The Last Camel Died at Noon - Elizabeth Peters [112]
“Well?” I demanded, as we strolled by the pool. “Did you see Tarek?”
“No. I was informed that both princes were busy with affairs of state. However, Murtek received me cordially and kept me the entire morning. I like the old fellow, Peabody; his is the mind of a true scholar. He was the only adult who had the intellectual curiosity to learn English from Forth, and question him about life in the outside world.”
“Murtek’s English is not as good as Tarek’s.”
“Murtek was handicapped by learning the language late in life. A youthful tongue twists itself around strange sounds more readily. Tarek’s intelligence is certainly of a high order; according to Murtek he was Forth’s prize pupil, going on with his studies after many of the other young people had lost interest and dropped away. Murtek did the same, and he spoke of Forth with what sounded like genuine affection. He possesses that rare and admirable quality of intellectual curiosity—love of knowledge for its own sake. You should have heard some of the questions he asked me, about our government, our history, even our literature. At one point I actually found myself trying to explain Hamlet’s ‘too solid flesh’ soliloquy.”
“Shakespeare?” I cried. “Emerson! Do you realize what this means? Did Murtek show you the book?”
“No, why should he? He…” Emerson stopped and stared at me. “Good Gad, Peabody, you must think me a complete idiot. I was so fascinated by encountering a mind of that caliber, the connection never occurred to me. Forth must have had a copy of Shakespeare with him; how else would Murtek know of it?”
“There are other possibilities, I suppose,” I admitted. “The Bard has been in print, in various editions, for a good many years, and Mr. Forth can’t be the first outsider to have come here. This may have been a coincidence. Murtek did not actually show you the volume in question, and my nocturnal visitor told me to await a messenger.”
“Yes, but circumstances may have changed,” said Emerson, looking chagrined. “I don’t know how the devil Robin Hood managed to get in here the first time; he may not be able to do it again. I learned quite a lot more about the political situation from Murtek. He said nothing that could be viewed as treasonable—his attendants and mine were hanging on every word—but I feel sure he expected me to have sufficient intelligence to understand the implications. You know, of course, that in ancient Egypt the distinctions we make between politics and religion were meaningless. The king was a god and the priests were also state officials.”
“What has that to do with the situation here?”
“It has everything to do with it. Over the centuries, as was the case in Egypt, Amon took over the powers and attributes of other gods—Re, Atum, Min—the one with the enormous—”
“Yes, Emerson, I am familiar with the process. It is called syncretism.”
“Correct. Well, Osiris is the one god Amon could never quite manage to assimilate. The two are so completely different—Amon-Re the great and powerful king of the gods, remote and awe-inspiring; Osiris the suffering redeemer, who died as ordinary mortals do, and who lived again. His devoted wife Isis, the divine mother, also has great popular appeal.
“The other gods—Bes, Bastet, Apedemak, the old lion god of Cush—have their followers here, but only two cults really matter—that of Amon-Re, as represented by that sour-faced old villain Pesaker, and that of Osiris and Isis—whose high priest is our friend Murtek.”
“I see. That explains the strange configuration of the images we saw last night—Aminreh, Isis and Osiris, instead of one of the usual divine families.”
“It also explains the disagreement between Pesaker and the Priestess of Isis over our humble selves.