Elizabeth Peters: A River in the Sky

I addressed Nefret instead of Gargery. She had been courteous enough to refrain from questions, though her wide blue eyes indicated her interest. “Some years ago we were able to be of service to her late Majesty in a delicate family matter. Upon its successful conclusion she summoned Emerson to Windsor and offered him a knighthood-which of course he refused.”

I ignored the groan from that consummate snob Gargery and went on. “She then presented him with that vulgarly ostentatious emerald ring which you may have seen in my jewel box. Apparently she passed on the story to her heirs, in case another delicate situation arose. This delicate situation, one may deduce, inspired the otherwise inexplicable visit today from Mr. Morley. Now, Emerson, it is your turn. I hope His Majesty doesn’t expect you to go looking for the Ark youself.”

One of the kittens wandered in and jumped onto Nefret’s lap. Stroking it, she remarked, “Does it exist? As I recall, from my studies at the vicarage, the Ark contained the tablets given to Moses on Mount Sinai.”

“The Ten Commandments,” I said helpfully.

“Yes, Aunt Amelia. But I thought the Professor didn’t believe in Moses. Or the Exodus. Or-”

“That doesn’t mean the fabled Ark is pure fiction,” Emerson replied, taking, as was his habit, the opposing side. “We know that Jerusalem was besieged and overrun by the Babylonians, who carried away its residents into captivity. There was time-”

“So you admit that not all the Old Testament is a tissue of lies,” I said. “The fall of Jerusalem is mentioned in Second Kings, if my memory serves.”

“It is also described in the Babylonian annals,” Emerson retorted. “An historical source, Peabody. As I was saying, there was time during the siege for the inhabitants to conceal their greatest treasures. The Ark was only one of them, though the most important. There were vessels of gold-an altar, candelabra, incense vessels, and so on. Who is to say they may not still lie hidden under the ruins of the Temple?”

“Do you believe that, Emerson?”

“Certainly not,” said Emerson, tiring of his teasing. “Jerusalem was taken and sacked many times. If the Babylonians didn’t seize the temple treasures, somebody else did. The Arch of Titus in Rome shows Roman soldiers carrying away some of the treasures, including a menorah. The Ethiopians claim the Ark was taken there by the son of Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. People have looked for it in Ireland, at Mount Sinai, and for all I know in Birmingham. Even if I believed there were the possibility of such a discovery, I would not countenance an expedition by an untrained amateur in a particularly sensitive part of the world.”

“Gargery,” I said in some exasperation. “Will you please finish clearing the tea things away? The kitten is about to knock over the cream jug.”

Nefret removed the cat, and Gargery, who had abandoned all pretense of carrying out his duties, exclaimed, “Then why don’t you and madam go looking for the treasure, sir? You’d do a proper job of it.”

“Kindly stay out of this, Gargery,” I said. “It is difficult enough to keep this family on track without your digressions. I cannot imagine what the Ark of the Covenant has to do with any of this, or why the British government should take an interest in the plans of an adventurer like Morley.”

“Would you care to have me explain, Peabody?” Emerson inquired in a devastatingly mild voice.

“That is what I have been asking you to do, Emerson.”

“Hmph,” said Emerson. “I presume you are familiar with the present uneasy political situation in the Middle East?”

“I am not, sir,” Gargery said eagerly.

“Nor am I,” Nefret admitted.

“You really ought to make an attempt to keep up with modern history,” I said. Emerson, who had opened his mouth, closed it.

“Palestine is of course part of the once-mighty Ottoman Empire, which during the sixteenth century of the Christian era controlled the entire Middle East, North Africa, and parts of eastern Europe,” I explained. “Like all empires founded on conquest and injustice, it could not endure; gradually its territories were lost and at the present time only the support of Britain and France, who fear the collapse of the aging giant would open the doors of the East to Germany and Russia, keeps the sultan on his throne in Constantinople.”

“Very poetically expressed,” said Emerson, who had been waiting for my breath to give out. “To look at it another way, Nefret and Gargery, the aging giant is rotten at the core. Provinces like Syria and Palestine are racked with poverty and corruption. Britain and France don’t give a curse about the misery of the people; what concerns them is that in the past decade or so, German influence in the region has increased enormously. When Wilhelm the Second visited Istanbul and Jerusalem, he was greeted as a conquering hero. The Germans are constructing a railroad line from Damascus to Mecca, and one is entitled to assume that they aren’t doing it for altruistic reasons. If war should break out-”

“War!” Nefret cried. “And Ramses is there, in the thick of it?”

“Stop worrying about your brother,” Emerson said impatiently. “There won’t be a war, not for a few more years. But it’s coming, and Germany is already making preparations-such as that railroad. Very useful for moving troops and supplies.”

This speech was presumably an attempt to reassure Nefret. Not surprisingly it failed. “War or no war, if there is any way Ramses can get in trouble, he will,” she said vehemently. “If the situation is so unstable-”

“Nonsense,” I said. “Samaria-the modern Sebaste-is nowhere near the area where the Germans are working, and Mr. Reisner is a responsible individual. Emerson considers him one of the most qualified of the younger generation of Egyptologists.”

“Hmph.”

“Or would, if he considered any other Egyptologists qualified,” I emended.

“He’s not so bad,” Emerson admitted. “Though one would suppose he had enough on his plate with his excavations at Giza and in the Sudan, without taking on another responsibility in an area he knows nothing about-”

“Reisner would argue that the basic techniques of excavation are the same in all parts of the world,” I said.

“Well, well,” said Emerson. “Hmph.”

The ambiguity of this response ought to have raised alarm bells. It is not like Emerson to be ambiguous. In my defense I must say that I was more concerned with calming Nefret. “George Reisner is a mature, dedicated individual who lives only for his work. Not even Ramses can get in trouble while he is in Reisner’s charge.”

FROM MANUSCRIPT H

Ramses had been aware for some time that he was being followed. The night sky was overcast and the grove of olive trees through which he walked cast heavy shadows, but the faint sounds were unmistakable. He had been listening for them. He slowed his pace, ears pricked. When it happened, the attack was sudden and unexpected, for it came not from behind him but from close ahead. A slight stirring of the air and a change in the shape of the shadow across the path gave him just enough warning to duck. It turned out to be a bad move; instead of hitting him in the chest or shoulder, the missile struck the side of his head, hard enough to make him lose his balance and fall to hands and knees. Though dizzy and disoriented, he knew better than to stay where he was. He crawled off the path and among the gnarled trunks of the trees, where he lay still, listening and waiting for his head to clear.

Not a sound, except for the normal night noises.

“Damn,” Ramses said softly.

The pattern was like that of the last attack-a missile flung, a hasty withdrawal. The only difference was that this time there had been two of them, one following, to distract his attention, the other waiting in hiding. He had hoped this time to lay hands on the assailant, or at least get a look at him.