The Hippopotamus Pool (18 page)

Reassured as to Emerson's safety (for the moment at least), I had leisure to look about me. It was hard to make out details, for the only light came from a lantern of European design held by the third man, but I saw enough to raise my professional temperature. Stone chips and fragments of other materials covered part of the floor; in some places the debris had been removed or pushed aside. Toward the far end of the chamber it was piled high, halfway up the doorway on that wall. Framed by a heavy lintel and inscribed jambs, the opening had been blocked with neatly cut stones. A dark square broke the surface where one of the stones had been removed. This evidence of the robbers' penetration into the farther chambers—perhaps the burial chamber itself—was a trifle discouraging, but what I saw on the wall to the left of the door made me catch my breath. The tomb was decorated!

Piled-up chips and deep shadows concealed most of the painted surfaces. The feeble glow of the lantern illumined, and that dimly, only one portion of a single scene—the head and upper body of a woman, and the hands she had raised to shoulder height. Part of a hieroglyphic inscription named her; I could make out the curved shape of a cartouche, but not the individual signs. I knew her, though, as surely as if I had encountered an old friend. The wing of the same vulture crown depicted on her statue framed a familiar profile.

I started impulsively forward. Emerson's growl and the raised hand of one of the men reminded me that archaeological investigation might not be entirely appropriate at that time. After an exchange of glances and nods, the same individual whose gesture had stopped me spoke in a husky, obviously disguised whisper. "You will not be harmed if you do not resist. Put your hands behind you."

He addressed Emerson, who glared at him.

"I believe, Emerson, that we ought to do as he asks," I said. "The alternative would be much worse and I do not see how even you can prevent them from doing whatever they choose."

The logic of this was irresistible, but I cannot remember when I have seen Emerson so aggravated. He kept up a rumbling undercurrent of curses while they tied our hands and feet. Emerson stubbornly insisted on remaining upright, but one of the men lowered me, gently enough, into a sitting position. Having completed the job they departed, crawling one by one into the tunnel. They left the lamp. I was grateful for that.

"I hope Selim had sense enough to run for help," I said anxiously.

Emerson's face turned purple as he strained at his bonds. Between grunts of effort he remarked, "I don't suppose ... he could hear us ... if we called out."

"Probably not. But he will find us eventually, he saw me descend. Do stop struggling, Emerson, you will only tire yourself."

"I want to get out of this damned place," Emerson said sulkily. "Didn't you bring your knife, Peabody?"

"Yes, my dear, I did, and I am endeavoring at this very moment to reach it. Calm yourself."

After a moment Emerson said, in quite a different voice, "They can't have removed the mummy or mummy case, Peabody. That doorway must lead to the burial chamber, but the opening is only eighteen inches square."

"I noticed that. And the paintings—oh, Emerson, it
is
Tetisheri's tomb! I would recognize her anywhere. How exciting this is! Ah—I have the knife. I will just hop over to you and ... Goodness gracious, it is difficult to keep one's footing in all this disgusting debris. I believe it was a bone I just stepped on."

Emerson's head snapped round toward the entrance tunnel. Turning, he thrust his bound hands hard against mine, and after some fumbling got the blade of the knife between his wrists. "Hurry and get these cursed ropes off, Peabody. They are coming back."

         CHAPTER SIX

               Another Shirt Ruined!

The newcomer's approach was slow

and deliberate. By the time his head appeared at the opening of the tunnel, Emerson was waiting.

My husband presented a horrifying picture, his face distorted in a snarl, his raised fists streaming blood—for, clumsy with haste, he had in the process of freeing himself inflicted several nasty cuts on his wrists—and I was not at all surprised when Selim yelped and retreated, like a turtle pulling back into its shell. Emerson reached in and dragged him out.

"What the devil do you mean, creeping up on us like that?" he shouted.

"Emerson, please lower your voice," I begged. "The noise is positively deafening in this confined space. I do wish you would not be so precipitate; just look at you, you are bleeding all over the antiquities. I could have told you it was Selim approaching."

"Then why didn't you?" Emerson picked up the knife and freed my hands and feet.

"You did not give me the opportunity, that is why. Fortunately I brought two handkerchiefs. Let me tie up your wrists, you cannot climb a rope when your hands are slippery with blood."

"Oh, bah," said Emerson. But he said no more because Selim was spouting questions and excuses. He had not known how to proceed. Had he delayed too long? Had he come too soon? What should he do now?

"Get out of here, I should think," I replied to the final question. "I hope you will not take this as criticism, Selim, for you acted quite properly, but if someone cuts that rope we will be in deep difficulty."

"Deep indeed," said Emerson. "Selim—I apologize for shouting at you, my boy, I was not myself—how did you elude the gentlemen who climbed that same rope a few minutes ago?"

"No one climbed it, Father of Curses. I saw no one. I heard terrible noises, the falling of rock, the voices of demons from the depths, but finally they died away. Sitt Hakim, I did not hesitate out of fear, I waited only because—"

"Impossible," I exclaimed.

