Seeing a Large Cat (3 page)

Over the past years Ramses had been trying to overcome his unfortunate tendency to verbosity, but he had occasional relapses. I said automatically, "Be quiet, Ramses."

"Yes, Mother. May I see the note?"

I passed it round. "How strange," Nefret murmured. "What does it mean, sir?"

"Cursed if I know," Emerson said.

He took out his pipe and began to fill it. I leaned forward. "Emerson, you are being deliberately enigmatic and provoking, not to say mysterious. Your habit of keeping things from us-particularly from me-has got entirely out of hand. You know perfectly well-"

"It is a threat," Nefret exclaimed. "Or a warning. Oh-do forgive me for interrupting, Aunt Amelia; I was carried away by excitement. Which tomb is meant, Professor? Is it one of those you mean to excavate this year?"

We all waited, with pent breath, for Emerson's answer. One of his annoying little habits was to keep the site of our future excavations a secret until the last possible moment. He had not confided even in me.

He did not confide in me now. "Let us wait until this evening to discuss the matter," he said coolly. "I don't want to get into a loud, embarrassing argument in public."

Indignation momentarily robbed me of breath. Emerson's voice is the loudest of anyone's, and Emerson is the quickest of anyone to enter into an argument. His sanctimonious expression was maddening.

David, always the peacemaker, heard me draw in my breath and put an affectionate arm round my shoulders. "Yes, let us save business until later. Tell me about Aunt Evelyn, and Uncle Walter, and the children-it has been too long since I saw or heard from them."

"They sent their fondest love, of course," I replied. "Evelyn wrote every week, but I don't suppose you received many of her letters."

"The post is not regular in the desert," David said with a smile. "I have missed them very much. They haven't changed their minds about coming out this season?"

"Someone had to stay in London to supervise the preparation of the final volume of the Tetisheri tomb publication," I said. "It is the volume of plates, you know, and since Evelyn was responsible for the paintings she wanted to make certain they were properly reproduced. Walter is working on the index of objects and inscriptions."

David demanded more information about his foster family. He was the grandson of our reis, Abdullah, but he had been virtually adopted by Emerson's brother, Walter, and spent the summers with the younger Emersons learning English and Egyptology, and heaven knows what else; he was an extremely intelligent young fellow and absorbed information as a sponge soaks up water. He was also a talented artist; when we first ran into him he was making fake antiquities for one of the greatest villains in Luxor, from whose baleful influence we had been instrumental in freeing him.*His parents were both dead, and his feelings for Evelyn and Walter were those of a devoted and grateful son.

As he had no doubt hoped, the subject occupied us for the remainder of the drive, though Ramses was uncharacteristically silent and Nefret contributed less than was her wont and Emerson fidgeted, tugging irritably at the cravat I had insisted on his wearing. When the dahabeeyah came into view he let out a gusty sigh, removed the offending article of dress altogether, and undid his collar button.

"It is uncommonly warm for November," he declared. "I am in full agreement with Nefret; I want to get out of these uncomfortable garments. Hurry up, Peabody."

I deduced, from the affectionate employment of my maiden name, and the meaningful glance he shot me, that he might want something else as well. But I lingered for a moment after he had helped me down from the carriage, to bestow a proud, fond look upon the boat, our floating home, as I termed it.

*The Hippopotamus Pool Emerson had purchased the dahabeeyah several years earlier. It was one of his most romantic and touching demonstrations of affection, for he dislikes traveling by water; he had made the sacrifice for me, and whenever I beheld the Amelia, as he had named the boat, my heart swelled. The graceful sailing vessels that had once been the favored method of Nile travel had now been largely replaced by steamers and by the railroad, but I would never lose my allegiance to them, or forget that first wonderful voyage, during which Emerson had asked me to be his.

The crew and domestic staff, headed by Captain Hassan, awaited us at the top of the gangplank. After they had greeted the returning wanderers and David and Ramses had returned the compliment, the latter's eyes moved round the deck.

"Where is the cat Bastet?" he asked.

I looked at Nefret. She bit her lip and bowed her head. Neither of us had looked forward to this moment. Nefret had had a close relationship with the matriarch of our large pride of felines, but not so close as that of Ramses; Bastet had been his companion and, according to some of the more superstitious Egyptians, his feline familiar, for many years. She would certainly have been foremost among those waiting to greet him.

