The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog (9 page)

I had hoped to spend the rest of the week in Cairo enjoying the amenities of the hotel, but Emerson suddenly took it into his head to visit Meidum I had no objection, though I wished he had given me a
little more notice.
We had spent the morning in the suk, after lunching at the hotel, Emerson left me reading and resting while he went off on some errand of his own. Upon his return he calmly announced we would take the evening train "So hurry up and get your gear together, Peabody."
I dropped my copy of Erman's
Agyptiscbe Grammatik
. "What gear? There is no hotel at Rikka."
Emerson began, "I have a friend— "
"I will not stay with any of your Egyptian friends. They are delightful people, but they have no notion
of sanitation."
"I thought you might feel that way. I have prepared a little surprise for you, Peabody. What has happened to your sense of adventure?"
I was unable to resist the challenge, or Emerson's smile. As I packed a small bag with changes of clothing and toilet articles, my spirits began to soar. This was like the old days—Emerson and I, alone together in
the wilderness!
Once we had fought our way through the confusion at the railroad station and found seats on the train, Emerson relaxed, but none of my attempts at conversation seemed to please him.
"I hope that poor fellow who collapsed in the suk will be all right," was my first attempt. "You should have let me examine him, Emerson."
"His— er— friends were there to attend to him," Emerson said shortly.
After a while I tried again. "Our friends will be surprised to find we have gone! It was good of so many
of them to come round this morning to express their concern." Emerson grunted.
"I am inclined to believe Mr. Neville's theory was the right one," I went on. "How amusingly he put it: 'Some young fellow flushed with wine and inspired by your charms, Mrs. E., playing a silly trick.'"
"And my charms inspired the attentions of the three young fellows in the garden," said Emerson, with ineffable sarcasm.
"The timing of the two events may have been pure coincidence." "Pure balderdash," growled Emerson. "Peabody, why do you insist on discussing our private affairs in public?"
The only other occupants of the carriage were a group of German university students, who were carrying on a loud conversation in their own language, but I took the hint.
By the time we reached Rikka my enthusiasm had dimmed somewhat. Darkness was complete, and we were the only non-Egyptians to disembark there. I stumbled over a stone and Emerson, whose spirits had improved in inverse ratio to the lowering of mine, caught my arm. "There he is. Hi, Abdullah!"
"I should have known," I muttered, seeing the white shape that hovered, ghostlike, at the end of the
small platform.
"Quite," said Emerson cheerfully. "We can always count on good old Abdullah, eh? I sent a message to him this afternoon."
After the appropriate greetings had been exchanged, not only with Abdullah but with his sons Feisal and Selim and his nephew Daoud, we mounted the donkeys they had waiting and set out. How the devil the donkeys saw where they were going I do not know, I certainly could not, even after the moon rose, for
it was on the wane and gave little light. The gait of some donkeys is very uneasy when they break into a trot. I got the distinct impression these donkeys did not like being out at that hour.
After a hideously uncomfortable ride across the cultivated fields I saw the light of a fire ahead on the edge of the desert. Two more of our men were waiting for us. The little camp they had set up was better than Abdullah's usual efforts along those lines, I was relieved to see that there was a proper tent for us, and
the welcome aroma of fresh-brewed coffee reached my nostrils.
Emerson lifted me off my donkey. "Do you remember I once threatened to snatch you up and carry you off into the desert?"
I looked from Abdullah to Feisal to Daoud to Selim to Mahmud to Ali to Mohammed. They stood round us in an interested circle, their faces beaming. "You are such a romantic, Emerson," I said.
However, when I emerged from the tent the following morning I was in a better humor, and the scene before me roused the old thrill of archaeological fever.
Meidum is one of the most attractive sites in Egypt The remains of the cemetery are situated on the edge of the low bluff that marks the beginning of the desert, toward the east the emerald carpet of the cultivated land stretched out toward the river, whose waters were stained rosy pink by the rays of the rising sun. On the bluff, rising high against the sky, was the pyramid, though I must confess it does not look much like one. The Egyptians call it El Haram el-Kaddab, "The False Pyramid," for it more resembles a square tower of three diminishing stages. Once there were seven stages, like those of a step pyramid. The angles between them had been filled in with stone to give a smooth slope, but these filling stones and the upper stages had long since collapsed, forming a frame of detritus all around the giant tomb.
