The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [36]
“It is much darker than . . . than some I have seen,” she murmured.
“They always darken when they are exposed to the light, especially under conditions like these,” Emerson grumbled. “The inside of the case is as filthy as the outside. That idiot Maspero—”
“It is Twenty-first Dynasty,” said David. “They are generally darker than the earlier versions.”
He spoke with the quiet authority he displayed only when he was talking about his specialty, and we listened with the respect he commanded at such times. He politely made way for me as I approached the case.
“It is very handsome, though,” I said. “These papyri always remind me of medieval manuscripts, with the long rows of elegantly written text and the little paintings. This scene is the weighing of the heart against the symbol of truth—such a charmingly naive concept! The queen, crowned and dressed in her finest robes, is led by Anubis into the chamber where Osiris sits enthroned. Thoth, the ibis-headed divine scribe, stands with pen poised, ready to record the judgment. Behind him the hideous monster Amnet waits, ready to devour the soul should it fail the test.”
“To whom are you addressing your lecture, Peabody?” Emerson inquired disagreeably. “There are no tourists here, only those who are as familiar with the subject as you.”
Nefret made a tactful attempt to soften this criticism—unnecessarily, since I never take Emerson’s sarcasm to heart. “This adorable little baboon, perched atop the scales—that is Thoth too, isn’t it? Why does he appear twice in the same scene?”
“Ah well, my dear, the theology of the ancient Egyptians is something of a hodgepodge,” I replied. “The ape atop the balance, or, as in some cases, beside it, is one of the symbols of Thoth, but I defy even my learned husband to explain what he is doing there.”
Emerson made a growling noise, and Nefret went quickly to take his arm. “I am very hungry,” she announced. “Can we go to lunch now?”
She drew him away, and I followed with the boys. Ramses offered me his arm, a courtesy he seldom remembered to pay. “That was neatly done,” he remarked. “I believe he would jump into the jaws of a crocodile if she proposed it. Mother, you really ought not provoke him when he is in a state of aggravation.”
“He started it,” I replied, and then laughed a little because the statement sounded so childish. “He is always in a state of aggravation when he visits the museum.”
“What did Maspero say?” Ramses asked. “For I feel certain you and Nefret tried to persuade him to change his mind.”
“He said no. He is in the right, I suppose. Having given the firman to Mr. Davis, he cannot cancel it without an excellent reason. I cannot imagine why your father insists on remaining in the Valley. It is tantamount to rubbing salt in his wounds. Every time Mr. Davis finds another tomb, Emerson’s blood pressure soars. Tetisheri’s tomb was accomplishment enough for any archaeologist, but you know your father; it has been quite some time since we came across anything interesting, and he would dearly love another remarkable discovery.”
“Hmmmm,” said Ramses, looking thoughtful.
•
Four
•
I of course reported Maspero’s offer to Emerson. “What about Abusir, Emerson? Or Medum? And there are large areas of Sakkara that cry out for excavation.”
“Are you so ready to abandon our home in Luxor, Peabody? We built the house because we planned to concentrate on that area for years to come. Curse it, I swore I would finish the job, and I resent your attempts . . .” But then his face softened and he said gruffly, “I know you still yearn for pyramids, my dear. Just allow me one more season in the Valley, and . . . Well, then we will see. Is that a satisfactory compromise?”
In my opinion it was not a compromise at all, for he had promised nothing. However, the affectionate demonstrations that accompanied his speech were satisfactory. I responded with my customary appreciation, and the subject was dropped—for the time being.
We were staying at Shepheard’s, my favorite