The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog (13 page)

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For the next three days we worked in the West Valley. They were halcyon days, nothing disturbed the peaceful productivity of our work except an occasional archaeological visitor who had heard of our presence and— as Emerson put it— came to find out what we were up to, and the cat Anubis, who seemed intent on driving Abullah to felinocide. I endeavored to comfort our afflicted foreman.
"He likes you, Abdullah. It is quite a compliment. The cat Bastet .never paid you such attentions."
Rubbing his head— which had come into painful contact with a rock when the cat had suddenly jumped onto his shoulder— Abdullah remained unconvinced. "She is not an ordinary cat, as we all know, does not she speak with the young master, and heed his commands? This one is a servant of evil, as the cat Bastet is a servant of good. Its very name is a bad omen, was not Anubis the god of cemeteries?"
Emerson's vigilance gradually relaxed as the days passed without any alarming incident. For all its isolation, the West Valley was safer than any city. No one could approach without being observed long before he came close to us.
At the end of the third day Emerson announced that we had almost completed the task for which we had come. We had corrected numerous errors in the existing plan of the Valley and located several promising sites that warranted further investigation— including one that offered a suitable hiding place for the scepters Abdullah was pleased to learn we were nearly finished. Mapmaking was not a favorite activity
of Abdullah's. Like his master, he preferred to dig.
"How much longer?" he asked, as we started back.
"A week at the outside," Emerson replied. Glancing at me, he added provocatively, "Vandergelt Effendi
is coming soon. I want to be out of his house before he arrives."
We had received a telegram from Cyrus the day before, announcing his imminent arrival in Cairo and saying that he looked forward to seeing us shortly.
"Perhaps," said Abdullah hopefully, "the cat will stay here with the Effendi."
"That is a difficulty," Emerson agreed. "We will be camping out at Amarna, we cannot be bothered feeding and caring for him."
A rattle of rock and a pathetically abbreviated squeak nearby preceded the appearance of Anubis, with
a limp brown shape in his mouth. "You needn't worry about feeding him," I said.
Abdullah said something under his breath. Daoud, a big silent man, whose placidity was seldom ruffled, glanced uneasily at the cat, his fingers twitched in a ritual gesture designed to ward off evil.
The cat disappeared with its prey and we went on in silence for a time. Then Abdullah said, "There is
a fantasia tonight at the house of the brother of my father. It is in honor of my visit to the home of my ancestors, but it would be a greater honor if the Father of Curses and you, Sitt Hakim, would come."
"It would honor us," Emerson replied, as courtesy demanded "What do you say, Peabody?"
The idea appealed to me. I was anxious to meet Abdullah's uncle, who had a certain reputation in the Luxor area, born and raised in Gurnah, the notorious village of hereditary tomb robbers on the west bank, he had acquired, by means no one cared to investigate, wealth enough to purchase a fine house on the east bank outside Luxor Family pride would require him to hire the finest entertainers for his fantasia.
The entertainment at these celebrations consists primarily of music and dancing. In the beginning I had found Egyptian music painful to my ears, the singers' voices slide up and down a rather limited scale, and the musical instruments are primitive by Western standards. As with most art forms, however, prolonged exposure increases appreciation. I could now listen with relative enjoyment to the nasal singing and the accompaniment of flute and zither, tambourine and zemr (a form of oboe). The insistent rhythm of the drums (of which there were many varieties) had a particularly interesting effect.
I accepted the invitation with proper expressions of gratitude. Taking Emerson's arm, I let the others draw ahead before I said in a low voice, "Have you canceled your interdict against evening activities, then? Nothing has occurred since we arrived in Luxor— "
"I have made certain it would not," Emerson replied haughtily. "However, this is not the sort of evening activity I was concerned about. I defy the boldest of abductors to snatch you away when you have three such defenders." Seeing my expression— for he knows how I dislike being regarded as a helpless female— he added, "We might have dinner at the hotel and drop in on the performance later. Carter is in Luxor, I would like to have a chat with him, and prepare him for the great discovery we are about to make."
