Amelia Peabody Omnibus 1-4 (112 page)

‘Look,’ I hissed.

‘I see it,’ he replied in equally subdued tones. ‘Quick, Peabody, down into the water.’

He slid off the sarcophagus. With his assistance I followed suit. ‘Is it the villains returning, do you think?’ I breathed.

‘It can be no one else. Get behind the sarcophagus, Peabody. Keep out of sight and don’t make a sound.’

I heard the soft susurration of the water as he waded slowly away from me. There was no need for him to explain; my dear Emerson and I understand one another without words. The criminals had returned to make sure we were deceased, or to taunt us in our agony; if they saw no trace of us, they might be moved to descend, in order to search for our bodies. There was a slight hope of escape in that, if they lowered a rope or a rope ladder, and Emerson could seize it. I crouched low behind the shelter of the great stone box, braced and ready for whatever action suggested itself.

The opening was now a glowing yellow. Something showed silhouetted against the light. I could not see Emerson, but I knew he was pressed against the wall, under the shaft. My fingers closed around the handle of my knife.

Then occurred the most astonishing event of that astonishing evening. A voice spoke – a voice I knew, pronouncing a name only one individual in all the world employs for me. So great was my wonderment that I stood erect, banging my head painfully on the rim of the sarcophagus; and in that same instant, as I reeled and tried to collect my wits, the light went out, a voice shouted in alarm and horror, and something splashed heavily into the water not far away.

My initial impulse was to rush into action. But reason prevailed, as I hope it always does with me. I knew from the sounds of splashing, cursing and heavy breathing that Emerson was doing all he could to locate the fallen object; my intervention would only impede his search. My first act, therefore, was to strike a match and light the candle which I anchored carefully in a pool of its own grease on the wide rim of the sarcophagus. Then and only then did I look to see whether Emerson’s quest had been successful.

He had risen from the water. In his arms was a muddy, dripping object. It moved; it was living. I groped for appropriate words.

‘Ramses,’ I said. ‘I thought I told you you were never to go into any more pyramids.’

‘Y
OU
said I might go in if you and Papa were wit’ me,’ said Ramses.

‘So I did. Your reasoning is Jesuitical, Ramses; I see we will have to have a talk about it one day. However …’ I stopped. Had Ramses emphasized, ever so slightly, the preposition ‘in’? As I explained earlier, the chambers and passages of pyramids are sometimes internal, sometimes subterranean. Surely not even Ramses’ diabolically devious mind would be capable of a distinction so Machiavellian… I promised myself I must explore that suspicion at a more appropriate time.

‘However,’ I resumed, ‘I appreciate your motives, Ramses, and – Emerson, will you please put the boy down and stop babbling?’

Emerson interrupted his mumbled endearments. ‘I cannot put him down, Peabody. His mouth would be underwater.’

‘That is true. Fetch him here, then. He can sit on the sarcophagus.’

I kept a precautionary hand on the candle when Ramses was set down beside it. He was a dreadful spectacle. A coating of dark mud covered him from head to foot. But I had seen him looking worse, and the bright eyes that peered at me from the mask of slime were alert and steady.

‘As I was saying, Ramses, I appreciate your motives in coming to our rescue, as I suppose you intended. But I must point out that jumping into the pit with us was not helpful.’

‘I did not jump, Mama, I slipped. I brought a rope, t’inking dere would be some point of attachment in de passageway by means of which I might be able to – ’

‘I follow your reasoning, Ramses. But if the rope is, as I suppose, down here with you, it cannot be of great assistance.’

‘Dat was an unfortunate mishap,’ Ramses admitted.

‘My boy, my boy,’ Emerson said mournfully. ‘I had consoled myself with the expectation that you would carry on the name of Emerson to glory and scientific achievement. Now we will all perish in one another’s – ’

‘Please, Emerson,’ I said. ‘We have already discussed that. I don’t suppose it occurred to you, Ramses, to fetch help instead of rushing in where angels fear to tread?’

‘I was in some haste and concerned for your safety,’ said Ramses, swinging his feet and dripping. ‘However, I did leave a message.’

