The Buried Pyramid

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by Jane Lindskold

She wandered off through the newly planted fields, stepping over thin irrigation rills, and admiring the stark beauty of the temple without the annoying interference of tourist chatter. Distance made it easier to imagine the temple as it might have been. In her imagination Jenny replaced the broken stone that remained where Hathor’s face had been hacked from the columns with the goddess’ benign features.

  A shrill, piercing cry broke into Jenny’s imaginings. For a moment, she thought it was the high-pitched voice of one of the women on the tour carrying from the echoing halls of the temple. Then she realized it had come from much closer.

  One of the fellahin? she thought. The women do bring their babies with them into the fields.

  With more urgency, she continued her search, imagining a child abandoned or forgotten. What she found seemed just as pathetic.

  A litter of kittens not more than a few weeks old were nested in a grassy hollow near one of the irrigation streams. All were stiff, still, and cold, all but one who cried from the center of the huddle, its little pink mouth opening and shutting, its cries growing suddenly more intense, as if it sensed Jenny’s nearness. There was no sign of the kittens’ mother, and judging from the way their ribs were outlined beneath their fur, she must have been gone for several days.

  “Oh, you poor darling,” Jenny said, scooping up the kitten.

  It was a miserable scrap of an animal. Its ragged coat was a deep, golden brown, the hairs ticked at the tips with a darker brown—more like a rabbit’s coat than a cat’s. Its wide blue eyes could not have been open for more than a few days, but the kitten already viewed the world with suspicion. It didn’t even struggle when Jenny picked it up, just drooped limp and resigned.

  “You,” Jenny said, stroking the kitten’s fur, “need something to eat. Can you handle goat’s milk, I wonder? You’d better, since I don’t think the steamer has a resident mother cat.”

  She hadn’t noticed Stephen and Uncle Neville crossing the field, the curiosity writ large on their features making them look oddly alike.

  “What did you find, Jenny?” Uncle Neville asked.

  “A kitten,” she said. “The rest of its litter is here, dead. It’s nearly starved, poor darling.”

  Stephen looked at it critically.

  “You’re not taking a kitten with us,” he said.

  “And why not?” Jenny replied stubbornly.

  “They won’t want a kitten on the boat,” Stephen said reasonably. “Give it to one of the merchants. They’ll be glad for a cat. Or maybe the temple custodians would want it.”

  “Lady Smitherington has her obnoxious pomeranian with her,” Jenny replied stubbornly. “No one will complain about my having a kitten. I want to keep it.”

  Eddie Bryce came up to join them, having apparently grasped the situation by osmosis.

  “It is cute,” he admitted, using one finger tip to pat the tiny head, “but we’re due to leave the Nile in a few days. We’ll be hard pressed to keep ourselves alive then. You’d be dooming the little thing.”

  “It isn’t at all strong,” Uncle Neville added. “I don’t mind if you bring it with you now, but we’ll find a home for it in Luxor. Otherwise you’d save its life for nothing.”

  Jenny felt unreasonably stubborn, and Stephen must have seen this, for he wheedled most unfairly, “The ancient Egyptians considered the cat a sacred animal. You said you were worried about the sacrilegious aspects of our expedition. If you leave the kitten behind in Luxor, you will have gained the merit of saving a life, but if you selfishly take the kitten with you and it dies, you will have slain a holy animal.”

  Although she was fully aware that leaving the kitten behind was the most reasonable option, nevertheless, Jenny turned a deaf ear to the men’s words. She carried the kitten back to the Lotus Blossom , cleaned it up, and even went as far as to give it a restorative from her medical kit. With stubborn disregard for gender—for the kitten was female—she planned to name it Moses.

  “I found it among the bulrushes,” she said, “and the name means ‘saved from the water,’ which is certainly appropriate enough.”

  Stephen looked up from his book. “Why not Mozelle?” he asked. “That’s a feminine form of the same name.”

  Jenny liked his suggestion, and so the kitten became Mozelle.

