Carter had been in the bar just five minutes and had been listening to Mrs AO expound on her copious ‘knowledge’ of Egyptian history to an unfortunate gentleman stranger who had made no more untimely an error than to have been readily encountered sitting alone when she had come in. By now he was completely overwhelmed by her unsolicited oratory. Carter could not help coming to the man’s aid and see to it that the woman’s obvious inaccuracies were publicly corrected. This benevolent initiative he would come to regret.
“Ma’am” he interjected, “I think the Pharaoh of whom you speak is more correctly named ‘Tuthmosis III’. That particular Pharaoh lived around 1450 BC. That’s over one thousand years before the Romans not at all contemporary with them.” This correction was clinical, and meant to be final. Carter misjudged.
Mrs AO did not take kindly to the interruption and even less so to the correction. In any case, she didn’t understand the word ‘contemporary’. “You are mistaken, sir. Totknees. I visited ’is tomb only yesterday. And it was ’is daughter Cleopatra wot married that Seezer chappie. It’s all in Shakespeare for anyone to see.”
In the face of such abject ignorance, Carter lost all patience and discretion at once. “Ma’am, the answer to that is spherical and in the plural!”
The lady did not miss a beat. At first she pretended to ignore Carter’s obscenity and lashed back. “You should do a bit more readin’ before yer makes statements of that nature, sir. And anuver fing, I takes unkindly to interruptions from ignoramuses like yerself. I’d be obliged if you’d return to yer seat and mind yer own business and enjoy yer drink and not spoil this nice gen’leman’s pleasure... An’, by the way, yer language doesn’t compare wiv that uv a gen’leman. We’d awl be ’bliged if yer’d keep it fer the bord’los in which I’m sure yer feel a good deal more comf ’table than in these surroundin’s.”
Carter was not accustomed to a full frontal attack of this nature, particularly from a female of the species, a perfect stranger, and more especially when the battle was joined on his personal stamping ground. He was sufficiently in shock that his mind went totally blank for a moment, leaving him at a loss for words. He dutifully returned to his chair at the bar and, rolling his eyes in disgust, downed the remainder of his glass.
Mrs AO, a large, one might say corpulent woman, copiously endowed with large lungs to match her plentiful chest, returned her attentions to the unfortunate, previously-solitary-and-enjoying-it gentleman in the corner sofa and continued her flawed history at a level of voice quite loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room.
“I am a close friend o’ Lord an’ Lady Amherst, y’ knows. Yer knows oo they are, de yer not?” The gentleman did not get the time to respond. “They are the foremost Egyptologists uv England, and in their ’ome at Didlin’ton ’all in Norfolk they ’ouse the greatest c’lection uv ancient Egyptian artefac’s in the ’ole of Europe. It is from bein’ close t’ them all these years that I ’as come to be somewhat of an orfority on fings in these parts, y’ see.”
‘Now she’s got the gall to namedrop,’ thought Carter. ‘I can’t stand by and let her use their name in association with this flagrant dissertation of lies.’
His composure was restored but now he was quite angry. He shouted to her from his seat at the bar. “Ma’am! Ma’am! You would do well to consider in whose name you speak such balderdash. You persist in misleading this gentleman in every way and now you have the effrontery to do so citing the friendship, counsel and experience of the Amhersts. It is quite clear to me that you must know nothing of them but their good name, for they would have ensured you came to Egypt with a good deal more basic grounding in its history than you clearly have a fiction you have dreamed up in your own mind for the purposes, no doubt, of appearing authoritative well beyond the means of your personal level of intellect.”
Lightning struck.
“Just ’oo the ’ell do you fink you are, mister? ‘Ow dare you address a total LADY stranger wiv such familiarity and contempt! I shall ’ave you ejected from this establishment at once! Boy! Boy! Get the manager! I want the manager... An’ I wants ’im now!”
Carter, again taken aback by the energy, arrogant confidence and directness of the fat lady’s tirade, did not comment further. Instead he decided to await the arrival of the manager who, of course, he knew very well and who, of course, would quickly settle the matter in Carter’s favour.
