The Golden One - Elizabeth Peters [97]
“We will have to wait for the Antiquities Department to decide which pieces we may keep,” Ramses said. Feeling he had been a trifle harsh, he added, “It was kind of you to think of it, Jumana.”
They greeted Bertie and handed over the stela, and Ramses said, “It’s rather a charming piece. Why don’t you try your hand at making a copy, Bertie? Unless you’re busy with something else.”
“I will do it,” Jumana said. “I can—”
“Yes, I know you can, but I need you elsewhere.”
* * *
Selim had set the men to work. He hailed Ramses, demanding his opinion of an unusual raised platform in the corner of the house they were excavating, and Ramses lost track of the time. It wasn’t until Cyrus joined them and suggested they stop for luncheon that Ramses realized how late it was.
“Where’re your ma and pa?” Cyrus asked with a grin.
“They haven’t come?” He knew they hadn’t; his father always made his presence known. “They went to see Yusuf; he sent a message asking for them. But they ought to be here by now.”
Nefret’s expressive face reflected his own uneasiness. “Were we right after all—about Yusuf and Jamil? I really didn’t believe it, you know.”
“Neither did I,” Ramses admitted. He ran his fingers through his hair.
“Where is your hat?” Nefret asked.
“I don’t know. Never mind my damned hat. Confound it, they’ve no business wandering off without informing us. What are we going to do?”
“Have lunch,” Nefret said practically. “And wait a little longer.”
Cyrus demanded to know what was going on, and after they had set out the food, Ramses told all of them about the message. Cyrus was unconcerned. “They can take care of themselves.” Selim scowled. “If Yusuf knew, and did not tell me—”
“That’s only a theory, Selim. We can’t be certain what Yusuf wanted. Maybe it was Mother’s notorious medical skills.”
“He would be more likely to ask for hers than for mine,” Nefret admitted. “The older men and women don’t believe in my newfangled notions. But it shouldn’t have taken them this long, even if Yusuf asked Father to perform an exorcism.”
By the time they had finished the meal Ramses had come to a decision. “We had better try to find them. Assume the worst, as Mother says, and act on it.”
“Where are you going to look?” Cyrus asked. “You don’t know where they might be by now.”
“Yusuf,” Ramses said shortly. “If he has any information, I’ll get it out of him.”
Selim rose. “Daoud and I will come with you.”
“Damn this foot!” Bertie burst out. “Look, it’s almost healed, I can keep up.”
“Not this time.” Ramses’s hand rested briefly on the other man’s shoulder. “We don’t need additional manpower—”
“No,” said Daoud, folding his massive arms.
“No,” Ramses repeated, nodding in acknowledgment. “Cyrus, you had better stay here. Jumana, come with us.”
She stared at him, her eyes wide and dark. “You think I know something I have not told you? It is not true!”
“I haven’t accused you of anything,” Ramses said.
“Do let’s go,” Nefret exclaimed. “Why are we wasting time talking?”
They took the most direct route, past the temple and across the foothills, approaching the village from the south. Most of the inhabitants were enjoying their afternoon nap, but by the time they reached Yusuf’s house a few wakeful souls had spotted them and run on ahead, so Yusuf was expecting them.
He was lying on the divan in the main room, covered with a blanket, though the day was warm. It was the first time Ramses had seen the old man since their arrival. The change in him was distressing. The once plump jowls hung down in loose folds, and his thin hands gripped the edge of the coverlet. He shrank back as they all crowded into the room. Ramses didn’t blame him; they made a threatening assemblage: he and Nefret, Daoud looming like a monolith, Selim’s face unyielding as walnut.
Nefret let out a little sound of pity and surprise, pushed past the others, and bent over the old man. “Salaam aleikhum, Uncle Yusuf. I regret we did not come before. We did not know