The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [147]
The temporary loss of his son had not improved Emerson’s disposition. For the past fortnight Ramses had been working at Giza in place of Geoffrey. He had very properly announced his intentions to Emerson, whose noble nature had prevented him from objecting. There may have been just a slight touch of ignoble pride involved as well; it would not have been in character for Emerson to admit he would miss not only Ramses’s professional skills but Ramses himself. Secretly, Emerson had hoped that Mr. Fisher, who was in charge at Giza until Mr. Reisner returned, would refuse to countenance this somewhat unorthodox arrangement without consulting his superior. Unfortunately, Fisher knew Reisner’s high opinion of my son and fell upon the scheme with shameless enthusiasm. He wrote at once to Reisner, who was messing about in Middle Egypt, and eventually received approval, but not until after Ramses had already been at Giza for over a week.
It did not comfort Emerson to know, as he did, that the Harvard-Boston expedition was working in an area where they had already discovered wonderful things. Shortly after Ramses began, the Americans came upon a new tomb containing beautifully painted and carved scenes, a fine limestone statue, and other interesting items. It was enough to make Emerson’s mouth water, especially when he returned each morning to scattered bones and broken pots. He knew Ramses’s motives for abandoning us were not selfish; he knew it, but he envied him all the same.
One useful result of this arrangement was the reestablishment of relations with Jack Reynolds. Though he had straightened himself out (with a little help from me), he had rather avoided us. It is difficult to work in close proximity to a man who has accused you of murdering his sister; I had no fear for Ramses’s safety, since I knew he was quite capable of looking after himself, but I took the earliest possible opportunity of asking him how he and Jack were getting on. He assured me Jack had been perfectly civil and helpful. I therefore invited Jack to one of our little dinner parties so I could see for myself.
Jack was on time, suitably dressed, and apparently sober. He had brought two large bouquets, one for each of the brides, which he presented with appropriately flowery speeches. As usual there were more men than ladies present; Howard Carter was in town, and young Mr. Lawrence, who had been working with Mr. Petrie, and who was loud in his praises. I must say that tact was not one of the young man’s strong points. Fulsome praise of one’s host’s chief rival does not endear one to the said host, and he committed another faux pas by insulting the Egyptian workmen he had encountered. I heard a few words: “… horribly ugly, dull, low-spirited, foul-mouthed and fawning …” before Ramses interrupted with a polite inquiry about Mr. Petrie’s health.
Jack, whom I had placed across the table from me so I could watch him, had also overheard. “That is certainly not true of our people,” he announced. “Perhaps it has something to do with the attitude of the man in charge. Mr. Reisner has always been on the best of terms with his workmen.”
I gave him an approving smile. “Quite true. There have been no problems with the theft of antiquities, have there?”
“There are always problems with theft,” Emerson grumbled. “Especially with Maspero refusing to heed accusations against his favorites. That disgraceful business at Sakkara—”
I was unable to administer a little kick to Emerson, since he was at the other end of the table, so I raised my voice to a particularly penetrating pitch and dragged the conversation back onto the track—with, I admit, something of a jolt.
“I suppose you have all also heard about the sales of antiquities this past summer purporting to have come from the collection of our late reis Abdullah? Some of you may not know that these