So it was arranged. We sent a message across to Howard inviting him to dine with us at the Luxor Hotel, and as the sun was setting we stepped on board the felucca that would take us across the river. Abdullah and Daoud looked like emirs in their best robes and most enormous turbans, the former's long white beard had been laundered till it shone like snow. It was incumbent on us to put on an equally impressive show,- Emerson accepted the necessity of this, though he remarked grumpily, as I was trying his cravat, that he felt like a little boy being taken to visit wealthy godparents.
The gangplank, which served as an oar in times of diminished wind, had been pulled in and we were gliding away from the quay when a long sinuous form leapt into the boat. In the gathering dusk it was difficult to make out immediately what it was, Emerson let out an oath and tried to push me down onto the filthy bottom of the boat, and Abdullah would have toppled off the seat if Daoud had not caught him. I resisted Emerson's efforts, for I had of course immediately identified the latest passenger.
"It is only the cat," I said loudly. "Abdullah, for pity's sake, stop thrashing around. You will muss your beautiful robe."
Abdullah had never cursed in my presence. He did not do so now, but he sounded as if he were
strangling on repressed epithets.
"Damnation," said Emerson. "What a nuisance. I refuse to take a cat to dine at the Luxor, Amelia."
"Throw it overboard," Abdullah offered.
I ignored this suggestion, as Abdullah no doubt expected I would. "We haven't time to take it back to
the house. Perhaps the boatman has a bit of rope we can use as a lead."
"I don't approve of dragging cats around on a lead as one does a dog," Emerson declared firmly. "They are independent creatures who do not deserve such treatment." The cat walked along the bench, balancing like an acrobat, and settled down next to him. "Such a fuss over a cat," Emerson grumbled, scratching Anubis under his chin. "If he wanders away, he will simply have to fend for himself."
Emerson and I often attract considerable attention when we appear in public. I hope I may not be accused of vanity when I say that on this occasion it was no wonder all eyes were drawn to us as, arm in arm, we swept into the dining salon of the hotel. Emerson's splendid height and ruggedly handsome features were set off by the stark black-and-white of his evening dress, and he walked like a king. I fancied I looked rather well myself. However, I suspected that some of the wide-eyed stares focused on us— and the smothered laughter that rippled through the room— were occasioned by something other than admiration. Anubis had refused to stay in the cloakroom. He stalked along behind us with a dignity equal to Emerson's— tail erect, eyes straight ahead. His expression also bore a striking resemblance to that of Emerson. The phrase "well-bred sneer" comes to mind.
He was better behaved than some of the guests. A party of young male persons (they did not merit the name of "gentlemen") at a nearby table had clearly taken too much to drink. One of them leaned so far out of his chair to watch the cat that he fell to the floor. His companions were more amused than embarrassed by this performance, with cheers and comments in the accents of brash young America,
they hauled him upright and restored him to his place. "Attaboy, Fred," said one of them. "Show these folks how a sport takes a falls"
Howard arrived in time to see the end of this performance. "Perhaps Mrs. Emerson would like to move
to another table," he suggested, eyeing the raucous party askance.
"Mrs. Emerson is not to be disturbed on account of rowdies," said Emerson, beckoning the waiter. He addressed this individual in tones loud enough to be heard throughout the dining salon. "Kindly inform
the manager that if he does not remove the people over there at once, I will remove them myself."
The young men were duly removed. "There, you see," said Emerson, smiling at Howard in a kindly fashion. "That is the way to deal with such things."
We had to explain Anubis, who made his presence known to Carter by sniffing loudly at his trouser leg.
I suppose the sound and the accompanying sensation must have been a trifle startling to one who was unaware that there was a cat under the table. Once the situation was made clear, Howard laughed and shook his head. I should have learned not to be surprised at anything you and the professor do,
Mrs. Emerson. It is like you to take charge of poor Vincey's pet He is fanatically attached to it, and it does not get on with most people."
"Since you refer to him as 'poor Vincey,' I take it you are of the opinion that he was treated unjustly?"
I inquired.
Howard looked a little uncomfortable. "I don't know the truth of the matter. I doubt that anyone does.
He is a pleasant chap— very likable, I know nothing to his discredit except . . . But that is just gossip,
and not the sort of thing I should mention in your presence, Mrs. Emerson."
"Ah," I said, motioning to the waiter to refill the young man's glass. "
Cherchez la femme!
Or is it
les femmes?"
