The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [43]
‘I apologize, Mother,’ Ramses muttered.
‘You had better apologize to Nefret too,’ I said, moving farther into the room so that Nefret could enter.
‘Oh, good Gad. I did not see her there. However, I cannot suppose that she understood.’
‘Wrong again,’ said Nefret. ‘You called him –’
Ramses raised his voice. ‘Mother, Father, he was –’
‘Eavesdropping?’ Emerson released his grip on the boys. They exchanged threatening glares but deemed it wiser to leave it at that. ‘He lives here, Ramses, and you are a visitor. What he does is none of your affair.’
‘I will not apologize to him,’ Ramses said sullenly. ‘He hit me first.’
‘What a cowardly excuse!’ Nefret exclaimed. ‘He is younger and smaller than you. For shame, Ramses! Poor boy, did he hurt you?’
She placed a gentle hand on David’s arm. Ramses appeared to be struck dumb – with indignation, probably. David was even more surprised. He looked from the slim fingers, pale against his skin, to the face that smiled so bewitchingly at him, and for a moment . . . But I decided I must have imagined that fleeting response, for he darted out, brushing past Nefret and bumping into Hamed, who sent a flurry of curses after him.
‘Have a look, Peabody,’ Emerson said, picking up one of the clay lamps and approaching the nearest wall. ‘The old rascal has built his house smack up against an Eighteenth Dynasty tomb. The corridor leading to this chamber was an ancient thief’s tunnel. One of Hamed’s ancestors, no doubt.’
‘How do you know it is Eighteenth Dynasty?’ I asked curiously. ‘There is almost nothing left of the decoration.’
‘The majority of the private tombs in this area are of that period. And one can make out a few outlines here’ – he moved the lamp – ‘and here. It appears to have been a banqueting scene, similar to those in the tombs of Ramose and Nebamon. This tomb was never finished. Observe that the back wall is still rough; the surface was not smoothed or plastered in order to provide an even surface for the draftsmen who laid out the outlines of the scene, and the painters who followed them. Hamed has enlarged the original tunnel, which was inconveniently narrow. And this opening was probably –’
We had all listened interestedly, for it is a privilege to hear an expert like Emerson expound on methodology; but when he approached the rough opening in the back wall, Hamed squawked in protest.
‘Father of Curses, you go too far. That is a private place. The – the women –’
‘You keep your women in this dark hole?’ Emerson inquired. ‘As I was saying, Peabody, this opening was meant to lead into another rock-cut chamber, but it was never completed; and now it forms a handy storage cupboard for Hamed here.’
The space was approximately ten feet square and five feet high. It was filled with sculptured forms. Stony faces stared out at us, some human in outline, some grotesque similacra of beast or bird – falcon and feline heads, ibis and crocodile. The shadowed eye sockets of a ram-headed sphinx sent out a glint of reflected light from a speck of mica in the stone.
‘The sculptors’ storeroom,’ Emerson remarked, as Hamed stamped and swore.
‘They are copies, yes,’ muttered Hamed. ‘What is the crime in that?’
‘None – unless you sell them as genuine.’ He hesitated for a moment and then shook his head. ‘Come, Peabody.’
I waited until we were outside the house before I spoke. ‘Upon my word, Emerson, that was a somewhat abrupt departure. Why did you not remain until you had achieved your purpose? For I cannot believe –’
‘I had not achieved my purpose, no. But it would have been useless to pursue the matter. I will have to return another time. Without,’ Emerson added, distributing an impartial glower among us all, ‘the rest of you. I might as well have shouted my business aloud to the whole of Gurneh!’
‘Which you are doing now,’ I pointed out. A group of curious idlers had assembled while we were within, and Nefret was besieged by ragged urchins demanding