by Lara Temple
Ellie trailed her fingers along the gritty stone walls and he saw she had removed her gloves and immediately did the same. Even if he could not take her hand as Lucas held Olivia’s, if Ellie did need assistance he had a perfectly valid reason to touch her. It was pathetic and childish, but that was what he was reduced to at the moment.
No one spoke as they hunched over to climb through the shaft leading to the large inner chamber. In this position Chase could enjoy the sight of Ellie’s lushly rounded posterior as she went ahead of him. He realised with some satisfaction that she’d lost the strained pallor and slenderness of only a month ago, her face and figure now gently rounder...
He lowered his eyes to the passage floor and blessed the cool air and darkness which became heavier as the light from outside was replaced by the light of the torches carried by Hamid and Youssef. Sound also hollowed out, their shoes and boots clicking and scraping on the stone floor until they finally reached the King’s Chamber.
Just like the first time he entered here, he had a sense of loss. Unlike many of the beautiful tombs he’d seen elsewhere in Egypt, this chamber was surprisingly bare but for a large stone sarcophagus which stood in the middle—plain, empty, lidless and cracked.
‘Perhaps if not for grave robbers this burial chamber would still be full of treasure,’ Hamid said into the silence, his voice deeper in the enclosed space.
‘Hardly likely,’ Chase said drily. ‘Had Napoleon found anything in here, it would now be in Paris.’
‘Napoleon was inside this very chamber?’ Ellie whispered, her fingers hovering above the cracked lip of the sarcophagus.
‘He was, Aanisah Walsh,’ Hamid answered. ‘He stood here alone in this chamber and came out as white as a sun-bleached shroud.’
Chase shot Hamid a frown, but Ellie merely drew closer to Hamid, her eyes widening, their colour more amber than gold in the torchlight. He should have known she would be more allured than alarmed by such tales.
‘Why? What happened to him in here?’
‘He never said, Aanisah Walsh. Some say a vision of Alexander the Great told him he would be just as illustrious one day.’
Chase crossed his arms.
‘Unfortunately that was almost the truth. The French are certainly still strong in Egypt, despite losing the war.’
Youssef nodded. ‘Yes, and Drovetti is Consul-General again, though he was Napoleon’s man. These French, they like the gifts he sends from the temples so much they forgive him. They are as greedy as the British Museum, but much more willing to pay. Every day another ship departs with treasures.’
‘Perhaps it is good Edge disappeared off the face of the earth. He would have an apoplexy at the thought of where we have come.’ Sam sighed, shaking her head, and Hamid smiled.
‘It is true. He and Effendim Carmichael did not like it when the others moved statues and took treasures, though Monsieur Jasperot is only too happy to provide gifts for the Bourbon King, and even Mr Mallory may have a hand in this now.’
‘Mallory? Cousin Huxley’s secretary? Is he in Egypt?’ Sam asked in surprise.
‘He came through Cairo on his way to Qetara, Aanisah Sam. I told you, al-Jinn Chase, yes? I heard Sir Henry asked him to oversee a shipment destined for the great museum in England when he returns. Jasperot is to excavate the tomb of the bulls near Saqqara. Remember, Aanisah Sam? The one you and Effendim Edge fell in all those years ago? Only now did Jasperot receive the firman to open it and he was most delighted to discover it had not been plundered meanwhile. He and Consul-General Salt arranged for Effendim Mallory to accompany a shipment to your museum. But you shall see him yourself soon.’ Hamid smiled. ‘It is good you are all back. It has been too long. Tomorrow we go to Qetara to visit your mother’s resting place. It is sad Effendim Huxley’s body could not be in its proper place there, too. But though his body may be in your country, his soul is in mine. Come, it is time to leave.’
Chase did not turn with the others or notice as someone came to stand beside him at the lip of the empty sarcophagus.
‘Chase? Is something wrong?’
‘I forgot.’
‘Forgot what?’
He took a step back from the sarcophagus so he could not see into its blank emptiness. He should tell Ellie he needed to be utterly alone for a moment, because that was how it should be.
