Rashid held up his hand, two fingers raised.
Jenny nodded. It did seem likely there were two of them—one within the chamber on the other side of the wall, and this one half in and half out, doubtless relaying things to where they could be ferried to the surface.
That reminded her that Ra had indicated there were three doors into this room. Jenny quickly located the hole in the door that must lead to the tunnel to the surface. It was dark, but when she stepped closer, remaining to one side so that she would not silhouette herself against the comparative brightness of the room, she thought she could hear movement on the other side.
There was a small stack of what looked like wine or water bottles stacked on the floor near the hole, and a thin line of drops leading back to the hole beneath the Ammit couch.
Got it, Jenny thought. They’re removing something liquid from that inner room. Perfume I guess or scented unguents. Ungulates, as Stephen would say.
She was aware of a desire to giggle, to share her joke with Rashid, and knew it for nerves.
Smart of the thieves, she thought, forcing herself to think clearly. Gold or carvings marked with the pharaoh’s name might be harder to sell—at least if you didn’t want people to know right off you’d been robbing burials—but perfume might come from anywhere, and there’d be a good market for it right here in Thebes, with all the temples and tombs.
Rashid touched her arm again and indicated the third door. It was right where Ra had told them it would be, but harder to find since it wasn’t so much a door as a small hole cut in the wall where the door would be. The space was flanked by two matching statues, magnificent depictions of pharaoh as a warrior holding spear and some other weapon. His skin was shining black, his trappings all of gold.
They must have been intended to defend the king, Jenny thought. Well, they haven’t done much of a job, but they needn’t worry. We’re here now.
She put her lips near Rashid’s ear.
“Can you find out if anyone is through that hole now?”
He nodded.
Jenny kept her attention on the man beneath the Ammit couch. His hindquarters were wriggling slightly, as if he was beginning to work his way backwards. A small cascade of pebbles announced that someone was coming back down the tunnel. She felt her heart beat wildly.
Rashid touched her arm, pointed to the hole behind, nodded and tapped his ear.
Someone in there. Rashid could hear him. He doesn’t seem worried, though, so whoever it is must seem busy.
Rashid had moved to the side of the tunnel entrance. He picked up one of the wineskins, sniffed it, and wrinkled his nose. Then a mischievous expression crossed his face. He pointed to the tunnel, then to himself, then to Jenny, then to the man under the couch. This one was clearly extracting himself.
Lastly, Rashid handed Jenny one of the waterskins. It was filled almost to bursting with some oily substance. He mimed opening the top, then squeezing.
Jenny grinned at him.
“I like it,” she mouthed, and stepped back to let her intended victim get free.
He did so, revealing in the flickering lamp light a hooked-nose face, pockmarked from some disease.
“This is the last of it,” he said, obviously not realizing that the indistinct figure standing to one side was not one of his associates come to help bear away the loot. “Taneni’s looking to see what else…”
He stopped, realizing that not only was Jenny not one of his gang, but that she was like no one he had ever seen before. He drew in breath to shout, and Jenny hit him full in the face with a jet of perfumed oil from the waterskin in her hands. It simultaneously choked and gagged him, leaving him sputtering, rubbing his eyes to clear away the stinging oil.
Jenny grabbed the tomb robber by the shoulders, her hands slipping slightly until she got purchase on the back of his loin wrap. She dragged him forward fairly easily. She had never been particularly weak, and the rigors of the journey had toughened her further. Moreover, her captive was small and light, clearly chosen for this post—as she and Rashid had been—because of his build.
The man started to struggle, but as soon as he blinked the worst of the oil from his eyes, Jenny had made sure her very un-Egyptian features were visible to him. Whether these or the sight of Rashid standing poised and ready were what subdued him, Jenny had no trouble getting him to lie on his stomach while she bound his hands and ankles. She gagged him with a bit of linen from one of the spilled coffers.
Rashid had returned his attention to the tunnel, and Jenny kept a ready eye on the hole beneath the Ammit couch from which Taneni might emerge at any time.