"The plural, decidedly," said Howard. He caught Emerson's eye and added quickly, "Idle gossip, as
I said. Er— tell me how you are getting on in the Valley. Any new tombs?"
For the rest of the meal we confined ourselves to professional gossip. Emerson enjoyed himself, tantalizing our young friend with mysterious hints and refusing to elaborate on them. Howard was about to explode with curiosity when Emerson took out his watch and begged he would excuse us. "One of
our friends is giving a fantasia in our honor," he explained, stretching the truth a little. "We must not be too late."
We parted at the door of the hotel. Howard set off on foot, whistling cheerfully, and we bargained for
a carriage. The main street of Luxor, lined with modern hotels and ancient ruins, runs along the river, behind it is a typical village, with streets of bare dirt and clustered huts.
No premonition of disaster troubled my mind. I was more concerned about my thin evening slippers
and trailing skirts, and with the distance we had to travel. This does not prove, as some claim, that such forebodings are only superstition,- it proves that on some occasions they fail one. I could have wished mine had chosen another occasion on which to fail
We left the lights of the hotels behind us and turned onto a narrow lane between fields of sugarcane, higher than a tall man's head. The leaves whispered softly in the night breeze. From time to time lights from country houses twinkled through the stalks. The night air was cool and refreshing,- the mingled odors that mark an Egyptian town— the smell of donkeys, charcoal fires, and lack of sanitation—faded, to be replaced by a more salubrious scent of green growing crops and fresh earth. The carriage was
open, the night air cooled my face, the rhythmic clop of the horses' hooves, the creak of the leather
seats blended into a magical mood of romance. I leaned against Emerson's shoulder,- his arm was
around me. Not even the fixed regard of the cat, on the seat opposite, could mar the moment
The drive was popular with visitors to Luxor, for it was one of the few country roads wide enough to
take carriages. We met one or two others and had to pull off to let them by.
The driver glanced back, cursing in Arabic. I could not see what was behind us, but I had already heard the sounds: the pound of galloping hooves and a blurred chorus of voices. Someone was overtaking us, and presumably they meant to pass us, for the noise swelled rapidly.
"Good Gadl" I exclaimed, trying to look over the high back of the seat.
"It is just a party of young idiot tourists," Emerson said. "They race on this stretch all the time." He leaned forward and tapped the driver's shoulder. "Let them go by," he said in Arabic. "There is a space there ahead, beyond the wall."
The driver obeyed, pulling over in the nick of time, and the other carriage thundered past. Shouts and cheers and a snatch of raucous song hailed us, and someone waved a bottle. Then the carriage lights disappeared around a curve in the road.
"They will have themselves in the ditch if they go on at that pace," Emerson said, settling back.
We proceeded on our way, coming at last into a more thickly settled area. It was a strange blend of humble huts and walled houses, with open fields between.
"Not far now," said Emerson. "By Gad, I was right! There is the carriage that passed us. In the ditch "
"Shall we not stop and offer assistance?" I asked.
"Why the devil should we? Let them walk back, it will sober them."
He had already ascertained, as had I, that the horse was not injured. It stood patiently by the road,
while the men tried to right the carriage. They were laughing and cursing, it was clear that no one had been hurt.
We had left them some distance behind when suddenly the cat sat up on the seat and stared intently
at the side of the road We were passing a large building of some sort, it looked like an abandoned warehouse or factory. Before I could see what had attracted the cat's attention, it gathered itself together and sprang out of the carriage.
"Confound the confounded beast!" Emerson shouted. "
Ukaf
, driver— stop at once."
"Oh, dear, we will never find it in the dark," I lamented. "Here, Anubis. Here, kitty, kitty."
Two eerily glowing orbs appeared, at ground level. "There he is," Emerson said. "That is a door behind him, he is looking for mice, no doubt. Stay here, Peabody. I'll go after him."
Before I could stop him, he had jumped out of the carriage. Then— when it was too late— the recognition of peril struck me like a blow in the face. For as Emerson reached down to take the cat into his arms, the door behind it swung open. I saw Emerson fall forward and heard the sickening thud of the club that had struck his bowed head. Wild with apprehension as to his fate, I could not go to his assistance, for I was fully occupied in fending off the two men who had rushed at the carriage. The