The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [73]
‘You might also take advantage of the opportunity to lecture on the subject of ancient Egyptian curses,’ I suggested. ‘And to point out that there was no such thing.’
‘Well, but that would not be strictly true, Peabody. You remember the text from the mastaba of Khentika: “As for all men who shall enter this my tomb being impure, having eaten abominations . . .” How does it go on?’
‘I cannot recall the exact words. Something about pouncing on him, as upon a bird, and being judged for it in the tribunal of the Great God. Hardly a death threat, Emerson, since the tribunal referred to was the one faced by all devout Egyptians after death. Besides, that text and others like it were directed against neglectful caretakers of the necropolis.’
‘Then there are the cursing texts written on bowls and scraps of pottery,’ Emerson mused. ‘“As for so-and-so, son of so-and-so, he shall die . . .” A classic example of sympathetic magic; when the bowl was smashed, the individual perished.’
‘You certainly might mention such cases,’ I agreed.
‘I might,’ said Emerson gloomily, ‘if I were going to deliver a lecture and unwrap the mummy.’
‘Budge disapproved the scheme?’
‘Oh, he thought it was an excellent idea.’
‘Then why –’
‘Because, my dear Peabody, the damned – er – confounded bas – er – rascal is going to do it himself!’
‘Oh, my dear,’ I said sympathetically. ‘After you looked forward so much . . . But how can he? After all, there is no sense in just unwinding yard upon yard of bandages unless one has enough knowledge of anatomy to make an examination of the remains themselves, and determining the sex, the age, and – er – and that sort of thing.’
‘He will have some flunky from the Royal College of Surgeons standing by,’ Emerson said, snapping his teeth together. ‘While he does all the talking and hypnotizes the audience into believing he knows what is going on.’
‘Perhaps he will change his mind, Emerson.’
Emerson’s lowering brows lifted and his cheery chuckle filled the room. ‘I know what you are thinking, Peabody, and I absolutely forbid it. You are not to call on Budge and try to persuade him to change his mind.’
‘I was only –’
‘I know, my darling Peabody. You were thinking of me; and I cannot tell you how much your tender concern moves me. In fact, I believe Budge was having second thoughts. An odd thing occurred just before I left him.’
‘And what was that?’
Emerson settled himself more comfortably. ‘It was quite dramatic, my dear. Picture, if you will, Budge behind his desk, spouting smug nonsense as he always does. Your humble servant, walking briskly up and down the room –’
‘Spouting criticism,’ I suggested.
‘Carrying on a civil conversation,’ Emerson corrected. ‘Enter a servant carrying a packet. Budge reaches for that absurd paper knife of which he is so fond – the one he claims he found in a tomb at Assiut – and slits the wrappings. The colour drains from his face – his voice fades into silence – he stares in horror at – at –’
‘A severed human ear?’ I suggested, entering into the spirit of the thing. ‘A mummified member?’
‘Member?’ Emerson repeated in surprise. ‘What particular organ of the human body did you have –’
‘A hand or a foot, what else?’
‘Oh. Well, it wasn’t anything so grisly. Quite a fine antique, in fact – an ushebti. It was not the ushebti that frightened Budge, though. It was the accompanying message.’
‘What did the message say, Emerson?’
‘I don’t know. Budge refused to show it to me, or let me examine the ushebti. But he was unnerved, Peabody; he was decidedly unnerved. Though I confess he did not exhibit the violent signs of terror I have described.’
He chuckled merrily as he spoke; but a spreading sense of chill horror prevented me from joining in his innocent amusement.
‘Emerson,’ I began.
‘Yes, Peabody?’
‘Emerson . . . the packet Gargery brought . . .’
‘Good Gad!’ Emerson bounded to his feet. ‘Where is it, Peabody? What have you done with it? Curse it, I thought there was a familiar look to the