"Thus spake the good and loyal wife."
"I knew this was what to expect," I said, "and I have always understood that Tybalt would have to be working most of the time."
He came closer to me and said: "I shouldn't have neglected you like that, Judith. And all for nothing!"
I turned on him angrily. "A loyal supporter of your leader, I see," I said.
He grinned at me. "You and I were always good friends, weren't we?"
"Until this moment," I snapped.
That turned the grin into a laugh. Then he was serious suddenly. "Don't you believe that. We always were and always will be. If ever you needed me . . ."
"Needed you!"
"Yes, my dear cousin. Even the most self-sufficient of us need others at times."
"Are you hinting something?"
He shrugged his shoulders and gave me that crooked smile which I had always found rather endearing. It was there in his serious moments when he was pretending to be lighthearted over something which affected him deeply.
I thought then: He knows something. He is warning me. What about? Tybalt!
I said sharply: "You had better explain yourself."
He seemed then to decide that he had gone too far.
"There's nothing to explain."
"But you implied . . ."
"I'm just being my nonsensical self once again."
But he had succeeded in planting seeds of uneasiness in my mind.
A few days later there was great excitement throughout the palace. Tybalt was jubilant. He had been following a false clue for months but he had picked up another trail.
He talked to me excitedly about it.
"I have this notion that we have been working in the wrong place. There's something behind the wall which we have yet to probe."
"What if it's another blind alley?"
"I don't think there could be two."
"Why not?"
"Oh for Heaven's sake, Judith, why should there be?"
"I don't know, but there was this one."
"I've got to try it," he said. "I won't give up until I've tried it."
"And that means that we shall stay here for how long?"
"Who can say? But we're going to try."
The effect on everyone was startling.
People like Terence Gelding and the senior members of the party were delighted. So was Tabitha. Poor Theodosia! She was so disappointed. So was Evan I believed, but solely on Theodosia's account. He was so kind and tender to her —a husband first, I thought, archaeologist second.
And I knew that in my secret thoughts I was making comparisons.
Theodosia was melancholy. Her hopes of going home were dashed.
Tabitha said: "She's upsetting Evan. Tybalt is quite concerned. He says Evan is not concentrating on his work because he is continually worrying about his wife."
I felt resentful. Why should Tybalt talk to Tabitha about Evan? I suspected he talked to her about a great deal. I had come upon them more than once in earnest conversation. I remembered that scene with Hadrian and wondered whether others had noticed these things as I did.
Tabitha was always energetic in smoothing the way for Tybalt. It was she who had the idea that since Theodosia was fretting about a prolonged stay she ought to take more interest in what was going on. She thought it would be a good idea to make up a little party and go for a tour of inspection. Theodosia should be a member of it. Leopold Harding, who called now and then at the palace and never lost an opportunity of talking to any of us when we met by chance, had asked if he might have an opportunity some time of being taken on a tour of the dig.
"Let Theodosia see for herself how interesting it is," said Tabitha. "I'm sure that would help her overcome her nervous fears."
Tabitha spoke to Tybalt who gave his permission and then she arranged the party. To my surprise Theodosia agreed to join it. She genuinely wished not to worry Evan and was determined to put on a bold face in spite of her fears.
Leopold Harding was very interested in what was happening at the site. Hadrian told me that he had met him once or twice and he always asked how things were going. He had been very sympathetic when we had believed the expedition had failed and had told Hadrian how pleased he was that hopes had been revived.
"He is longing to have a real look round," said Hadrian, "and has asked me if there is a hope of his joining this tour. He was delighted when Tybalt gave his permission. He invited me to go along to that storehouse of his. Would you like to come?"
I said I would so Hadrian and I went together.
It was a small shop on the edge of the souk, heavily padlocked, and I gathered that some of the pieces he had there were very valuable.
The small space inside was full of the most fascinating things. Leopold Harding glowed with enthusiasm as he pointed out various objects.