  13

  The Sphinx Again

  Karnak and Kurneh, both of which had yielded so many monumental finds in the early and middle years of the century, were their last major stops before Luxor. The natives here were accustomed to tourists, and the local authorities expected “gifts.” Fortunately, the Lotus Blossom ’s captain had standard arrangements in place, and made a great ceremony of handing out mirrors, fountain pens, and bags of good tobacco.

  This ceremony occurred on the Hawthorne party’s last day aboard the vessel. Eddie had booked them passage only this far, and Neville had explained to any who inquired that he had business in the area, but hoped to rejoin the vessel when she returned from Aswan.

  The city of Luxor was rich with history, even discounting the tombs in the Valley of the Kings. Named Waset by the Egyptians, rather confusingly, the city had been called Thebes by the Greeks. The Greeks’ other name for the city, Diospolis Magna—the Great City of the Gods—made more sense, for Luxor was amply supplied with temples and shrines, as well as numerous structures dating to important periods in the New Kingdom and before.

  The Arabs, arriving with very little sense of the previous inhabitants, had called the city Al Uqsur, the Castles, doubtless in reference to the ruins that remained—though some argued that what had impressed the Arabs had been the towering cliffs that framed the relatively flat area.

  Neville noted with some amusement that Europeans tended to refer to the city as Thebes, as if they were visiting it in an incarnation of its older glory, while residents and Egyptian “old hands” referred to it as Luxor. It made for a certain amount of amiable confusion, a confusion not lessened by its proximity to Karnak, which tended to get conflated by the less knowledgeable into the much-renamed whole.

  Reis Awad, captain of the dahabeeyah on which Eddie had made arrangements for them to travel onward, was not there to meet them, but a representative of his family brought word that the Mallard was expected any day now. She had gone upstream with a small group of hunters who hoped to find crocodiles.

  Neville was inclined to be annoyed at this, and Eddie reproached him.

  “It was the best thing Awad could have done,” he said. “A dahabeeyah sitting idle at this busy season would have attracted attention. Gossip is the very life of any port city, and I told Awad in my letter—without explaining precisely why—that we were very eager not to make ourselves conspicuous.”

  Not knowing precisely when the Mallard would return, Stephen and Jenny urged Neville to help them plan an itinerary that would let them see as many of the sights as possible. Neville fell in with this, not wanting Eddie to be distracted from the last-minute preparations that he had not been able to attend to before they reached Luxor. Therefore, he was rather surprised when Eddie heard their intentions and nearly took their heads off.

  “Don’t you people realize that this is the most dangerous portion of our trip since we left Cairo?”

  Stephen blink owlishly, but found the courage to reply. “I admit, I do fail to understand. We have had no difficulties—not even a letter from the Sphinx—since we boarded the Lotus Blossom . Shall we not assume that we have shaken our adversaries from our trail?”

  “Use your heads for something other than filling out your hats,” Eddie said. “Yes, we seem to have shaken them, but if those people have agents anywhere other than in Cairo, it’s going to be here. We’re not terribly far from where Chad Spice’s journal indicates he emerged from the desert. Right?”

  Three heads nodded as one.

  “It ought not take a genius to realize that any archeologists who show up here are going to be watched. They’ll be watched by the locals, and they’ll be watched by other arch
eologists—some of whom have been known to exchange shots when they’re worried that someone is going to try and poach their site. Now, look at that plan you have laid out—not a single trip to the bazaar, or to watch the dervishes dance, or anything else that isn’t strictly archeological.”

  Three heads bent and inspected the schedule.

  “You’re right, Eddie,” Stephen said, shamefaced, for he had suggested most of the points of interest. “We’ve been idiots of the worst order.”

  “I did so want to see some of the more famous sites,” Jenny sighed. Mozelle curled asleep in her lap, the question of her eventual fate rather pointedly undiscussed. “I don’t suppose there is some way we can see more of Thebes than this hotel, is there?”

  Eddie softened. “Oh, I think there might be. We just won’t go poking around the digs, and Stephen will have to keep his enthusiasm—and his fists—to himself. You folks will dress up properly English, and we’ll tour the sights. Jenny should look a little bored, and whine about wanting ices, and Stephen should talk about how he wants to go shooting. Neville should do a bit of business with the local merchants, enough so that anyone who heard why you left the Lotus Blossom won’t wonder.”

