The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [49]
‘And her lover,’ said Nefret.
‘Good Gad,’ I exclaimed. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Ramses,’ was the demure reply.
‘I don’t know where he got that idea.’ I hurried on before Ramses could tell me where he got that idea. ‘The queen would never have taken a low-born lover. Her dignity and pride would have prevented it, and the nobility of her kingdom would have resented it bitterly.’
‘The same objections have been made to the rumours about Her Gracious Majesty Victoria and a certain groom,’ Emerson agreed.
When Emerson is in one of those moods it is impossible to keep him quiet. Abandoning the career of the great queen Hatshepsut, I turned to Howard. ‘You were responsible for copying these paintings, I believe? Have you any recent sketches to show us?’
Fortunately he had. After we had admired them we left him to his work.
I rather expected Emerson would drag us back to Drah Abu’l Naga, but evidently he had abandoned the idea of serious work for that day; we went in the other direction, in order to visit the Ramesseum and the temple of Medinet Habu. There were not many tourists, since most of them prefer to ‘do’ the West Bank in the morning, but there were enough to annoy Emerson, and both places teemed with ragged children demanding baksheesh, self-appointed ‘guides,’ and sellers of dubious antiquities. Needless to say, none of them approached us.
Miss Marmaduke made a good show of enjoying herself. She stuck close to Emerson, for which I could not entirely blame her; not only was he a mine of information but his presence kept her from being harassed by the hovering beggars. Since she was incapable of doing it efficiently I had to keep an eye on Ramses, who kept wandering off.
By the time we started back, the sun was sinking westward and I decided it was too late for tea. We had an early dinner instead. Gertrude drooped over her plate, and confessed, when I courteously inquired, that she was very tired. ‘My fatigue is mental as well as physical, Mrs Emerson. There has been so much to absorb! The Professor’s wonderful explanations of Egyptian religion have given me a great deal to think about. If you will excuse me, I will go straight to bed.’
‘You will soon become accustomed to our pace,’ Emerson said, but the corners of his mouth quirked in a way I knew well. Had he deliberately set out to tire Gertrude? The ruse had not succeeded with Ramses and Nefret; both were bright-eyed and full of conversation, and when Emerson suggested they retire, Ramses protested.
‘It is only nine o’clock, Father. I want –’
Emerson drew him aside. He thought he was speaking softly, but Emerson’s best attempt at a whisper is audible ten feet away. ‘Your mother and I have an appointment in Luxor, Ramses. No, you cannot accompany us; I need you to stand guard. I know I can depend on you.’
Ramses began, ‘What –’
‘For once, my son, do not argue. I will explain later.’
After Ramses had departed I said, ‘Another mysterious appointment, Emerson? I warn you, you will have a revolution on your hands if you persist in your high-handed methods. Have I not earned your confidence? Do I not deserve your trust? Will you –’
‘Yes, yes, my dear. Only make haste, it is getting late.’
I had only time to snatch up a parasol as Emerson led me from the room.
Our small boat was waiting, and so too were Abdullah and Daoud. Once we were on board, Daoud pushed off and then took his place at the tiller.
Moonlight cast a silvery path along the dark expanse of water, and the lights of the town seemed reflected a thousand-fold in the starry vault of heaven. Emerson’s arm stole round my waist.
The setting was romantic in the extreme. I was not. Emerson had taken Abdullah and Daoud into his confidence while keeping me in the dark, and what is more, they were only a few feet away. I sat stiff as a statue until Emerson’s arm tightened to such a degree that the breath left my lungs in an explosive gasp.
‘Peabody, will you please stop grunting and squirming?’ Emerson hissed. ‘Abdullah will think I am – er – forcing my attentions on you. I don