"Look at this folding stool. It's carved with interlaced foliage. You see the lions' heads on the upper terminals and the claws on the lower ends. I found it here but it might well be Scandinavian. But one never knows what one is going to pick up where. This could be twelfth century."
Hadrian had picked up a plaque. "Why look at this. I could swear this was genuine." I saw the profiled figures— a Pharaoh presenting gifts to Horus.
"A lovely piece," said Leopold Harding, "and it would fool most people. Wouldn't you think it had been plucked from the walls of a tomb? Not so. It is old—though not old enough. Three hundred years, I'd say. You can imagine how excited I was when that came into my hands."
Hadrian allowed Leopold Harding to take it from him very reluctantly, I thought.
"Look at this," went on Mr. Harding, picking up a box. "It's for jewels. See the ivory inlay and the small checkered panels on the lid. This is one of my most valuable pieces."
We admired the box and went from one object to another. He told us about the difficulties of getting the goods shipped to England and how glad he was when he was able to acquire jewelry or small pieces which he could carry himself.
He showed us some collar-necklets and earrings of lapis and turquoise cut and set in the Egyptian manner. I was fascinated by them. There was one statue which intrigued me. It was of the god Horus with his hawk-like face and at the feet of the god was a small and beautifully carved figure of a Pharaoh. Over this small figure the hawk-god towered protectively. It seemed to take on life; it was some five feet in height but as I looked, as though hypnotized, it appeared to grow to enormous proportions. I could not take my eyes from it. There was about it a quality which made me want to escape from it and yet held me there.
When I felt a touch on my shoulder I started. It was Leopold Harding and he was smiling at me.
"Fine, is it not?" he said. "A wonderful copy."
"What was the original?" I asked.
"That I never saw, but it was clearly meant to decorate some long dead Pharaoh's tomb. The sort of image which was put there to ward off tomb robbers." He turned to Hadrian. "But you would know more of that than I."
"I doubt it," said Hadrian. "I have never seen the inside of an undisturbed tomb."
"That image is certainly a little chilling, don't you agree? Now I want your opinion of this alabaster ornament. The Sphinx, no less. It's rather good. Quite valuable too. It's very cleverly carved."
We agreed and went on to examine the other interesting articles he had assembled, but I kept thinking of the stone Horus and whenever I turned to look at it, I imagined those hawk's eyes were on me menacingly.
It was certainly an interesting experience and when we left we told Leopold Harding so and thanked him warmly.
"One good turn deserves another," he said lightly. "Don't forget you are taking me on a tour of the site."
The party consisted of Terence Gelding, who was in charge, with Hadrian and Evan to assist him, Leopold Harding, the interested guest, Tabitha, Theodosia, and myself.
We went to the site in the evening when the workmen were not there.
I could never enter
those subterranean passages without a thrill of excitement so I guessed how Theodosia would be feeling. She was now noticeably pregnant and leaned on Evan's arm; but I was surprised how reconciled she was and she seemed almost prepared to enjoy the adventure.
This was an excellent plan and it didn't seem too much to hope that this might induce Theodosia to cast aside her terrors and begin to be what Tabitha called "a good archaeologist's wife."
Terence had one lantern and Hadrian the other—Terence leading and Hadrian taking up the rear.
Theodosia clung to her husband's arm and gingerly picked her steps.
It was cold, of course, after the heat outside but we had been warned by Terence to bring light coats or wraps.
Terence lifted his lantern high and pointed out wall pictures of the gods and the Pharaohs. I recognized the Ram-headed Amen Ra, Horus the Hawk or was that Amen Ra too, for he was both Hawk and Ram? There was Anubis the Jackal, which reminded me of the mark on the arm of the men whose wound I had dressed and also I had seen it on the soothsayer's skin.
