The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [93]
(It was Charlie who had informed him, actually, hoping to distract him from the evening inquisition by relating archaeological gossip. The distraction had not succeeded.)
“There are rumors like that about every site in Egypt,” said Cyrus—but though his tone dismissed the story, the light in his eyes indicated his rising interest. To a man of Cyrus’s romantic temperament there could be no more thrilling discovery than the last resting place of the heretic pharaoh’s exquisite queen.
“Certainly,” said Emerson. “And I put no great faith in the golden coffin. Such a unique object could not have been marketed without leaving signs of its passage through the dirty world of dealers and collectors. Note, however, the significant word ‘gold.’ Any artifact made of or covered with gold could start the gossip mills grinding and lead to the usual exaggeration that distinguishes their operation. The appearance of inscribed objects on the antiquities market is even more significant. That, if you recall, was how Maspero got onto the cache of royal mummies in 1883. The Gurnawis who had found the hiding place began marketing objects from it; the names on those objects indicated they must have come from a tomb unknown to archaeologists.”
“Yes, but—” I began.
“But me no buts, MISSPeabody. There are other tombs in the royal wadi. I have known of some of them for years, and I feel certain there are others. The royal tomb itself has not been properly explored; are there passages and chambers as yet undiscovered? Certain of the existing ones seem strangely incomplete. Curse it, Akhenaton had thirteen years after his arrival at Amarna in which to prepare a tomb. It would have been one of his first acts. The boundary stelae mention his intention of doing so—”
“Those same inscriptions suggest that the queen shared his tomb,” I interrupted. “ ‘There shall be made for me a tomb in the eastern mountain; my burial shall be therein… and the burial of the Great Royal Wife Nefertiti shall be therein—’ ”
“Ah, but does ‘in it’ refer to the tomb itself or to the eastern mountain?” Emerson leaned forward, his eyes glittering with the joy of argument—or, I should say, learned debate. “He goes on to say, ‘If she (Nefertiti, that is) shall die in any town north, south, west or east, she shall be brought and buried in Akhetaton.’ He does not say ‘in my tomb in Akhetaton—’ ”
“There was no need for him to say it, given the context. He meant—”
“Will you two stop that?” Cyrus demanded. His goatee quivered with the muscular contractions of his jaws and chin. “The man’s been dead for over three thousand years, and anyhow, his original intentions don’t mean a curse. What I want to know is, where are those other tombs you were talking about, and why the—er—dickens haven’t you excavated them?”
“You know my methods, Vandergelt,” said Emerson. “Or at least you claim to. I never excavate unless I can finish the job without delay. Opening a site or a tomb invites the attentions of thieves, or of other archaeologists, who are almost as destructive. I have knowledge of or strong suspicions about at least six other sites…”
He let the words trail off. Then he said deliberately, “We will excuse you, Charles and René. No doubt you want to freshen up before dinner.”
Two men cannot constitute a stampede, but they tried.
Emerson had reached for his pipe and was spilling tobacco all over his papers. As soon as the door closed he said, “I trust you have no objection to my dismissing your employees, Vandergelt?”
“It wouldn’t do a whoop of good if I did object,” said Cyrus. “But I think I see where you’re heading, and the less those two innocents know about the other business, the better. Are you suggesting Vincey was trying to pick your brain about those unknown tombs?”
“Nonsense,” I exclaimed. “We know exactly what Vincey wants, and it has nothing to do with—”
“May I remind you,” said Emerson, in the growling purr that usually heralded a particularly devastating remark, “that it was I the gentleman questioned, not you.