The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [182]
“Except for the head. It was in bad shape,” Nefret admitted.
“Then it is Akhenaton,” Emerson exclaimed. “The remains of the most enigmatic of all Egyptian pharaohs, pawed over by a pack of vultures looking for gold!”
“Mr. Davis still thinks it’s the Queen,” Nefret said. “He went out looking for a physician—a real physician.” Her sense of humor overcame her professional chagrin; she began to laugh. “Can’t you picture him dashing through the hordes of tourists yelling, ‘Is there a doctor in the house?’ He came back dragging an unhappy American gynecologist, and stood over the poor man exclaiming, ‘We’ve found Queen Tiyi! It’s a female skeleton. Unquestionably female, isn’t that right, Doctor?’ Well, what could the man say? He agreed, and made his escape. And so did I. I couldn’t stand it any longer.”
Ramses shifted position slightly. “Father, did you get a good look at the hieroglyphic inscription on the coffin?”
“Not good enough,” Emerson said sourly. “The cartouches had been cut out, but the epithets were those of Akhenaton. ‘Living in truth, beautiful child of the Aton,’ and so on.”
“Correct,” said Ramses, looking as enigmatic as Akhenaton.
Emerson shot his son a suspicious look. “What are you saying?”
“Don’t say it,” I exclaimed. “They are coming. I think I hear Mr. Davis’s voice. Get hold of your father, Ramses.”
I blame the entire thing on Mr. Davis. If he had passed on by with the others, I might have been able to keep Emerson quiet. But of course he had to stop and gloat.
“I hope you appreciate your good fortune, my dear,” he said, patting Nefret on her head. “To be present on such an occasion!”
“It was good of you to let me be there, sir,” Nefret murmured.
“Yes, congratulations,” I said, tugging at Emerson, who stood like a rock, and looked like one, too, for all the animation on his face. “We must go. We are very late. Good afternoon, M. Maspero, Mr. Weigall, Mr.—”
“Charming girl,” Davis remarked, beaming at me. “Charming! You shouldn’t let her mess around with mummies, you know. Bless the ladies, they don’t have the brains for such things. Can you imagine, she told me it wasn’t the Queen!”
M. Maspero cleared his throat. “Mais, mon ami—”
“And don’t you try to tell me any different, Maspero. I know what I found. By Jove, what a triumph!” And then he administered the coup de grâce. “You can all pop down tomorrow if you like and have a look. Just don’t disturb anything.”
That was when the catastrophe occurred. I will not—I cannot in decency—reproduce Emerson’s remarks. Some of them, in his execrable French, were addressed to M. Maspero, but the majority of them fell on the indignant head of Mr. Davis, who, to be fair, had not the least idea why Emerson was being so rude. And after his gracious invitation, too!
It ended with Davis demanding that Emerson be expelled from the Valley altogether. Only his kindly forbearance had allowed us to work there, since he held the firman. He had tried to be accommodating; he had made greater concessions than could have been expected of him. But, by Jove, there was no reason why he should have to put up with this sort of—er—grmph—thing!
Between him and Emerson there was a great deal of shouting. A crowd of curious onlookers gathered. Maspero didn’t try to get a word in. He stood stroking his beard and looking from one speaker to the other. Obviously he was too craven to take the necessary steps, and was expecting me to take them. I am accustomed to men doing that. Emerson would never have laid a hand on such a feeble old person as Mr. Davis, but the latter appeared to be on the verge of a stroke or heart attack, and I did not want Emerson to have that on his conscience. So I raised my voice to the pitch few can ignore, and told him and Emerson to be quiet, and Davis’s friends converged on him, and we converged on Emerson.
I managed to get my husband’s attention by standing on tiptoe and pulling his head down and whispering directly into his ear. “I have something to tell you, Emerson. Something important. Come away, where Mr. Davis can’t overhear.”
Emerson