The Golden One (62 page)

Bertie overheard. ‘It was my fault, Mrs Emerson. I wanted to be sure before I told anyone. I didn’t mean to tell Jumana either, but I asked too many questions – about the
terrain here, and whether Jamil had explored this area – and she wrung it out of me.’

He turned to respond to Emerson, and Jumana said in a low voice, ‘He would have searched alone. It was too dangerous.’

‘It certainly would have been,’ I agreed. ‘I am surprised he allowed you to accompany him.’

‘He said I could not. So,’ said Jumana coolly, ‘I told him that you and Nefret do not let Ramses and the Professor stop you from doing what you want, and I was trying to be
like you. But you see why I could not speak before. He trusted me, and I had – I had been unkind and unfair to him.’

‘Ah,’ I said somewhat uneasily. ‘So you think well of him, do you?’

She met my eyes directly and with no sign of self-consciousness. ‘He is a good man. We are
friends, I hope.’

I hoped so too.

Watching Daoud knot the rope round Cyrus’s waist, I issued a final order. ‘Cyrus, stop at once and come back if the passage becomes too narrow or the ceiling looks
unstable or – ’

‘Sure, Amelia. Lower away, Daoud.’

‘You shouldn’t have allowed him to go first, Emerson,’ I scolded, as Cyrus’s body disappeared into the crevice.

‘My dear Peabody, how could I deprive him of a moment he has waited for his whole life? If he died in the attempt, he would die happy. That,’ Emerson added quickly, ‘was only a
figure of speech. Nothing is going to happen. But – er – well, perhaps I ought to follow him.’

‘Not with one arm, Emerson!’

‘They will have to lower me, that’s all,’ said Emerson, his chin protruding in a manner that made remonstrance useless. ‘We’ve another rope, haven’t
we?’

‘It will be a tight fit,’ Bertie warned. ‘There’s a roughish platform, about five feet square, with the passage going off into the cliff at a right angle. It’s
partially filled with – ’

‘Plenty of room,’ said Emerson, tossing one end of the rope to Selim and trying to knot the other end round his waist.

I said, ‘Oh, curse it,’ and tied the knot myself. Then I lay flat on the ground peering down into the crevice as Emerson was lowered.

With the rope anchored and held by both Selim and Ramses, I was not afraid Emerson would fall. I was afraid he would try to crawl into the narrow passage and get stuck like a cork in a bottle.
It was quite dark down there except for the limited light of Emerson’s torch. I could see very little, and the auditory sense was not of much help either, thanks to the echoes that distorted
every sound. The rope went loose and Emerson yelled something, and I let out a small exclamation.

‘It’s all right, Mother,’ Ramses said. ‘He’s reached the platform.’

‘He won’t be able to get through the passage,’ I muttered. ‘He’s twice the size of Jamil.’

‘He’ll get through,’ Ramses said, passing his sleeve over his perspiring face. ‘If he has to dig the fill out with his bare hands.
One
bare hand.’

I could hear him doing it. Loose rock began falling from the bottom of the cleft, rattling down the hillside. It slowed and stopped. After that there was nothing but silence, until a call from
Cyrus brought us all to our feet. Daoud seized the rope and pulled with all his might. As soon as Cyrus’s head appeared we fell on him and dragged him out.

‘Well?’ I cried.

Cyrus shook his head. His lips moved, but no words emerged. Tears ran down his face. His eyes were red-rimmed.

‘Dust,’ said my practical son. He handed Cyrus the water bottle, and then leaped for the other rope as it tightened. With Daoud’s help they soon had Emerson up; he hadn’t
even bothered tying the rope round his body, but was holding on with one hand. We hauled him over the edge and he staggered to his feet, blinking bloodshot eyes.

‘There are four coffins,’ he gasped. ‘Four. Four of everything, packed into that room from floor to ceiling and side to side. Four sets of canopic jars, four gold-inlaid boxes,
four funerary papyri, four hundred ushebtis, four thousand – ’

Cyrus began jumping up and down and waving his arms. ‘The God’s Wives,’ he bellowed. ‘Four! I never thought I’d live to see this day! If I were struck dead tonight,
I’d be the happiest man alive.’