‘My mother is buried in Qetara. In the garden of Bab el-Nur, the house owned by Huxley and Carmichael.’
It wasn’t something one forgot. Perhaps forgot was the wrong word. He had not thought of it, not since the news of Huxley’s death, perhaps not for longer than that, he couldn’t even remember when he had last thought of that little temple at the end of the gardens. One of the original reasons to come to Egypt was to visit her grave with Lucas and Sam. But it had gone clean out of his mind until that moment.
He shook his head.
‘Come. Time to go.’
Other than Youssef and the torch the others were already quite far ahead and the silence was almost absolute other than the muted scuffle of their shoes.
Which was probably why her cry caught him completely off guard.
‘Chase!’
‘What is it?’ He turned abruptly, completely forgetting to mind the low ceiling, and slammed his head into the granite. ‘Yina’al abuk wa abu abuk,’ he cursed in Arabic, gritting his teeth.
‘Oh, no. Are you hurt? I’m so sorry. Here, let me see.’
‘Hell, I’m not six years old...’ He breathed deeply. ‘What made you cry out?’
‘Nothing. I mean, it just came to me. The initials in that note we found in the book of hours. Are you certain you are not badly hurt?’
‘I will survive, but save your explanation and your eureka moments for when we are safely outside.’
When he could stand straight he rubbed his head and Ellie stopped beside him, looking charmingly contrite.
‘Now, what revelation merited a cracked skull?’
Her mouth wavered into a smile, but she repressed it, which was just as well.
‘It occurred to me as Sam and Hamid were talking—I remembered the initials. On Huxley’s note. I’d almost forgotten.’
‘The initials.’
‘You must remember that note we found in the book of hours with the image of the bull and the jagged pyramid and the eight letters—J M P S C L E.’
‘How on earth did you remember those letters?’ he asked, surprised. That particular note had caught his attention as well, but it should hardly have had the same impact on her.
‘The way I remember most tasks at home—I create an image around them. In this case a bull jumping over a scale poised on the tip of a pyramid.’
‘A what?’
‘The letters—J M P S C L E. Jump Scale. Without the U and A. And the bull and pyramid were mentioned in the same note. Arthur Whelford was very fond of word games and he would sometimes pose us riddles and we would guess their meaning. But that is beside the point. It just occurred to me that your cousin often referred to people merely by the first letter of their name. Those letters are all of you—Jasperot and Mallory and Poppy and Edge and your brother and you and Sam. You were all at that bull tomb together, weren’t you? And it is the same one described in the page Huxley removed from fourth Desert Boy book. I am right, aren’t I?’ Her excitement wavered at his silence and he relented.
‘I think you are. I had a look at the description in Sam’s book and it is incredibly accurate, including the corner in which the debris was stacked and the cracked granite slab from the sarcophagus desecrated by some long-ago grave robbers.’
Even in the dark he saw her eyes light up with excitement.
‘So we were right! Huxley was trying to guess the author’s identity.’
‘Probably. There is only one amendment to his list.’
‘Oh, was someone else present?�
��
‘No. But at the time Jasperot was recovering from a broken arm and collarbone. He never went down into the tomb and since the authorities had the place sealed up and it wasn’t reopened until last year, there were only six people who could describe it so accurately.’
‘That doesn’t completely exclude Jasperot from the list—any one of you might have described the tomb to him.’
‘True, but it makes him a less likely candidate. I doubt anyone described the mound of debris that fell in when the part of the roof caved in with Sam’s fall as shaped like a giant tortoise, but once I read that passage I remember that is precisely what it looked like. I tend to agree with Huxley that whoever wrote those books was in that tomb with us that day and I don’t believe it is Mallory, he hasn’t the imagination for it.’
She frowned.
‘I seem to remember he was a most intelligent young man.’
‘I hesitate to undermine your fervent admiration for Mallory, but intelligence and imagination don’t always go hand in hand.’
‘But you cannot be certain.’
‘No, but once I track him down I am convinced I can confirm he is not the author. Which leaves Poppy or Edge.’
‘You have been thinking about this!’ she accused.
‘Is that a bad thing?’
