The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [126]
“I say,” Walter exclaimed. “I would like to have a look. Do you suppose Mr. Davis would allow me to go into the burial chamber?”
This had the effect of arousing Emerson. “Why not? He’s let a dozen people in already, most of them driven only by idle curiosity. I dare not think of the damage they have done.”
“Haven’t you seen the place?” I asked, shooing a fly away from my cucumber sandwich.
“No. I had some foolish notion that abstaining might shame others into emulating me. I sent Ramses instead.”
It occurred to me then that Ramses had been unusually silent. His back against the wall and his knees drawn up—for his legs were so long people tended to trip over them if he extended them at full length—he was staring at his untouched sandwich. I poked him.
“Well?” I said. “Tell us about it, Ramses.”
“What? Oh, I beg your pardon, Mother. What do you want to know?”
“A complete description, please,” said Nefret. “I have not yet been allowed in. The ladies”—I cannot describe the contempt with which this word was pronounced—“must wait until after the gentlemen have had their turns.”
“There is only one room,” Ramses said obediently. “Another was begun, but never finished; it exists as a large niche, in which are four canopic jars with beautiful portrait heads. The walls of the chamber were plastered but not decorated. Leaning against the walls and lying on the floor are other parts of the shrine. The floor is several inches deep in debris of all kinds—part of the fill which slid down from the passageway, plaster fallen from the walls, and the remains of the funerary equipment—broken boxes, spilled beads, fragments of jars and so on. Against the wall is an anthropoid coffin of a type I have never before seen. The feather pattern that covers most of the lid is formed of glass and stone inlays set in gold. There had been a gold mask; only the upper portion, with inlaid eyes and brows, now remains. There is a uraeus on the forehead and a beard attached to the chin. The arms are crossed over the breast. One may assume that the hands once held the royal sceptres, since three thongs of the whip are still there, though the handle and the other sceptre are not—”
“Uraeus, beard and sceptres,” Emerson repeated slowly.
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmph,” said Emerson.
“Yes, sir,” said Ramses. After a long moment he added, “The coffin lid has unquestionably undergone modifications from its original state.”
“Ah,” said Emerson.
Wearying of these enigmatic exchanges I demanded, “Is there a mummy in the coffin, or could you tell?”
“There is,” said Ramses. “The coffin has been damaged, by damp and rock fragments that fell from the ceiling, and by the collapse of the funerary bed on which it lay. The lid shifted and split lengthwise, but it still covers most of the mummy except for the head, which had become separated from the body and is lying on the floor.”
Lia shivered with delighted horror. “Is it very disgusting?” she asked hopefully.
“Never mind that,” said her father. “No wall decorations, you say? A pity. But if the place is in the state you describe, it will keep Davis happily occupied for weeks.”
Ramses did not reply. He had gone back to scowling at his sandwich. Emerson pronounced several bad words, and Nefret said consolingly, “At least they have agreed not to do anything more until the photographer they sent for arrives.”
“Didn’t you offer them your services, or those of Sir Edward?” Walter asked. “He did a first-rate job with Tetisheri, under equally difficult conditions.”
Sir Edward smiled reminiscently. “I will never forget crawling up that ramp to the top of the sarcophagus every day, with camera, tripod, and plates strapped to my back. The Professor threatened to murder me if I fell off into his debris.”
“And I would have done, too,” said Emerson.
“I was well aware of that, sir. It made me a good deal unsteadier than I would otherwise have been.”
Emerson grimaced amiably at him. “You did do an excellent job,” he conceded. “Davis declined his offer, Walter. Cursed if I know why. He dislikes giving anyone else credit