  Neville frowned. “I don’t mind playing out this charade, Eddie, but will it leave you time to finalize our arrangements?”

  “Already taken care of,” Eddie assured him. “I’ve had a note from the fellow who’s meeting us with the camels, and he’s on his way to the rendezvous. Reis Awad has agents who handle purchasing for the Mallard , and I’ve given them our shopping list. Nothing could be more innocent.”

  Neville had to be satisfied with this. He even began to enjoy the touring. Luxor was rapidly becoming the second most famous area in Egypt, and its attractions were more apparent than they had been a decade before. Separately, both Jenny and Stephen shared with him their desire to return someday when they would have more time, and he didn’t really blame them.

  But I have something to do first, before I can rest and tour other people’s achievements. I need to achieve something of my own goals.

  A few days after their arrival, Reis Awad came into port. He was a short man, stocky, but nimble as a monkey. With considerable pride, he took them on a tour of the Mallard. Like all vessels of her kind, she was flat-bottomed, equipped either for sailing or rowing.

  “And when the wind fails us,” Awad said, “we track.”

  He showed them the long lines used for towing the dahabeeyah from the bank.

  “My sailors pull,” he explained when Stephen looked mystified. “It work very well, but maybe you not see this. The wind is sweet and steady from the south this time of year, Allah willing—and we not go so far.”

  Reis Awad was too polite to state his curiosity openly, and though Neville felt that he could be trusted, Eddie’s constant warnings about caution were having their effect. Neville just smiled and ignored the implied question. Let Awad think this was just another mad English venture. In truth, was it anything but?

  Maybe, Neville thought, remembering old Alphonse Liebermann, a mad Teutonic venture.

  The next day they moved aboard the Mallard . The cabins for passengers were aft, a roof built between them providing an upper deck furnished as an outdoor sitting room with its own removable canopy. Below was a many-windowed saloon for times when the outdoors might be too hot or windy to be pleasant. The cabins were tiny, but furnished with all the civilized amenities.

  “I feel like I’m a little girl playing house,” Jenny said, looking at the miniature perfection of her cabin. “I wish we were staying aboard for more than a few days.”

  Neville was tempted to suggest she do just that, for he still felt a great deal of concern about taking her into the desert. However, he knew Jenny would be indignant if he did, and doubtless there would be a wrangle. There had already been one over the kitten. Before surrendering to Neville’s command that she leave the kitten at the hotel, Jenny had proven herself more willing to argue or sulk than to burst into ladylike tears, and Neville didn’t know if he wanted the Arab crewmen to see him permitting such behavior.

  Though Eddie would be sleeping on the foredeck with the members of the crew, he used the excuse of helping them settle into their cabins to brief them.

  “Most of Reis Awad’s business is ferrying tourists from Luxor to the nearby sites, so he’s done himself proud with all the trims that appeal to Europeans. There are cooking facilities near the foremast, and as long as the wind holds, you won’t be bothered by smoke. The cook’s good, too. He did a few years in one of the big Cairo hotels, and knows how infidels like their food prepared.”

  “You’ve found us a fine boat,” Neville said. “Given that I would have settled for speed and a reliable crew, this luxury is almost too much.”

  Eddie grinned. “Just helping out the family. Awad’s a cousin, after all.” He grew serious. “From Miriam’s father’s side of the family—no connection to those peculiar Bedouin.”

  Neville needed to return to the hotel to settle their bill and pick up some clothing the hotel laundry hadn’t had ready when they’d packed. When Neville reentered the lobby, the clerk at the front desk reached into the maze of pigeon holes behind him.

  “A letter came for you when you were out, Sir Neville,” he said. “It was delivered by hand.”

  Neville looked at the handwriting on the outer envelope at first with eagerness, but recognition brought with it no joy, only a sensation of dread.

  “You say it was delivered by hand?”

  “Yes. Some street urchin. That is not uncommon, sir. There are so many steamers this time of year, not to mention the dahabeeyahs and the regular land post. Letters get mis-routed, and then some child gets to earn his dinner running them to their correct destinations.”

