Daughter of the God-King (15 page)

“‘
T
he
hundred-gated Thebes
,’” quoted Bing in reverent tones as she stood on the deck, shading her eyes against the bright sun. “Sacred city to countless generations of the ancients.”

The barge had docked at the wooden quay the night before and its passengers now prepared to disembark onto the embankment, which was enclosed by a gated palisade hewn from new wood. Observing it, Hattie noted, “It seems the dock here is more secure than the one in Cairo.”

“Of a necessity,” explained Hafez, who stood beside them. “Visitors must now register upon arrival and no one may depart absent a search of the vessel. Fortunately, the river is the only practical means of transportation and this allows us to control the comings and goings. We must do what we can to prevent the further depletion of my country’s treasures.”

With a nod of her head, Bing indicated the west bank on the opposite side of the wide river, the ruins of the Necropolis near the shore and the famed barren cliffs rising starkly in the background. “Edward said it was helpful that the only entrance to the Valley of the Kings is narrow—any other entry or exit is nearly impossible.”

Hattie held the brim of her straw hat pulled low over her eyes, and tilted her head back to contemplate the famous Necropolis across the Nile. That morning she had noted with some alarm that she was indeed so brown that she could be mistaken for an American Indian; it came from walking on the deck in the hopes of meeting up with Berry. Poor Bing, on the other hand, was deprived of her sun bonnet as it served as the hiding place for the senet board. “The tombs are beyond those cliffs in the back?”

Hafez nodded. “And within them—as Miss Bing indicates, there is a single narrow entrance to the Valley.” Leaning over, he pointed to explain the location on the opposite shore and Hattie was impressed—despite herself—by the sheer history of it.

Turning her gaze to the east bank, where they were now docked, Hattie asked the minister, “And Thebes is on this side?”

“Thebes is actually on both sides of the river; the town and the principal temples are on the east bank—where we are—and the west bank consists of the Necropolis and the tombs. Most of the government offices are here on the east bank, and I shall register with the local authorities so that they are aware of our presence.” On a somber note he added, “Ever since your parents disappeared there are additional precautions—the authorities wish to be informed of all visitors.”

Reminded, Hattie turned back toward the Valley of the Kings. “Where is the new tomb? Is it located near the tomb of Seti?”

“The princess’s tomb is the one nearest to the entrance—closest to the river. It was discovered almost by accident—a pile of rubble obscured the entrance and the tomb is not a large one. It is presumed that Seti’s tomb is nearby, but it has yet to be discovered.”

“Her tomb is most unusual,” noted Bing. “The queens and princesses were normally buried in the Valley of the Queens, which is opposite to the Valley of the Kings and nowhere near as grand.”

Hafez agreed. “It is theorized that Seti the Great could not bear to have his beloved daughter so far removed from him in death.”

How gratifying—to be a cherished daughter, Hattie thought with a pang, then quickly diverted her thoughts by looking about her for Berry; they had made a plan to rifle the sarcophagus and secure the missing disk first thing this morning. Hopefully it would be apparent upon opening; Hattie was uneasy with the idea of disturbing the mummified princess. However, instead of Berry she observed the Cantons, coming their way to bid them goodbye before they caught another vessel for Abu Simbel, further up the river.

Shaking hands, Mr. Canton said in his hearty manner, “Good luck, Miss Blackhouse—perhaps we shall return to Cairo together at the conclusion of our respective visits.”

“I would enjoy it very much,” said Hattie politely.

With a meaningful look, the bluff man added, “Our oldest son is a likely lad—perhaps you will permit him to call upon you once you are back in England.”

“Frederick,” remonstrated his embarrassed wife. “I beg your pardon, Miss Blackhouse—pay no attention to my husband’s schemings.”

The man laughed good-naturedly. “Can’t blame me—imagine sitting down to the Christmas goose with the Blackhouses—I couldn’t ask for more in life.”

Hattie laughed also, to show she wasn’t offended. Best not to mention she had never sat down to the Christmas goose with the Blackhouses, either—Christmas was instead a merry affair spent at the busy Tremaine household with Robbie and his family. Hattie had a strong premonition, however, that her next Christmas would be spent elsewhere—the exact location as yet unknown. With defiance, she lifted her face to the sun, unable to suppress her happiness. I decided to seize hold of my life, she thought, and instead my life seized hold of me.

