A Crimson Warning (24 page)

“We should find out if Lord Glover has had a letter,” I said.

“Excellent idea.” He gulped his coffee and shoved the paper back into its envelope. “I’ll head there at once.”

Davis stepped into the room again. “Mrs. Brandon, madam. She asked to see you at once. May I bring her here?”

“Yes, please do,” I said. Ivy appeared a moment later, looking nothing like her usual spirited self. Her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep, and her forehead bore the marks of tension.

“Are you quite well?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “Did you get one of these, too?” She held up an envelope and thrust it at me.

Dearest Ivy, I’m absolutely beside myself with fear and angst. My captor is standing over me, watching me write to you. He wants my friends to understand just how perilous my situation is, and I chose you to write to as I know you’ve a kind heart and will do everything you can to ensure my husband follows his directions as quickly as possible. I’m terrified of what will happen if he doesn’t.

“Lady Glover,” I said.

Ivy nodded. “What am I to do?”

“When did this arrive?” Colin asked.

“This morning,” she said. “Not half an hour ago.”

“And it came regular post?” I asked.

She nodded again.

“This is quite disturbing,” Colin said. “And is making me believe all the more firmly she’s been taken by the same man who took Cordelia. Having her write letters is just in his vein. He wants her family and friends to worry while they wait. I’m off to Glover at once.”

*   *   *

Once again relegated to waiting, Ivy and I sat, reading aloud from
The Iliad.
It was our version of seeking comfort, a vain attempt to distract us from what we imagined Lady Glover must be suffering.

“The other chiefs and princes slept soundly all the night long: but not Agamemnon. No sleeps visited his eyes; the lord and commander of that great host had too much to make him anxious.”

“I’m not sure this is making me feel better,” Ivy said. “Perhaps we should try something else. Can’t you read a bit about Hector and Andromache?”

I started to flip through the volume, but was interrupted by Davis.

“Madam,” he said. “A colleague of mine is here to see you. I’ve put him in the blue drawing room.”

I nearly gasped when I saw Mr. Dillman’s butler standing nervously in the center of the carpet.

“I apologize for coming to you like this,” he said. “But I thought you would know best what to do with this. You’ve handled this matter with such thoroughness and discretion. I know I can trust you.” He handed me a folded sheet of paper.

My lovely, sweet girl—

The memory of your ivory skin radiant in the candlelight burns in my heart. To see you tonight was, as always, like a dream, and no one could argue that shade of jade green doesn’t suit you, no matter what that dreadful neighbor of yours says about your new ball gown. I do wish you wouldn’t take criticism to heart, but you are a dear, sensitive thing, aren’t you? It’s part of the reason you’re more valuable to me than gold.

So greet that old dragon with stone silence next time you see her—and worry about her no further. She is not worth any more of your time.

To finish on a lighter note, if, when we’re married, you still insist on having that dreadful bronze statue in the garden, I won’t argue. I want nothing more than for you to be the happiest girl in the world. Which is why, as I hope you’ve noticed, I’ve written this letter on the finest paper I could find. I know how you like that.

I am your most devoted,

Michael

“Where did you find this?” I asked, fighting to keep tears from filling my eyes. I wished Cordelia had been able to read it. I passed it to Ivy.

“I feel quite stupid, really,” he said. “It was in my own ledger book, between the endpapers in the back. I’ve no idea how it got there.”

“Mr. Dillman put it there,” I said, my mind springing to life and vanquishing my sadness. “He hid it in plain sight, figuring that you would give it to Cordelia when you found it.”

“I would have, were she not—” he started.

“And if she’d read it, she’d have known exactly what to do with it,” I said. “Luckily, I do, too.”

“You do?” he asked.

“Ivory, jade, gold, stone, bronze, and paper,” I said. “Clues to what we need to be looking for in the British Museum.”

26

I thanked the butler, and Ivy and I headed straight for the British Museum. In the carriage on the way over I organized my notes. First, I considered the departments: Ancient Egypt and Sudan, Ancient Near East, Oriental Antiquities, and Medieval and Modern Europe. There were two references to both Ancient Near East and Oriental Antiquities, so I expected to need two objects from each. We had six numbers to go with them, and the six materials.

“Pity there’s nothing Greco-Roman,” Ivy said. “You’d have anything identified along those lines in approximately three minutes. But I suppose these things are never easy, are they?”

