The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [65]
In single file we crept down the gangplank and sought concealment in the shadows of a group of palm trees. Here we assumed our disguises – galabeeyahs like those worn by the villagers, rags wound round our heads and scarves covering the lower parts of our faces. I must say Nefret made an unconvincing Arab, even with her bright hair hidden.
Though the hour was still early by European standards, the villagers of the West Bank kept country hours, rising with the sun and retiring when it set. Most of them. The ones we hoped to encounter worked only at night.
We met only curious goats and snapping dogs as we crossed the green fields of the cultivation, avoiding the clusters of rude huts. The moon was only half full, but it gave enough light to enable us to see the path. Starlight illumined the pale colonnades of the temple of Deir el Bahri, and from the Egypt Exploration Fund expedition house, now occupied by our friend Howard, shone a glow of lamplight. We gave it a wide berth; if Howard had known what we were up to he would certainly have disapproved, though primarily on the grounds of danger to us.
There was danger if Emerson’s plan succeeded. The Gurnawis had attacked archaeologists before, and men like Riccetti were even less scrupulous of human life. After we had crossed the stretch of open desert and begun our ascent of the cliff, I ventured to speak.
‘You think they will come by this path.’
‘Why else do you suppose I sent Ramses and Nefret in the other direction? That route is too roundabout for the men we are after; they will come from Gurneh, and the tomb must be high in the hills; the lower slopes have been picked over by archaeologists – if you can call Mariette an archaeologist –’
‘Emerson.’
‘Hmph, yes. Give me your hand, Peabody; this stretch is a bit steep.’ He hauled me up onto a ledge, and then went on. ‘As you knew perfectly well, Peabody, I have been talking stuff and nonsense. I do believe the thieves will return to the tomb tonight, but this is a largish stretch of territory, and without more specific information than the abstruse scholarly clues I discussed with you some days ago we could wander these hills all night without finding men who will obviously be attempting to avoid scrutiny. Fortunately I have more specific information. You remember my asking Sir Edward about the death of a workman during last year’s Northampton excavations? In fact I had already ascertained the truth of the matter from Newberry. Like Sir Edward – typical English snob that he is! – Newberry did not consider the fatal fall of a fellah important, but when I questioned him about it he was able to tell me approximately where the so-called accident occurred. He still doesn’t know why I was interested,’ Emerson added, with an evil chuckle.
‘But I do.’
‘Of course you do, Peabody.’
‘So that is why you were so anxious to see Mr Newberry! Why the – why didn’t you say so, and why didn’t you mention the subject during our dinner party?’
‘Because,’ said Emerson, giving me the sort of smile that drives wives to violence, ‘I had already called upon him. After considering the matter I decided it would be best to request a private interview. I had heard of the workman’s death but paid it no attention at the time; not until after I realized that a number of people were after the tomb did it occur to me that the incident might be significant.’
‘The man had got too close to the tomb,’ I said. ‘Or actually came upon the thieves when they were at work. Well done, Emerson. You know the location, then?’
‘Roughly. We had better stop talking now. Are you with us, Selim?’
When we reached the summit we paused to catch our breaths. Behind and below was the narrow strip of green bordering the Nile. Ahead, for hundreds of miles, lay a land as barren as a dead world. Clefts and wadis, canyons and deep valleys broke the surface of the plateau.
Paths, some of them ancient, crisscrossed its slopes. One of the oldest