Realizing that Nefret had not the courage to break the news, I cleared my throat.

"I am sorry, Ramses," I said. "Very sorry indeed. Nefret wrote you, but obviously the letter never reached you."

"No," said Ramses in a cool, expressionless voice. "When did it happen?"

"Last month. She had lived a long life for a cat, Ramses; she was full grown when we first found her, you know, and that was a good many years ago."

Ramses nodded. Not a muscle in his face had moved. "I dreamed of her one night last month. I don't know the date." I started to speak; he stopped me with a shake of his head. "One doesn't keep accurate count of time in a Beduin encampment.

Odd, that. For the ancient Egyptians, to dream of a large cat meant good luck."

"It was quick and painless." Nefret put a gentle hand on his arm. "We found her curled up as if she were sleeping, on the foot of your bed."

Ramses turned abruptly. "I feel certain Mother would prefer to see me in civilized attire. I will change at once. Excuse me."

He strode away, his full skirts billowing out behind him.

"I told you he wouldn't make a fuss, Nefret," I said. "He is not a sentimental person. I did think, though, that just before he turned away I saw a glimmer of moisture in his eyes."

"You imagined it," Emerson said gruffly. "You women are the sentimental ones. Men don't shed tears over a cat." He fumbled in his pocket, drew out a handkerchief, stared at it in mild surprise-his handkerchief is hardly ever where it is supposed to be-and blew his nose vigorously. "It was- hrmph-only a cat, you know."

Emerson must have been right, for when Ramses joined us in the saloon a little later he greeted our other Egyptian cat, Anubis, with perfect composure. Anubis returned the salutation with matching composure; larger and darker in color than the late lamented Bastet, he had not her amiable nature. He tolerated the rest of us, but saved his affection, what there was of it, for Emerson.

"My clothes are all too small, Mother," Ramses began.

"Those garments fit you well enough," I said. He was wearing flannels and a collarless shirt like the ones his father wore on the dig-an ensemble that was, in my opinion, quite unsuitable for a famous archaeologist. None of my arguments had ever persuaded Emerson to assume more dignified attire, and of course both boys insisted on imitating him.

"These are David's," Ramses said.

"You are entirely welcome," said David with a grin. When we first met the lad, mistreatment and semistarvation had made him appear to be younger than Ramses, but he was in fact two years older, and proper food and loving care had made him shoot up like a weed. He had been several inches taller than Ramses the previous season; I now noted, with a somewhat ambiguous mixture of emotions, that his last year's garments were a trifle too small for my son.

"That mustache," I began.

"Confound it, Peabody," Emerson shouted. "What is this obsession of yours with facial hair? First my beard, and now Ramses's mustache! Drink your whiskey like a lady and leave off badgering the boy-er-lad-er-chap."

Ramses fell like a vulture on this noble attempt to defend bis mustache. "Since I am no longer a boy," he began, eyeing my whiskey and soda.

"Not on any account," I said firmly. "Spirits are bad for young people. Whiskey will-er-stunt your growth."

Ramses looked down at me-quite a long way down. The comers of his mouth turned up just a trifle. He was wise enough to leave it at that, however, and was about to take a chair when Nefret came in. I had expected she would have assumed her working costume, modeled on mine-trousers and shirtwaist with, of course, a long loose jacket-but the garment she wore was a glittering robe of peacock green silk embroidered with gold and gemstones. It had been a gift from an admirer, but I had never seen her wear it, or the elaborate jewel-encrusted earrings. She curled up on the divan, tucking her slippered feet under her and settling the cat she was carrying comfortably on her lap.

"I dressed up in your honor," she announced, smiling at the boys.

Visibly dazzled, David stared openmouthed. Ramses's eyes passed over her and focused on the cat.

"Which one is that?" he asked.

Over the years Bastet had had quite a lot of kittens, but since the sires were local felines the offspring had displayed a bewildering variety of colors and shapes. Her last litter, produced in cooperation with Anubis, resembled their parents to a striking degree-long and well muscled, with sleek coats of brindled brown and fawn. They tended to have rather large ears.

