Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [201]
“And the help of our friends,” I said modestly.
“Yes, ma’am,” Bertie burst out. “And I take it most unkindly, if you will allow me to say so, that you wouldn’t let me—”
“We will let you take a hand next time,” I said.
“If there is a next time,” Bertie exclaimed.
“There will be,” said Emerson. “There always is.”
“Not this year,” I said, giving Katherine an encouraging nod.
“I trust not,” Emerson said, giving me a hard stare—as if the whole thing had been my fault! “We have enough to do as it is. We will have to stay on for a few weeks, Peabody—but not here,” he added hastily. “Wouldn’t want to put Katherine and Cyrus out. Can we evict poor old Yusuf—find him another house?”
“Leave it to me,” I said, waving aside Katherine’s polite protestations.
Cyrus was lost in wistful speculation. “You’ll let me help, won’t you? Closest I’ll ever come to a major find, I guess. I just don’t seem to have the luck. How long do you suppose that statue has been there?”
“Since 663 B.C.,” Ramses said.
“I say!” Bertie exclaimed. “That’s deuced clever. How can you be so precise?”
Ramses looked at his father. Humming tunelessly and off-key, Emerson reached for his pipe and returned his son’s deferential glance with one of expectant interest.
“I may be mistaken,” Ramses said, “but it is a reasonable guess. The rulership of Thebes changed many times over the years, from northern conquerers to Cushite kings to high priests, but they were all, even the Cushites—especially the Cushites—devout followers of the old gods. There was a certain amount of looting, I daresay, but the shrines would have been sacrosanct. Conquerers boasted of having restored the statues and the offerings. Then, ‘the Assyrians came down like a wolf on the fold.’ ”
“Poetry,” I murmured.
“Not only poetry, but Byron,” Ramses admitted. “That is how it must have been, though. ‘The sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea.’ For the first time in its long history, the city of Thebes was taken and sacked. ‘From Thebes I carried away loot rich and beyond measure; two obelisks cast of shining bronze . . .’ The Assyrians cared nothing for the gods. Among their booty were the furnishings of the temples and the divine statues—except one. How the priests got it away we will never know—”
“Unless there’s a papyrus or ostracon in there,” Cyrus broke in.
“That would be a find, wouldn’t it?” Ramses agreed. “Even more important than the statue in some ways. But it must have been a hurried, frantic job, with the Assyrians advancing—already on the east bank, perhaps—and they hoped to retrieve it one day. They must have been killed defending the city. All knowledge of the location was lost.”
“Until Jamil found it,” I said. “What will become of him?”
“What has become of him, you mean,” Emerson said. “Nefret cannot have wounded him seriously, or he would not have been able to take her horse and get clean away. We still don’t know how deeply he was involved. Kuentz isn’t talking. In a way, I hope the boy doesn’t come back. He would face a prison sentence at the very least, and that would bring disgrace on the whole family.”
It did seem likely, as we all agreed, that Jamil had been the original discoverer of the shrine; otherwise Kuentz would never have enlisted him as an ally. He had worked for Kuentz, among others; either Kuentz had caught him in the act or Jamil had had enough sense to realize that he could not dispose of the incredible find by himself, and guided, perhaps, by the instinct that allows one morally corrupt individual to recognize another, he had approached Kuentz.
Speculation could carry us no further, so we abandoned it for the nonce. A few more congratulatory speeches and a trifle more whiskey concluded the evening.
It was not until the following morning that I was able to arrange a conference that would, I expected, answer my remaining questions. It took place in Sethos’s sickroom. The only other persons present were our four selves, for the matters under discussion were of a nature that could not be disclosed to anyone