‘No, you wouldn’t,’ I said, catching hold of him. ‘You would be dead. And you will be, if you fall off the cliff.’

I wanted to take Emerson home; he had ruined another shirt squeezing through those tight spaces, and banged his head, and scraped most of the skin off both hands and cracked the cast. Cyrus was
in little better case, but neither of them heard a word I said; they kept shouting enthusiastically at each other and shaking hands. I consigned them both to the devil (they didn’t hear that
either) and concluded I was entitled to satisfy my own curiosity.

We went down in turn, two at a time for safety’s sake: Jumana and Bertie, Ramses and I, Selim and Daoud. Emerson offered to take Nefret, but she said she believed she would wait. The
procedure was somewhat uncomfortable – crawling on hands and knees over rough fragments of stone, with dust choking one’s mouth and an occasional bat squeaking past overhead, but the
sight was so incredible I would not have wanted to miss it.

The opening of the chamber had been closed with mortared blocks. Jamil had removed the upper layers, stacking the stones along the passage, which made the last few feet something of a squeeze.
Looking in, I saw at first only a dazzle of gold. It was the end of an anthropoid coffin, inlaid with glass and semiprecious stones. Packed all around it were smaller objects: woven baskets,
caskets of ebony and cedar, tattered fragments of papyrus and linen. Jamil had rummaged through the smaller boxes, dragging out anything he could reach.

Cyrus’s long patient wait had been rewarded at last. This was another cache, like that of the royal mummies; loyal followers of the Adorers of the God had rescued them and their funerary
goods from tomb robbers, and hidden them away in this remote spot. Time and careless handling had destroyed some of the artifacts, but it was still one of the richest finds ever made in Egypt.

We could not even begin excavating the tomb chamber that day. The passage and the platform had to be completely cleared first and a method of stabilizing and removing the objects determined
upon. Needless to say, all work came to a standstill; the men danced and sang and cheered and Daoud told them all extravagant lies about the treasures in the chamber. It was necessary to make
arrangements for guards, by day and by night, for the news would spread like wildfire.

‘We might stop at Gurneh and have a word with Mohammed Hassan,’ I suggested. ‘A curse or two, perhaps?’

Emerson chuckled. ‘He will probably cry like a baby. Yes, I will point out the moral advantages of honesty. If he had not cheated Jamil, he’d have had a chance at this
tomb.’

‘It would have been a bit tricky,’ Ramses said. ‘Even if they worked only at night, they would have left traces of their activities, and we might have observed those signs.
That was why Jamil tried to lure us out into the western wadis. He wanted everyone away from Deir el Medina.’

Since the tomb must not be left unguarded for an instant, Daoud and several of the other men volunteered to stay until evening, when they would be relieved.

‘I suppose you plan to sleep here every night,’ I said to Cyrus.

‘Every night and every day till we can get a steel door in place. Jumping Jehoshaphat, Amelia, you don’t know what this means to me! Katherine! I’ve got to tell Katherine.
She’ll be so durned proud of this boy! And then,’ Cyrus went on, grinning fiendishly, ‘maybe I’ll just run over to Luxor and break the news to Joe Albion. I want to see his
face when he hears.’

We sent Selim off with a list of the equipment we would need, and dismissed the men for the day. A celebration was definitely in order; Cyrus had promised the greatest fantasia ever seen in
Luxor, but that would have to wait. Excitement and exertion had left everyone weary, and Bertie and Jumana both showed the effects of several sleepless nights. I instructed Bertie to go home and
rest.

We had an early night too. Tea and biscuits and Sennia’s excited questions revived Jumana temporarily, but I sent her off to bed immediately after dinner. Sennia would not go to bed until
Emerson promised to take her into the tomb.

‘Emerson, I absolutely forbid it,’ I exclaimed, after she had gone dancing off with Horus in her arms.

‘Oh, come, Peabody, don’t be a spoilsport. Ramses was in and out of worse places when he was her age. I won’t take her until we’ve made sure it’s safe.’ He
threw his napkin on the table and stood up. ‘I’m late. Vandergelt will be there already.’

