Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [193]
It took Emerson awhile to catch us up, though I expect the mare, encouraged by Emerson’s pleas and curses, had not moved so quickly in years. We went on at as rapid a pace as the placid beast could manage. Even in the extremity of passion Emerson would never mistreat an animal, but he was livid with annoyance when we reached Deir el Bahri, and he started up the path toward the cliff without waiting for the rest of us.
Ramses was not there. It had not been very long since he left, I told myself. Nevertheless I felt a faint quiver of uneasiness. Our best-laid plans had already gone agley (to quote Mr. Burns). Had some other unforeseen catastrophe occurred?
Vague forebodings should not be a guide to action, I reminded myself. Ramses would come when he was able, and he was aware of the path we meant to follow. My first duty was to my impetuous spouse. We left the horses with one of the gaffirs and hastened after him.
I had to stop occasionally to catch my breath, for it was all uphill and over rocky terrain. The hour was still early but the shadows were shortening and the morning chill had left the air. I had braced myself for a long exhausting walk—or climb, rather—with no promise of success at the end of it, but soon after we had passed the spot where the body had fallen, I heard voices and the sounds of activity ahead.
“Hurry!” I cried, for one of the voices had been Emerson’s, raised in a vehement curse. Scrambling over loose scree, we made our way around a rocky spur and stopped, thunderstruck at what we beheld.
It was no wonder Kuentz had been reluctant to open the tomb. The place was within a few hundred yards of the busy bay of Deir el Bahri and only a short distance from one of the paths that crossed this part of the gebel. It lay in a shallow declivity; from where Kuentz stood, his rifle aimed at Emerson, he was protected on three sides. Behind him, half a dozen men were at work, furiously digging away a heap of stony debris. We had indeed underestimated his manpower. We had also been wrong about the location of the tomb. It was not high in the cliff, but at its base, like the royal cache.
I was too short of breath to speak, so Emerson got in first. “Go back, Peabody.”
“I’m afraid I cannot allow that,” Kuentz said jovially. “Come ahead, Mrs. Emerson, and stand by your husband. Daoud and Selim too.”
Daoud looked hopefully at me. I took hold of his arm. “We must do as he says, Daoud. He would kill Emerson first.”
“Ah.” Daoud nodded sagely. “It is true. You will make a plan, Sitt, and tell us what to do.”
I sincerely hoped I could. At the moment nothing occurred to me.
“You may as well make yourselves comfortable,” Kuentz remarked as we joined Emerson. “This will take awhile. Sit down.”
Seated, we presented less of a threat. I was afraid I would have to lecture Emerson about the advisability of obeying the orders of a man with a rifle, but he had got over his annoyance and was watching Kuentz with cold calculation.
Shakespeare notwithstanding, a lean and hungry-looking villain is no more dangerous than one who laughs too much. Kuentz’s broad smile and easy stance aroused the direst of forebodings. The brown hair that covered his hands and forearms, and showed at the neckline of his shirt, gave him the look of a loup-garou halfway through the transformation.
“You cannot hope to succeed in this endeavor, Mr. Kuentz,” I said. “Reinforcements are on the way. Your rival lives, and the three men you sent to murder him are dead or prisoners.”
He was not as cool as he pretended. His smile lengthened into a snarl and the barrel of the rifle shifted toward me. Then he shrugged. “You are probably lying. Even if you are not, it is of no consequence. Your reinforcements, if they exist, wouldn’t dare attack while I hold you at gunpoint.”
“No doubt, but how long can you do that?” I asked. “Clearing an entire tomb will take—”
“Tomb?” Kuentz let out a guffaw. “You are in for a surprise, my friends.”
“Not a tomb? What is it, then?” I asked. Emerson gave me a sour look. He was also burning with curiosity,