Read The Hippopotamus Pool Online
Authors: Elizabeth Peters
Tags: #Mystery & Detective - General, #Detective, #Detective and mystery stories, #Mystery & Detective, #Mystery, #Fiction - Mystery, #General, #Egypt, #Suspense, #Women Sleuths, #Historical, #Large Type Books, #Fiction
The Hippopotamus Pool (48 page)
Emerson took his pipe from his mouth. The stem was quite badly chewed. "Defile?" he suggested, with deceptive mildness. "Just the other day, Peabody, you denied that the queen would have taken a commoner as her lover."
"You misunderstood me, my dear," I replied.
"Oh, good Gad!" Emerson exclaimed.
"Think it through," I insisted. "The king of Egypt—whether male or female—was divine, engendered by a god, but I don't doubt that the ancient Egyptians followed the same unfair double standard that prevails today. It was perfectly acceptable for a king to have as many concubines as he could manage, but a commoner who—er—had intimate relations with the queen would not enjoy a long life—unless the queen was also a king, who could protect her favorite! Once that protection was removed, the sinner met the fate prescribed for those who had violated religious and state law. But— and this, I think, is the conclusive argument ... if I can think how to put it ..."
"Of course!" Nefret exclaimed. "He had partaken of her divinity!"
"That," said Ramses in a peculiar voice, "is certainly one way of putting it."
"A very proper way of putting it," I said, nodding gratefully at Nefret. "That relationship imbued his physical remains with a certain sanctity; they could not be utterly destroyed. Yet they were also accursed, and that is why Thutmose removed Tetisheri from her resting place, lest she be contaminated by contact with them."
"You have it," Nefret cried. "Brilliant, Aunt Amelia! Who else could it have been but Senmut?"
"Who else?" Emerson repeated musingly. "Any one of—let me hazard a guess—five hundred princes, priests and high officials who were living at that time. Confound it, Peabody, you don't even know for certain when the fellow died! Mummification techniques are of no use in dating him, since he was not mummified! Five hundred be damned! Five thousand is more like it!"
"I am in complete agreement with Amelia," Evelyn said firmly. "Senmut is the most logical candidate."
Walter, who had opened his mouth, closed it again. Finding no support in that quarter, Emerson looked hopefully at his son. "You follow my reasoning, Ramses?"
Ramses's expressionless black eyes moved from Evelyn to Nefret to me. "Yes, Father, I do. However, I believe Mother has made a strong case. Hmmm. Yes. On the whole, I agree with her."
We sailed from Alexandria on the thirtieth, and I must say it was pleasant to feel the sea breezes after the extreme heat of April in Upper Egypt. It was also pleasant to have several able-bodied adults (not to mention David and Nefret) looking after Ramses, instead of being solely responsible for him. Terrible things happened when Ramses was on board a ship. Evelyn and Walter had agreed to come out with us again next year; they would collaborate on reproducing the decorations of the tomb, Evelyn doing the artwork and Walter copying the inscriptions.
Emerson and I were strolling the deck one afternoon shortly after our departure when I observed that a frown darkened the smooth surface of' his noble brow.
"Unburden yourself," I urged. "You are not worried about the tomb, I hope? Riccetti is safely tucked away in a prison cell and his henchmen are incarcerated or have fled; Miss Marmaduke will remain in Dr. Willoughby's care until she is recovered from her nervous collapse; and after the lecture you gave her, Layla will not dare interfere with us again. You let her off too easily, Emerson. Women always know how to get round you."
"And what would you have done with her?" Emerson demanded. "We had not a shred of proof that she was criminally involved. If you had not let Bertha get away—"
"You would have done the same."
"Hmph," said Emerson.
"Proving her complicity would have been difficult. Her sisters in crime were, and if Layla is any example, still are, loyal to her. Perhaps," I said musingly, "the tender influences of motherhood will soften her and turn her from evil to good."
"Hmph," said Emerson, even more emphatically.
"At any rate we needn't worry about her for the immediate future, and the tomb is as secure as we could make it. Abdullah and the others will guard it well."
"It is Abdullah I was thinking about," Emerson admitted. "I don't doubt he and the men will keep careful guard. But he is getting old, Peabody. One of these days I will have to bully him into retiring before he injures himself. I can't think how to do it without hurting his feelings."
"If you replaced him with one of his sons—"
"They are all good men, but none has the necessary quality of leadership. I had thought of training David to take his place."
"Why not?"
