Seeing a Large Cat (14 page)

"You are so good to me, Emerson," I murmured, nestling into bis arms.

Chapter Five

There is a layer of primitive savagery in most of us.

In fact, I did not believe our old adversary, the Master Criminal, was behind the mystery of tomb Twenty-A; it lacked his panache, his imaginative daring, his flair. I knew Sethos well. Only too well, Emerson would say; my strange rapport with that brilliant, tormented man was the source of my husband's jealousy. Love did not enter into it, at least not on my part. My heart was, and is, and always will be Emerson's. However, I could not suppose that mentioning these facts would reassure Emerson, and I was not anxious to discuss Sethos's current whereabouts or potential activities with Emerson-or anyone else.

He-Emerson, I mean-was in an excellent mood next morning. So he should have been, for he was about to get his own way and the credit for appearing to give me mine.

He had not announced his intentions at breakfast, but I happened to overhear him talking confidentially with Ramses as they waited on the verandah for Nefret to get her hat. "Your mama will not be able to concentrate on meaningful work until we have exploded her little fancy, so we will spend a day looking for her imaginary tomb Twenty-A."

"That is good of you, Father," said Ramses in his even, uninflected voice.

"Well, my boy, that is how one gets on with the ladies, you know. A small concession to their whims now and then does no harm and promotes good feeling. It is the least a fellow can do."

Ramses inquired, "Will not M. Maspero object to your looking for this-er-imaginary tomb, Father? The terms of your concession limit you to known tombs."

"This tomb, if it exists, is known-to someone." This bit of sophistry, worthy of Ramses himself, produced a murmur of admiring agreement from my son, and Emerson, who had never had the least intention of conforming to the terms of his concession anyhow, continued, "The most important thing is to please your dear mama. Mutual consideration is the only possible basis for a successful marriage."

"I will bear that in mind, Father."

I announced my presence with a little cough. Emerson snatched up his notebook and hurried away. Ramses glanced at me and waited politely for me to speak if I so chose. I did not. As Emerson had said, mutual consideration is the only possible basis for a successful marriage.

A group of our men had come from Gurneh to join us, and as we made our way across the plateau toward the Valley, Emerson gave Abdullah his instructions. Abdullah knew better than to express surprise when Emerson told him to send Selim and a few of the others to close tomb Twenty-one, but he gave me a quick glance and raised his eyebrows when Emerson looked away for a moment. I nodded. Abdullah nodded. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

We trailed obediently after Emerson as he led the way, into the side valley we had visited the first day. This time we were not alone; voices and sounds of activity could be heard from the far end where Hatshepsut's tomb lay, and as we proceeded we encountered one of his workmen carrying a loaded basket on his shoulder. Emerson, who treats Egyptians more courte ously than he does his fellow Englishmen, greeted him with a stentorian shout of "Salaam aleikhum "; the fellow mumbled something in return and hurried past us toward the mouth of the wadi.

"Mr. Carter must be driving his men hard today," Nefret remarked. "They are usually ready to stop and chat."

Emerson stopped. "Hmph," he said.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Nefret was correct. That fellow was in too much of a hurry. And why would he go so far to empty his basket?"

He went on more slowly, looking keenly from side to side, but it was Ramses who first observed the object that stood up from the rubble at the base of the cliff.

"It is only a stick or a broken branch," I said.

"A broken branch, here?" Emerson inquired.

But that was what it was, protruding at an angle from the loose scree. It had been neatly trimmed of twigs and leaves so that it resembled a stout walking stick. We stood staring at the harmless thing as warily as if it had been a coiled snake.

Emerson was the first to speak. "This is too much. Curse it! Is the fellow trying to insult me?"

"Do you think it is a marker, then?" I asked.

"What else can it be? Hell and damnation," Emerson added with considerable feeling.

Nefret's face was flushed with excitement. "Let's begin digging!"

"Damned if I will," said Emerson.

"Now, Emerson, don't be childish," I said. "What do you think, Abdullah?"

The old man studied the terrain. Then he said slowly, "There is something. The stone is different here; it has been disturbed."

"Go ahead, then," I said, glancing at Emerson. He turned his back and folded his arms, but he did not countermand the order.

