Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [73]
“No, but feel free to go on doing that. By the way, I keep forgetting to ask—has there been anything of interest in the post?”
“Not much.”
“Nothing from Mother?”
“Oh, yes. But it was just family news. Turn over and I’ll rub your back.”
“It’s not my back that needs to be rubbed,” Ramses muttered, rolling over. Nefret burst out laughing. He turned his head to look at her in surprise, and then laughed too. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
“No? Well, we’ll see.” She pulled his shirt up and slid her hands slowly along his ribs, pressing lightly.
“What did Mother have to say?” he asked.
“Close your eyes and relax.”
“I’m practically comatose already. At least I was until you started doing that . . . Did she say something rude about me, is that why you don’t want to tell me?”
“Goodness, but you have a one-track mind. I was just trying to remember. Let me see . . . Sennia is enjoying school; Mother has settled the controversy between Gargery and Fatima—they’re taking turns—and she is annoyed because the Professor won’t let her investigate the queens’ pyramids. She had just received the letter I posted the day we arrived, but they are anxious to know what we found here. We really ought to write them.”
“May I see it?”
“See what? Mother’s letter? If you can find it. You’ve got papers and books spread over every surface, as usual. Oh, I almost forgot—the Vandergelts are coming out. Bertie has had pneumonia and the doctors have recommended a winter in Egypt. They should be arriving any day now. There was a letter from Lia, too. Mother forwarded it. The baby had a cold, nothing serious, but she told me about every sniffle and sneeze! David’s leg is better; the doctors think he will regain full use of it eventually.”
She paused to take a deep breath.
“That’s good. So long as he doesn’t think he’s well enough to come out. Have you written Lia lately?”
“I owe her a letter,” Nefret admitted. “You should write Father; he’ll be impatient to know what progress we’ve made in our investigations.”
She stretched the word out, pronouncing each syllable with portentous emphasis. Ramses laughed.
“Not even Father could expect results within two days. He will want to know that Tetisheri is safe, though. I’ll write him tonight, unless you would rather.”
“I’ll end up having to do it,” Nefret grumbled. “I always do.”
“Poor girl. What a miserable life you lead.”
“Do you really want to write letters tonight?”
He turned onto his side and pulled her into his arms.
• • •
Eight
• • •
From Manuscript H (CONTINUED)
The war had drastically curtailed excavation, but Legrain was still at Karnak and Ramses decided to visit him first, since he had already suffered a loss of statues from his storage magazines. One of the men took them across the river in their small boat, and landed them near the temple. From a distance it was still an impressive sight, though much of it was in ruins and the oldest structures had vanished, quarried by later kings for their own monuments. Vandalism had taken its toll, and so had time and natural disasters. Ramses well remembered the year several of the mammoth columns of the Hypostyle Hall had collapsed, with a crash that could be heard all over Luxor.
They found the Frenchman in the Hypostyle Hall directing a crew who were moving a stone drum from one of the fallen columns. After he had shaken Ramses’s hand and kissed Nefret’s, they walked back between the masses of tumbled sandstone blocks that had once been twin pylons, into the sunlight of the forecourt. Ramses congratulated him on all he had accomplished since they were last there.
“It will be a lifetime’s work,” Legrain said. His gesture took in the fallen pylons, the uneven bramble-strewn surface of the court, the ruined columns that flanked it on the north and south. “And this is only one small part of the whole. So where will you be working? I had thought you were at Giza.”
Ramses explained their ostensible mission, and Legrain shrugged.
“I fear it is a hopeless cause. To guard