Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [21]
“Yes, yes, Gargery, that’s all right. No harm was done. It is just rather strange.”
“He wanted to give her a little present,” Gargery insisted. “And the fun of finding it herself.”
“You believe he put it there?”
“He must have done, madam. It was low to the ground, where she could reach it without climbing, and buried only a few inches deep. Just there, madam.”
We had reached the bottom of the mound, and Sennia too was pointing. “There are lots of things sticking out,” she explained. “Mostly bits of stone and boring pottery.”
The statement was correct. Most excavators do not sift their fill. Emerson studied the side of the mound thoughtfully. “Quite right,” he said. “This is more interesting, isn’t it?”
“It has writing on it,” said Sennia. “So I knew it was important. Is it important?”
“Yes,” said Ramses. “And rather unusual. I’ve seen similar votive stelae, but most of them came from the Theban area. Do you think you could find the kind gentleman who gave—who showed you where to dig?”
We did not find the kind gentleman, though Emerson spent a good half hour trying. The description given by Sennia and Gargery would have fitted most of the guards—turbaned, bearded, wearing a galabeeyah and sandals.
From Manuscript H
It was not until the Friday following their arrival that Nefret was able to move their belongings to the Amelia. Fatima had had the dahabeeyah in spotless condition, all ready for them, but somehow it was never quite convenient to make the move. She had refused a number of well-meant offers to make their rooms at the house more comfortable, and, once she had carried her point, more well-meant offers to help her arrange furniture, hang pictures, and shelve books on the dahabeeyah. She wanted to do it herself, to transform the quarters which had belonged to various members of the family in turn into their quarters, their home.
Though it was the day of rest for the workers, Ramses had gone off to Giza with his father that morning. Just like a man—they hated the fuss and confusion of moving. She had scolded him a little, for the fun of it—he knew she was teasing, and she loved seeing his austere features relax into a smile and his eyes reflect her laughter—but she was happy to be alone.
For a while. Straightening, she rubbed her aching back and contemplated the piles of books littering the floor and the tables in the saloon. It was a large room in the bow of the boat, with a curved divan under the windows, and it would be quite charming once she had the cushions re-covered and the new curtains hung and the new rugs on the floor, and the books in their proper places on the shelves.
He ought to have been back by now. He had promised he would leave early, but getting away from Emerson when he had put you to work wasn’t easy, at least not for Emerson’s son. She had learned how to handle him, but she sometimes wondered if Ramses would ever be able to say no to his father and stick to it. She moved restlessly round the room, glancing out the window and moving a few more books, and then her eyes came to rest on the portrait of her mother-in-law that hung over the bookshelf.
It wasn’t the first time that day those painted eyes had held hers. David had done a wonderful job; his affection for his subject and his whimsical sense of humor made the portrait come alive. She stood looking squarely at the observer, parasol in hand, booted feet planted firmly on the sand. Behind her was a mélange of pyramids, camels, minarets, and the Theban cliffs—all of her beloved Egypt—framing her. The direct, steely gaze, and the little half-smile on her lips were Aunt Amelia to the life. Nefret loved the painting. She wondered how long she could stand having it there, staring at her, hour after hour and day after day.
Kneeling on the divan, she looked out the window. The Amelia was moored at the public dock not far from the house. The last steamer must