Tomb of the Golden Bird - Elizabeth Peters [52]
“That would be inadvisable, sir,” Ramses said, for Howard seemed incapable of speech. “We must preserve the seals if we can, so that they can be studied in detail. That will take a while. Anyhow, according to protocol, an inspector of the Antiquities Department should be present. I presume you notified Mr. Engelbach that you would clear the stairwell today?”
Howard nodded dumbly.
“Then where is he?” Carnarvon demanded. “Why hasn’t he had the courtesy to respond promptly to my message?”
“He is a very busy man,” I said. “He has all of Upper Egypt in his jurisdiction. But I am sure he will be along soon.”
The febrile color in his lordship’s cheeks faded, leaving him pale and shaking. Nefret lifted his limp hand and placed her fingers on his wrist.
“I would advise you to get your father to bed, Lady Evelyn. He is somewhat agitated, but a good night’s rest should set him right.”
“No, no,” Carnarvon said. “I’ll wait for Engelbach.”
We had to wait another half hour. I confess I began to share Lord Carnarvon’s frustration. One would have supposed the mere existence of a hitheto unknown tomb would have aroused the interest of the Chief Inspector for Upper Egypt, which included the Valley of the Kings; but when Engelbach finally turned up, accompanied by Ibrahim Effendi, his lieutenant, he shook hands all round before even looking at the cleared stairs. He was at that time in his mid-thirties; we had known him since he began his career in archaeology and we had always been on good terms. He was not on such good terms with Howard, whom he greeted somewhat cavalierly.
“So what have we here?” he asked—of Emerson.
Glancing at Emerson as if for support, Howard said, “The lower strata of rubble from the stairwell contain potsherds and inscribed scraps. Ramses has—er—we have found the name of Tutankhamon, but also those of several other pharaohs, including Akhenaton.”
“A cache, then,” Engelbach said coolly. “Containing several burials.”
“Or the remains of them,” said Emerson. “Those broken pieces suggest the tomb was robbed in antiquity, and that a number of objects were removed before the necropolis priests resealed it.”
Engelbach nodded thoughtfully. “Like KV55. Let’s have a look, then.”
He remained, watching, while the men cleared the last few feet of debris from the bottom of the stairwell. Additional scraps of funerary equipment were found—a certain sign that some objects had been removed from the tomb before the steps were filled in. After inspecting these, and the seals on the door, Engelbach glanced at his watch.
“I must be off. You will of course notify me as you proceed. Let us hope,” he added, with a sharp look at Howard, “that this discovery won’t be botched as was the excavation of KV55.”
Botched it unquestionably had been, by the elderly American dilettante Theodore Davis, whose dictatorial control had made it virtually impossible for his archaeological assistant to follow the rules of proper excavation. We had been helpless observers of the havoc wrought by Davis, the mention of whose name still brought a snarl from Emerson. He was equally incensed with the inspector of the time, Arthur Weigall, who had been far less strict with the old American than he ought to have been. Rex Engelbach wouldn’t make that mistake.
“You can count on Carter to do the job right,” Emerson said fairly.
“I feel certain he appreciates your advice, Professor,” said Engelbach.
I didn’t feel at all certain about it. Emerson’s compliment had left Howard unmoved; he bit his lip and looked daggers at the inspector. Engelbach tipped his hat politely to the ladies and went off.
“Well,” said Emerson, rubbing his hands together, “there are several more hours of daylight left. Shall we get at it?”
“By all means,” Carter cried, too excited to resent Emerson’s bland assumption of participation.
“I am surprised at you,” said I, having been in receipt of a pointed look from Ramses. “Both of you. There is not enough light for proper photography, and removing the blocks without damaging the seals will take time.