“Hem? Taneni?” came a voice from the tunnel. “Something’s wrong up top. You might want…”
A man’s head and shoulders emerged from the top of the door. He was streaked with grime, and scored with numerous small cuts and scratches, doubtless garnered through repeated trips up and down the tunnel in the rubble.
What Hem and Taneni might want to do was interrupted when the thief caught sight of Rashid. As with Jenny’s thief—now identified probably as Hem—a gout of scented oil in his face eliminated his ability to struggle effectively.
Jenny didn’t see the entirety of this, for Taneni called out, “Hem? What was that? I’ve set a small stack of interesting stuff by the hole. Get moving with it.”
Jenny was readying her club, wondering if she should say something to try to lure Taneni out, when she glimpsed motion from the corner of her eye. A man so thin yet so tall that he reminded her of a serpent was emerging from the hole in the far wall. Unlike the other two who had been caught unaware, this thief had clearly been spying on them for some time. A knife was caught in his teeth, and even as Jenny noticed him, he wriggled through the hole with the hipless dexterity of a snake, regained his feet, and came at her, knife in hand.
She had no oil ready, and couldn’t delay for the small moment it would take to grab one of those bags Hem had been bringing out. Her club was ready, though, and she blocked the first downthrust of the knife with ease, noticing as she did so that it was a beautiful thing, worked with gold.
Probably a grave good, she thought. Doesn’t mean he won’t know how to use it.
Her club was awkward to use in the confined space, especially as she didn’t want to break anything if she could possibly avoid doing so. A nick along her forearm from her opponent’s knife reduced her concern for antiquities considerably. However, her opponent was also limited. His long arms and legs did not move easily in the confined space, and he caught his elbow a solid rap against one of the statues of the king.
I guess they are doing their job, Jenny thought, seeing from the look on the man’s face that he’d hit his funny bone, and was in more pain than such a blow would usually occasion.
Taking advantage of his momentary inaction, she drew her club back and down close to her side. Then she brought it up again with all the force she could put behind it, landing hard between his legs.
The dangling fabric of his loincloth absorbed some of the force, but he’d wrapped it tightly, doubtless to make squirming through holes easier. Snake screamed as the club caught his privates, doubling over and dropping his knife.
Jenny was amazed and slightly appalled at the pain she had caused, but she didn’t let this stop her from knocking the tall man down. There was a muffled chinking sound as items stuffed into the fabric of his loincloth dropped to the floor, but Jenny had more to worry about than treasure.
Taneni was climbing out from the hole under the Ammit couch, clearly prepared for trouble. He appeared little more than a boy, but carried a knife as if quite ready to use it.
Rashid’s back was turned, as he kept watch on the tunnel entrance. Jenny didn’t know if she could reach Taneni and keep control of her human snake, who even now was beginning to recover from the shock, murder in his eyes.
“Rashid!” she called out. “Behind you.”
The Egyptian youth wheeled and struck Taneni full in the face with oil from a bottle he had
ready.
Taneni screamed at him, “Idiot! Do you know what that’s worth?”
I wonder if he thought Rashid was one of their own, Jenny thought, giving in to a strange sense of humor.
She’d taken her cue from the pharaohs and stepped on the back of her captive. Using her weight to hold Snake down, she reminded him with a tap of her club on his inner thigh that she was in position to cause him a great deal more pain. The human snake stopped struggling at once.
Rashid dealt with Taneni, and as they were making sure their captives had been secured, Sir Neville’s voice came hollow sounding and distant down the tunnel.
“Jenny? Rashid? Are you all right?”
Jenny glanced at Rashid, who grinned at her, tapping his throat in an unnecessary reminder that he couldn’t speak. She stepped over to the hole in the door.
“We’re fine,” she called. “Only a few scrapes.”
In truth, the nick from Snake’s knife hurt quite a bit, but she’d already seen it wasn’t dangerous.
“We’ve collected six,” Neville called. “How about you?”