"This is Sekhmet," Nefret replied. "She was only a tiny kitten when you last saw her, but now she-"

"Quite," said Ramses. "Father, will you now tell us about your plans? I presume that you mean, for your next project, to investigate the lesser-known, uninscribed, nonroyal tombs in the Valley of the Kings. Some might consider this an unusual choice for a scholar of your eminence, but familiar as I am with your views on excavation I am not surprised you should take this course."

Emerson fixed him with a suspicious glare. "How did you arrive at that conclusion?"

Ramses opened his mouth. I said hastily, "Don't ask him, Emerson, or he will tell us. You tell us. For I confess I am unable to understand why you should concentrate your formidable talents on work that cannot possibly produce meaningful results, either in historical terms or in terms of valuable artifacts. ..."

My voice trailed off. Emerson had turned the glare on me.

The only people who are not in awe of Emerson's powerful voice and well-nigh superhuman strength are the members of his own family. He is aware of this, and often complains about it; so from time to time I like to put on a little show of being intimidated. "Proceed, my dear," I said apologetically.

"Hmph," said Emerson. "I don't know why you should be surprised, Peabody. You know my views on scientific excavation. From the first, archaeology in Egypt has been a haphazard, slipshod business. There has been some improvement in recent years; however, much of the work that is being done is still scandalously inadequate, and nowhere is this more evident than in the Valley of the Kings. Everybody wants to find royal tombs. They go dashing from place to place, poking and probing, abandoning an excavation as soon as they become bored with it, ignoring the broken scraps of debris unless they find a royal cartouche. None of the smaller, uninscribed tombs has been properly cleared, measured, and recorded. This is what I propose doing. It will be hard, tedious work-unexciting and possibly unproductive. But one never knows. And at worst we will have a definitive record."

Crimson and purple streaked the sky, and from a mosque in a nearby district the high, pure voice of the muezzin began the sunset call to prayer. "God is great! God is great! There is no God but God." As if responding, the cat rose and stretched and left Nefret's lap for that of David, who began stroking it.

Ramses said, "So Maspero would not give you permission to look for unknown tombs in the Valley?"

I had expected Emerson would be annoyed at this cynical and-I did not doubt-accurate guess. Instead he chuckled and splashed more whiskey into his glass. "Right on the mark, my boy. After Vandergelt decided to give up his concession in the Valley, Maspero handed it over to that arrogant ignoramus from New York, Theodore Davis. Our distinguished director of antiquities is infatuated with wealthy dilettantes. He would not have considered my application in any case; he is a trifle put out with me these days."

"Small wonder," I said, holding out my own glass. "After you locked up Tetisheri's tomb, tore down the stairs to the entrance, and refused to hand over the key."

"I misplaced it," said Emerson.

"No, you didn't."

"No, I didn't," Emerson said, showing his teeth. "But I am damned if I will allow the Service des Antiquites to open the tomb to hordes of tourists. Candle smoke and magnesium flares, idiots rubbing up against the paintings and prying at the plaster with their fingernails...." A shudder of genuine horror ran through his body. "We worked too hard to conserve and restore those paintings. What the devil, we handed over the entire contents of the tomb to the museum. Why won't Maspero be content with that?"

"I agree with you, sir, of course," David said. "There is an additional danger; for if the tomb is opened, it won't be long before some of the men of Gurneh get into the place and start cutting out sections of the plastered walls to sell to tourists."

"Not while I draw breath," Emerson muttered. "That is one of the reasons why I have decided to work in Thebes for the indefinite future, so I can keep an eye on my tomb. We will get under way tomorrow."

A general outcry followed this statement. Even the cat let out a mournful wail.

"Impossible, my dear," I said calmly.

"Why?" Emerson demanded. "We are all here, ready for-"

"We are not ready, Emerson. Good gracious, the boys have just now arrived after six months in the desert; Ramses has outgrown all his clothes and both lads undoubtedly require to have toilet articles and boots and heaven knows what else replaced. If you mean to stay in Luxor indefinitely, the house we built two years ago will have to be enlarged, and that means more furniture, more supplies, more of-er-everything. And furthermore-"