The men began digging where Abdullah indicated. It soon became obvious that this area had been recently disturbed; the rock fill was loose and easy to move. Before long I saw the top of an opening below.

"Good morning!" called a cheery voice. I turned to see Howard Carter approaching. "One of the men told me you were here," he went on. "I might have known you would find something I missed when I was investigating this wadi last season. But . . ." He leaned over the excavation and looked down. "But I'm afraid it is only another uninscribed pit tomb. You have found no stairs?"

"Not yet," said Ramses. "However..." He lowered himself into the hole, which was by then approximately as deep as he was tall. "However, there is an interesting feature. A wooden door."

"Impossible," Howard exclaimed. "The Egyptians did use wooden doors in some tombs, but this-"

"Is not ancient," Ramses interrupted. "It appears to have been cobbled together from smaller scraps. I believe I can remove one of them, if you, Mr. Carter, sir, will hand me that chisel next to your foot."

"Just a moment," Emerson said. "Are you certain the door is modem?"

Ramses straightened. "Yes, sir. Modern tools were employed. The marks are quite clear."

"Take care, all the same." Emerson handed him the chisel with one hand and placed the other hand firmly on Nefret's shoulder. "There is not room for you down there, Nefret. You will have to wait, like the rest of us."

We did not have to wait long. The section of wood came away with a screech and a comment from Ramses-"Iron nails, Father"-and after lighting one of the candles he carried in his pocket, Ramses put it and his head through the opening.

"Well?" Nefret demanded.

Ramses did not answer immediately. After a long pause he remarked, "Curious. Very curious indeed."

"What is curious?" Nefret demanded. "Curse you, Ramses!"

Ramses withdrew his head. "There is a mummy."

"What is curious about that?" I inquired. "Mummies are often found in tombs. That is the function of a tomb, to contain one or more mummies."

"Quite right," said Howard with a laugh. "I found two of them last season, in that pit tomb across the way."

"Did they have long golden hair?" Ramses asked.

If he hoped for a sensation, he did not get it-this time. Howard laughed again. "Yes, as a matter of fact. The golden shade was, of course, the result of the embalming materials on hair that was white with age."

Ramses took the hand Emerson offered and climbed back up the rocky slope. He was looking particularly enigmatic. "I fear, Mr. Carter, that the two cases are not analogous. This female was not elderly. Nor are her wrappings ancient."

Emerson gave him a long look, but did not speak. Howard smiled in a patronizing fashion. "Come now, Ramses. How could you tell the age of the wrappings by the light of a single candle?"

"Because," said Ramses, "they were covered with silk embroidered flowers."

Howard let out a whoop of laughter. "Jolly good, young fellow! You have developed quite a sense of humor."

"Ridiculous," I exclaimed. "Your eyes played you false, Ramses."

Nefret, squirming in Emerson's grasp, said, "How would a man recognize silk embroidery? Let me look."

Emerson said, "Not without my permission, young lady."

Ramses's eyes met those of his father. "You will want photographs before we have it out, sir. It is a rather... extraordinary sight."

"Ah," said Emerson. "You recommend excavating, then?"

"I believe," said Ramses with a strange emphasis, "we have no choice but to do so."

He refused to describe what he had seen, remarking that none of us would take his word for it anyhow. Though this statement was unquestionably designed to provoke Nefret (and me), it was correct; we all wanted to see for ourselves. So Emerson lowered himself into the hole and lifted me down beside him.

His candle cast a limited light, but it was sufficient. The shrouded form lay near the entrance, its feet toward the door. Emerson drew in his breath and let it out in a whispered invocation.

Ramses had been right about the silk flowers. The fabric covered the body like the sheet of linen employed by the ancient embalmers as the final, outermost wrapping. The ancients had used strips of bandage to bind the shroud at ankles, knees, shoulders, and neck. Here the ties appeared to be faded satin ribbon-once blue, now sickly gray. The face was shrouded by gauze so fine that the outline of the features could be seen, and the hair had been carefully arranged to frame the head in long curling locks of pale gold.