Terence was saying: "This was not the tomb of a very important man. These wall paintings have not been executed with the care that we have seen in some of the palaces—our own palace for one. It was evidently the last resting place of some minor potentate, a man of wealth, though, because even a secondary tomb must have cost a great deal. It could even be that several people were buried here."
"And made a sort of syndicate to pay for it?" asked Leopold Harding.
"Wouldn't they have been dead?" asked Theodosia and we were all delighted to hear her express interest.
"No," said Terence. "Long before their deaths, work was started on the tomb. In the case of a Pharaoh his went on for years and only stopped at the time of his death."
"When they were ready to use it," added Hadrian. "So the longer they lived the better the tomb, which seems hardly fair on the young. To be deprived of life and a fine tomb all at one stroke."
We proceeded carefully along the narrow passageway, Terence leading. Then the passage opened into a chamber. "This is not the burial chamber," said Terence. "That would be farther on. This pit you see here might have contained something which was removed when the tomb was robbed. It's hard to say. This wooden structure of a bridge was put up by us to be used when we needed to cross the pit to get into the passage just beyond. But first look at the engraving on this wall."
He held the lantern high and Theodosia, I believe in an endeavor to show Evan that she was unafraid, started to cross that wooden structure which did service as a bridge.
We were all horrified by what happened next. The bridge crumpled; Theodosia was thrown up into the air before she fell, taking part of the bridge with her down into the pit.
There was a terrifying silence which seemed to go on and on but which could only have lasted half a second.
Then I heard Hadrian cry: "Good God." I saw Evan. He was scrambling down into the pit; it was not easy to get down for it was a drop of some twelve feet.
Terence took charge. "Harding, go and get a stretcher somewhere. Get a doctor someone. Take this lantern." He thrust it into my hands. "I'll get down there." And then he was scrambling down and kneeling with Evan beside the prostrate form of Theodosia.
It was like a nightmare: the gloom of the tomb, the silence all about us, the limp unconscious Theodosia, the stricken Evan.
Everything seemed to take such a long time. Of course there were difficulties. We did improvise a stretcher but bringing Theodosia out of the pit on it was no easy matter; nor was conveying the stretcher along those passages. Terence proved himself a leader on that night and Tabitha was beside him, cool and authoritative. I did all I could to comfort Evan. He kept saying: "It's my fault. I should never have let her come here."
When we finally got Theodosia back to the palace we put her to bed. Her child was born that night—dead—a five months' girl. But it was Theodosia who gave us such cause for anxiety.
She remained unconscious and Tabitha, who had some experience of nursing, stayed with her while I sat with Evan in an adjoining room trying in vain to comfort him.
I kept saying: "It'll be all right. You've lost the child but you'll have another."
"If she comes through this," said Evan, "I shall never bring her away from home again. She was terrified. You know how frightened she was. She sensed disaster. It's my fault."
I said: "Nonsense. It's not your fault. Of course she came with you. You're her husband."
"She wanted to go back, and I kept her here. She was trying hard to adjust herself. Oh God, why didn't I go home."
"You couldn't," I assured him. "Your work was here."
"I did speak to Tybalt. But it was impossible to release me without a lot of trouble. He would have had to find a replacement."
Tabitha had come to the door. Evan was on his feet. She beckoned us to come in.
I looked at Theodosia's pallid face on the pillows; it was clammy with sweat and I would scarcely have recognized her.
A terrible desolation came to me. She was my sister and I knew she was going to die.
Evan knelt by the bed, the tears running down his face.
Theodosia opened her eyes.
"Evan," she said.
"My love," he answered, "my dear, dear love." "It's all right, Evan. I ... I'm not afraid . . ." She was aware of me. "Judith."
"I'm here, Theodosia." "My . . . sister." "Yes," I said.
"It's right over me now, Judith . . . the big black bat . . ." "Oh Theodosia . . ."
"I'm not afraid though. Evan, I'm not . . ." I heard Evan whisper: "Oh God." And Tabitha's hand was on my shoulder. "It's all over, Judith," she whispered. I stood up.