“Four here. Three were working the chambers, a fourth came out of the tunnel.”
“And the sarcophagus? Is the pharaoh’s body intact?”
Jenny glanced at Rashid who shrugged, then indicated he would check. A moment later he returned, his eyes shining with wonder, a quiet smile on his face. He almost seemed to have forgotten his own mission, then he shook himself and gave a thumbs up gesture.
“All intact,” Jenny called. “What do we do with our prisoners?”
“It would be best if we had them up here,” Neville said. “Air’s going to get pretty thick.”
“Air’s already pretty thick,” Jenny replied. “They were stealing perfumed oils along with the other stuff. Some of it got spilled.”
“See if you can convince them to climb up, one at a time. We’ll secure them as they emerge. Stephen’s drafting a note that may buy their lives—if they’ll turn Queen’s Evidence, that is.”
Jenny heard Stephen’s voice say faintly, “Pharaoh’s evidence.”
“Right,” Jenny called.
The thieves, beaten, bound, and thoroughly demoralized now that they realized that their captors were very strange strangers indeed, offered no trouble at all when given the opportunity to climb up. Snake made a grab for the cloth-wrapped packet he had dropped, but Jenny knocked his hand away.
“That belongs to the pharaoh,” she said. “If it didn’t before, it does now. Consider it an offering for your life.”
That cowed him, and from that moment forward he was the most cooperative of the captives.
As the thieves made their climb one by one, Jenny took the time to clean her cut. The blade had been honed so sharp the wound probably wouldn’t even scar, and she took a moment to inspect the weapon. The blade was chipped from obsidian and glittered beautifully in contrast to the duller glow of the gold in the haft.
She and Rashid took turns inspecting the other chambers. When Jenny crawled through the hole that led back to the burial chamber, she instantly understood the awed look in Rashid’s eyes. The entirety of it was sheathed in gold, apparently from portable walls that had been carried down. These were closed, and she didn’t need to be an Egyptologist to guess that the pharaoh’s coffin rested on the other side.
Let him stay there undisturbed, she thought. Not only would that please his gods, it’s nice to think that something has been left untouched.
The room adjoining the burial chamber proved to be full of beautiful items, these oriented more toward the sacred than secular care of the pharaoh. Dominating it all was a tall shrine, guarded by four goddesses whose expressions were heartbreakingly wistful, as if they knew their task was for all eternity, and somehow futile.
Taneni had completely wrecked the other room. The jars from which he had looted the oils stood open. Others, smelling of soured wine and beer, stood with their seals broken open. Furniture and items of clothing were upended this way and that, yet with a sense of method, as if the boy had searched carefully, but with no care for damage to what he could not remove.
Yet, despite the beauty, the glow of gold, the elegant treasures demanding further inspection, Jenny was glad when her turn came to climb out. The place was somehow sad. Remembering how Neferankhotep had requested he be buried simply, so that his people could be taken care of rather than his kingdom’s wealth being buried away, Jenny thought it was rather a pity they had been forced to stop the thieves. As the marks of illness on Hem’s face attested, the gauntness and look of underfeeding that marked each thief, their lives were far from easy.
Neville was unaccountably relieved when Jenny’s tired and dirt-smeared face appeared at the top of the tunnel, happy when Rashid, slightly less battered looking, appeared after.
“Stephen’s working on a note,” he said, explaining to cover his relief. “We’re leaving it along with these fellows, and the open tomb—a reminder that the attendants should be watching more carefully.”
“How do we know someone won’t come looting before honest guards arrive?” Jenny asked worriedly.
“We thought of that,” Neville assured her. “We didn’t have much trouble getting one of the thieves to talk. In fact, after he got a look at Stephen, it was all we could do to get him to stop talking.”
Stephen looked up from where he was laboring over a piece of paper.
“Handsome is as handsome does,” he said complacently, “and here it seems my fair-haired beauty does nicely indeed.”
“For scaring the…” Neville swallowed and started again. “For thoroughly frightening people, your appearance certainly does something.”