As I stared, mesmerized, I was visited by a haunting sense of deja vu. It did not take me long to identify the memory that prompted it. I had never seen a mummy like this one. There had never been a mummy like it-except in works of fiction. The heroes of romantic novels were always running across the perfectly preserved bodies of ancient Egyptians or, in some cases, the people of a lost civilization. These remains were always female, astonishingly beautiful, and wrapped in gauzy fabric that barely concealed their charms. The unfortunate young gentleman who found one was instantly stricken with hopeless passion.

"Oh, dear," I murmured.

"Always the mot juste, Peabody." Emerson withdrew his arm and handed me the candle. Picking up the bit of board Ramses had removed, he fitted it over the hole and pounded it firmly into place with his fist. This produced an indignant outcry from Nefret, who was at the edge of the excavation, looking down.

"You will see it soon enough," said Emerson, lifting me out of the hole and climbing up to join me. "Abdullah, get the men started___No. Don't move so much as a pebble until I return.

Peabody, stay here with him and make certain no one disturbs the area. The rest of you come with me."

He was on his way even as he spoke, his long strides covering the broken ground as rapidly as another man might run. The others trotted after him. Nefret had Ramses by the arm and was peppering him with questions.

I dusted off a rock and sat down. "He didn't mean you to go with him," I explained to Howard, who had taken an uncertain step after Emerson. "Would you care for a sip of cold tea?"

"No, thank you." Howard looked from me to Abdullah, who had settled himself on the ground, knees raised and arms folded, and was watching me with an unblinking stare. "Where has he gone? What is in there? Why did he-"

"You had better have some tea," I said, investigating the basket of food I had caused to be brought along. "Orange? Sandwich? Boiled egg?"

I tossed him an egg and passed the basket to Abdullah. He took it, without removing his eyes from my face, and I looked away, dreading the moment of disappointment that was to come. Poor man! He knew Emerson would not have reacted as he did if the find had not been truly extraordinary, but to Abdullah that word implied an archaeological find. He had dismissed Ramses's description of silk embroidered wrappings, which meant nothing to him; he hoped for an undisturbed burial even finer than that of Tetisheri, a mummy glittering with gold, a tomb filled with wonderful things.

"Emerson has gone to fetch certain materials," I explained, wondering how best to break the bad news to Abdullah. "He ought also to notify the police, but if I know Emerson-"

Abdullah let out a grunt, like a man who has been struck in the stomach. Howard exclaimed, "Why the dev-Why should he notify the police?"

"You will prolong my narrative unnecessarily if you continue to interrupt me, Howard. The authorities will have to be called in because ..." I could not bear to look at Abdullah. "Because Ramses's description of long golden hair and silken wrappings was unfortunately accurate. The mummy in that tomb is not that of an ancient Egyptian. It is that of an individual who met her end within the past few years; certainly within the last decade."

Silently and slowly, dignified as a tragic Muse, Abdullah lowered his head onto his folded arms.

"But-but," Howard stuttered. "It can hardly be a mummy if it is as-er-fresh as that. Do you mean a corpse-a cadaver-a skeleton?"

"Well, as to that, I cannot say without a closer examination," I replied, smacking an egg against the rock and starting to peel away the shell. "However, the remains appear to be in a state of preservation that renders the last word, at least, inaccurate. I distinctly saw the outline of a nose under the gauze that concealed the face. Skeletons, as you know, lack a nasal appendage. It consists of cartilage, which-"

"Mrs. Emerson!" Howard cried loudly. I stopped speaking and gave him a reproachful look. "I beg your pardon," he continued more temperately. "I should not have shouted at you, but this is the strangest thing I have ever heard."

"No," said a muffled voice. "It is not strange. She finds them often. Fresh dead people."

"I don't do it on purpose, Abdullah. Anyhow, I didn't find this one. Ramses did. Have a boiled egg, it will do you good. In point of fact, this is one of the more unusual cadavers I have come across. Except for the hair, which has been left unbound, it is wrapped in the ancient style. More or less," I amended, and paused to take a bite of my egg. "The outermost covering is fashioned of silk brocade and tied with satin ribbons. As you are both aware, silk was unknown to the ancient Egyptians. This fabric is somewhat faded, but the original colors are still discernible, and it is obviously of modern manufacture."