The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [13]
‘If I told you the truth, you would not believe me. No’ – for I had attempted to return the ring to him – ‘it is mine no longer. The trust has passed on.’
‘See here,’ said Emerson, controlling his temper more successfully than I had imagined possible. ‘If you are implying that Mrs Emerson is your successor – future incarnation – oh, the devil!’
‘You, not she,’ was the calm reply.
I held my breath, anticipating the threatened explosion. To my surprise, Emerson relaxed and a glint of humour warmed his stern face.
‘That is a more seemly alternative than the other. Just how is the transfer of personality and/or sacred duty effected, Mr Saleh? I trust you don’t expect me to undergo the standard purification rituals. Mrs Emerson disapproves of beards, but I doubt she would allow me to shave my head, and not even for the honour of being high priest of Tetisheri would I give up my roast beef and – er – certain other activities.’
‘Mockery is your defence against the truth, Professor. You will learn soon enough that our fates are foreordained; your destiny will come upon you and you will accept it. Until that time, believe, if you prefer to do so, that I have come to ask your help for purely practical reasons.
‘The secret cannot be kept much longer. For a thousand generations we have protected her from the tomb robbers of Gurneh, from Greek and Roman and Byzantine thieves, from the predators of Europe and America. There are ways of leading searchers astray. When all else failed . . .’
‘Murder?’ I breathed the word.
‘When all else failed. But now there are too many searchers for treasure, and the number continues to increase. Foreign archaeologists swarm over the cliffs of western Thebes, and the Theban thieves are busier than before. If she must be found, better it should be by a scholar than by the local robbers; they will destroy what they cannot carry away, sell the treasures to any purchaser, scatter them to the far ends of the earth. You will give me your promise – your solemn oath.’ The hand that held the weapon had fallen to his side; he took a step closer to Emerson. ‘You will not allow her mummy to be violated. You will keep her funerary equipment intact and undamaged, treat her remains with reverence. Do you swear?’
The deep, solemn tones echoed like a prayer, or a curse. Emerson shifted uneasily, but he met the other man’s gaze straight on.
‘I cannot swear,’ he said. ‘If it were within my power, I would do precisely as you ask, though in all honesty I must tell you my motives would not be the same as yours. Such a find would be unique; scholarly principle would demand it be kept intact, guarded and carefully preserved. Your assessment is correct: if tomb robbers find it first, they will tear the mummy to pieces and destroy what they cannot carry off. It would be a tragedy in scientific terms . . . Oh, good Gad, why am I wasting time in futile speculation? There is no such tomb, and even if there were, I could not give you my word, for mine would not be the ultimate decision.’
‘You have said enough. You have spoken the truth. Few men would do that. And no man would fight to preserve her tomb as you would.’
‘That is true,’ I said, for Emerson remained silent. ‘And you know, Emerson, there is a good chance we could succeed. As the excavators we would have certain claims to the contents of the tomb; if we gave up those rights to the Museum, in exchange for M. Maspero’s promise that he would keep the objects all together –’
‘Oh, do be quiet, Peabody!’ Emerson turned on me, glaring. My dear Emerson is never more handsome than when he is in a rage. His large white teeth were bared, his eyes glowed like the eastern sky when the approach of night deepens the azure depths, his lean cheeks were becomingly flushed. Speechless with admiration (and with the impossibility of making myself heard over his bellowing), I gazed on him.
‘It is just like