"Hmmm," said Emerson, fingering his chin. "I suggest we postpone further discussion until after we have acted upon your sensible suggestion, Peabody. I will go first, then you, my dear. Put out the lantern before you follow her, Selim; some of these scraps are as dry as tinder."

Emerson was waiting for me on the lip of the opening, a lighted candle in his hand. "This explains one mystery," he said, indicating a second rope that hung down from the edge. "Our friends departed by means of the back door. Shall we follow their example?"

I took the candle from him and leaned out. "But it is a dead end, Emerson; I can see the bottom of the cleft, only a few feet below."

"Nonsense. The rope would not be here if it led nowhere. Curse it, Peabody, don't stand so close to the edge. I will go down and have a look."

Grasping the rope, he lowered himself. "Ah," he said, with satisfaction. "I thought as much. There is an opening. A bit narrow, but I believe I can .. . Stop where you are, Peabody, don't so much as stir until I give you permission."

Slowly he sank down out of sight; first his feet and lower limbs, then his body, and finally his head were swallowed up by shadows. Selim, still in the tunnel awaiting my word to proceed, began to wail.

"Oh, Sitt, what is happening? Oh, Father of Curses, do not leave me here!"

"Be quiet!" I said sharply, for my nerves were beginning to feel a certain strain. So thick were the shadows below, I felt as if I had seen Emerson swallowed up by black quicksand.

Then his head rose out of the depths. "All right, Peabody," he said cheerfully. "Wait until you feel three sharp tugs on the rope before you follow me; I would rather not risk a double weight. It is easy going once you squeeze through that narrow space, my dear; can you manage?"

The face that looked up at me wore an encouraging smile, but his furrowed brow was evidence of his concern.

"I got down this far, didn't I?" I replied. "Oh, Emerson, do be careful."

"And you, my love."

"Sitt Hakim," said a quavering voice from the tunnel. "Something is holding my foot. It is an afreet, I think."

Kneeling, my eyes fixed on the taut, quivering rope, I said over my shoulder, "Give me your hand, Selim. My power will pass through you down to your foot and the afreet will let you go."

Sure enough, he was able to free himself from the afreet (actually a bit of fallen stone), and I helped him out onto the ledge, suggesting that he remain motionless since the space was confined. Scarcely had he emerged than the rope went limp.

"Emerson!" I shrieked, unable to control my anxiety.

Three tugs followed, and then Emerson's voice, weirdly distorted. "Come ahead, Peabody."

Once I had got through the opening—quite ample in size for me, though it must have been a tight squeeze for my stalwart spouse—I was surprised to find a sloping surface instead of a perpendicular drop. Emerson had lit a candle and placed it on a ledge. His hands were waiting to grasp me by the waist and set me on my feet.

While we waited for Selim to join us I lit my own candle and looked around. The space was only a few feet in extent, and it looked as if it might collapse in on itself at any second: boulders of various sizes bulged from either side and from overhead. If I had not known there must be a way out I doubt I could have found it, for it was necessary to squeeze past one rock and around the jutting corner of another, until one final squeeze brought us out into the cool night air. We were on the slopes of Drah Abu'l Naga, only a few hundred yards from Deir el Bahri. Its colonnades glimmered pale in the starlight.

"No wonder the place has gone undiscovered so long," I gasped. "The tomb entrance cannot be seen from above or below. Who would suppose this pile of rocks concealed an opening?"

"I suspect there
was
no opening until recently," Emerson said thoughtfully. "But let us save speculation of that sort for a more leisured moment. We had better collect the children and get back to the dahabeeyah."

Leaving Selim to mark the spot, we went off arm in arm, Emerson matching his longer strides to mine.

"Cold, my dear?" he inquired, as a shiver ran through my frame.

"On such a beautiful night? Only look at the stars! It is excitement that moves me. What a discovery! What courage and what brilliance you displayed in locating it! I wonder you are not skipping with happiness."

"A pretty sight that would be. Never mind the flattery, Peabody; luck had as much to do with our success as my talents. And this evening's adventure has had several odd aspects. When I arrived in the tomb I fell into the middle of a small war."

"Please elaborate, Emerson."

"The men we saw descend into the tomb were members of an illustrious family of Gurnawi thieves. I recognized several of them. But they were not the men
you
saw, for by the time you arrived on the scene, the Gurnawis had been taken prisoner by another group of individuals who must have arrived sometime earlier via the lower entrance. When I emerged into the antechamber, one of the second group was waiting for me, pistol in hand, and I saw no reason to object when they bundled the Gurnawis out through the tunnel. Evidently the latter were persuaded to descend the lower rope while you were descending the upper."

"That seems a logical deduction. But how extraordinary, Emerson! You did not identify any of the second—first?—you know who I mean, the men who were waiting for me."

