The Golden One - Elizabeth Peters [68]
I turned to Bertie, who appeared to be in a pensive mood, for he had not spoken after his initial greeting.
“What do you think, Bertie?”
His brown hair had become sun-bleached and his face was tanned, so that he was a pale shade of brown all over. One could not call him handsome, but his pleasant, guileless smile was very attractive. “Whatever you decide is fine with me, Mrs. Emerson. I’m just a hired hand, as Cyrus would say.”
“You appear to be in a pensive mood,” I persisted. “You are feeling well?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
“You took up archaeology to please Cyrus,” I said, and patted his hand. “It was kind of you, Bertie, but he wouldn’t want you to go on with it if you find it distasteful.”
“I’d do more than that for him.” Bertie blushed slightly, as Englishmen tend to do when they give vent to their emotions. “He’s been jolly good to me, you know. I only wish . . .”
“What, Bertie?”
“Oh—that I could find something really first-rate for Cyrus. Not that I’m likely to,” he added diffidently. “I really am keen, Mrs. Emerson, but I’ll never be as good as Ramses. Or you, ma’am.”
“One never knows,” I said. “Many great discoveries are serendipitous. There is no reason why you should not succeed as well as another.”
After finishing our tea we returned to Deir el Medina to consult Selim and Daoud. Daoud had no opinion on the subject; anything Emerson chose to do was acceptable to him. Selim folded his arms and looked severely at Emerson.
“We have made a good beginning here, Emerson.”
“Cyrus and Bertie can carry on,” Emerson replied blithely. “The boy is turning into a pretty fair excavator.”
Selim glanced at Jumana, who was helping Ramses collect the ostraca that had been found that morning. “Will you leave her here with Vandergelt Effendi?”
Emerson grinned. “Does she annoy you?”
“She talks very loudly all the time. And I do not trust her.”
“You are becoming as cynical as your father,” I said. “I feel certain Jumana will tell us if Jamil attempts to reach her. Your inquiries in Gurneh have not produced any new information, have they?”
“No,” Selim admitted.
“Then if you have no further objections, Selim, we will proceed with our plan,” Emerson said. “You and Daoud with us at Medinet Habu, of course, and Jumana as well.”
“Vandergelt Effendi will want to look for tombs here,” Selim said dourly.
“No doubt.” Emerson chuckled. “What’s the harm in that?”
Cyrus’s soiree was like all his parties—elegant and genteel. Since he was the most hospitable of men, he always invited everyone he could get hold of, so the company was mixed: friends who lived year-round in Luxor, tourists, a few professional associates—too few, alas, in these terrible times—and members of the military. I had got to the point where the very sight of a uniform depressed me, and I prayed that the day would soon come when the men who wore them could take them off and go back to their normal lives.
Those that survived.
I took a sip of the champagne Cyrus handed me and told myself to cheer up! No cloud shadowed Cyrus’s lined countenance, and indeed he was one of the most fortunate of men. Wealthy and respected, happily married, absorbed in work he loved, he had required only one thing to fill his cup, and Bertie had given him that—the devoted affection of a son, and a companion in his work.
“What’s on your mind, Amelia?” Cyrus asked. “You look kinda gloomy. Has that young villain Jamil turned up again?”
“No, we have heard nothing of him. I am sorry if I gave the impression I am not thoroughly enjoying myself, and I am ready to do my duty in entertaining your guests. Is there anyone you would like to be soothed, amused, or stirred up?”
Cyrus chuckled. “Especially the last. Anything you like, Amelia; but if you want to pick on someone, have a go at Joe Albion. He was a business rival of mine some years back, and he’s got one of the best private collections of antiquities in the world. I wouldn’t like to guess how he acquired some of them.”
“I didn’t know he was an acquaintance of yours,” I said, recognizing the rotund shape