I could not believe it. Yesterday she had been well. Only two days ago we had been in the souk together. And now Theodosia was dead.
The effect of Theodosia's death was dynamic.
Had not Sir Edward died? And now another death. This was the Curse of the Pharaohs!
Mustapha and Absalam watched me with great pleading eyes. "Go home, Lady," said those eyes. "Go home before the Curse strikes again."
Tybalt was distressed. "This has upset Tabitha," he said. "She can't forget that she suggested the expedition. I tell her that she did it to help Theodosia, but that doesn't comfort her."
I had rarely seen him so affected. For Tabitha!
What was happening to me? I was growing resentful and suspicious. Now, I was telling myself, he is more concerned with the effect this is going to have on Tabitha than on Evan, whose wife Theodosia was, and on myself who was her sister.
"I have set up an enquiry immediately," he told me. "We have to find out how such an accident could have happened. The bridge was used frequently and had been strong enough to hold men and a certain amount of heavy equipment. Why should it have broken when a young woman attempted to cross it? There has to be a logical explanation. If we don't find one, those ridiculous rumors will start up again."
There was, however, nothing he could do to prevent that—particularly when it was proved impossible to discover how the bridge had broken.
The Curse had made the bridge fall apart, was the verdict of many. It was the work of the angry gods.
But why should the victim be Theodosia, who had done nothing to offend? It was her first visit to the tomb; she had wanted to go home. If the gods were angry why should they have chosen to wreak their vengeance on her?
Some of the workmen would not go into the tomb, a fact which held up operations considerably.
I was chiefly concerned with Evan who was beside himself with grief.
He could not concentrate when one spoke to him. His eyes would fill with tears; sometimes he would talk of Theodosia and his happiness with her and the hopes they had shared for the future of their child. It was painful; it was more than that. It was unendurable, and I spoke to Tybalt about it.
I said: "Evan will have to go home. He can't stay here."
"We need him here," said Tybalt.
/> "Not in his present state surely."
"He's pretty useless of course."
I said sharply: "He has just lost a wife and child."
"I know that. I thought perhaps it would be good for him to immerse himself in work."
I laughed shortly. "I'm going to make a suggestion," I said, "which will horrify you. Everything here reminds him of what he has lost. He must go home at once."
"What will he do there? He will only mourn for his wife. Work will help him to overcome his grief."
"Do you realize, Tybalt, how much Evan loved his wife?"
"He was devoted to her, I know."
"I daresay you would find it difficult to understand Evan's feelings for Theodosia."
He looked at me oddly.
"Yes," I continued sharply, "I know you would. But I understand them. At the moment he is dazed by his grief. We have to help him, Tybalt. He has lost what is most dear to him, more dear than anything you can understand. Work cannot save him. Nothing can save him. I think he must go away from here. Here there are too many memories."
"Are there not at home?"
"Different memories. Here he keeps thinking of her as she was here ... all her fears. She always wanted to go home. He is reproaching himself. He's on the verge of a breakdown. If you could have seen his face when they brought her out of the pit ... and then at her bedside when she was dying . . ."
My voice broke; and he patted my shoulder. I looked at him and thought angrily: He is calculating who can be put in Evan's place if Evan is too distraught to continue.
I went on: "This is not a matter of archaeology. This is a matter of human decency, human kindness. I have to look after Evan ... if others won't."
"Well, naturally we want to do what is best . . ."
"Yes, I know, the work must go on. No matter what happens, that is important. I know that. But Evan is of no use to you in his present state. I am going to write to my aunts and tell them what has happened. I shall ask them if Evan can go to Rainbow Cottage and there they will nurse him and make him want to live again."
Tybalt did not answer and I turned from him and said: "I shall now go and write to my aunts. No matter what you say I shall ask them to take in Evan."
Curse of the Kings Page 25