Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [89]
The escort fell in behind us as we passed along a corridor whose walls were prettily painted with geometric patterns in bright colors of orange-red and blue, green and yellow. I expected it would lead eventually to a terrace looking out over the valley; instead, after several abrupt turns, we found ourselves in a similar passageway lighted by hanging lamps. Here were scenes of feasting and entertainment—slender girl dancers and acrobats, musicians, tables piled high with food—scenes familiar in their subject matter from many such in Egyptian palaces and Cushite tombs. Emerson, who would normally have lingered, examining each detail, gave them not a glance, but walked so close on Amenislo’s heels that the count was forced to break into an undignified trot.
As I began to suspect—a suspicion which was later confirmed—we had been housed in apartments usually inhabited by princesses or queens, connected directly to the king’s apartments so he could visit the ladies without the inconvenience of going out-of-doors. We met only a few people—servants, by their dress—who flattened themselves against the wall and averted their gaze as we passed.
A square of sunlight ahead, where the corridor ended in a room open to the outer air, indicated that we had almost reached our goal. Amenislo stopped.
“No need to announce us,” said Emerson. “Here, Peabody, take my arm. Let us make a dignified entrance.”
Another group of soldiers, wearing uniforms like our four, fell back as we entered the throne room—not the imposing state throne room that we had seen before, but a smaller, brighter, less formal chamber. Painted papyriform columns supported the clerestory roof, and sunlight streamed in through the narrow openings above. At the far end, opposite the door through which we had come, was a raised dais, with several heavy curtains behind it. On the dais stood the throne, a chair with feet carved like lions’ paws and arms supported by carved scarabs and sun disks. It was entirely covered with gold leaf. Arranged in a semicircle before the dais were three smaller chairs of plain wood. The man who occupied the throne wore over his heavy black wig a diadem with the twin uraeus serpents of Cushite kingship. To one side, and slightly behind the throne, stood a younger man. I recognized him at once, though he was now richly dressed in the garments and ornaments of a prince. The man was Merasen.
The other man—the king—was not Tarek.
Though I was momentarily struck dumb by this discovery, I realized I ought to have been prepared for it. Tarek would have been the first to greet us had he been able. He must have lost his throne, through death or usurpation, and Merasen had deliberately deceived us. Even if Tarek had passed on after Merasen’s departure from the Holy City, there could be no innocent explanation for the theft of the map and the death of poor Ali.
As the truth dawned on my companions, I feared for a moment I would have to restrain two infuriated male persons instead of only Emerson. Ramses had never concealed his dislike of Merasen, but the emotion that darkened his features was a good deal stronger than dislike. I caught hold of his arm in a grip he could not break without hurting me and said urgently, “Ramses, no! Contain yourself.”
“He’s taken Nefret,” Ramses said. “That is why he brought us here, he wanted—”
“That may be so, but attacking a royal prince when the odds are heavily against you is not a sensible procedure.”
“Quite right,” said Emerson, in a voice like stone grating on stone. “I am surprised at you, Ramses. Let us hear what they have to say. Will you do the talking, my boy, and translate for us? I don’t want to miss a word.”
Ramses settled back on his heels, breathing hard. I was relieved to see that Emerson had risen to the occasion. He prefers not to control his temper, since shouting and shaking people relieve his mind, but when calm and cunning are required, he displays them. Usually.
Merasen stepped forward. Not a shadow of guilt clouded his smooth young brow and his smile was as guileless