The Golden One (63 page)

‘It’s the most beautiful bib I’ve ever seen,’ Nefret said, wiping her eyes. ‘And I hope the bloodstains never wash out. You did know!’

‘Not until this moment,’ I said firmly. It would have been the height of unkindness to spoil such a wonderful surprise. ‘I was making it for Lia’s little girl.’

‘Girl?’ Ramses’s eyebrows tilted.

‘I suppose Abdullah told you,’ Nefret said with a chuckle. ‘Did he happen to mention ours?’

‘He never tells me anything important,’ I said. Nefret laughed, and I saw Ramses shape the word with his lips: ‘Ours.’ He was still trying to take it in.

I had known, of course, for some time. To an experienced eye the symptoms are unmistakable.

‘When?’ I inquired.

‘September,’ Nefret said.

‘Ah. So the worst is over, and you are obviously in splendid health. If bouncing across the desert in that motorcar and stealing horses didn’t bring on a miscarriage, nothing
will.’

I spoke with all the authority I could summon, which is, if I may say so, considerable, and the faint shadow of anxiety on Ramses’s face faded. ‘If you say so, Mother.’

‘I do. And,’ I added, ‘next time I see Abdullah he will verify it.’

‘If I say we have something to tell him, he’ll look blank and ask what,’ Nefret said with a chuckle. ‘And announcing he is about to become a grandfather is too
sickeningly coy.’

So, in the end, she blurted it out. ‘I’m going to have a baby, Father.’

Emerson’s jaw went slack. ‘A . . . a what?’

‘We don’t know yet,’ Ramses said. ‘But we’re pretty sure it’s bound to be either a boy or a girl.’

Emerson choked. ‘Boy? Girl? Baby? Good – good Gad!’

‘Take my handkerchief,’ said his wife.

Emerson indignantly refused the handkerchief; if there were tears in his eyes he blotted them on Nefret’s hair as he took her in a close embrace. He turned to Ramses, held out his hand,
and then, to the latter’s utter stupefaction, embraced him too.

He was with difficulty prevented from rushing out shouting the news at the top of his lungs to everyone present. ‘A little less publicly, please,’ Nefret begged. ‘We
haven’t told Fatima yet, or Kadija, or Sennia, or Gargery, or – ’

‘Oh, of course Gargery’s feelings are of paramount importance,’ said Emerson with heavy sarcasm and a smile that stretched from ear to ear. ‘Naturally, my dears, I bow to
your wishes. Good Gad!’

Emerson went directly to Cyrus and whispered in his ear. Within five minutes everyone on the site had heard. It was possible to watch the word spread by the smiles that warmed the men’s
faces as they turned to look at Nefret.

She accepted Cyrus’s hearty good wishes and promises of a celebration to end all celebrations, and then got their minds back to business. ‘Did anything happen last night?’

‘Good Gad,’ said Emerson, still grinning. ‘Good Gad! Er – what did you say? Oh. Well, we saw a few shadows flitting about hither and yon, but they vanished when I
announced my – our – presence.’

‘You didn’t recognize any of them?’ Ramses asked.

‘I didn’t have to see them to know who they were,’ his father retorted. ‘Members of our distinguished tomb-robbing families having a look round just in case.’

‘They may try again,’ Ramses said.

‘Bah,’ said Emerson. ‘It’s been over fifty years since the Gurnawis attacked an archaeologist.’ He added, his face falling, ‘The greatest nuisance will be
sightseers. They will be swarming as soon as the news spreads.’

In this he was correct. Following regulations, Cyrus had immediately informed the Service des Antiquités of the find. An enthusiastic telegram of congratulations from Daressy was followed
in two days by a visit from that gentleman. It was his official duty to inspect the place and make sure the rules were being followed, and a find of that magnitude happened very seldom. Timber
balks and a complex arrangement of scaffolding and ladders had been erected, so it was now possible to reach the tomb from below. They had to haul Daressy up by means of a net. He didn’t much
enjoy the process, but as he informed them afterward, he would have undergone worse to see the astonishing spectacle.

