The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [155]
The rest of us settled down to work; and very pleasant it was to be occupied with familiar tasks. Emerson muttered and mumbled over his excavation diary, interrupting himself now and then to ask me or Ramses to verify some detail. Ramses, whose hand was almost back to normal, scribbled away at his notes; and I turned again to the Book of the Dead, as it is (erroneously but conveniently) named.
Any scholar would admit the religious texts are difficult. They contain a number of words that are not in the standard vocabulary. Certainly they were not in mine! I had kept a list of unknown words, meaning to ask Walter about them. It now covered several sheets of paper. I was frowning over one of them when Ramses rose, stretched, and came to lean over my chair.
“The Weighing of the Heart still?” he said. “You were working on that yesterday. Are you having any difficulty with it?”
“Not at all,” I said, turning my paper over. I had every intention of consulting Walter about my difficulties, at an appropriate moment, but I could not quite bring myself to ask Ramses for assistance. It was a weakness of character, and I admit as much, but no one is perfect.
“This particular scene fascinates me,” I went on. “The concept itself is quite remarkable for a pagan culture that had never known the teaching of the true faith.”
Ramses turned a chair round and sat down, resting his arms on the back. “I presume you are referring to Christianity.”
Curse it, I thought. Of all things I did not want to get into a theological discussion with Ramses. He could argue like a Jesuit and his opinions, derived from his father, were distressingly unorthodox.
He took my reply for granted and went on, “The idea that an individual will be judged by God, or a god, to determine his fitness for eternal life is not unique to Christianity. In some ways I prefer the Egyptian version. One was not dependent on the arbitrary decision of a single entity—”
“Who knows all and sees all,” I interrupted.
“Granted,” said Ramses, lips tightening in his version of a smile. “But the Egyptians allowed the dead man or woman the formality of a court hearing, with a divine jury and a court reporter and another judge who watched over the balance. And the result of an unfavorable decision was more merciful than the Christian version. Burning in hell for all eternity is worse than quick annihilation in the jaws of . . .”
He broke off, staring at the photograph.
“Amnet, the Eater of the Dead,” I said helpfully.
“Yes,” Ramses said.
“Well, my dear, you have made several interesting points, which I will be glad to debate with you—at another time. It is getting late. Why don’t you run along and tell the others to stop? Nefret should go to bed.”
“Yes,” Ramses repeated. “Good night, Mother. Good night, Father.”
Emerson grunted.
After Ramses had gone I looked through the messages that had been delivered that day. I had to agree with Emerson; Luxor was becoming too popular. One could, if one were so inclined, spend every day from morning till night in idle social encounters. There were notes from various acquaintances inviting us to lunch, tea and dinner, and several letters of introduction written by people I had met once or twice on behalf of people I had not met at all and did not wish to meet. The only item of interest was a note from Katherine, saying she planned to visit the school of Sayyida Amin next day, and asking if I would like to accompany her.
I mentioned this to Emerson, whose head was bent over the notes he had spread on the table. “I really ought to go, Emerson. Katherine’s scheme of starting a school deserves encouragement, and I have been remiss in helping her.”
“You may go if you take Ramses and David with you.” After a moment Emerson added, “And Nefret.”
My poor dear Emerson is so transparent. “Leaving you alone?” I inquired.
“Alone? With twenty of our men, several hundred cursed tourists, and Davis’s entire entourage?”
“There are remote corners of the Valley where