‘You didn’t say a word to me about it the whole voyage.’
‘It may have escaped your notice, but we were otherwise occupied and, besides, schooners are not precisely built for privacy. Unfortunately.’
‘Is that why, or is it because you did not wish to discuss it in Sam’s presence?’
He glanced over his shoulder at Youssef, who was standing by the exit, faithfully holding his torch aloft and trying to look completely unconcerned with his role as chaperon. Chase was very tempted to tell him to make himself scarce.
‘That, too. Once we reach Qetara we will probably find out the truth, but please don’t tell Sam either way. This is her one area of certainty. I don’t want to upset that.’
‘Of course I shan’t, Chase.’
She reached out and he took her hand without thinking.
For a moment he held it in his, her warmth spreading to him, the weight of thousands of years setting them apart from everything that awaited them outside.
‘Chase!’ Lucas’s voice reverberated up the passage and Chase dropped her hand. Blast big brothers.
Chapter Eighteen
‘Off, Inky. That is mine,’ Ellie admonished the cat, gently moving it off the book she had forgotten in the salon. ‘You will have to find some other place to sleep away the afternoon heat.’
A slight movement in the corner of her eye made her turn. A pleasant-looking man with eyes and hair the colour of rich earth stood in the arched passage between the salon and the courtyard, frowning slightly. He was immediately familiar. but it took her a moment to realise why.
‘Mr Mallory.’
His skin was already rather reddened from the sun, but it heated further.
‘I beg your pardon, Do I... Goodness, you are Miss Walsh. We met at Arthur Whelford’s several years ago, did we not?’
She laughed, extending her hand.
‘We did. Some seven years ago. I am impressed you remember.’
‘But of course I remember. We had a most fascinating discussion regarding the Parthenon Marbles.’
‘You are very kind, Mr Mallory, but all I can recall was asking you far too many foolish questions.’
‘Not at all, not at all. I was most impressed by your concern for the welfare of the antiquities. It was a point Lord Huxley...the late Lord Huxley and I often discussed.’ He sighed again. ‘I shall miss him.’
‘You have heard, then...’
‘Mr Carmichael received a letter from the executors regarding poor George’s passing.’
‘I am so very sorry, Mr Mallory. What will you do now?’
‘Well, once I speak with Mr Sinclair, I must return to Mr Carmichael in Qetara to help him prepare a tribute to Lord Huxley. Then Sir Henry Salt, the Consul-General, and Monsieur Jasperot requested I accompany a shipment of antiquities to the British Museum and he has been kind enough to provide me with a reference to Mr Planta, the Principal Librarian there. The Museum is expanding rapidly and there is a great deal to be done...’ He paused, tugging at his cravat. ‘I do apologise for running on, this cannot be of interest to you.
‘I assure you it sounds fascinating, Mr Mallory. I am lucky enough to be here as Lady Samantha’s companion and I am finding everything about Egypt fascinating. But on no account can I allow you to leave until Mr Sinclair returns, so please do let us sit down and you may tell me all about Qetara.’
He looked a little alarmed by her enthusiasm, but he joined her on the mastaba—a long cushioned bench running the length of the salon and looking out the arched doorways on to a courtyard filled with lushly flowering potted plants. His alarm grew as Inky leapt up on the mastaba between them and turned her saucer-sized eyes on Mr Mallory, placing one dark felt paw gently but with exquisite menace on his pantaloons.
‘Don’t mind Inky, Mr Mallory. She is Lady Sinclair’s cat and insisted on accompanying Sam on this journey. I made the mistake of trying to stare her down when she decided she was bored of Lady Samantha’s and Mr Sinclair’s cabins aboard ship and came to sample mine. She is still considering whether to forgive me for my impertinence in trying to evict her. Isn’t that true, Inky?’
Inky gave a sharp-toothed yawn and came to deposit her substantial bulk on Ellie’s lap. Mr Mallory gave a sigh of relief at his release.
‘Apparently, she forgives you, Miss Walsh.’
‘Animals forgive us more swiftly than we forgive ourselves.’ Ellie smiled and stroked the warm, purring bundle on her skirts.
