The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [110]
This dogmatic pronouncement (which later excavations proved to be entirely correct) provoked no contradiction, but neither did it inspire enthusiasm in the hearers. Cyrus expressed the general reaction when he remarked, “Shucks, Emerson, we’re not going to find anything interesting in a poor workers’ village. I hope to goodness you don’t want to excavate the whole place. It would take all winter.”
“A typical dilettante’s opinion,” said Emerson with his usual tact. “We know almost nothing about ancient Egyptian domestic architecture, even less about how the ordinary people lived. Historically a discovery of this nature is far more important than a looted tomb, of which we already have too many examples.”
“I quite agree,” I said. “Having once begun, we ought to do the job properly, and produce a definitive publication which would include a comparison of our village with the one at Lahun.”
I knew Emerson had no intention of doing this, but that he would go on arguing so long as Cyrus differed with him. Rather than find himself in agreement with me, he was forced to backtrack.
“I never intended the excavation of the village to be other than exploratory,” he said with a frown. “As soon as the overseer’s house has been cleared and properly recorded, we will move elsewhere.”
Charles shriveled visibly. I gave him a reassuring smile. “The boundary stelae?” I inquired. “That should certainly be our next project.”
“Oh, you think so, do you?” Emerson glowered at me. “The boundary stelae can wait. I intend to work next in the royal wadi.”
He obviously expected me to protest, so I did. Men are so easy to manipulate, poor things. When I gave in, with poor grace, Emerson thought he had won his point, whereas I knew I had won mine. Whither he went, we would go—all of us. There is safety in numbers—a trite saying, but like most trite sayings, right on the mark.
After dinner Charles and René asked permission to go to the village. It boasted a coffee shop of sorts, where the men spent the evenings, fahddling and lounging around; here, Charles explained with charming candor, he and René hoped to improve their command of the language and strengthen friendly relations with the villagers. I gave them a brief motherly lecture on the dangers of excessive friendliness with a certain section of the population. It embarrassed them very much, but I would have felt negligent in my duty had I not done so.
Cyrus and I retired to the saloon for a council of war. I invited Emerson to join us, but he declined and went stamping off to his room, which was what I had intended. He had lost a considerable quantity of blood and needed to rest. Besides, I wanted to discuss certain subjects with Cyrus in private.
“I have decided to take you fully into my confidence, Cyrus,” I began. “I hope you believe that I have not been deterred by lack of faith in your discretion or in your friendship. I have sworn an oath of secrecy which I cannot and will not break; but the facts I am about to impart to you will, I suspect, tell you nothing you have not already deduced.”
With equal gravity he responded, “Let me set your conscience at rest, Amelia, by telling you what I already know. I guess I’m not the only one to have figured it out, either. Those of us who were acquainted with Willie Forth knew about his lost civilization. Heck, the problem was to keep him from boring us to death talking about it. Then you and Emerson come back from Nubia last spring with a young female who you announce is Willy’s daughter. By itself that doesn’t mean shoot; she could have grown up among poor harmless missionaries, as you claimed. But when some character goes to the