The Golden One (14 page)

There was no doubt in my mind that the unfortunate individual whose remains Ramses had found had been murdered. Was it only a coincidence that Jamil was still in the vicinity, resentful of the
men who had, as he claimed, robbed him of his fair share? Remembering the lazy, surly youth I had known, I found it hard to believe that Jamil was a killer. Someone was certainly guilty of
something, however, and it behooved us to take all possible precautions.

The last of the foothills dwindled and I saw before me the Theban plain, stretching out across desert and cultivation to the river. I made Emerson stop while we drank thirstily, finishing the
last of the water. He gave us no time to rest or converse, however.

‘If you want to reach home before dark, we had best be getting on,’ he said.

I patted my damp face daintily with my handkerchief. ‘There are still several hours of daylight left. Where are we?’

‘A mile or so from Medinet Habu.’ He gestured. ‘I thought we might go home by way of Deir el Medina, have a look round, see what – ’

‘Not today, Emerson.’ I knew Emerson’s little ‘look round’ and ‘mile or so’. The first could take up to three hours, the second might be two miles or
more. I continued somewhat acrimoniously, ‘Why didn’t we take this path when we went out? We could have brought the horses as far as Medinet Habu at least.’

‘Faster the other way.’ Emerson rubbed his chin and gave me a puzzled look. ‘You aren’t tired, are you?’

‘Good gracious, no,’ I said, with a hollow laugh.

I must give Emerson credit; his mile or so was in fact only a little more than a mile. The path soon widened into a fairly well trafficked road and before long I saw the towering pylons of the
temple of Ramses III. We were passing the gateway when a man emerged. He gave a start of surprise and came towards us.

‘Stop, Emerson,’ I ordered. ‘There is Cyrus.’

Emerson had seen him, of course. He had hoped he would not, but he was fairly caught. As Cyrus came hurrying up, Emerson burst into speech.

‘Still here? I was under the impression you left off at midday. I commend your ambition. I – er – ’

‘I took your little lecture to heart,’ Cyrus said. His voice had its usual soft drawl, but his expression was neither soft nor welcoming. ‘Gol-durn you, Emerson, where’ve
you been? Not at Deir el Medina, where you’re supposed to be; you’re coming from the wrong direction. Did you have the consarned audacity to warn me away from those queens’ tombs
and then go looking for them yourself, behind my back?’

The rest of the men had come straggling out of the temple, followed by Abu and Bertie. The latter immediately hastened towards us. Abu took one look at the flushed countenance of Emerson and the
scowling countenance of his employer, and discreetly vanished.

‘Good evening,’ Bertie said, removing his pith helmet. In the heat of exasperation Cyrus had, for once, neglected to do this. He remedied the omission at once and gave me a rather
sheepish look.

‘I beg your pardon, Amelia, and yours, Nefret. Guess I shouldn’t have got so riled up.’

‘Riled up?’ Bertie repeated. The Americanism sounded odd in his diffident, educated English voice. ‘What about? Is something the matter?’

‘No,’ Ramses said, as Nefret acknowledged Cyrus’s apology with a smile. ‘Two such old friends as Cyrus and my father would never have a serious falling-out about a
trivial matter.’

Emerson grinned and fumbled in his pockets. Any other man would have been searching for a handkerchief, to wipe the perspiration from his face, but Emerson never feels the heat and he can never
find his handkerchief anyhow. Taking out his pipe, he studied it with great satisfaction and began another search for his tobacco pouch.

‘Don’t do that now, Emerson,’ I ordered. ‘We must be getting home.’

‘May as well have the matter out,’ Emerson said. ‘Vandergelt has some justice on his side. Perhaps I should explain that we were not looking for new tombs, only investigating
that of the princesses.’

It wasn’t much of an apology, but, as Cyrus knew, it was a considerable concession for Emerson.

‘So what did you find?’ he demanded.

‘You’ll never guess,’ said Emerson, his keen blue eyes twinkling.

‘Now stop it this minute, Emerson,’ I exclaimed. ‘We will tell you all about it, Cyrus, but can’t we converse as we walk – or, even better, wait until we get home,
where we can be comfortable?’

Cyrus insisted I ride his mare, Queenie, and Bertie offered his mount to Nefret. She declined, but Jumana, who had had very little to say since the discovery of the body, was persuaded to
accept. Cyrus and Emerson walked along beside me, and Emerson gave Cyrus a condensed version of our activities. I regret to say that Cyrus’s first reaction was one of amusement.