‘That is probably true. I wish I had that facility at the moment. I admit to feeling quite torn about leaving Lord Huxley when I did. I knew he was unwell at the end, but he was most insistent I go to Egypt when Mr Sinclair did not respond to his letters and he realised he might already be on his way there. Otherwise I would never have agreed to leave him at such a time...’
Ellie leaned forward impetuously. ‘Oh, please don’t tell Mr Sinclair that, Mr Mallory.’
‘Don’t tell me what?’
Mallory stood abruptly at Chase’s question and Ellie turned, more surprised at the animosity in his voice than his sudden arrival. Mr Mallory strode towards him, hand extended.
‘Hello, Chase. I am so very pleased to see you.’
Chase took his hand with a peculiar reluctance, but then the harsh look on his face faded into a smile.
‘And I to see you, Mallory.’
‘Relieved, too. I am only sorry I left the box in Qetara, but I felt it was safer with Mr Carmichael and after all we were certain you would go to Qetara once you did arrive here.’
‘The box.’
‘Yes, that is why I came to Egypt. George thought you might already be on your way here and he wanted to be quite certain you received it before you left Egypt.’
‘Why?’
‘I... I don’t know. He did not explain it to me. Those last few months he was not quite himself. Oh, I do not mean he lost his senses, but he knew he was failing and he became preoccupied and...unpredictable.’
‘I should have come to see him.’ Chase’s expression did not change, but Ellie could see the shadows of pain in his eyes.
‘In truth, Chase, I don’t believe he wished anyone to see him. When he realised he was ill, I immediately suggested sending for you and Lucas and Samantha, but he said he preferred you remember him as he had been, not as he had become.’
Chase moved away.
‘Never mind. So the box is in Qetara?’
‘Yes. When will you be travelling there?’
‘Tomorrow. We were considering going to Saqqara, but wil
l likely save that for our return to Cairo. I hear Jasperot has finally received a firman for that tomb Sam fell into. Have you been to see it?’
‘Not yet, but I shall also go after I conclude my affairs in Qetara. I am most interested to see it again. All I can remember is clouds of dust and a rather lovely wall painting of a felucca. Jasperot tells me he has uncovered the most exquisite mummified bulls you could hope to see.’
‘I don’t often have cause to link together the words exquisite, mummies and bulls, so I will reserve judgement. Is that all you remember? I was trying to settle a debate with Lucas that it sounded very like a passage in one of the Desert Boy books. You know, the one where Gabriel falls through the roof of a collapsed tomb and is rescued by Leila?’
Mallory shook his head ruefully.
‘I’m afraid I don’t. Perhaps if you showed me the passage?’
‘Perhaps later. I see you and Miss Walsh introduced yourselves already.’
‘Miss Walsh and I met several times when I came to Nettleton to meet with Mr Whelford on Lord Huxley’s behalf,’ Mr Mallory corrected punctiliously. ‘Miss Walsh was kind enough to listen to me bore on about antiquities.’
‘Were you bored, Miss Walsh?’
Ellie flushed, confused by the acid in Chase’s voice.
‘Not at all, Mr Sinclair. I told Mr Mallory it was more likely the other way around. I found his views on the Parthenon Marbles fascinating.’
‘Charming.’ Chase turned back to Mallory. ‘Do you know what is in Huxley’s box?’
‘Well, yes and no. Lord Huxley was quite secretive about this project of his and, of course, I did not press. I know he included quite a few notebooks and some personal possessions. I presumed he was preparing a leave-taking gift for Mr Carmichael, which was why I was surprised he asked me to deliver it to you. I went to find you in London, but all I could gather from your man of business and from Lord Sinclair’s butler was that you were away somewhere on the Continent, but they did not know where, or when you might return. I knew Lord Sinclair was in Venice with his wife and due to travel from there to Egypt, so naturally we assumed you might be doing the same. George decided I must take the trunk to Egypt myself and intercept you. Naturally I did not wish to leave him while he was unwell, but he was most insistent and I felt it was best for his health that I do as he wished. And so here I am.’