‘Emerson,’ I said. ‘This is Cyrus’s tomb. He is in charge, not you.’

Emerson looked uncomfortable. ‘I suppose I am allowed to offer my expert advice?’

‘Not unless he asks for it. He is generously allowing you to participate, which is more than you ever did for him!’

‘Hmph,’ said Emerson, stroking his chin.

‘You might quite properly offer him the assistance of your staff,’ Ramses suggested.

‘Oh. Hmmm. Certainly. Including myself?’ He gave me a questioning look.

I pretended to consider. Emerson had really behaved quite well, for him. ‘If he asks you,’ I conceded.

‘He asked me to stand guard with him tonight.’

‘Then you may go.’

Emerson burst out laughing and gave me a bruising hug. ‘Thank you for giving me permission, my dear. Ramses, are you coming?’

‘No,’ I said, before Ramses could reply. ‘He won’t be needed. Nefret, you might have another look at his injury. In my opinion he overdid it today.’

‘It’s nice to have an evening to ourselves,’ she said.

‘Yes.’ He was prowling restlessly around the sitting room, picking up a book and putting it down, straightening a stack of papers. Hands folded in her lap, she watched him for a
while and then took a deep breath. Her heart was pounding.

‘I have something to tell you,’ she said.

He came to her at once, dropping to his knees in front of the chair and taking the hand she offered.

‘I wondered.’ His other hand came to rest lightly on her waist. ‘But I didn’t want to ask.’

‘Why not? You had every right.’

‘No, I hadn’t. When did you know? Nefret, look at me. Before Gaza?’

She might have equivocated, mentioned the various factors that made certainty difficult. She met his troubled gaze squarely. ‘Yes.’

‘And you risked that? That awful trip, the danger, the – ’

She took his face between her hands. ‘I knew it would be all right. I can’t tell you how I knew, but I did. I would have risked it anyhow. I want this very much, but you are the
dearest thing in the world to me. I let you go – I let you take the risk – but I’d have died of suspense waiting in Cairo. Oh, darling, aren’t you glad?’

‘Do you suppose I don’t feel the same about you? I’m beginning to understand what you went through, all those times when I was off on some bloody damned job without you. Glad?
I suppose I am. Will be. At this moment, I . . . I’m afraid, I think. I can’t take this risk for you. I can’t even share it.’

She had never seen tears in his eyes before. Her heart turned over. He hid his face against her and she held him, her arms tight around his bowed shoulders.

‘It’s too late to change our minds now,’ she murmured.

He let out a long breath and when he raised his head she saw again the boy she had loved so long without realizing how much she loved him. His eyes were bright with laughter and dawning joy.
‘Are you sure you’re prepared for this, Nefret? You’ve heard Mother’s stories. What if it turns out to be like me?’

The house was very quiet. I was alone, without even a cat to keep me company. Many duties awaited me, but for some reason I didn’t feel like tackling any of them. Seating
myself on the sofa, I found my sewing box and took out the crumpled scrap of linen.

The sitting room door opened. One look at their faces was all I needed. Hand in hand, they came to stand before me.

‘We wanted you to be the first to know, Mother,’ Nefret said.

I had to clear my throat before I could speak. I got out four words before my voice failed me. ‘Well! Naturally, I am . . .’

‘Oh, Mother, don’t cry.’ Nefret sat down beside me and put her arms round me. ‘You never cry.’

‘Nor will I mar the happiness of this moment by doing so,’ I assured her, somewhat huskily. I held out my hand to Ramses, who seated himself on my other side, let out a yelp, and
sprang up. He had sat on my embroidery.

We laughed until the tears came; they had not far to come. Returning to his seat, Ramses held up the miserable object.

‘She’s going to claim she has known for weeks. What
is
this, Mother?’

I wiped my eyes. ‘A – er – a bib. Babies dribble quite a lot. These blue bits are violets, and these . . . It is rather nasty-looking, isn’t it? I think the bloodstains
will wash out.’