‘With whom?’ Emerson asked hopefully.

‘Well, you see, de circumstances were confusing,’ Ramses said calmly. ‘I had followed you when you slipped out of de house – I debated wit’ myself for some little time before doing so, but could not recall, Mama, dat you had specifically forbidden me to follow you and Papa when you slipped out of de – ’

‘Good Gad,’ I said helplessly.

‘Pray don’t interrupt the boy, Peabody,’ Emerson said. ‘His narrative may yet contain information of practical interest to us in our present situation. Skip over your struggles with your conscience, Ramses, if you please; you may take it that for now there will be no recriminations.’

‘T’ank you, Papa. I was not far away, in concealment, when de men struck you and captured Mama. I could not go for help at dat time since it was expedient dat I discover where dey were taking you. Nor could I abandon you after you were dragged into de substructure of de pyramid, for I feared dey might dispatch you fort’wit’. Dere was only time for me to snatch up a coil of rope from de equipment dey had brought wit’ dem, and scribble a brief message, before I followed.’

‘The message, Ramses,’ I said between my teeth. ‘Where did you leave the message?’

‘I tied it to de collar of de cat Bastet.’

‘To de collar of de – ’

‘She had accompanied me, of course. I could hardly leave it lying on de ground, Mama,’ Ramses added in an injured tone – my comment, though brief, had admittedly held a note of criticism. ‘Even if it was not found by de villains, its chances of being discovered by someone would have been slight in de extreme.’

‘Do you mean,’ Emerson demanded, ‘that you have been inside the pyramid all this time? How did you elude the criminals when they returned?’

‘And why did it take you so long to reach this place?’ I added.

Ramses settled himself more comfortably. ‘Bot’ questions will be answered if you will allow me to proceed wit’ de narrative in an orderly fashion. I heard splashes, and surmised dat dey had t’rown you into de burial chamber. I also heard Papa cry out, which relieved my anxiety as to his survival. When de man came back I had to hide in one of de side passages. Dese passages are not all in good condition, as you may perhaps have observed. De route used by de criminals has been shored up by timbers, but some of de side passages are less secure. De one I selected,
faute de mieux,
I might add, collapsed. I was some time extricating myself.’

‘Good heavens,’ Emerson gasped. ‘My dear child – ’

‘You have not heard de worst, Papa. Upon reaching de main passage again I decided to return to de outside world and summon assistance. You may imagine my consternation when I discovered dat de way was blocked – deliberately, I believe, by the removal of the timbers that had supported de stones lining de passage. Dere was not’ing for it but return to you, but it took some little time owing to de state of perturbation dat afflicted me and de fact dat, because of dis emotional disability, I had forgotten dat, in emulation of Mama’s admirable custom, I always carry wit’ me a box of matches and a candle, among odder useful equipment. But I fear I lost dem when I fell into de water.’

For once Ramses had succeeded in finishing a statement without being interrupted. It was less diffuse than usual, though it might certainly have profited by judicious editing. However, my silence was the result of considerable emotion. It appeared we were doomed, unless the message tied to the cat’s collar was found before she chewed it off or lost it. Among other emotions – I confess it without shame – was maternal pride. Ramses had displayed the qualities I might have expected from a descendant of the Emersons and the Peabodys. I might even have told him so had not Emerson begun showering him with profuse compliments. Ramses’ smug look as he sat there swinging his legs convinced me he had quite enough commendation.

‘You have done well, Ramses, but it is necessary to do better,’ I said. ‘We must get out of this chamber.’

‘Why?’ Emerson inquired. ‘If the passage is blocked, we can’t get out of the pyramid.’

‘For one thing, it is very damp here. Without a flannel belt, which you refuse to wear, there is the danger of catarrh.’

‘The danger of having one of the passageways fall in on us strikes me as more life-threatening, Peabody. We will be safer here, while we await rescue.’

‘We may wait a long time, Emerson. The cat Bastet will eventually return to the house, no doubt, but Ramses’ note may be lost before then.’

