The Buried Pyramid (68 page)

Clean and gowned in something vaguely Egyptian, though far less revealing than what was worn by the shabti girls, Jenny rejoined them. The tensions had washed from her along with the grime, and she sat tickling a length of reed along the edge of the pool for the delighted Mozelle to chase.

A gust of wind carried Rashid to them, and he smiled warm greeting before he was taken off to be ministered to by his own lovely attendants—one of whom carried the happily chattering Mischief. The Arab youth could not, of course, comment about his ordeal, but the peace on his face seemed to argue that everything had gone well.

As more time passed, Neville’s own thoughts destroyed his tranquility. Where were the others? He had thought that Neferankhotep was dealing with the rival groups separately. However, if that were so, Eddie would have joined them by now. Rashid’s arrival seemed to argue that Neville’s assumption was incorrect. Or was it? Jenny had nearly failed. What about Eddie?

“I wonder,” he said to the general air, trying to keep a note of concern out of his voice, “what criteria Neferankhotep uses to select the order of his interviews?”

“You mean alphabetical order, or by age or, perhaps, like a seating arrangement at a dinner party,” Stephen said, getting into the idea, “alternating male and female. Or perhaps by social rank or level of education . . .”

“Or maybe,” Jenny interrupted, much more serious, “by how hard it’s going to be to pass. I understand Stephen was here first, then you, Uncle, then me, then Rashid.”

“None of the orders I’ve suggested work then,” Stephen said. “I’m older than you, Jenny, but both of your names come before mine in the alphabet. Socially, all of you but Rashid outrank me . . .”

“Rashid might be an Arab prince for all we know,” Jenny said.

“Right. In any case,” Stephen said, “if they were working from the bottom of the social ladder then I would certainly be toward the bottom. Where would Eddie fit in? In England he’s not ranked very high, but by religious standing in an Islamic country he outranks all of us nonbelievers.”

“It’s Eddie I’m worried about,” Neville said bluntly. “Maat seems fairly absolute. How would those beings who interviewed us view a religious convert?”

“Eddie’s wonderful!” Jenny said passionately. “He’s stood by you even when you’ve been difficult, warning you even when he knew you wouldn’t listen.”

Neville nodded. “However, what if his conversion to Islam was less sincere than he believed? What if there is a gap between his innermost beliefs and what he is living? Maat might not be very understanding then.”

A gust of wind disturbed the tranquil surfaces of the bathing pools and Mrs. Syms emerged apparently from nowhere. She walked with her head high, her lips slightly parted. Her eyes were dreamy and unfocused, and she seemed completely unaware of the rather decadent pleasures surrounding her.

Two burly male shabti came to assist her, and she addressed them as Tom and Ralph, asking after their families, and the success of a church choir outing. The physician rose from where he had been listening to their conversation, and directed the shabti to escort Mrs. Syms to a newly created oasis. He followed, and as from a great distance they could hear Mrs. Syms addressing him as “Doctor” and thanking him for making a house call at such an inconvenient hour.

“She’s still crazy,” Jenny said with gentle pity. “I wonder why? Couldn’t the gods—or whatever they are—couldn’t they fix the damage?”

“One would think so,” Stephen said. “Thoth is a god of both knowledge and healing. Curing delusions should be easy for him.”

“Maybe,” Neville said slowly, feeling his way to the answer, “curing her would bring her into violation of Maat. As deeply as it pains me to admit it, Lady Cheshire did intend to sabotage our expedition, and Mrs. Syms was her ally in a way Rashid was not. Perhaps as long as she remains insane, and thus ignorant of what she agreed to do, she is innocent.”

“But if she remembers,” Stephen said, “she is not.”

The pity in Jenny’s eyes was for Neville now, and he found it hard to bear.

“So you have little hope for Lady Cheshire,” she said.

“None.”

“And yet Audrey did show good qualities at the end,” Jenny admitted. “She was courageous and creative in her magical innovations, nor did she try to pretend she had been pushed into her course by another—say by Captain Brentworth. He would not have been able to gainsay her. I don’t like what she did, but I was beginning to respect her . . . at least a little.”

“I cannot pretend that my initial admiration for the lady,” Neville said, “did not have more to do with the color of her eyes and the luster of her hair, but I, too, began to see her other qualities. Unhappily, I also began to see that some of them were less than what I desired.”

“But you wouldn’t wish her damned,” Stephen said. “None of us would. It simply isn’t Christian.”

Neville’s response was cut short when a fresh gust of wind announced the arrival of Eddie Bryce. The other man looked thoughtful, but not particularly somber. He broke into a wide grin at the noisy welcome that greeted him.

The physician claimed Eddie first, replying to their questions with reassurances that Mrs. Syms was resting well, but should not be disturbed. Then Eddie accepted the ministrations of several shabti handmaidens, noting that it might be best if Miriam didn’t hear of this part of their adventure.

“Six of us through then,” he said, “and perhaps that is all. I suspect we will not see Lady Cheshire again.”

“You speak as from a certainty,” Neville said.

“I understood that I had been kept for last,” Eddie explained, “since Neferankhotep knew I was a religious convert, and wanted to do his best to understand the faiths that have come into the world since his leaving it. I must admit that proving the depth and sincerity of my conversion was a bit of a sticky wicket, but once that was done, there were lots of questions, especially from Neferankhotep and Thoth.”

“We were worried,” Jenny admitted.

“So was I,” Eddie said. “It was not an easy examination—in fact, I’m lucky that the mullahs gave me the benefit of a doubt. I think they liked that I was willing to take Miriam’s faith rather than forcing her to adopt mine. Thoth and Neferankhotep had no such bias.”

“So we have lost Lady Cheshire,” Jenny said softly. “Audrey did us a great wrong, but I’m wondering—shouldn’t we try to plead mercy for her?”