  Neville accepted the envelope, tucking it unopened into an inner pocket. He settled the bill, collected his package of laundry, tipped the clerk, and headed back to the Mallard .

  Jenny and Stephen were ensconced on the upper deck, watching the activity in the busy harbor while ostensibly improving Jenny’s knowledge of hieroglyphs.

  “We had a letter today,” Neville said after greetings had been exchanged.

  Jenny looked up from her lesson book.

  “From Papa Antonio?” she asked. “I believe he is the only one who knew where we planned to stay.”

  She glanced at Stephen as she spoke, with such an obvious undertone in her voice that it made Neville defensive.

  Jenny can’t know I told Lady Cheshire we were going to the pyramids at Gizeh. Then again, maybe Mrs. Syms said something, and she does know. She certainly suspects.

  He dropped the envelope on the table, indignant in his injured innocence.

  “It is not from Papa Antonio,” he said.

  “The Sphinx!” Stephen murmured excitedly.

  “I should have known,” Jenny said with mock boredom. “He is the only one who ever writes me.”

  Stephen slit open the envelope and seemed pleased rather than otherwise to find the missive was again enciphered. Turning to a blank page in her sketch book, Jenny made a clean copy.

  “The last word can’t be Sphinx!” Jenny said in alarm. “It doesn’t have the right number of letters.”

  “He gave us one letter,” Stephen said soothingly. “An eye for an ‘I,’ if use in the last missive to include that symbol holds constant. That’s a vowel and a common one, too. Surely we can solve the cipher from there.”

  Jenny looked doubtful, but obediently wrote the letter ‘I’ under each of the Eye of Horus emblems.

  They all stared blankly at the page, then Stephen said, “I would hazard a guess that neither letters nor numbers progress in order. Therefore, effectively, each is simply a blank symbol. He could have drawn squares and triangles or little stick figures and they would have served as well.”

  Neville snorted, “And doubtless it will come to that if we don’t find him out and shake sense out of him.”

  Stephen sm
iled. “I’ll make another guess. The most frequently repeated pattern is 12-W-11. It occurs four times—including, perhaps significantly, at the beginning of the missive.”

  He held up a finger when Jenny would have interrupted. “Moreover, 12-W occurs in two other places, suggesting that these letters are frequently found in conjunction. Let’s see what happens when we fill in ‘the’ for 12-W-11, substituting wherever those numbers occur.”

  Jenny did so, and before either man could speak she said, “The second to last word must be ‘either’—which gives us the ‘R.’ ”

  No one objected, so she filled in the letter. Then Neville laughed shortly and pointed to a pair of letters.

  “Eye-F,” he said, “must be ‘is.’ We know 12 stands for ‘T,’ which rules out ‘it.’ ‘F’ is the last letter of four words, which is reasonable if it is ‘T,’ but not if it’s ‘N.’ ”

  “And the Sphinx,” Stephen added, “has very helpfully used ‘F’ as his cipher symbol which rules out ‘if.’ ”

  Jenny filled in the “S,” and they stared for a long, silent moment.

  “Sense of the phrase,” Stephen said, “can be as useful as frequency of letters or grammatical clues. Think about the word ‘either.’ It implies a comparison. We have a four letter word preceding it, ruling out ‘or’—even if word order would admit such clumsy phrasing. I would suggest ‘than’ fits both the letters we have, and the sense of the phrase.”

  “Oh, good,” Jenny said, scribbling away, “that gives us two more letters—and one of them is a vowel.”

  “If ‘than’ is correct,” Neville said, “the final word must be ‘one’ and that supplies us with the ‘O.’ ”

  “It’s beginning to make sense,” Jenny gloated, her pencil flying across the paper. “Take a look.”

  Steven examined the partially completed cipher.

  “ ‘The -a--a- trai-s the -ion.’ The letter ‘X’ occurs three times there. Either ‘L’ or ‘N’ would work in ‘trai-’, but we already have ‘N.’ ”

  “So it must be ‘L,’ ” Jenny concluded triumphantly. “The -a--al trails the lion.”

 

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