On his arrival, the poor man was subjected to a full frontal volley of Mrs AO’s version of the events. He was not permitted the option to reply but ordered to eject the offending gentleman in the three-piece tweed. He took a little time to consider his options, however, and waited long enough for the woman to repeat her demands, Carter all the time regarding him with a knowing smirk on his face. Then, without saying anything to her and with an almost imperceptible nod of his head, he turned and walked over to where Carter was sitting.
“Sir,” he began in a whisper, “this is most embarrassing for me. You see this lady is a close friend of her ladyship. Upon her return to England which, Allah promise us, must occur within the week,” he rolled his eyes, “I would not care to have her displeasure with the hotel related to her ladyship. Her ladyship’s type of clientele, you understand, is most desirable, most generous and, quite frankly, the essential lifeblood of this establishment. Consequently, and begging your understanding, on this occasion I am forced to ask you to leave.”
Carter couldn’t believe his ears.
“Anton,” he returned patiently, “she wouldn’t know Lord and Lady Amherst from a hole in the ground. She’s a fake, man. Can’t you see?”
The manager responded quietly and matter of fact. “The room she occupies was reserved for her by a recent letter in the hand of her ladyship herself. I fear, Mr Carter, that on this occasion it is you that is how do you say barking up the wrong tree. In this case a veritable cactus!” He grinned condescendingly.
Carter’s eyes were wide open in anger and shock. He whispered back once more, “Show me the letter. I demand to see the letter!”
The manager was quick to recognise this opportunity to remove Carter from the battlefield without embarrassment, much less force. “Of course, sir. Please follow me to my office.”
They left the bar together. Carter, to avoid eye contact with the woman, looked doggedly ahead.
To the manager this was a most satisfactory end to what could have been a publicly nasty affair; to Carter, once he had seen the letter and realised the situation was indeed genuine, a most hurtful experience. He returned to his house on the west bank and drank alone until the clock struck one.
The following morning Carter decided he would stay on the west bank. He had been told that Mrs AO was in the area for another week. This was Monday, so for fear of accidentally crossing her path he would stay on the other side of the river for the entire week. The excavation at the tomb he had stumbled upon was proceeding slowly and seemingly without end, so he decided to take his painting materials to Deir el Bahri.
For a December day it was blisteringly hot and he was only too happy to get into the relative coolness of the shaded colonnades. He settled into his folding stool and began to lose himself in his work. He had been there about an hour, his sketchbook on his knee, the watercolour beginning to take form, when he heard it: the faint but unmistakable echo of a female voice reverberating from pillar to pillar, column to column.
“Mr Carter! Mr Carter! This is Mrs Avery Oliphant. I am told you are in ’ere somewhere. I ’ave a message from Lady Amherst for you. Could you please make yerself known to me?”
Carter quickly replaced his brush, closed up his palette, folded up his stool, quietly turned and scurried for the nearest niche, pressing himself against the wall.
As she searched betwixt and between the columns, he could hear the woman’s footsteps on the sand strewn stone floors crunching nearer, then further from him, then closer again. He remained motionless, hoping she would not come near enough to spot him.
&n
bsp; “Mr Carter! ’E is in ’ere somewhere, isn’t ’e?”
“Oh, most assuredly, madame. I believe he is painting one of the friezes over there.”
‘Dammit. Abdel. He’s guiding her right to the spot. What the hell can the woman want? Not content with yesterday’s victories, to cement her achievement she is up for a second engagement tell more trumped-up tales to the misguided in the bar this evening, no doubt.’ Then it dawned on him they had not been introduced; she did not know what he looked like she had no idea the person she had confronted the previous night was he. The letter was proof enough that she did know the Amhersts. Perhaps she was seeking him out on their behalf after all. He must avoid meeting with her again at all costs.
“You are mistaken, man.” A welcome remark of irritation from Mrs AO.
“But it was I who saw Mr Carter enter, madame. And I have not seen him leave.”
“Stupid Arab! Stupid Arab... Waste of time... Grubbing about in this dark and dusty place... Waste of my time...”