We piled out of the cab in Great Russell Street and headed for the entrance of the museum. We went straight for the desk, where I asked if my friend, Mr. May, was available. He was an assistant keeper in the department of Greek and Roman Antiquities, but had a vast knowledge outside of his field and a sharp intellect whose match I’d never met. We’d become congenial on my many trips to the museum, and he helped me on occasion with my work on Homer. I explained the situation, and he grasped it at once.

“Let’s start with Egypt and Sudan,” he said. “That will probably be the most difficult as the galleries will be so crowded. I always prefer to get the hardest out of the way first.” I’d copied out the numbers—118, 104, 152, 187, 28, and 930—along with the list I’d generated from Mr. Dillman’s letter, for each of us.

The first room we entered contained mummies and artifacts that had been buried with them. I knew the mummies were not what we sought, but there was plenty else to investigate. We combed through canopic jars and amulets and sarcophagi, but turned up nothing. Our luck proved no better in the next room, either. When we were halfway through the third, Mr. May pulled me aside.

“I think we’re making a mistake,” he said. “How much did Mr. Dillman know about the Egyptians?”

“I can’t say I know,” I said. “He loved the museum, but I’m not sure he would have considered himself an expert in anything regarding it.”

“That’s exactly what I thought. Come.”

Ivy and I followed him back into the second Egyptian room, where he led us to a case holding several examples of
The Book of the Dead
.

“A layman may have mistaken papyrus for paper,” he said. At once, we all began checking the numbers.

“Here!” Ivy said, beckoning to us. “I’ve found a 104 and think it may be what we need. It’s from the papyrus of Ani.”

The scene on the papyrus was an image of scales—on one side of them sat a human heart, on the other, a tall white feather.

“The Egyptians believed when a person died, his heart would be weighed against the feather of Ma’at—justice,” Mr. May said. “If his heart was too heavy and didn’t balance, he was thrown to the monster you see there.” He pointed to a figure that was part lion, part hippopotamus, and part crocodile. “The devourer, as he was called, would eat him, and he’d be denied the afterlife.”

“Who officiates the weighing?” I asked.

“Anubis—the jackal-headed god standing in front of the scales. If the heart did balance, the deceased was declared justified, and would be presented to Osiris, god of the underworld.”

“Judgment certainly feels appropriate in the current circumstances,” I said. I copied down the full catalog listing, EA 10470/3, and crossed
104
and
paper
off my lists. “Where shall we try next?”

“Let’s continue in the Ancient Near East galleries. We’ve two things to search for there, do we not?” We marched through several galleries to a room containing objects from ancient Turkey.

“I never spend enough time up here,” I said, astonished at the array of objects before me. As always, the sense of history overwhelmed me. “Perhaps I’m too focused on Greece.”

“It’s impossible to be too focused on Greece,” Mr. May said. In theory, I could not have agreed more, but I was beginning to think perhaps I should consider broadening my horizons.

We split up and began our quest. This time it was easy—in a matter of minutes, I was calling to my friends.

“Here,” I said. “An ivory griffin-headed demon from Anatolia.”

“It’s beautiful,” Ivy said, bending over for a closer look.

“It probably was part of a throne and meant to provide protection,” Mr. May said. “Eighth to seventh century
BC.
”

There were two griffins in the case—one black, one white—displayed next to each other. Ours, the white was, in my estimation, the finer, if smaller, of the two. It was more delicate, and the intricate detail was breathtaking. Every feather on the creature’s wings was exquisitely carved, as were the rippling muscles visible on its legs. The darker material of the other seemed to hide more of its detail despite its larger size.

“Protection and judgment. Perhaps Mr. Dillman trying to make a point to Cordelia,” I said.

“It’s so sad,” Ivy said. “But I suppose we must not lose focus. Where to next, Mr. May?”

“I think we should remain here,” Mr. May said. “We’ve got a second reference for this department, do we not?”

He was correct. Unfortunately, however, our quarry was not so easily found this time. Over the expanse of the Ancient Near East galleries, I looked at what felt like hundreds of objects: gold jewelry, stone statues and reliefs, bronze weapons. But nothing had the right numbers. I circled back to where we’d started, deciding to take each substance in turn. I would begin by focusing on stone.