Emerson stopped and turned, leaning against the rail. "Because the boy is too good for the job. There are others like him in Egypt, but there is no chance for them, not so long as our ignorant English prejudices keep them from being properly educated. We can give David that chance."
"And we will!" I cried. "Emerson, I am with you heart and soul. Evelyn and Walter will feel the same."
"I have already mentioned the possibility to Walter." Emerson added with a laugh, "He proposed starting to teach the boy hieroglyphs this summer while David is staying with them. I imagine Evelyn has other schemes in mind."
"It would be better for him to learn to read and write English first," I agreed. "Ramses will see to that; he has set aside four hours a day for lessons."
Emerson offered me his arm and we walked on. "Peabody, I have a bone to pick with you."
Oh dear, I thought. Now what? There were a few minor matters I had kept from Emerson, for his own good. Which of them had he discovered?
"It hurt me deeply," Emerson declared, "when you reproached me for not purchasing the little statue of Tetisheri for you."
"Oh, that," I said, trying not to sound too relieved. "I was only joking, my dear."
"Hmph," said Emerson. "My dear Peabody, have I ever thwarted a desire of yours? Have I ever failed to anticipate and satisfy your slightest wish?"
"Well, Emerson, since you ask—"
"I had a damned good reason for not buying that statue, and it had nothing to do with my principles. I have sacrificed them often enough for you, my dear."
"What reason, Emerson?"
"It was a forgery, Peabody."
It was I who stopped this time, catching hold of his shirt and forcing him to face me. "One of Hamed's copies, do you mean? The one you saw at the antika shop ten years ago? The one Mr. Budge bought for ... Emerson! Are you telling me that the statue in the British Museum is a fake, and that you have always known it? Why haven't you informed them?"
"Why should I? They are enamored of Budge and his brilliant coups. One day someone—myself, if I so decide—will enlighten them, and Budge will look almost as foolish as he really is." Emerson's eyes glowed sapphire with anticipatory pleasure. "Who knows, we may be able to unearth the original. Wouldn't that do Budge one in the eye?"
It was impossible not to share his boyish amusement. We enjoyed a hearty laugh together, and then I glanced at my lapel watch.
"Goodness gracious, it is almost teatime. Let us collect the children. I promised I would read them my little fairy tale."
"Oh, so you have finished the hippopotamus story?" Emerson took my arm and we strolled toward the stairs. "How, if I may ask? There is only a small part of the original remaining."
"It is only conjecture," I said modestly. "However, I believe it is psychologically sound. I refer to ancient Egyptian psychology, of course "
"Of course," said Emerson, smiling.
"You remember where the original leaves off—with the king and his courtiers at a loss as to how to reply to the insulting demand that they slaughter the bellowing hippopotami? Yes. Well, as they sit in baffled silence, up from her throne rises the king's mother, the dowager queen Tetisheri, the wise, the revered one, and addresses the arrogant messenger in ringing tones. I have composed rather a nice little speech for her; I modeled it on one of Queen Elizabeth's addresses to her troops before the arrival of the Armada."
"An excellent model," said Emerson.
"I had to change some of the wording, naturally. 'Servant of the Evil One, be gone,' Tetisheri cries. 'Our hippopotami will eat up the crocodiles of Set!' Inspired by her courage, her son also defies the messenger. The tale ends with the Egyptian armies setting forth, trumpets blaring and pennants flying, to drive the invaders from the sacred soil of Egypt."
"That would be a good place to end it," Emerson agreed gravely. "In view of the fact that her son lost his life in the ensuing battle, and most probably lost the battle as well."
"I thought that would be too depressing—and not at all in keeping with ancient Egyptian psychology."
"Have I mentioned recently that I adore you, Peabody?"
"I never tire of hearing it, my dear. Now, Emerson, don't do that; not just now. There is Ramses's room, and ... and someone in the room is screaming! Good heavens, what an unearthly sound!"
I hastened toward the door, but before I reached it I beheld Ramses coming toward me from the far end of the corridor. His shadow—I refer to David—was close on his heels.
"Ramses!" I cried, tugging at the handle. "Unlock this door at once. What on earth is going on in there?"
Ramses, visibly perturbed, began rummaging in his pockets. "Anubis must have crept in while I was not looking. That is Bastet's voice. She is very angry."
"Er—Peabody," said Emerson, behind me.
"How could you have been so careless!" I cried, snatching the key from Ramses. "They despise one another! They are fighting. They—"
I flung the door open and stood transfixed.
"They are not," said Emerson, "fighting. Close the door, Peabody. Even a cat is deserving of privacy at a time like this."
So I did.