‘My felicitations,’ he declared, mopping his sweating face. ‘For once we have got in ahead of our energetic friends from Gurneh! It is a pleasure to know I can safely leave the
clearance in your capable hands, mes amis.’

He accepted a cup of tea and mopped his face again. ‘By the by, I meant to ask how it is that M. Vandergelt is involved. I was under the impression that he had the firman for Medinet
Habu.’

‘You are familiar with how it is, monsieur,’ Emerson said glibly and ungrammatically. ‘Thanks to the bedamned war, we are all short of hands. We help one another, as
professional goodness demands. It was the young M. Vandergelt who in fact discovered the hiding place.’

‘Ah, je comprends bien,’ said Daressy, amused. ‘C’est admirable, messieurs. Proceed, then. I will return from time to time, if I may, not to interfere with your work, but
to admire the wonders you will find.’

‘I told you he wouldn’t object,’ Emerson said to his wife, after they had got Daressy off.

‘You left him no choice in the matter,’ said that lady.

Every tourist in Luxor wanted to see the tomb. Most of them left in a hurry, driven off by Emerson’s curses and by the fact that there was not much to see as yet. Cyrus was determined
nothing should be removed from the chamber until he had arranged for proper lighting and had made certain that objects like the coffins could be moved without damage.

One group of visitors was more persistent. The Albions arrived, en masse, the day after the discovery. Jumana retreated as soon as she saw them, drawing Bertie away with her, and nobody offered
them a chair or a glass of tea. The coolness of their reception would have disconcerted sensitive persons, but that adjective did not apply to any of the Albions.

‘So that’s how you’re going to get in and out of the place,’ Mr Albion remarked, eyeing the scaffolding. ‘Too much for me, but Sebastian would like to have a
look.’

‘Sebastian will have to do without a look,’ said Emerson. ‘Good Gad, I have not the time for this.’

He stalked off to join Jumana and Bertie at the foot of the scaffold. Ramses lingered, marvelling at the Albions’ thick skins. Cyrus was unable to resist the temptation to gloat, boasting
extravagantly about Bertie and describing the contents of the tomb in loving detail. Mr Albion’s fixed grin remained in place.

‘Sounds like a big job,’ he said. ‘How long do you think it will take?’

‘Hard to tell,’ Cyrus said. ‘We’ll have to see what’s there and what needs to be done.’

‘Fascinating,’ Sebastian declared. He looked around with a complacent smile. ‘I’ve never observed an excavation in process. Hope you don’t mind if we drop by now
and then to watch.’

Ramses had had enough. ‘Apparently it has escaped your attention that you are not welcome here,’ he said. ‘After what happened the other night – ’

‘Oh, that. An unfortunate misunderstanding.’

‘Quite,’ said Mrs Albion, speaking for the first time. ‘I do think, Mr Emerson, that you owe my son Sebastian an apology.’

Ramses caught his mother’s eye. He took a deep breath. ‘I am indeed sorry. Sorry that I didn’t catch up with him.’

‘Well, really!’ Mrs Albion took her husband’s arm. ‘Evil is in the mind of the beholder; isn’t that so, Mrs Emerson? Let us go, Mr Albion.’

Cyrus couldn’t resist one final dig.

‘No use making arrangements with the dealers on this one, Joe. At the final division, most of the objects will go to the Cairo Museum, and the rest, supposing they are generous enough to
leave us a percentage, will not be for sale.’

The Albions left, and Ramses said, ‘You did rather rub it in, Cyrus.’

‘Enjoyed every minute of it,’ Cyrus declared, stroking his goatee. ‘I hoped Joe would slip and make some dumb remark about how he’d already paid for his share, but
he’s too smart for that. I wonder who else is going to turn up?’

The next to turn up was Howard Carter, who had to listen to a tirade from Emerson about his exploration of the western wadis. ‘I’ve been trying to track you down for weeks,’
Emerson declared indignantly. ‘Where have you been? What were you doing in the Gabbanat el-Qirud? Why the devil haven’t you made your notes accessible?’