Like the pyramids of Dahshoor and Giza, it was uninscribed. I have never understood why the kings who went to so much trouble to erect these grandiose structures did not bother to put their names on them,
for humility was not a notable characteristic of Egyptian pharaohs. It is also uncharacteristic of tourists, ancient or modern. As soon as the great art of writing was invented, certain individuals made use of it tco deface monuments and works of art. Three thousand years before ouir time, an Egyptian tourist came to Meidum to visit the "beautiful templle of King Snefru," and left an inscription, or graffito, to that effect om one of the walls of the temple. Snefru was known to have had two suc;h tombs,- we had worked at one of them, the north pyramid of Dahshooir. Petrie, who had discovered the graffito in question, decided that thiis must be Snefru's second pyramid.
"Bah," said Emerson. "One graffito does not constitute proof of owrn-ership. The temple was already a thousand years old when the coim-founded scribbler visited it, the guides of that remote era were probab>ly as ignorant as those of the present day. Snefru's two pyramids are the ones at Dahshoor."
When Emerson speaks in that dogmatic tone, few care to contradilict him I am one of those few, but since I agreed with his views I did not do so on that occasion.
For the next two days we busied ourselves with the private tomlbs. There were several groups of them north, south and west of the pyramid— for the cultivated land eastward was of course unsuitable I for tombs. We had ample help. I had never really expected to be alcone with Emerson, the presence of strangers always attracts local villagers demanding baksheesh or asking for work or simply satisfying thheir curiosity They began wandering in while we were at breakfast the ffirst day, and after interviewing them Emerson set some to work umder Abdullah's direction.
I always say that if one cannot have a pyramid, a nice deep tomhb is the next best thing. All the pyramids had cemeteries around therm— tombs of courtiers and princes, nobles and high officials, who were
given the privilege of spending eternity in proximity to the god-king they had served in life. These Old Kingdom tombs were called masteabas because the superstructure resembled the flat-topped, sloping-skided benches found outside modern Egyptian houses. The superstructures, built of stone or mud-brick, had often disappeared or collapsed into shapeless mounds, but they were not the parts that interested me. Under the mastabas were shafts and stairs descending deep intoo the rock beneath and culminating in the burial chamber. Some of the rricher tombs had substructures almost as delightfully dark, tortuous and bat-ridden as those of the pyramids.
Emerson very kindly allowed me to go into one such tomb (because he knew I would do it anyway).
The steeply sloping entrance ramp was littered with debris and only four feet high. It ended in a shaft, which I was obliged to descend by means of a rope held by Selim, who, at Emerson's insistence, had followed me down. I usually employed Selim for such work, since he was the youngest and slimmest of the trained men, one was always encountering holes through which a larger body could not easily pass, and of course the low ceilings presented a difficulty for taller individuals. Emerson was not particularly fond of tombs like these, he kept banging his head and getting stuck in holes.
But I must not allow my enthusiasm to lead me to a more detailed description, which might bore my duller readers and which is not really relevant to the tale I am telling. Suffice it to say that when I emerged, gasping for breath (the air in the lowest portions of such tombs is extremely hot and very close) and covered with a sort of paste compounded of perspiration, stone dust, and bat droppings, I could hardly contain my appreciation.
"It was delightful, Emerson! To be sure, the wall paintings are of poor quality, but I saw scraps of wood and linen wrappings among the debris in the burial chamber. I am sure we ought— "
Emerson had been waiting at the entrance to pull me out. Having done so, he hastily backed away, wrinkling his nose.
"Not now, Peabody. This was intended to be a survey, we haven't the manpower or the time to excavate. Why don't you amuse yourself with the pyramid?"
So I did. It was quite a nice pyramid in its own way, though the passageways were not so extensive or interesting as the ones in the Giza and Dahshoor monuments. Like them, it had been opened by earlier explorers who found it had been completely looted in antiquity.