Nearly an hour later, I still hadn’t met with success. I rubbed my eyes and closed them, wanting to make them focus better. Mr. May came up beside me.

“I’ve found it,” he said, leading me to a case on the far side of the room. He pointed to a row of small heads that looked like they might belong to deranged dogs. “Pazuzu. He can be good or bad. He either spreads evil or stops disease. So he provides a bit of protection, when he’s not busy being an underworld demon. Obviously we want the bronze one.”

“He’s frightful,” Ivy said. “I have a hard time believing he’s ever good. Where is he from?”

“The Assyrians worshipped him as did the Babylonians,” Mr. May said.

“It’s hideous,” I said, staring at the menacing face, its eyes set too far apart and its wide mouth partly open to reveal long fanglike front teeth. “But gloriously hideous.” Again, I copied down all the information from the display card, not knowing what might be important.

“We have two objects from the Department of Oriental Arts,” Mr. May said. “Shall we proceed?”

Oriental Antiquities took up three galleries on a level slightly above the ground floor. We descended the slick marble stairs, pausing to gape at a magnificent Chinese sculpture from the landing halfway down.

“Jade’s obvious for this section,” Ivy said. “Let me set myself to finding it. I shouldn’t have any trouble doing that on my own.”

“Very good,” I said. “That leaves stone and gold. The only other department is Medieval and Modern Europe. What do you think, Mr. May? It seems to me our gold is likely to be there.”

“Entirely likely,” he said. “Let’s look for stone in here.”

I knew very little about Oriental art, and was taken aback by its exotic beauty. Within seconds, the Hindu gods and the elaborate carved scenes depicting their trials and triumphs that filled the gallery space had thoroughly captivated me. I wanted to make sketches of them, to find books that recounted their mythology. I shook my head, forcing myself to regain my focus, and concentrated on my work.

I’d worked through two-thirds of the main gallery and was almost at the end of the Indian section when I saw it. It was the number that first caught my notice, as I’d made myself read the cards before looking at the objects, lest I found myself distracted by their beauty. The number 187 popped out at me and as soon as I’d confirmed the object was indeed what we were looking for, I waved to Mr. May, who had moved into the Chinese portion of the exhibit.

“Mrs. Brandon is up to her ears in jade,” he said. “She wants us to meet her when we’re done.”

“Durga,” I said. “OA 1872.7-1.89. Isn’t she spectacular?”

“Indeed,” he said. “She’s attacking Mahisha, a demon who’s trying to plunge the world into cosmic disorder. It’s a wonderful story. She’s got Shiva’s trident and Vishnu’s discus—they’ve lent them to her because they’re afraid they’ll be destroyed if they go after the beast themselves—see how Durga’s stabbing him with the trident?”

“He looks like a buffalo,” I said.

“Precisely,” Mr. May said. “A terrible buffalo demon. Durga means
invincible,
you know.”

“Fitting,” I said, gazing upon the magnificent piece. The goddess’s arms—I was trying to make out if she had six or eight—were clad with wide cuff bracelets. She held a sword above her head in one hand and the trident in another. Unfortunately, some of her other hands had been broken off. I wondered if originally she’d been even better armed than she appeared now. Some sort of fearsome creature—a lion, perhaps, crouched below the demon, his jaws clamping down on its leg. I loved the tall, elaborate headdress on Durga’s head, and her heavy earrings. But most of all, I loved her strength, loved that it was she whom the other gods summoned when doom seemed inevitable.

“Are you still with me?” Mr. May asked.

“Of course,” I said. “You do know how I love this place. It’s hard not to get a little distracted. But I promise, I am on task. We should see what Ivy’s got up to. Once we’re done with jade, all that’s left for us is the Middle Ages.”

We went off in search of my friend, who stopped us the moment we approached. “Don’t even think about interfering,” she said. “I am determined to find this one on my own.”

The cases in front of her were full to the bursting, many of the items in them tiny. There were amulets, combs, beads, and countless discs with holes in the center. One case held blades made from jade, which surprised me, as I would not have expected something essentially translucent to be strong enough to be an effective weapon. There were brush pots carved with stunning landscape scenes and images of farmers hard at work, pendants shaped like curvy dragons, and strange, square objects called
cong,
with tubular holes in the center. I particularly liked a small statue of an animal—some sort of leopard, I thought, crouched and ready to pounce on its prey.