Tomb of the Golden Bird - Elizabeth Peters [55]
“You’ll have to excuse us,” Cyrus said sheepishly. “We’ve been hearing rumors. About a room piled high with gold.”
“Already?” Nefret exclaimed.
“You need not apologize,” I said, clasping his hand warmly. “Emerson, will you serve the whiskey?”
I then launched into a tale that held my audience spellbound.
“He’s found it, then,” Nadji exclaimed. “Tutankhamon. Not a cache?”
“So it would appear,” Ramses replied. He had taken a seat next to Nefret, “I was able to make out a few cartouches on various objects. They were all those of Tutankhamon and his wife.”
That was more than I had been able to make out, but Ramses’s keen eyesight and remarkable memory were legendary in Egypt. At Cyrus’s request he drew a rough sketch of what he had seen through the small opening, explaining as he went along. “Directly opposite the door was a funerary couch, in the shape of the Hathor cow. Piled on top of it were an ordinary bed with animal legs, a wicker chair, several stools, and a wooden box. Under it were a number of white-painted ovoid boxes, probably containing food offerings, and in front of them two rectangular wooden boxes and a pair of what seems to be footstools. To the right I made out the tail of what may be another funerary couch, and to the left the head of a third, in the shape of a hippopotamus. I’m not much of an artist,” he finished modestly. “The place was in complete disarray.”
Emerson had lit his pipe. Now he took it from between his teeth. “The tomb was robbed, right enough. The thieves tossed the objects about looking for small valuables. The priests who set the place in order afterward were in a hurry.”
“We knew the tomb had been robbed at least once,” I said. “The golden statuette we found last year and the confession of the thief prove that.”
“Twice,” Ramses said. “There is evidence of at least two breaches in the door.”
“They couldn’t have stolen any large objects, if the holes were the size you describe,” Cyrus said shrewdly. “What an incredible find! Even if the tomb was robbed, most of the funerary goods are still there. When is Carter taking the inner door down?”
“Tomorrow, I believe,” I said.
“I sure admire his patience,” Cyrus said, shaking his head. “I’d have been at it all night.”
“I would give anything to be there,” Suzanne exclaimed.
The lamps swung in a sudden puff of wind, sending strange shadows across the intent faces. No one answered Suzanne’s implied request; but Jumana turned her head to look at the other young woman. If Suzanne got into that tomb before she did, there would be trouble, and to spare. Bertie cleared his throat and looked hopeful, but dared venture no further. After his first ejaculation of wonder, Nadji had relapsed into silence.
Fatima came to the doorway—or rather, since I knew she had been eavesdropping, she showed herself in the doorway. “Dinner is served,” she announced.
“Will you stay?” I asked Cyrus.
“No, no, we’ve imposed enough already. Will we see you in the West Valley tomorrow? Emerson?”
“What?” said Emerson.
“I doubt it,” I said. “But you may be sure we will keep you informed.”
Dinner was a silent meal. We were all tired, even Emerson, who sat hunched over his plate and who had to be reminded from time to time to put food in his mouth. For once Sethos spoke very little. His abstracted expression reawakened suspicions I had tried to dismiss. There was something on his mind, something of which he preferred not to speak.
Instead of joining us for coffee in the sitting room, Nefret excused herself.
“I’m awfully tired, and I want to look in on the twins.”
“Allow me to see you home,” Ramses said, offering his arm.
She laughed a little, and yawned. “There’s no need, darling. I’m going straight to bed.”
Ramses said something in a low voice; she laughed again. “Thank you, kind sir.”
I smiled to myself and thought how nice