To Carter’s relief her words faded into glorious silence as she bustled out of the temple and into the sunlight. ‘Go burn in hell, ma’am,’ he thought as he reopened his stool and prepared to resume his painting.
Abdel had remained in the colonnade as Mrs AO had left, and he immediately spotted his master. He tried to hail Mrs AO but she was already beyond earshot.
His slippers scuffed on the stone floor as he hurried over to Carter’s side. “That lady, Mr Carter. That lady...”
“I know. I know. I was hiding. I do not wish to meet her.”
“But she is very insistent, sir. Very persuasive.”
“Yes, Abdel. I understand. Now you understand this... From now on, whenever she asks you where I am, you have no idea. NO idea.”
“Sir? But I always know where you are.”
“I am asking you to lie to her, Abdel. Have you never lied before?”
“No, sir!” Abdel was emphatic. With a shocked expression on his face he shook his head and waved his arms to underline the statement. “Never.”
“Do you wish to remain in my employ?”
This particular option had not occurred to the reis. “But of course, sir.”
“Then, you will lie when I tell you to.”
“Sir.”
The truth was, of course, as Carter well knew, that lying was all but second nature to the likes of Abdel. He just didn’t wish to admit to the attribute. Allah may overhear. However, being ordered to do so, and to take on the responsibility with such evident reluctance, purged his conscience most satisfactorily.
But, as things were to turn out, this simple conspiracy was all in vain.
Carter looked up from his painting and out into the temple forecourt. The sun was already dipping behind the Theban hills and the light was going fast. The Valley and the great rock amphitheatre of Deir el Bahri were now in shadow. It was time to leave. He gathered up his things and walked out across the middle platform and down the ramps, dodging a few late tourists on the way. Before leaving the area he visited the site under excavation. As expected, the reis reported little progress for the day’s efforts.
Carter sighed. ‘Count your blessings, Howard, my boy. You had a close shave today.’
Abdel was waiting for him with his horse. He packed his stuff in the saddlebag and the reis helped him up. They ambled home slowly down the processional way, Abdel leading Sultan by the halter. By the time the inspector’s residence came into view, the entire Nile basin was bathed in twilight.
As they approached, it became obvious to Carter that he had visitors. There was a motor car in the forecourt guarded by two uniformed fellahs. He dismounted and went in. It had never occurred to him who might be awaiting him inside. He blundered into his sitting room without a single thought for caution.
There she was.
“You? What effrontery is this? What the ’ell are you doin’ ’ere? Abdel! Ask this man to leave immediately!”
Shocked, Carter nevertheless had the composure to respond. He was brief. “This is my house, ma’am. I ask you to state your business or leave now.”
The boot at last was on the other foot. It was now Mrs AO who was shocked sufficiently to be placed on the defensive. She almost whimpered, “You are... You are then...”
“Howard Carter, Inspector of Antiquities in the Upper Nile. Not exactly at your service, ma’am, but eager to assist you to leave.”
Once the identity had been confirmed, Mrs AO was quick to regain her composure.
“Young man, I am prepared to overlook your rudeness of last night if you can bring yourself to speak civilly with me for one moment and permit me to pass on the message I ’ave brought to you from ’er ladyship all this way, I may add.”
Carter wasn’t about to apologise but he could hardly refuse to listen.
“As you wish.” He sat down.
“Aren’t you goin’ to offer me some refreshment?”
‘God, I have to pay the piper, too?’ Carter thought. He signalled to Hosein to bring in the drinks tray.
He badly needed one himself.
Mrs AO sat in silence until the tray arrived. All the time she avoided eye contact with Carter, self-consciously patting at her skirt and looking all about the room.
Carter’s gin and tonic was already prepared. “What’ll you have, ma’am?”
“That will do just nicely,” she said, and made a grab for Carter’s glass.
Carter sighed and turned to the smiling Hosein. “What’s so amusing, Hosein? Get me another one. At once, if you please. Now, ma’am. The message...”
“My Lady Amherst asked me to enquire of yer ’ealth.”
