The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [75]
‘Oh, do be quiet, Emerson! There is worse to come. “As for Emerson, Father of Curses – he shall die!”’
The echoes of that dire word had scarcely faded before they were followed by a harsh metallic clang, like that of a great cymbal. I started violently; Emerson began to chuckle; and the housemaid, carrying the empty water can (whose lid, hastily replaced, had produced the clanging sound) sidled crabwise through the room and exited.
‘You needn’t have shouted, Peabody,’ Emerson remarked. ‘You probably frightened the poor girl out of her wits.’
‘I forgot she was there,’ I admitted. ‘One does, doesn’t one? A sad commentary on our perverse social system. How can you be so cool, Emerson? This is a direct threat – a threat of death – or worse –’
‘There cannot be anything worse, Peabody,’ Emerson replied, with such sublime indifference to danger that I forbore to mention examples that would have proved him mistaken.
‘Excuse me, Mama, excuse me, Papa –’
Ramses could not have appeared at a worse time. Such was the state of my nerves that I rounded on him with a loud cry. ‘Ramses, what are you doing out of your room? I told you –’
‘Technically, I know, I am in violation of orders, Mama; however, I thought I might venture to emerge long enough to greet Papa, since I have not seen him since breakfast; and hearing what sounded very much like a death threat echo along the corridor –’
‘You could not have heard it unless you were listening at the door,’ I snapped.
‘Never mind, Peabody. Relax your rules for once.’ Emerson smiled fondly at his son, who had advanced tentatively into the room. He looked quite deceptively young and innocent in his long white nightgown with his little bare feet peeping out from under the hem and his grave dark eyes fixed on his father’s face.
‘Well,’ I said.
That was enough for Ramses, who trotted to Emerson’s side and squatted on the floor beside him, in the Egyptian style. I hardly need add, I believe, that he was talking all the while.
‘I trust, Mama, that my concern for Papa will excuse this apparent contempt for your commands, which under almost any other circumstances I would of course –’
‘It is just nonsense, my boy,’ Emerson said, patting the tumbled black curls. ‘Another practical joke.’
‘If I might be allowed to examine –’
‘You may as well show it to him, Emerson,’ I said resignedly. ‘He will go on talking until you do.’
So Emerson handed over the ushebti and the message, and after giving the former a cursory glance and dismissing it with the comment ‘A fine example of its type,’ Ramses wrinkled his juvenile brow over the message. ‘Ha,’ he remarked after a brief interval, ‘the message appears to be a combination of two different texts, the first deriving, if memory serves me, from an Eighteenth Dynasty tomb at Thebes. The second, as I am sure I need not tell you, may be an adaptation of a so-called cursing text, written on pottery bowls or figurines which were then smashed –’
‘You need not tell us,’ said Emerson.
‘As for the orthography,’ Ramses went on, ‘the writer appears to have followed the rules Mr Budge has laid down in his popular book on Egyptian grammar. In my opinion the use of the reed-leaf in spelling the proper name “Emerson” –’
‘For someone who is supposed to be filled with anxiety over your papa’s safety, you are very cool,’ I said critically.
‘Rest assured, Mama, that my concern is no less profound for being rigidly controlled. Hmmm. There is little more to be learned from the message except that it was written by a man of some education –’
‘Oh, good Gad!’ I exclaimed.
‘– with a pen whose nib needed mending. In fact, Mama, the situation is not as grave as I feared; for if Mr Budge also received such an ushebti, the malice of the writer is not concentrated solely upon Papa. I would be curious to know whether any other scholars or officials of the Museum received such a message.’
‘Exactly,’ Emerson said, taking advantage of Ramses’ pause to draw breath. ‘I told you, Peabody, it is just another rude joke. These things feed