Lion in the Valley - Elizabeth Peters [40]
Quibell’s wide eyes shifted from Emerson, bareheaded under the baking sun, to me, and then to Ramses, who was giving the cat Bastet her daily lesson. “Heel, if you please,” he was saying, and the cat promptly fell in behind him.
But, as I have said, for all his blunt manners, Emerson has the kindest of hearts. After Selim had fetched the bottle of ipecacuanha, and a few other items I thought might be useful, Emerson told Quibell to call on us for anything he needed, and insisted upon lending him a donkey and an escort for the return trip. “Petrie thinks nothing of a six-mile walk,” he said, slapping the young man on the back with such friendly emphasis that he tottered. “Neither do I, of course. Do it all the time. But in your weakened condition . . . Are you sure you won’t rest awhile before returning? Mrs. Emerson would love to put you to bed and dose you.”
“Thank you, Professor, but I must return at once. I am not the only sufferer, and the others are awaiting relief.”
“Didn’t I hear there was a young lady with Professor Petrie this year?” I inquired.
A blush spread across Mr. Quibell’s cheeks. The addition of pink to the original green produced a remarkable tint, a sort of mottled puce. “There are three ladies, in fact,” he replied. “My sister and—er—two others. It is primarily on her—on their account that I came.”
Quibell trotted off, accompanied by one of our men. He really did look ill, and after he had vanished from sight I said to Emerson, “Perhaps I ought to go to Sakkara. When I think of the young ladies alone and ill—”
“Don’t be such a busybody, Amelia,” said my fond husband.
On the surface and in actual fact, Mr. Quibell’s visit was one of those casual incidents that often befall people in our situation. Yet it had consequences of the most dramatic nature, and Quibell himself, the innocent instigator of some of them, would have been as surprised as any of us at what ensued.
The aforesaid consequences did not occur until late in the afternoon. We had finished excavation for the day. Emerson was more determined than ever that he and I should camp near the pyramid instead of staying in the house. His arguments were persuasive, and I had returned with him to the site after tea to inspect the pit he had found.
In Upper Egypt, where the river has cut a deep channel through the sandstone of the plateau, many tombs are dug into the sides of the cliffs. Properly cleansed and swept, the empty chambers make admirable accommodations. I am speaking, of course, of the upper chambers of the tombs, those that served as chapels; for the burial chambers themselves were far back in the cliffs, sometimes at the bottom of deep shafts. Here in the north, the majority of the tombs were of the type known as mastabas, after the stone benches whose shape their superstructures resembled. When the superstructures survived, they could be converted into quite attractive dwelling places, but as yet we had discovered nothing of that sort. The pit Emerson had discovered was just that—a nasty hole in the ground.
However, I enjoyed wandering hand in hand with Emerson across the barren plain. My amiable mood was only slightly marred when Emerson kept insisting that all we needed was a scrap of canvas to stretch over his wretched hole. At the least we required tents, and tents I was determined to have. If the necessary materials could not be procured in Menyat Dahshoor, I would simply have to make a trip to Cairo.
We had climbed a ridge in order to get a better view, and perhaps to discern in the shapes of the lengthening shadows some feature of the landscape that had not been visible under the direct rays of the sun. As always, my eyes were drawn to the west, where the pyramid slopes had deepened into bronze against the sunset. Nothing moved on that vast empty plain, and there was no sound to be heard except that of our voices, which had, I fear, risen to a considerable pitch during our discussion about the tents. When we stopped speaking, it was not because we had come to an agreement, but because we both realized no