‘Every year another dead body, as Abdullah used to say,’ he remarked with a chuckle.

‘Your frivolous attitude does not become you, Cyrus,’ I chided. ‘A man is dead – horribly murdered.’

‘You don’t know that,’ Emerson growled. ‘And even if he was, he probably had it coming to him. Let us have no more of your imaginative speculations, Amelia. Wait until
the others can join in before we discuss the matter further.’

Since I had been forbidden to talk, I proceeded to speculate.

By the time we reached the house, I had my conclusions well organized and was ready to express them; but Sennia was on the veranda, vocally annoyed because she had been left ‘alone’
all day with ‘nothing to do’. Clearly we could not discuss a grisly corpse, or the unpleasant speculations it aroused, in her presence.

‘Why don’t you wash your face and hands and put on one of your good frocks?’ I suggested. ‘You see Bertie and Mr Vandergelt are here; we will have a little party. Jumana,
please tell Fatima we have guests and – er – tidy yourself a bit.’

I knew it would take Sennia at least a quarter of an hour to primp; she was a vain little creature and loved parties. My excuse for dismissing Jumana was less convincing. The rest of us were as
much in need of tidying as she, but my inventiveness had given out, and I did not want her present when we discussed the possibility of her brother’s being a murderer.

Selim was no fool. His eyes followed the girl’s slim form as she retreated into the house. Then he looked at me. ‘Why did you send her away?’

‘Her brother is in Luxor,’ I said. ‘Jamil.’

‘Is it so?’ Selim’s eyes widened.

I repeated what Jumana had told us. ‘We intended to inform you – all of you – in due course, but in my opinion there was no reason to take his threats seriously. Our discovery
today casts a different light on the matter. Selim, you said you know who the corpse might be – er – might have been?’

Selim was slow to answer. He appeared to be brooding about something. ‘The wife of Abdul Hassan has been looking for him. He was one of the men who found the princesses’ tomb.’
Then he burst out, ‘Why did you not tell me that Jumana had seen Jamil and spoken with him?’

‘We didn’t find out until yesterday.’ Emerson does not like to be put on the defensive. He came back with a question of his own. ‘How is it that you had not heard of his
return, you, who are respected by all in Gurneh?’

‘Not by tomb robbers and thieves. There were rumours . . .’ Selim looked up, his jaw set. ‘I thought they were lies, or not important. I was wrong. I ask your
pardon.’

‘Now, now, Selim, no one is blaming you,’ I said soothingly. ‘Let us return to the point. I sent Jumana away because in my opinion she is not yet ready to accept the
possibility that her brother is a thoroughgoing villain and possibly a murderer. If he were directly accused by one of us, she might try to steal out of the house in order to warn him.’

‘I say,’ Bertie interrupted. ‘Here, I say . . .’ But he didn’t; indignation had rendered him incapable of reasoned speech.

‘No one is accusing her of anything except misplaced loyalty,’ I informed him. ‘Our principal concern is for her, Bertie, but we cannot dismiss the possibility that Jamil is
capable of violence against others – including us.’

‘That’s right.’ Cyrus, who had listened interestedly, lit one of his cheroots. ‘But, Amelia, I think you’ve gone a little overboard. Jamil never amounted to much. I
feel sorry for him if he’s fool enough to face the whole lot of us, not to mention Daoud.’

We were indeed an impressive group. My eyes followed those of Cyrus, from Emerson’s stalwart form to that of Ramses, who was leaning on the back of Nefret’s chair, lean and lithe as
a panther. Either of them would have been more than a match for Jamil. And so would I.

‘I believe we have covered the main points,’ I said. ‘Selim, you will speak with your kin and your friends in Gurneh; perhaps some of them will respond to direct threats
– questions, I mean to say. It only remains to inform Gargery of what is going on.’

‘Good Gad,’ said Emerson, his brow furrowing. ‘You don’t suppose there is any danger to Sennia, do you?’

‘I don’t know, Emerson, but I propose to take no chances. Fatima and Basima must be warned as well.’