As the Cantons waved and left them, Berry joined the party on deck. Watching him, Hattie thought he seemed a bit preoccupied. “Is all in train?” she asked in a low voice as he stood between Hattie and Bing. They had decided that Bing would distract the minister once they were at the tomb so that she and Berry were left in the inner chamber with the sarcophagus. As an excuse, Hattie was to pretend to sketch the interior, which was truly a deceit—Hattie was no artist. Berry had at first been reluctant to allow her to participate in the tomb-raiding scheme but she had insisted. “It is my inheritance, after all,” she had said in front of Bing, and so he had been outmaneuvered.

“Yes—do you have your sketchbook?”

It was actually Bing’s sketchbook as Hattie would have scorned such an accessory, but she nodded nonetheless. Glancing around to see that no one was within earshot, she asked a question that had occurred to her last night. “Did you have an opportunity to translate the Napoleonic cipher on my disk? Perhaps it is a second source, so to speak, and we needn’t disentomb the miserable princess.”

“Yes—but it was not helpful; the words on your disk refer the reader to the senet board, and since we are already aware of the senet board’s existence it proved of little help.” Bending his head, he met her eyes and addressed her in a very serious tone. “Now that we are to travel on land you must stay close to me at all times. Do not speak to any strangers—I will have your promise on this, Hattie.”

Hattie nodded, her expression somber for a moment—it was easy to forget that opposing forces were intensely interested in the secret chamber and by extension, in what she knew.

Reading her thoughts, he added. “You will be kept safe. I will see to it.”

Eugenie drifted up beside them in a cloud of perfume and Berry gave her a severe glance. “You must not cause trouble, Eugenie—I will send you home.”

“Bah,” the other girl exclaimed in disgust. “Who would believe such a rich man would have such a cheap watch?”

“Did you return it?”

Her pretty bosom rose as she sighed with regret. “But of course—I do as you say.”

Hattie inferred that Mr. Canton had been her unknowing victim and was intrigued. “How did you manage to get close enough?”

Eugenie gave her an arch look, the implication of which Hattie found a bit shocking but Berry forestalled any further explanation. “You are not getting close enough where you need to.” He threw a meaningful glance back at Hafez, who was standing next to Bing and conversing with her in an animated fashion as he gestured toward the landmarks on shore.

Eugenie pouted and protested, “What am I to do?” She shook her head in exasperation. “A very strange man, that.”

Hiding a smile, Hattie suggested, “You can lead a horse to water but you cannot make him drink.”

“
Eh
bien
,” Eugenie nodded her head emphatically. “He does not wish to drink the water.”

“Make him thirsty,” Berry ordered her.

Eugenie tossed her head toward Hattie. “Perhaps this one should make the attempt—if she is so
irresistable
.”

“I cannot hold a candle to Bing, I’m afraid,” Hattie demurred. She could almost sympathize; it must seem incomprehensible to the beautiful girl that both Berry and Hafez had other preferences.

“Go,” directed Berry. As Eugenie turned with a flounce to join Bing and Hafez, Berry asked Hattie, “Where is Smithson? He could be of use.”

Hattie blinked, as this seemed a
non
sequitur
. “How so?”

“There is an attraction, there,” he explained, as though to a child.

Hattie stared at him. “Bing and Smithson? For the love of heaven—that woman is a
siren
.”

But her sally earned her only a perfunctory smile as he watched the others. Deciding she may as well ask, Hattie ventured, “What is Eugenie supposed to discover?”

Having no real expectation he would tell her, she was surprised when he replied, “There are the French, there are the British, and then there are the minister and his allies.”

So—another potential enemy. “Perhaps he merely seeks to secure his country and its treasures against the others.” In Hattie’s opinion, Hafez truly did not seem to represent a hazard.

“He is dangerous because he is uncertain—I believe it was he who sent the man who was in your room that night.”

Hattie blinked. “Why—I assumed it was the French; after all, it is the French who seek the cache.”

“No, it was not the French who sent the intruder,” he said with certainty. “Which leaves the minister, in league with your parents’ solicitor.” He paused. “And possibly Monsieur Auguste, when he yet lived.”

Hattie looked at him in alarm. “If that was the alliance, then Hafez is the only one left alive. It is indeed ominous—small wonder if he is nervous.”

Berry nodded. “Which is why he is dangerous.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, thinking it over. “Why don’t you believe it was the French who came after me…?”

“Hush, Hattie. Tell no one.” The words were barely out before Robbie joined them, his gaze meeting Hattie’s with a warning at finding her deep in conversation with Berry. He casually took her elbow to turn her toward himself. “Hallo, Hattie; monsieur.”

After greetings were exchanged, Robbie deliberately addressed only Hattie. “Should we tour the Necropolis, Hattie? Although I’ll wager it isn’t half as fearsome as the Devere family cemetery was on a certain occasion.”