“I am in fine health, as you can plainly see. Will there be anything else before you leave?” asked Carter, rising from his chair.
“I ’ave not finished. Sit down. You are givin’ me neck ache. Be seated.”
Carter silently obeyed.
“‘Er ladyship wishes to convey ’er best wishes to you... An’ to Abdel and Hosein.” She turned and smiled condescendingly at the reis whom she had abused just a few hours earlier. “’Er ladyship would like you to visit when you next return to England. ’Er ladyship told me of yer expertise in Egyptology and commended you to me saying that you would be only too glad to escort me around some of the less well-known antiquities in these parts.”
This was anathema to Carter’s ears.
“That is somewhat academic now, in view of the circumstances, do you not think, ma’am? Besides, I am a very busy man. The responsibilities of my position weigh heavily. You will appreciate that, although you are an acquaintance of Lady Amherst...”
“A very, very good and intimate friend, Mr Carter NOT an ‘acquaintance’.”
Carter continued as if the interruption had not occurred. “...Although you are an acquaintance of her ladyship’s, I have neither the time nor the inclination to assist you in your endeavours. It became clear to me from our brief encounter last night that you already are most well endowed with knowledge of Egyptian history and have no need of one such as I to enrich you further. Indeed, I recall that at the time you had the temerity to correct me. Therefore, ma’am, I regret that I will be unavailable to you during your brief stay in Luxor.”
Mrs AO downed her gin in one and slapped the tumbler back on the tray.
“That bein’ yer attitude, I feel there is nothin’ more that can be said between us. I bid you a very ‘goodnight’, Mr. Carter.” She raised her hand to him, indicating she wished assistance in rising from her chair.
Carter reluctantly took her fingertips.
“Abdel. Show this lady out, if you please. Goodnight, ma’am. As you drive to the riverside watch out for the bats. The local variety is quite venomous. A quality shared by some such as I have the misfortune to meet from time to time.”
Carter’s last statement was quite unnecessary but the opportunity to have the last word before losing sight of her altogether was irresistible. As she was helped into the car she turned
to Abdel to issue one last word of abuse.
But before she could say anything the reis stammered, “Madame, please do nnnnot ask me where the master is ever again. I do nnnnot know where the master is. I nnnnever know where the master is.”
For once at a loss for words, she sat herself down in the back seat of the car and looked directly ahead. The dwindling sound of the motor chugging away down the hill was music to Carter’s ears. He eased back in his chair and attended his second gin.
The lady with largesse settled herself down and gestured with her third sherry glass. “Well, Lady Amherst, what can I say? I don’t fink that boy of yours can come to any good. ’E was most rude to me, an’ doesn’t appear to ’ave learned much in ’is time out there. Told me Totknees is ’Allitosis, or some such. ’Owever did ‘e get an important job like that?”
When the reis finally told Carter that a doorway had been discovered in the shaft, he had almost forgotten that the workings were still in progress. Practically a year had elapsed since they had uncovered the entrance to the tomb. He immediately sent word to Viscount Cromer. The great man’s arrival was set for New Year’s Day, 1901, and Carter prepared for the opening.
A plumply rounded Mrs Maspero was the viscount’s escort, along with the usual and considerable entourage of ‘qualified’ hangers-on, many of them befezzed and suited Egyptian representatives and associates of the government and the Antiquities Service.
For the occasion, Carter had had constructed within the shaft a wooden platform on which, depending on their sizes, five or six men could comfortably stand. Two of them, Carter and one of his fellahs, would perform the physical labour of removing the slabs of limestone that sealed the doorway. Seniority decided who would be lucky enough to descend to the platform and witness the proceedings as they unfolded.
“Your servant, sir,” bowed Carter, lending Viscount Cromer a hand as he reached the platform.
“And I yours, Mr Carter. It is with great respect and admiration for your reputation that I come here. I am truly honoured to be present at this the opening of your first discovery. You certainly have a nose for these things but one year on from your confirmation as inspector quite remarkable, sir. Quite remarkable!”
Tutankhamun Uncovered Page 15