Carter was too much in awe of Emerson to protest the injustice of the complaint. ‘My notes are at your disposal, sir, as always,’ he said meekly. ‘I apologize if I offended
you.’

‘Bah,’ said Emerson. ‘Now see here, Carter – ’

‘Father, I’m sure Mr Carter would rather hear about the new tomb,’ Nefret interrupted. ‘Sit down, Mr Carter, and have a cup of tea.’

‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Carter said with a grateful look at her. ‘I most certainly would. I will be in Luxor for some time – my next project is to copy the procession
reliefs at Luxor Temple – but naturally, if I can assist in any way at all . . .’

‘You can come by now and then,’ Emerson said grudgingly. ‘It will teach you how to conduct a proper clearance of a tomb.’

However, the most unexpected news came in the form of a telegram.

‘Look forward to seeing you all soon. Fondest regards, Cousin Ismail.’

‘I might have known the news of the tomb would fetch him,’ Emerson grumbled. ‘He doesn’t say when he is coming. Damned inconsiderate.’

‘Even more inconsiderate is that infernal signature,’ I said in some vexation. ‘How are we to introduce him? The Vandergelts are bound to recognize him as Sethos, but we cannot
call him that. What is his real name?’

‘Cursed if I know,’ Emerson admitted. ‘Never gave it much thought.’

‘Well, my dear, he will turn up where and when he chooses, as he chooses, and there isn’t a thing we can do about it.’

He turned up at Deir el Medina, two days later. We had had several other visitors that morning, including the cursed Albions; they came round almost every day, though they did not have the
temerity to approach us again. Emerson stormed about this, but there was no way we could keep them away from the site as long as they did nothing but sit in their carriage at a distance and look
on. The scaffolding had been completed and the door ordered; since nothing more could be done until we had acquired a generator and electric lighting, Emerson had sent us back to work on our boring
village. I looked up from my rubbish dump to see a man on horseback approaching.

He came straight to me and removed his hat. ‘Good morning, Amelia. At your rubbish again, I see.’

He looked well. I observed that first: the healthy colour in his face, the upright frame and easy pose. A neatly wound turban concealed his hair, and a magnificent coal-black beard hid the lower
part of his face. The tweed suit was not the one he had borrowed from Ramses; it was new and very well cut. In short, he was the picture of a distinguished Oriental gentleman, possibly an official
of high rank who had, as his accent indicated, been educated at an English university. Cyrus might be able to identify him as the surly, silent individual who had been his guest the year before,
but I doubted any of the others who had known him so briefly would be able to do so.

‘A fondness for beards must run in the family,’ I remarked.

‘You could hardly expect me to appear in Luxor without one, my dear. Some sharp-eyed person might notice I bear a resemblance to a certain well-known Egyptologist.’

‘How am I to introduce you?’

‘Cousin Ismail, of course. I rather like the name.’

He turned and offered his hand as Emerson came hurrying towards us.

The cordial reception he received seemed to surprise him a little. Nefret gave him a kiss, and Cyrus a hearty handshake, a knowing smile, and an invitation to visit the tomb. Sethos had to hear
all about its discovery first; he congratulated Bertie and Jumana, who didn’t know quite what to make of him, but who were flattered by his interest. After luncheon we all went up to the
platform outside the tomb. Sethos crawled in and out of the passage, and then brushed himself off and remarked, ‘You’ve quite a job ahead of you, Vandergelt. I would be happy to
recommend a good restorer. I suspect you may need one, some of the organic materials appear to be in a delicate condition.’

‘Are you an archaeologist, sir?’ Jumana asked.

‘I have had a good deal of experience in the field,’ said Sethos smoothly. He glanced casually at the rock face above the entrance. It was the first time I had noticed the symbol
– a roughly carved circle divided by a curving line.

Ramses waited until Bertie and Jumana and Cyrus had started down the ladder before he spoke. ‘I hope you don’t mind, sir. I took the liberty – ’

Sethos grinned. ‘I was about to suggest it myself. The Master’s mark may not deter every thief in Gurneh, but it still carries some weight. By the by, are you acquainted with that
lot?’