‘And also,’ Ramses added, ‘if we wish to apprehend de miscreants, we cannot wait. Dey are planning to leave at dawn. I heard dem say so.’

‘But if the passage is blocked – ’

‘Dere is anodder way out, Papa.’

‘I beg your pardon, Ramses?’

‘It leads to a vestibule beside de pyramid containing several subsidiary tombs of members of de royal family. It was de means by which I originally entered dis pyramid. And,’ Ramses added hastily, ‘if Mama will allow me to postpone de explanation of dat circumstance until a more propitious moment, we would be better employed in ascertaining whedder dat entrance is still open.’

‘Quite right, my boy.’ Emerson squared his shoulders and flexed his biceps. ‘Our first problem, then, is to find some object on which to stand. Your mama and I were about to begin that search when you – er – joined us.’

‘No, Emerson,’ I said. ‘We must first find the rope Ramses so carelessly let fall.’

‘But, Peabody – ’

‘Think, Emerson. We lacked, initially, three feet of height. Here is an object over three feet long.’ I indicated Ramses, who returned my gaze with an owlish stare.

‘Ha!’ Emerson cried. The echoes repeated the syllable in an eerie imitation of laughter. ‘Correct as always, my dear Peabody.’

Ramses’ offer of diving to look for the rope was unanimously refused. It did not take Emerson long to locate it. The rope, tied in a coil, had fallen straight down from the opening and sunk to the bottom of the mud, from which Emerson finally drew it. We could not dry it, but we rinsed off the worst of the slime, which would render it slippery and dangerous to climb. Then we once more formed our human ladder, with Ramses at the top. The procedure was almost laughably easy now. Ramses swarmed up our bodies with the agility of a monkey. Once his hands had closed over the rim of the hole, I was able to assist him by pushing on the most conveniently located portion of his anatomy, and he was soon in the passage.

It was then necessary for us to wait while Ramses lit the candle and attempted to locate some protruding stub of stone around which the rope could be tied; for it was clearly impossible for him to support my weight. This was the part of the business that worried me most. Given the decaying condition of the interior stonework, there was a danger that the wall might give way if excessive strain were put upon any of the stone that lined it. Unlike the larger pyramids of Dahshoor, this latter structure was not built of stone throughout, but of brick faced with stone. The shapelessness of the exterior demonstrated what could happen when the facing stones were removed.

I could hear the boy moving cautiously along the passage and was happy to note that he was taking his time in selecting a suitable support. Glad as I was to be leaving the burial chamber, I was somewhat disappointed that Emerson and I had been foiled in our hopes of exploring that room. We would never have the chance now.

Ramses finally announced that he had located a protruding stone he considered suitable. ‘It won’t stand much strain Mama,’ he called. ‘You will have to be quick.’

The section of rope that hung beside me twitched and wriggled, for all the world like a snake. Breathing a wordless prayer to whatever Deity guides our ends I seized the rope. Emerson flung me up as high as he could manage. For one long moment I hung supported only by the frail strand between my hands. I felt the line sag ominously; then my boot found a purchase, slight but sufficient, against the wall; my left hand closed over the edge of the opening; and after a brief but exciting scramble I drew myself into (temporary) safety.

I announced my success to Ramses and Emerson, both of whom replied with suitable congratulations. ‘You may give me the candle now, Ramses,’ I said.

He dropped it, of course. After I had retrieved it, and the matches, I struck a light and turned to examine the support he had found.

It was not an encouraging sight. Several of the stones in the lower portion of the wall had buckled under the pressure of the bricks beyond. Around one of the protruding edges Ramses had looped the rope
– faute de mieux,
as he might have said, for there was nothing else that would serve. I had depended on the rope as little as possible, but Emerson would have to use it for most of his ascent, and his weight was considerably greater than mine. There was a distinct possibility that the loosened block might be pulled completely out by the strain, which would not only precipitate Emerson back into the water but would bring the wall toppling down. I seriously considered asking him to remain below until we could fetch help. The only reason I did not do so was because I knew he would become bored with waiting and try to climb the rope anyway. He is not and has never been a patient man.