The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [73]
“Impossible,” said Emerson.
“Why?” I demanded. “You can certainly spare me for a few hours. That nasty number Fifty-three—”
“We are not going to work at Fifty-three. I have a little surprise for you, Peabody. Great news! Tomorrow we start on tomb Five!”
“How exciting,” I said hollowly. There could be nothing of interest in that rubble-filled tomb, and the labor involved would be monstrous.
“How’d you manage that?” Cyrus asked. There was a note of envy in his voice. He missed the Valley where he had excavated for so many years without success, but with great enjoyment.
“Tact,” said my husband smugly. “I simply pointed out to Weigall that nobody else would ever bother with the confounded place, especially Davis, who is such an egotistical ignoramus—”
“You didn’t say that!” I exclaimed, as a ripple of laughter ran through the group.
“What difference does it make what I said? Weigall has agreed, and he is the man in charge.”
“It was very kind of him to overlook your knocking him down the other day.”
“I did it for his own good,” said Emerson hypocritically. “Never mind that. We are going to need more men than we have been using with the smaller tombs. I will need Nefret and David as well, for I mean to take quantities of photographs.”
Emerson sent us all off to bed after we got home, since he meant to make an early start next day. After I had brushed and braided my hair I put on my dressing gown and slipped out of the room, leaving him bent over his notes.
Nefret responded at once to my soft tap on the door. She was alone except for the cat, who occupied the precise center of her bed. “Is something wrong, Aunt Amelia?” she asked.
“Nothing. I am only a little curious. Was it you who persuaded Mr. Weigall to give in to Emerson’s request? I do hope, my dear, that you did not resort to underhanded means. Mr. Weigall is a married man, and—”
“Quite devoted to his Hortense,” said Nefret, trying not to smile. “I never flirt with married men, Aunt Amelia. I am shocked that you should suggest such a thing.”
“Ah,” I said. “Mr. Davis is not a married man, is he? And Mr. Weigall does whatever Mr. Davis tells him to do. I noticed the other evening—”
Nefret burst out laughing. “So did Ramses. He accused me of flirting with Mr. Davis. Mr. Davis is quite harmless, Aunt Amelia, but like many older men he is particularly susceptible to flattery and compliments. I did it for the Professor.”
“Hmmm. Do you have an idea as to why he is so set on working in that part of the Valley?”
“An idea did occur to me. It must have occurred to you as well.”
“Yes.” I sighed. “We must hope Mr. Ayrton does not come across any interesting tombs this season.”
I refer the Reader to my plan of the Valley and invite him to note the relative areas of tomb Five and the area in which Mr. Ayrton was working. If there were unknown tombs in the Valley of the Kings, such areas were precisely where one might expect to find them. And if Ned did find such a tomb, Emerson would be there, watching every move he made and criticizing everything he did.
I expected trouble and I was (of course) right. But not even I could have anticipated the magnitude of the disaster that actually occurred.
•
BOOK TWO
THE GATES OF THE
UNDERWORLD
•
O great apes who sit before the doors of heaven:
take the evil from me, obliterate my sins,
guard me, so that I may pass between
the Pylons of the West.
•
Seven
•
The approach to the Valley had changed a great deal since our first days in Egypt. A rough but serviceable road led through the forbidding cliffs and a wooden barrier now barred the entrance to those who lacked the requisite tickets. Our horses were among the first occupants of the donkey park, for the sun had not yet risen over the eastern hills when our caravan left the house. We had