The Serpent on the Crown - Elizabeth Peters [59]
“As I was saying,” he said, with a pointed glance at me. “My staff will consist of Peabody and myself, Nefret and David, and half a dozen of our fellows. Selim and Daoud will continue here. Ramses, I want you to get on with your translating.”
“I beg your pardon?” Ramses’s face was a study in astonishment.
“I won’t need you,” Emerson said, as firmly as if he had arrived at this decision on his own, instead of giving in after a prolonged shouting match. “The tomb is small and cramped, and there’s nothing there for you. If we are to conclude our work at Deir el Medina properly, the inscribed materials we found need to be translated and published. That’s your job.”
“But…” Ramses’s eyebrows rose even farther. “But then…you mean for me to continue working on the papyri indefinitely? It will take weeks, if not months. There’s a lot of material.”
“I can help,” Jumana said eagerly. “I would like very much to gain more experience in translating hieratic and demotic.”
“Your first obligation is to Mr. Vandergelt,” Emerson said. “He has greater need of you than Ramses does.”
“Yes, sir,” Jumana said submissively. Bertie, whose face had fallen when she spoke, brightened up. He hadn’t ventured to contribute his opinions. He hardly ever did.
“I say!” Emerson exclaimed, as if the idea had just struck him, “what about employing that Russian fellow—Karnovoskovitch?—to give you a hand, Ramses? You said he was well qualified.”
“He is,” Ramses said.
“Of course, if you’d rather not share the credit…”
“That’s never been an issue with me, Father,” Ramses said reproachfully.
“I know that. You are generous to a fault. Well, that’s settled. Unless we encounter some unforeseen difficulty, we should be able to finish in KV55 within a few weeks at most. While we are there, Cyrus and his crew will be working in the West Valley. If you take my advice, Vandergelt, you will begin with the tomb of Ay and the other unoccupied tombs nearby—Numbers 25 and 26. Look for foundation deposits and make sure you sift the damned debris thoroughly.”
“Righto,” said Cyrus, in a dreadful imitation of a British accent. “Any further orders, old chap?”
His sarcasm—which was accompanied by an amiable grin—was wasted on Emerson. “A fellow came by the other day looking for a position. Claims to be an expert on Amarna, worked at the site before the war. Name of—um—”
“Lidman,” Ramses supplied. “Heinrich Lidman.”
“That is what I was about to say,” remarked Emerson. “I suggest you consider taking him on.”
“Fine with me,” Cyrus said. “I’ll get in touch with him right away. Where is he staying?”
Emerson looked at his son, who said, “The Luxor.”
Emerson nodded and went on. “As soon as we finish with KV55, you can have David and Nefret.”
“That’s darned generous of you,” Cyrus exclaimed.
It was darned generous of me. As I am sure I need not tell the Reader, these arrangements were my idea and Emerson had not given in easily. I did not claim the credit, since I had learned that in marriage tact is not only good manners but good strategy.
We finished recording and removing the remaining debris before midday, and I persuaded Emerson to return to the house for a hasty luncheon. He barely gave us time to eat before he was on his feet again, urging us to hurry. “I told Vandergelt to meet us at half past one, and it is almost that now.”
“I’ll be along later,” I said.
“So will I,” said Sethos, stretching out on the sofa.
FROM MANUSCRIPT H
* * *
Ramses’s mother never ceased to amaze him. Though she had not admitted it and never would, he knew she was the one responsible for Emerson’s altered arrangements. He would have to think of a way of thanking her.
Cyrus was as impatient as Emerson to start the new work. He was waiting for them, astride his fat mare Queenie, at the foot of the road that led up to his house on the hill overlooking the Valley. Jumana looked like a doll perched on the big chestnut she had selected from Cyrus’s stable, but, as Ramses knew, she had wrists of steel and a determination few horses would dare challenge.