Guardian of the Horizon by Elizabeth Peters Page A

said somewhat defensively. "I find that hard to believe," said Ramses, raising his expressive eyebrows. "When we took our hasty departure, Tarek had not yet overcome all those who opposed him. His brother Nastasen was dead, but Forthright, your renegade cousin, was still on the loose, and so was the old High Priest of Amon, who had supported Nastasen." "I also questioned Merasen about them," I said. "He claimed he had never heard of Reggie Forthright." "What's so surprising about that?" Nefret demanded. "Merasen was only seven or eight years old at the time. Reggie must have been caught by Tarek and executed, as he well deserved. The High Priest of Amon too; he was the ringleader of the rebels." "There was also a social revolution," Ramses persisted. "Tarek wanted to improve the living conditions of the rekkit, who were no better than slaves. I drew a dead blank when I asked Merasen about that." "He doesn't strike me as interested in social reform," I remarked. "And it is possible that the changes Tarek hoped to make were frustrated by the dead hand of tradition. If Emerson is correct in believing the rekkit were the original inhabitants of the Holy Mountain, they have been enslaved since the first Egyptians arrived there. What a sad commentary on human nature that the strong do not succor and assist the weak, but rather--" "How well you put it, Mother," said Ramses. I took the hint. "Ah, well, we will learn the truth when we get there." Ramses said under his breath, "If we get there." Emerson returned from London to announce he had sent Merasen on his way, and that the boy appeared to be looking forward to the journey. "He doesn't lack self-confidence, I'll say that for him" was Emerson's comment. "Before I got him on board I took him to the Museum and he--" "For pity's sake, Emerson, why did you do that?" I demanded. "I was under the impression that we wanted to keep him away from people who might suspect his origins." "Oh," said Emerson self-consciously. "Well, but it's all right, Peabody. The only person we ran into was Budge, and he wouldn't know a Bishari tribesman from a Bedouin." "That is pure nonsense, Emerson, and you know it. Budge may have attained his position as keeper of Egyptian and Assyrian Antiquities because of his underhanded methods of acquiring artifacts for the Museum, but he has been often in Egypt and the Sudan. Didn't he ask you about Merasen? What the devil did you go there for?" "I only wanted to show the boy a few objects and get his opinion," Emerson said defensively. "Budge was his usual self, supercilious and insulting. He completely ignored the boy." "Oh, really? What precisely did Mr. Budge say?" "Er. You see, as it happened, we were in the section devoted to Meroitic material, and Budge . . . er." "Asked where you meant to work this year." Emerson can only be pushed so far. My accusatory tone brought a wicked sparkle to his sapphirine orbs. "Curse it, Peabody, you told me to be open and aboveboard about our plans." "Well," I said. "David is due tomorrow, and we are overdue for a conference. Shall we meet in the library in half an hour?" When Emerson got there, now divested of his traveling attire and wearing comfortable rumpled garments, we were waiting for him. Emerson looked at me, settled at his desk with my papers spread outin front of me, and went at once to the table where the decanters were kept. "Whiskey and soda, Peabody?" he inquired. "It is too early, Emerson." "No, it isn't, Peabody. Here. I admit," Emerson went on, settling into a comfortable overstuffed chair near the bust of Socrates, "that perhaps I acted a bit rashly by taking Merasen to the British Museum. I allowed professional curiosity to overcome me." "I wonder," said Ramses, "if we have fully considered the implications of this venture." "No doubt you will enlighten us," I remarked. "Let the boy speak, Peabody," said Emerson, taking out his pipe. "Without, if you please, interrupting him!" "Thank you, Father. I've been