“She deserves what she got,” Eddie Bryce said firmly. “She intended robbery and perhaps even murder. If Rashid could speak, I’m certain he could confirm what I say.”

Rashid, who had rejoined them while the physician was looking at Eddie’s arm, looked deliberately blank.

“I don’t think he’ll testify against those who were, to at least some extent, kind to him,” Neville guessed. “Jenny, I was thinking much the same thing. Stephen said it isn’t Christian to wish such a fate on someone, and he’s right—forgive me, Eddie.”

“I was raised Christian,” Eddie said, “and maybe I can see your point. Still, Audrey Cheshire’s not going to become an angel just for your wishing it.”

“Even so,” Neville persisted, “even if I knew the lady would never speak to me again, I would like to try.”

“What if it’s too late?” Jenny said dubiously. “Isn’t the sinner supposed to be instantly thrown to Ammit?”

“We can only ask,” Neville said, “and hope.”

“And pray,” Stephen added. Then a wicked grin asserted itself, almost despite himself, “Though we’d better be careful to whom we pray if we don’t want to be tried all over again for violating monotheism!”

A gong struck, and the physician gave them a tight, thin-lipped smile.

“I believe your request will be granted,” he said. “Neferankhotep will hear your plea. Take care what you say, for even my skills cannot heal one who has met the wrath of angry gods.”

The air parted as though a curtain on a stage. Before them was the Hall of Judgment. Neferankhotep again sat on his throne, his advisors arrayed alongside him. The Forty-Two Judges muttered from their long benches, and other fantastic figures had joined the throng. Neville recognized Isis, Horus, Geb, Ptah, Shu, and, perhaps hopefully, Ra.

There were others whose names he did not easily recall, beings with the heads of scorpions, snakes, hippopotami, rams, and baboons. There were those who resembled humans but for horns or animal ears or oddly tinted skins.

Yet despite this outlandish and rather horrid assembly, Neville found he had eyes for only one figure. Audrey Cheshire, still in her soiled and sandy riding costume, her black hair tumbled loose, tangled, and filthy, knelt in the brass pan of the scales. These touched the stone floor, mutely testifying that she had been far heavier than the bird-winged goddess who sat so lightly on the other side.

Ammit waited with confused patience for her rightful meat, but Anubis laid his hand on the monster’s head as if commanding she wait just a little longer.

“We have heard your appeal,” Neferankhotep said, his tones stern and for once without the faintest trace of kindness. “We have been generous with all of you, have adapted our laws, and have let go free those whose goodness we doubted. Yet still you ask for more. State clearly what you wish, and what you are willing to do to gain it.”

Neville threw back his shoulders and stepped forward, noting as he did so that there was not the faintest hint of pain from his ankle.

“Good pharaoh,” he said, “we do not question the justice of your ruling regarding the woman Audrey Cheshire, yet we beg to be given opportunity to redeem her. One of the basic tenets of Christianity is forgiveness of those who have done wrong.”

“So forgive her if you would,” Neferankhotep replied. “How does this affect what I will decree?”

“We ask you to let us have her,” Neville said, “to bring her back into the world, for if we were simply to forgive her while permitting what fate awaits, our forgiveness would be hollow.”

Stephen spoke into the uncomprehending silence that followed this noble statement.

“From a purely legal point of view,” he said, “there is reason to let her go as well. You agreed to judge her based on our codes. Well, by the legal codes of our land, execution is considered a very severe punishment for attempted theft.”

He laid a slight stress on the word “attempted,” obviously as a reminder that, like the rest of them, Lady Cheshire had not had much success in her ventures. Neville loved him for this generosity of spirit.

Neferankhotep’s expression remained impassive.

“I had intended to speak with you about what is due to you since you have passed judgment, for as Miss Benet reminded me, the soul who is vindicated is granted many rewards. Would you forgo these in return for the opportunity to redeem one who has done you such great wrongs? Before you speak, let me remind you that the hospitality I have offered you thus far is to the delights of the afterlife what a grain of sand is to a sprawling desert.”

Neville shrugged. “I could not enjoy even paradise if I thought I had acted against what was right.”

Eddie gave a gusty sigh. “Neither could I. Besides, what I really want is to go home to my wife and family. Are you telling us that is impossible?”

Neferankhotep shook his head. “It can be made possible. If you insist on attempting to redeem this woman, it may be impossible.”

“Still,” Eddie said, “Neville’s right. I’d have to live knowing what I let happen. Count me in.”

The others agreed, and Neferankhotep shook his head.

“So Thoth told me it would be. Very well. We have a task for you. If you succeed, you will win Audrey Cheshire’s life, and also keep the rewards we would have given you. If you fail, you will find yourself longing for the jaws of Ammit, for that devouring pain will be nothing to the torments devised for you.”

25

Tomb Robbers

It seems only right,” Neferankhotep said, “that in order to redeem Audrey Cheshire you must reverse the crime of which you yourselves were so nearly guilty. You yourselves might have desecrated my tomb had this not been a place uniquely blessed by the gods. Your charge will be to prevent the desecration of another tomb, one belonging to a pharaoh towards whom we have special reason to feel gratitude.”

There was a pause, and Jenny thought that Neferankhotep would explain just what this anonymous king had done to earn the gratitude of deities, instead the good king indicated Ra.

“You have done Ra a kindness, and so he has chosen to honor you with his counsel.”

As the hawk-headed sun god stepped forward from among the ranked gods a wash of brilliance came from him, curtaining the humans from the other gods—or perhaps removing them to some other place entirely. The privacy, or at least the illusion thereof, was comforting after having been under the inspection of so many sets of eyes. Jenny felt herself relaxing as she had not even under the sybaritic ministrations of the shabti.