He returned his attention to Jenny. The young woman was grinning at him, probably because of his rapid self-censorship.
“Our talkative friend told us where we could find an honest priest,” Neville went on. “Eddie has gone to drop a few significant hints.”
“Won’t the priest find him rather odd-looking?” Jenny asked. “I mean, Eddie’s darker than Stephen, but he still doesn’t look like an Egyptian.”
“All the better,” Neville said, with more confidence than he felt. He’d raised the same objection. “As Eddie said, if the priest sees an odd-looking fellow, his curiosity will be aroused—but Eddie doesn’t plan on being seen. It’s dark, and there will be plenty of shadows.”
“How does this sound?” Stephen interrupted. He cleared his throat and read rather self-consciously. “ ‘Amon-Ra watches over the young king. Behold! These men were seized while attempting to loot the pharaoh’s tomb. Make their trial public so that all may know the terrible fate that awaits those who violate these sacred premises, yet show mercy to those who, though sworn to guard and honor, were easily bribed to blindness. Justice must be mitigated by mercy. Remember! Your soul will be weighed against Maat.’ ”
Neville leaned over to inspect the neat hieroglyphs.
“That’s pretty elegant work for such a fast job,” he said, wondering once again if Stephen was the Sphinx. The handwriting didn’t look the same, but…
“I hope I didn’t spell anything too terribly wrong,” Stephen confessed. “I wish I had my grammars.”
“Why did you say Amon-Ra, rather than just Ra?” Jenny asked curiously.
Stephen relaxed, comfortable in his pedantry.
“I saw that several of the items the thieves had carried out referred to either Amon alone, or Amon-Ra, and recalled that in the New Kingdom Amon became one of the most important gods. I thought I might as well invoke him, and since Ra was our escort here, I didn’t want to leave him out.”
“How kind of you,” a familiar even voice said. Ra had appeared, standing just out of sight of where the prisoners sat bound among their donkeys. “Is all complete?”
“As complete as we can make it,” Neville said, resisting the impulse to snap “sir,” as he might have to a superior officer. “We only need for Eddie to return.”
“I shall g
ather him to me,” Ra said. “He has delivered his message successfully, and already the faithful one is summoning his litter and a legion of torchbearers.”
Stephen studied his note and rapidly wrote a few more characters.
“What are you doing?” Neville asked.
“Adding a postscript that they should tidy up the tomb before resealing it. From what we’ve seen, it’s probably a mess.”
He finished, and used a looted statuette to anchor his note in a visible spot in front of the huddle of bound prisoners.
“It is,” Jenny agreed, “and it smells like a brothel.”
Neville cocked an eyebrow at her, “And how would you know what a brothel smells like, young lady?”
“Easy,” she said. “Who do you think Papa sent in when he had a patient in one? You don’t think Mama would let him go in, do you?”
Somewhere in the laughter that followed this statement, Ra gathered them into the light of his presence, and when the glow dimmed to gentle gold they were again standing before Neferankhotep.
They were no longer in the Hall of Judgment, but in a beautiful chamber that combined the best of the indoors and outdoors. There were pools of water and banks of flowers, but also elegant furnishings, and ornamented pillars that appeared to hold the sky upon their fluted tops. Music was supplied both by chorusing birds, and by the harps and sistrums of perfectly beautiful young women.
Although still attired as Osiris, Neferankhotep seemed more relaxed. His feet were no longer bound, and he sat in casual comfort on a gilded stool, playing senet with the physician. A pretty woman leaned over his shoulder, offering her opinions on the best strategies. Everyone was laughing.
“My wife, Menwi,” Neferankhotep said, introducing the beautiful woman. Then, “You have been successful?”
“We have been,” Neville said. “The pharaoh’s tomb is saved from those who would have looted it, and his future safety secured to the best of our ability.”
Ra nodded, “I can confirm this, and that it was done without the taking of life.”
“Very good,” Neferankhotep said. He was about to say something more when Jenny broke in.
The Buried Pyramid Page 49