It was agreed that we would return to the Valley of the Monkeys next day, after stopping at Gurneh to interrogate the family of the missing man and the other thieves. There was no time for
further discussion; Sennia bounced in and took command of the proceedings. She directed Ramses to take a seat on the settee so that she could sit beside him. Horus, who had followed close on her
heels, proceeded to spread his considerable bulk across the rest of the space, and Nefret had to find another chair, which she did without resentment. As she had once said to me, ‘She had
planned to marry him herself when she was older. A less amiable child wouldn’t tolerate me at all.’

Cyrus and Bertie did not linger long. Selim soon followed them; his grim expression indicated that he meant to make up for his failure, as he considered it, as soon as possible.

The sight of Sennia had reminded me that arrangements for her continuing education should not be long delayed. There was in Luxor an excellent girls’ school run by the American mission,
but to send her there presented insurmountable difficulties, in the shape of Emerson. The American ladies were worthy individuals, he did not deny that; however, religious instruction was part of
the curriculum, and Emerson does not hold with religion in any form. At my request he attempted to keep his heretical opinions to himself when Sennia was present, but if Sennia came home quoting
the Bible at us, sooner or later Emerson would crack under the strain.

There was now an additional reason for keeping her closer to home. Jamil’s threat had been directed against Ramses; but who could tell what form his malice would take?

So I interrupted Miss Sennia in the middle of a long peroration with the announcement that she would begin her schooling next day. She turned an indignant look on me and tossed her black curls.
‘But, Aunt Amelia, I have a great deal to do!’

‘You just now complained that you hadn’t enough to do,’ I retorted. ‘I have it all worked out. Mrs Vandergelt has kindly offered to tutor you in the basic subjects
– history (of England, that is), English grammar and composition, mathematics, and botany.’

‘Flowers?’ Sennia’s pretty little mouth drew up in a good imitation of Emerson’s sneer. ‘I don’t want to learn about boring flowers, Aunt Amelia, I want to
learn about animals and mummies and bones.’

‘Biology,’ I said. ‘Hmmm. Well, that will have to wait. Mrs Vandergelt prefers not to discuss mummies and bones.’

‘What about Aunt Nefret? She knows all about them.’ She fluttered her long lashes at Nefret, who grinned at this transparent flattery.

‘I don’t know how good a teacher I might be, Sennia, but I could try. Two or three lessons a week, perhaps.’

‘And when shall I take my lessons in hieroglyphs with Ramses?’ was the next question. The little witch had the entire curriculum worked out in her head and knew exactly how to get
her way. Emerson cravenly agreed to tutor her in ancient Egyptian history, and having settled the essentials to her satisfaction, Sennia kindly agreed to go to Katherine three days a week for the
less important subjects. She then settled down to make serious inroads on the tea cakes.

Jumana did not return. After Fatima announced that dinner was ready, I went looking for the girl. I found her in her room, her sleek black head bent over a book.

‘I am glad to see you applying yourself to your studies,’ I said, for I had observed that the book was the fourth volume of Emerson’s
History of Egypt
. ‘But you
must not be late to meals. Dinner will be served in a few minutes.’

Her long lashes veiled her eyes. ‘If you don’t mind, I would rather eat with Fatima and the others.’

‘I do mind, though,’ I said pleasantly but firmly. ‘You are a member of our archaeological staff. Do you wish to resign from that position?’

‘No. It is a privilege, an honour, to work with Ramses and the Father of Curses . . . and you,’ she added hastily.

‘Come along, then.’

‘Yes, Sitt Hakim. I will come at once.’

Naturally we did not discuss the body at dinner. Deteriorating corpses are not a suitable subject for conversation at the dinner table in any case, and Jumana’s behaviour reinforced my
doubts about her. She spoke only when she was spoken to, and she kept her eyes fixed on her plate. Even if she had not eavesdropped on our discussion – and I wouldn’t have put it past
her – she was too intelligent to miss the implications of our discovery. Jamil had more or less admitted to her that he had been involved with the looting of the princesses’ tomb, and
he had accused the others of cheating him. I considered asking her directly whether she and Jamil had arranged to meet again, but decided to wait and give her an opportunity to confess. Assuming,
that is, that she had anything to confess.

And, with any luck, Jamil would do something that would open her eyes – another murder, perhaps, or an attack on one of us.

The children excused themselves immediately after dinner, and I said I would go with them, since there were a few domestic matters with regard to the new house that I wanted to discuss with
them.