The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [138]
After we had walked round the perimeter and inspected the steeply sloping entrance stairs, we retired to my little shelter and sipped the cold tea I had brought along. David did his best to express enthusiasm over our battered pyramid and rows of wretched graves, but I could tell he was not excited about it, and so could Emerson.
“We are spoiled, that is our trouble,” he announced gloomily. “Never forget, David, that this is what Egyptology is all about. Painstaking, dull research, not gold and treasure.”
“I don’t wonder you are spoiled, after finding the tomb of Tetisheri,” Geoffrey remarked. “How I envy you the experience! We have come across some interesting things at Giza, but nothing to compare with that.”
Since there were not enough chairs and stools for all of us, he was stretched gracefully at Nefret’s feet. His coloring was even fairer than Lia’s, his hair bleached almost to silver by the sun; the regularity of his features gave his face a look of remoteness unless it was warmed by animation, as it was now.
“I’ve been thinking,” he went on, with a charming air of diffidence. “I hope you won’t think me presumptuous for suggesting this, Professor—it is only a suggestion …”
“Well?” Emerson demanded.
“I do know a bit about this site, sir—enough, perhaps, to save you some time and trouble. I would like very much to join your staff.”
“Now?” Emerson took his pipe from his mouth. “Naturally I would be glad to have you, but I don’t think Reisner would forgive me for leaving him short-handed.”
Geoffrey sat up and clasped his arms round his bent knees. “He would not only forgive you, sir, he would be forever in your debt if you allowed someone to replace me—someone whose qualifications are far greater than mine.” He added, with a boyish grin, “He’s not as scrupulous as you, Professor. Admit it, Ramses, Reisner has tried several times to persuade you to work with him.”
Emerson’s eyes flashed. “I suspected as much! Grrr! Curse it, excavators are all alike, not a moral among the lot of them. Ramses, is this true?”
“Yes, sir. I believe I mentioned last year, after my season with him at Samaria, that he had offered me a position on his Giza staff. He made no secret of it.”
“Nor should he,” I said, seeing Emerson’s face redden. “You have always said, my dear, that Ramses is free to take any position he likes.”
“Well, yes, but …” said Emerson. “Hmph.”
“I have no interest in working for anyone else, sir,” said Ramses.
“It’s true that your talents are wasted here,” Emerson muttered. “We’re not likely to find much in the way of inscriptional material. Those Fourth Dynasty mastabas at Giza …”
Geoffrey looked from his crestfallen face to the expressionless countenance of Ramses. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” he said earnestly. “My decision has already been made. Leaving Mr. Reisner may be professionally wrong, but other considerations far outweigh that. Do you suppose, sir, that I am unaware of the dangers you face—I, who was present on the occasion Mrs. Emerson was attacked by an unknown gunman? I may not be of much use, but my place at a time of peril is at the side of my wife.”
He reached for Nefret’s hand and held it to his cheek.
“Hmmm,” said Emerson. “So you told him, Nefret?”
“She didn’t have to tell me,” Geoffrey said indignantly. “Even if I were not familiar with your past history, I could not be fool enough to miss the signs. There have been too many suspicious accidents. Poor Maude’s death was another such. I don’t know what lies behind all this, and if you choose not to inform me I will not ask. All I ask is the privilege of helping you to the best of my poor abilities.”
“A handsome offer,” said Ramses. “I don’t see how we can refuse.”
So intense was the emotional atmosphere that when David cleared his throat, we all started and stared at him. He hardly ever spoke when we were all together; everyone else talked louder and faster than