The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [54]
Inside the box was an amulet of blue faience, approximately two inches long. The molded loop showed that it had been worn on a cord or string as a protective amulet—almost certainly by a woman, since the protruding muzzle and swollen belly were those of the hippopotamus goddess Taueret, who watched over mothers and children.
“How charming,” I murmured.
“A memento of our last meeting?” Brows elevated, voice harsh, Emerson addressed Sir Edward. “You exhibit less than your usual tact, Sir Edward; Taueret was for us a symbol of danger and bad luck.”
“But you triumphed over both,” Sir Edward said winsomely. “I thought it might be a reminder of your success, but if Mrs. Emerson does not care for it she must feel free to discard it. It is probably a forgery; some of the Gurnawis produce excellent fakes.”
He carefully avoided looking at David, but I could not help wondering if the reference had been accidental. Sir Edward had been with us the year we met David, who had been working for one of the best forgers in Gurneh.
“Not at all,” I said quickly. “That is—thank you, Sir Edward. I am acquiring quite a collection of nice little amulets; yours will be a welcome addition to the Bastet Ramses gave me some years ago, and this one, which I received only recently.”
I had had the little statue of the baboon added to the chain on which I wore Ramses’s cat and the scarab of Thutmose III, which had been Emerson’s bridal gift. Sir Edward leaned forward to examine them.
“The baboon is a symbol of the god Thoth, is it not? A handsome piece, Mrs. Emerson. What special significance does this amulet have, if I may ask?”
“It symbolizes a cause dear to my heart, Sir Edward—that of equal rights for women. ‘Huquq al ma’ra,’ as they say here. It was given me by a lady who is taking an active part in the movement.”
“I am not surprised that you should wear it, then. But is there really such a movement in Egypt, of all places?”
“The flame of freedom burns in the hearts of all women, Sir Edward.”
Emerson snorted—not, I felt sure, at the sentiment, but at my manner of expressing it. I took my revenge by delivering a little lecture (or, to be accurate, rather a long lecture) on the history of the women’s movement in Egypt, mentioning the periodical we had seen and the literacy classes. Sir Edward was too well-bred to appear bored, but in fact I felt certain he was genuinely interested, as his occasional questions indicated.
Emerson was bored, and soon said so.
As I had expected, Sir Edward’s reluctance to intrude was readily overcome; I led the way into the house and we gathered round the pianoforte. Sir Edward’s mellow baritone swelled the chorus and after a while Emerson stopped scowling at him and joined in. Emerson always suspects men of having designs on me. It is a flattering but inconvenient delusion of his, and in this case it was completely without foundation. If Sir Edward had designs on anyone, it was on another; seeing his face soften as he watched Nefret I knew he had not abandoned his hopes. She was careful to avoid his eyes, which was even more suspicious.
The only one who did not participate was Ramses. As a child he had been prone to croon in a wordless, tuneless fashion that was particularly annoying to my ears. He had abandoned the habit, at my request, and it had taken considerable persuasion by Nefret before he would condescend to join in our little family concerts. To my surprise, I found that his singing voice was not unpleasing, and that in some manner (not from his father) he had learned to carry a tune. He excused himself that evening on the grounds that his throat was a trifle sore. Nefret did not urge him.
From Manuscript H
“It’s him!” Careless of grammar and the legs