a smile, while Emerson mumbled discontentedly. "What about me, Aunt Amelia? I"m fairly good at this sort of woman"s work."
"Yes, my dear, you are. Very well. Sennia too; under supervision, she can handle the less fragile objects. And Maryam, if she is willing."
"Come back to the Castle with me now, Amelia," Cyrus begged. "We can make a start, anyhow."
"I have another appointment this afternoon, Cyrus. There is the little matter of the bones of Martinelli."
CHAPTER NINE
We have to do something with him," I pointed out, after Emerson had run out of expletives. "It would be indecent to leave him lying round the police station. I asked Father Benedict to make the arrangements, and to meet us at the cemetery this afternoon. Since Martinelli was Italian, I a.s.sume he was of the Roman Catholic faith."
"I doubt he believed in anything beyond his own gratification," Sethos murmured.
"He may have repented at the end," I said firmly. "We must give him the benefit of the doubt. The rest of you need not attend, but I feel obliged to be present."
"I don"t know how you do it, Aunt Amelia," Lia said, shaking her curly head. "I admire your energy and goodwill, but I think I will beg off."
"I suppose I ought to be there," Cyrus said. "Should have made the arrangements myself."
The only other volunteer was Sethos. At the last minute Cyrus-guided by a few gentle hints from me-decided he was not obliged to pay his last respects to the man who had robbed him so callously. He had only offered because he did not want me to go alone. "You"ll keep an eye on her," he said to Sethos. "And don"t let her dash off on some private expedition. She does that."
"Why else would I go?" Sethos inquired rhetorically.
The small Christian cemetery, on the road to Karnak, was somewhat more seemly than it had been when I attended my last funeral there. Distressed by the neglected graves and the feral animals who made it their home, I had formed a committee. My friend Marjorie, who headed it, had done her best to improve matters; the graves were clear of weeds and the headstones were straight. Not much could be done about the animals. If driven off, they returned as soon as the guards departed. One had to watch out for droppings and gnawed bones. It was a dismal place, despite-or because of-the wilting flowers on the graves of those who had friends or kin in Luxor. Flowers did not last long in the heat. The shade of my parasol was welcome. It was black-not for mourning, but for practicality. The parasol was one of the heavier ones.