The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [187]
“I am leaving it to you, Selim, to replace the stone and conceal it. I know I can trust you to do the job as well as your father would have done, and that I can depend on all of you to say nothing of what we found today.”
Selim’s countenance betrayed the pride he felt at having such confidence reposed in him, but he said only, “Yes, Father of Curses. Your wish is our command. But it will be hard to wait.”
“Hard for all of us,” said Ramses, glancing at his father, who was chewing fiercely on the stem of his pipe. He spoke Arabic, as Emerson had done. “There is at least one season’s work there, Selim, if it is carried out as the Father of Curses demands. We have less than a week.”
“I understand. We will guard the secret and the burial will be here, safe and undisturbed, when you return.”
So that was settled. I knew I could leave the closing of the house and the storage of our goods to Selim and Fatima. I did not suppose we would ever return to the villa. It held too many unhappy memories.
The question of what to do with Sennia had not occupied my mind for long. She would have to go with us, not only because I was too much of a coward to face the explosion that would ensue should I attempt to remove Ramses from her, but because Ramses had some notion she would not be entirely safe in Egypt, even in the devoted care of Daoud and Kadija. I doubted Kalaan would dare try to harm her—he was still in hiding, and he would not have risked the wrath of Emerson—but I did not try to dissuade Ramses. She was the only person who could make him laugh.
A few days before we were to leave for Port Said we gathered for the last time in the courtyard with Cyrus and Katherine, who had come to say goodbye. Emerson and David were smoking their pipes. Ramses sat on the rim of the fountain, looking down at the water.
“You sure you don’t want me to have a crack at the pyramid?” Cyrus asked, without much hope.
“Bah,” said Emerson amiably.
“I didn’t suppose so. Oh, well, looks as if Maspero may give me part of Abusir next year, so if you folks are going to be at Zawaiet, we’ll be neighbors again.”
“We will drink to that,” I proclaimed, and Emerson passed round the whiskey.
Why Ramses should have delayed his announcement until that particular evening I did not know. It could hardly have been delayed much longer.
“I won’t be going back with you.”
“What did you say?” I demanded, observing that Emerson was staring fixedly at a potted plant. The news was obviously not news to him.
“I am going to work with Mr. Reisner for another month or so,” Ramses said. “He has been left short-handed by the loss of two of his staff members.”
“Nonsense,” I exclaimed. “We owe him nothing. I strictly forbid—“
“It will be excellent experience,” said Emerson, giving me a meaningful look.
We talked about it later when we were alone, and I was forced to agree that I could not change Ramses’s mind. I never had been able to. Sennia would remain with him on the Amelia, attended, I did not doubt, by all the women in the family, and return with him and Basima in early April. By then … Who knew what might have happened by then? For once not even I had the answer.
FROM MANUSCRIPT H
Ramses had not told David of his decision either. He had expected an argument, but he had not expected to lose it.
“There is no way you can prevent me from staying,” David pointed out with infuriating calmness and even more infuriating accuracy. “What a pity you aren’t the original Ramses the Great; you could have me bound in chains and carried on board ship by your royal guards.”
They had retired to Ramses’s room after dinner, supposedly to pack; clothes were strewn all over the place, and both of them were sitting on the floor glaring at one another.
“Marriage hasn’t improved your manners,” Ramses said rudely. “Or your sense of humor. What will Lia have to say about this?”
“She is staying too, of course. She agrees you should not be left alone.”
“Oh, for God’s sake! I am quite capable …” David’s quizzical, affectionate, amused look made him break off with a halfhearted