The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [131]
“Certainly, certainly,” said Emerson, chewing the stem of his pipe and scowling.
Walter was full of admiration, not only for the papyrus, but for the container David had designed. The lad flushed under his praise. “We are being very careful, sir,” he explained. “But we felt we ought to make a copy, just in case.”
“Yes, quite,” said Walter. Adjusting his eyeglasses, he bent over the papyrus. I went to have a closer look myself, since the vignette was one I had not seen. Four little blue apes squatted around a pool of water, their paws folded over their rounded bellies.
“The spirits of the dawn,” Walter murmured, his eyes moving down the column of hieroglyphs under the painting. “Who content the gods with the flames of their mouths.”
“Enough,” Emerson broke in. “You can have the photographs, Walter, if you want to translate the cursed thing.”
“I’ll leave it to Ramses, I think,” Walter said. “I doubt the text offers any new material. Well. It is a splendid example of its type, but it is certainly not unique. Could it have some particular religious significance for our postulated cult?”
Evelyn came in and joined the group around the table. “Is this the famous papyrus? What charming little baboons.”
“You look very tired, my dear,” I said. “Sit down and have a cup of tea.”
She shook her head. “It is not so much physical as mental exhaustion. I have had quite a time with Lia. Never have I seen her so unreasonable! And you know, Amelia, that although one becomes extremely exasperated, it is difficult for a mother to refuse a child something she wants so badly.”
Emerson stopped mangling the stem of his pipe and came to life. “I have a compromise to propose.”
The word “compromise,” coming from Emerson, was so astonishing we all stared. Taking this for intense interest, he smiled broadly and elaborated. “You cannot leave for a few more days, in any case. Suppose we give the child a whirlwind tour—Medinet Habu, Deir el Bahri, and all the rest. We will wine her and dine her and wear her out, and send her home, if not rejoicing, at least resigned.”
I had a feeling it would not be so easy as that. The word compromise is almost as unknown to the young as it is to Emerson. However, if it were put to the girl in that way she would have less to complain of.
“You mean you would give up two days’ work?” Walter asked. “You? What a sacrifice!”
“I beg you will not be sarcastic, Walter,” said Emerson with offended dignity. “I certainly don’t intend to let you wander around without me. We will travel in a body, like a confounded bunch of Cook’s tourists and surrounded by—”
“By Daoud,” I said, laughing. “Emerson, it is a splendid compromise. We will dine with the Vandergelts—they would be sorely disappointed not to see you, Walter and Evelyn—and show Lia the Castle, and the Amelia and—”
“And Abdullah’s house,” Ramses said. “He would be offended if we did not come for a meal. Daoud has already spoken to me about it. Kadija began cooking yesterday.”
From Manuscript H
“. . . I brought that child to her death!” Nefret’s voice broke in a sob. Ramses put his arm round her and she turned her face into his shoulder; but there was no way he could console her, not even by taking his fair share of the blame. God knew it had haunted him ever since he had seen the slight broken body and known whose it must be.
“You cannot be certain it was your appeal that was responsible, Nefret. It might have been the reward, or even some private revenge.”
“Not the last. It’s too coincidental and too . . . too horrible. What sort of people are they?”
She wiped her eyes with her fingers. Ramses fumbled in his pockets, and that finally won a tremulous laugh from her.
“Never mind, my boy, you never have a handkerchief. Where’s my bag?”
It was an absurd little thing, made of some shiny cloth and hanging from her wrist by a golden cord. She moved away from him and he lowered his arm. He had that to remember, at least, and the gentleness of her voice when she said, “You don’t fool me, Ramses