“Don’t remind me,” she laughed. “But I am slated to tour my parents’ last excavation with the minister this morning.”

“Perhaps I shall join you, then.”

“Please,” Berry interjected. “I am certain the minister would be grateful for any assistance.”

“Indeed,” agreed Hattie, thinking this was the last thing they wanted but willing to cooperate if Berry didn’t mind. “Do join us, Robbie.”

Berry expressed his desire to make final arrangements and then excused himself, and Robbie’s gaze held a gleam of amusement as the other man left. “For all of his sobriety, I believe he has a
tendre
for you, Hattie—have a care you do not trifle with his heart.”

“I am no trifler,” she protested in a mild tone, and left it at that. Robbie would discover soon enough how matters stood and it would be his turn to suffer a shock. Thank heaven for his faux betrothal; in retrospect, the late Madame Auguste had done her an enormous favor—Hattie would have never climbed out the window, else.

A short time later, the party assembled on the gangway to disembark for the tomb. Hattie noted that Robbie was not present, and asked Berry in a low aside, “Confess; what have you done with the poor man?”

“I imagine he has been delayed.” He met her eye. “He is a thirsty horse.”

Sighing, she shook her head. “Poor Eugenie is doing yeoman’s work—I hope you are paying her well.”

But Berry was unsympathetic. “It is no hardship for such as she.” Taking her arm, he led her down the wooden planks to the embankment. “He will want to join up with us, so we had best go quickly.”

Accompanied by Bing and Hafez, they hired transport across the river in a
felucca
, one of the small sailing vessels that ferried residents and visitors alike across the Nile. Hattie had remembered her hat, and the veil attached to it fluttered in the breeze as the waterman navigated the boat to the west shore of the river, using the current to make the crossing as he skillfully plied the rudder. As they approached the opposite shore, Hattie contemplated the barren cliffs and thought, we are finally to meet—the princess and me—and at last I will see one of the famed Blackhouse excavations; I wish that I could muster some enthusiasm for either. She glanced at Berry to find his gaze upon her, and she had the brief impression he was worried, even though he gave no outward sign. With a pang, she remembered that her own petty concerns were as nothing compared to his concerns, which were to avert the next war. She smiled in encouragement and saw his face soften as he moved to sit beside her.

“When we pass through the town, it would be best to keep your veil over your face—I would like to avoid attention.”

“Shouldn’t I speak to the native workers—appeal to them?” It seemed unlikely that she could obscure her identity if this was the plan.

“Not today,” he explained. “I must make some inquiries, first.”

She nodded. “What are we to do once we find the secret chamber?” It had occurred to her that if he didn’t quite trust the British or the Egyptians, he was running out of candidates with whom to secure the cache—certainly they were not going to carry it away themselves.

“We shall see,” was all he said, and she shot him a look so that he was aware she knew he was withholding information from her.

“It is a delicate business,” he explained by way of apology. “We must await events.”

I trust him—I do, she thought, as she looked away toward the approaching west bank. But I cannot help but wish that I had more answers and fewer questions.

Once landed, they procured a transportation cart that was little more than a wagon with benches lining the interior. The carts served as the principal means of transportation for tourists and were commanded by local boys who were constantly flicking their sticks over the backs of the placid donkeys with little perceivable effect. A slow but steady progress was made past the Colossi that guarded the Necropolis and then they entered the Valley of the Kings, the winding dusty road all that was left of the watercourse that had existed unnumbered years ago. The legendary valley was a fantastic sight—devoid of any life form, the landscape consisting entirely of rubble and rock as far as the eye could see. The entrances to several tombs could be observed in the distance, marked by crude scaffolding and equipment at each site. The area had attracted European interest when Napoleon, fresh from his conquest of Egypt, had sent French explorers to conduct a survey of the area and as a result of this heightened interest, at least twenty more tombs had been recently discovered. As there were over three hundred known pharaohs, it seemed likely that many more would be unearthed; there was an intense worldwide interest in the excavations and Egyptian-themed furniture was all the rage—everywhere except the Blackhouse manor in Cornwall, which Bing had learned to her disappointment.

They soon pulled to a stop; as Hafez had indicated, the tomb of the god-king’s daughter had been discovered by accident and relatively close to the narrow entrance to the Valley of the Kings, cleft in the bedrock. The unlooked-for presence of the princess lent credence to the theory that there were more tombs in the immediate area—including that of the great Seti himself—and the find had inspired other Egyptologists to carefully survey the area for clues. They could be seen scattered along the high cliffs, wearing broad hats and tapping the rocks and crevices with long slender poles, their native guides alongside them. Hattie contemplated the topography, and decided it was an excellent place to store weapons and treasure that may be needed at a moment’s notice—the area was desolate and yet was relatively close to the river.