"How could I? They were wrapped to the eyebrows, and careful to say as little as possible. Which makes one wonder—"

"—if we might have recognized an acquaintance had they been less cautious. Yes, Emerson! Sir Edward—"

"What the devil are you talking about? I met him last year; he is a typical, annoying young aristocrat, but so far as I know, perfectly respectable. Nor," Emerson added with a chuckle, "was Miss Marmaduke one of them. (You were about to suggest her, were you not?) What I intended to say before you interrupted me was that I wonder if some or all of them were not Egyptians."

"That would explain their disguises and their reticence," I said. "At least we can be certain that none of them was Signor Riccetti."

"Impossible to disguise that bulk," Emerson agreed. "But he is in this up to his fat neck, I have no doubt of it."

"He may be as dishonest as he is obese, Emerson, but does not the encounter of this evening substantiate the statement he made—that there are those who would aid us if they could? No, my dear, please don't bellow"—for I knew the signs that preceded that exercise—"just listen. The second group of individuals meant us no harm. They did not even search me for weapons. In fact, if they had not been there when you entered the tomb, you might have been killed or seriously injured by the Gurnawis. They were, if I may be permitted to call them that, our Preservers."

"I cannot prevent you from calling them anything you like," Emerson replied furiously. "But the idea is even more fantastical than your usual theories. Abandon the subject, Amelia, if you please."

I did so, since I did not wish discord to cloud the pleasure of our starlit stroll. After a time Emerson began to whistle. It was the agreed-upon signal—the stirring strains of "Rule Britannia"—and in response a trio of ghostly forms materialized from the darkness.

 Ramses was extremely annoyed at having missed "the fun," as he called it. Nefret was more interested in the strange men. In the intervals between Ramses's complaints she peppered us with questions until we reached the boat and Emerson ended the discussion with a reminder that there were a number of things that must be done without delay.

"Quite right," I said. "I must see how David is getting on, and make sure Gertrude is safely tucked in her bed; Howard Carter must be notified, and M. Maspero. And I am very worried about Selim, alone out there in the darkness."

"He won't be alone for long," said Emerson.

When I joined him in our room I was not surprised to learn that he meant to return to Selim at once. Attempting to dissuade him would have been a waste of breath. "At least take Abdullah and Daoud," I begged.

"My dear, I will be knee-deep in assiduous assistants by morning," Emerson said, stripping off his filthy, bloodstained shirt. Tossing it onto the floor, he grinned at me. " 'Another shirt ruined,' " he quoted.

I could not joke. The premonition of danger was so strong it clung to my lips like the taste of bitter herbs. I caught hold of him. "Let me go with you."

Gently he loosened my clinging hands. "Now, Peabody, don't carry on. Abdullah has gone to collect the men; I will meet them at Deir el Bahri, and knock Carter up while I'm about it. I can hardly wait to see his face."

"You are taking Ramses. Why can't I—"

"Because you are needed here. Yours may be the post of greatest peril, Peabody. We still don't know why the boy was attacked. If it was to prevent him from telling us about the tomb, then he is out of danger, but I doubt that was the motive. It is most unlikely that he could have learned such a closely kept secret. He must be guarded, and you must watch Miss Marmaduke as well."

"Yes, I know. But—"

"I will take Anubis. How's that?"

"A great consolation," I said sourly. Upon hearing his name the cat, who was lying on the bed, sat up. Emerson snapped his fingers. Anubis jumped down and followed him to the door. In fact the knowledge that the catwould be with him did console me a little. Anubis's brindled coat and heavy muscular body, not to mention his surly disposition, were those of a feral animal, and he was utterly devoted to Emerson.

"Get some sleep, Peabody."

"Oh, certainly. The easiest thing in the world."

After he had gone I changed my own garments, which were in little better case than Emerson's. Descending cliffs on a rope and crawling through bat guano has a deleterious effect on one's wardrobe. Then I returned to David. He had been asleep when I first looked in on him, and I had left Nefret to watch him. He was awake now, his great black eyes fixed on Nefret, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor and staring owlishly back at him.

"He woke," she said.

"So I see." I sat down on the bed and felt the boy's forehead. It was cool. The fever had broken, but he was still very weak.

"Where he gone?" David asked.

I knew to whom he referred but before I could answer, Nefret said, " 'Where
has
he gone.' "

David bobbed his head. "Where hasss he gone?"

"He is trying to learn proper English," Nefret explained, as I turned a critical eye upon her. "He asked me to correct him."

"I see. Well, David, Ramses has gone with his father. We have found the tomb. You know the one I mean."

David shook his head. "Many tombs. I do not know them."

"The tomb of which I speak is in El-Dira. It has been known to certain men of Gurneh for several years. The Father of Curses and I found it tonight. He and Ramses have gone back to guard it, with our men. Now, David, it is late and you need to rest. Only answer one question. If you didn't know about the tomb, why did Hamed try to murder you?"