On the afternoon of the second day came a further addition to what had now become something of a small mob—a pair of what Emerson refers to as cursed tourists. He unbent a trifle, however, when one
of them introduced himself as Herr Eberfelt, a German scholar with whom Emerson had corresponded. He was a virtual caricature of a Prussian, monocled, stiff as a board, and very formal in his manner.
Herr Schmidt, the young fellow with him, was one of his students— a plump, pleasant chap who would have been quite handsome had it not been for the ugly dueling scar that disfigured one cheek. German students take great pride in these scars, which they consider evidences of courage rather than of stupidity, which in fact they are. I am told the students even employ various painful and unsanitary methods of preventing the wounds from healing so that the scars will be as conspicuous as possible. Herr Schmidt's manners were as faultless as his face was not. He addressed me in broken but delightful English and appeared more than ready to accept the cup of tea I offered However, Emerson insisted on showing
them around the site and the young man obediently followed his superior.
I had finished my tea and was about to go after them when one of the workmen sidled up, glancing shyly at me from under his thick lashes. Like the other men, he had stripped off his robe while working and
was attired only in a wrapped loincloth. His sleek, smooth body shone with perspiration.
"I have found a tomb, honored Sitt," he whispered. "Will you come, before the others find it and claim
a share of the baksheesh?"
I looked around. Emerson must have taken the visitors into the pyramid,- they were nowhere in sight. Daoud was directing a group of workers who were investigating the tombs next to the causeway that led from the pyramid to the river. "Where is it?" I asked
"Not far, honored Sitt. Near the Tomb of the Geese" He was referring to one of the most famous tombs of Meidum, from which had come the lovely painting now in the Cairo Museum. It was located in the mastaba field almost due north of the pyramid A crew under Abdullah was at work in the area, searching for other tomb entrances, this man must be part of that crew. His surreptitious manner and look of suppressed excitement suggested that he had come on something remarkable enough to merit a sizable reward. Naturally he did not want to share it with the others
Anticipation thrilled through my limbs as I pictured marvels equaling the geese, or even the life-sized painted statues of a noble couple that had been found in another mastaba in the same cemetery. Rising,
I gestured to him to lead on.
The guttural chanting of Daoud's crew gradually faded as we scrambled over the fallen rocks and rough ground at the base of the pyramid. We were close to the northeast corner of the structure when my guide stopped. He held out his hand. "Sitt," he began.
"No," I said in Arabic. "No baksheesh until you have shown me the tomb."
He took a step toward me, smiling as sweetly as a shy maiden.
Then I heard a sound like the sharp crack of a whip. A rolling rumble of falling stone followed, as a rain of rocks and pebbles struck the ground behind me. My guide took to his heels. I could hardly blame him. Looking up in some annoyance, I saw a round, alarmed face peering down from the top of the slope, which was almost fifty feet above me at that point.
"
Ach, Himmel, Frau Professor— verzeiben Sie, bitte!
I did not see you. Are you damaged? Are you fainting with fear?"
He came scrambling down the slope as he spoke, waving his arms to keep his balance, and starting another miniature avalanche.
"Neither," I replied. "No thanks to you, Herr Schmidt. What the dev------ That is, what were you shooting at? For pity's sake, put your revolver away before you drill a hole through me or yourself."
Coloring, the young man returned his weapon to its holster. "It was
eine
Gazelle
— a . . . How do you
call it?"
"Nonsense. It could not have been a gazelle, they are timid creatures who would not venture so close to humans. You tried to shoot some poor villager's goat, Herr Schmidt. Luckily for you, you missed it, the world's finest marksman could not hit such a distant target with a pistol."
My lecture was interrupted by Emerson, who came rushing toward us demanding to know who had shot at what and why. My explanation did nothing to relieve his tender anxiety,- turning to his German colleague, who had been close on his heels, he burst into a storm of complaint
"Sie baben recbt, Herr Professor,"
Schmidt murmured submissively
"Ich bin tin vollendetes Rindvieb."
"You are making a great fuss about nothing, Emerson," I said. "The bullet came nowhere near me."
"In short, no harm was done or intended," said Professor Eberfelt, coming to the defense of his colleague.
"Except that my guide was frightened away," I added. "Let us see if we can find him and reassure him. He had found a new tomb which he was about to show me."