The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [148]
“By the Almighty, Amelia, you’re right,” Cyrus exclaimed. “It’s the lower legs and part of the feet of a ushebti. It can’t have come from the royal tomb …”
“That is not necessarily true.” Some scholars, I regret to say, concoct fantastic theories from inadequate evidence, but I have never been prone to this weakness and I felt I must caution Cyrus against overenthusiasm.
“Broken fragments of Akhenaton’s funerary equipment, including ushebtis, must have been thrown out of his tomb,” I went on. “And a violent flood could have washed them some distance down the wadi. But this was not part of his tomb furnishings. Her name appears on many objects along with his, but ushebtis were designed and named only for the dead person.”
Cyrus held the battered fragment as gently as if it had been solid gold. “Then this must have come from her tomb. This tomb!”
“No,” I said regretfully. “I think not. If she had a separate tomb it would surely have been nearer his. From what little we have seen of this one, it is small and unfinished. However, this is a remarkable discovery, Cyrus. I congratulate you.”
“The credit goes to you, my dear.”
“And Feisal.”
“Oh, sure.” Cyrus gave Abdullah’s son a hearty slap on the back. “Big baksheesh for you, my friend. Even bigger if you turn up any more pieces like this.”
However, by the time sunset forced an end to the work, nothing more of interest had been discovered. The frustration of his hopes put Cyrus in a bad temper, though I must say it was a model of saintly forbearance compared to the demonstrations of which Emerson was capable. “I’m sure tired of trying to wash in a cupful of water,” he grumbled, as we trudged along the dusty path. “If I don’t get near a tub pretty soon, I won’t be fit company for a mule, much less a lady.”
“The lady is in no better case,” I said with a smile. “I confess that of all the inconveniences of camping out, the absence of adequate means of ablution vexes me most. Unless I have lost count, tomorrow is Friday; the men will want their day of rest, so I presume Emerson intends to return to the river.”
“You can’t take anything for granted where that bullheaded billy goat is concerned,” Cyrus said picturesquely.
I promised to see what I could do to convince Emerson. I hope no one will suppose that it was a lack of Spartan fortitude that made me favor a reprieve from our labors. A lady likes to be fresh and dainty at all times, and a lady who is attempting to win the heart of a gentleman cannot feel much confidence in her success when she looks like a dusty mummy and smells like a donkey. However, those were not my reasons (at least I think they were not) for wishing to leave the royal wadi. The place was beginning to oppress me. The rocky walls seemed to have edged in closer, the shadows were deeper. I had crawled on hands and knees through dusty tunnels and squirmed through holes scarcely large enough to admit my body without ever feeling the sense of claustrophobia that afflicted me now.
The others had returned from their work, so I went off to look for Abdullah. He and our other men had their own little camp; they were frightful snobs (as they had some reason to be, since they were the most sought-after trained workers in the country) and always refused to hobnob with lesser men. I had brought along my medical kit and when I saw the delighted smiles that greeted me I felt ashamed that I had not taken the time to fahddle with them, or even ask whether they needed attention.
I felt even more ashamed when they displayed a variety of minor injuries, ranging from a mashed finger to a bad case of ophthalmia. After I had washed out Daoud’s eyes with a solution of boracic acid, and tended the other injuries, I scolded them for not coming to me at once.
“Tomorrow we will return to the river,” I said. “My medical supplies are low, and we all need rest.”
“Emerson will not go,” said Abdullah gloomily.
“He will go willingly, or rolled in a rug and carried on our backs,” I said.
The men grinned and nudged one another, and Abdullah’s dour face brightened