The entrance to the hillside excavation was cordoned off and manned by two armed guards who were seated in the shade of a small makeshift awning. While the ladies remained in the cart beneath their parasols, Berry and Hafez approached the guards and presented their
bona
fides
. The moment that the gentlemen made reference to Hattie became evident as both guards looked her way with interest.

“I am infamous,” Hattie remarked with a sigh.

Bing could not disagree. “It is a compelling story and some curiosity is to be expected. You are a sympathetic figure.”

Hattie remembered what had happened outside the consulate. “I hope they do not recognize my supposed likeness to the princess—they will expect me to raise the level of the Nile or some such thing.”

“They do not appear credulous,” Bing remarked. “And they wear British uniforms.”

The two men returned to escort the ladies to the tomb, having secured the permission of the guards. Hafez was red-faced and unhappy and the nature of his complaint soon emerged.

“…it is an insult and I shall make a complaint through diplomatic channels.”

Berry soothed him, “I imagine there is a concern for Mademoiselle Blackhouse’s safety—it is unknown as yet what has happened to her parents, or who was responsible.”

“Nonetheless,” the other exclaimed angrily. “I should have been consulted.”

“Why, what has happened, Mr. Hafez?” Bing touched his sleeve in sympathy.

“The consul has stationed British guards here in place of the usual ones.” He bowed his head to Hattie in apology. “I mean no offense to you, Miss Blackhouse—but it must be remembered your parents had no claim to the tomb itself, and neither does the English king.”

“I quite understand,” she soothed, and did not look at Berry. “It is indeed an affront to you, and you are ill-served.”

Her mild outrage seemed to mollify the minister. “Exactly so—an affront.”

“I can’t imagine the soldiers would think to countermand you—after all, you serve the viceroy.” Unspoken was the addendum that as matters stood, it was not a calamity, perhaps, to ingratiate the British.

On reflection, Hafez appeared to come to the same conclusion. “True,” he agreed. Drawing a sigh, he shook his head. “I must apologize; I am beset by troubles and should not have lost my temper.”

“Small blame to you,” offered Bing. “It is as though your poor country is the prize in a tug-of-war, and you are merely a bystander.”

Only the stakes are not at all like the children’s game, thought Hattie. Too many have died, and I imagine more are slated to die before it is all over. Gazing around her at the tombs, she wondered if anything had changed over the millennia, and very much doubted it. It seemed there would always be conquerors and those who resisted them—and the bloody havoc that was the certain result.

“Shall we go inside?” Berry was apparently not as interested in human nature and its historical ramifications as he was in securing the missing disk from the body of the mummified princess.

The gentlemen assisted the ladies up the crude wooden steps that had been applied to the hillside to expedite access to the tomb. A narrow entryway hewn into the rock was revealed at the crest, and several wooden signs were posted; one contained a warning in several languages, including English. Normally, the tomb entrances were fashioned on a downhill slope but this one was unusual in that it was located on a hillside. As a result, the rubble of the excavation had been cleared out a smoot hole to the side of the entry and a long cascade of discarded rocks and rubble sloped down the hill.

One sign warned of severe penalties for trespassing and another indicated the tomb was presumably that of Seti’s daughter. Hattie found it unfair that history defined the princess only by whose daughter she was—the slight was one well familiar to her. “Isn’t there a record of her name somewhere?”

“Seti had many daughters and her name is as yet unknown,” Hafez explained. “We are hopeful that soon we can make a determination based upon the hieroglyphics in the chamber. What we can translate, however, refers to the pharaoh’s ‘hidden treasure.’ It is possible that the description is actually a form of her name but we are not yet certain.”

“A devotion that transcends time,” Bing observed. “Most touching.”

Hafez gestured to another wooden sign, this one written in Arabic. “A warning to tomb raiders of the terrible punishment that will be imposed,” he explained. “It also warns of the curse—and those who have died—for added menace. The thieves are almost impossible to thwart, but we must make the attempt—otherwise, if there are rumors of treasure the guards will be attacked.”

At the mention of the curse, Hattie was suddenly reminded that this visit could not be an easy one for Bing. Taking her companion’s hand, she offered, “If you’d rather wait outside, Bing, I will wait with you.”

But the other woman only shook her head. “No, Hathor—Edward lived for this and he died for it, also. I hold no resentment, and would very much like to see what is inside.”

Berry lit a lantern, and the party stepped inside the tomb of the god-king’s daughter.