The House of Life
(Raiders of the Lost Library)
A/N: This is first and foremost a work of fiction, a playground of imagination, and while I have used my own scholastic background to lend the flavour of authenticity to much of the background, I have also used my imagination and DELIBERATELY changed some things in a reasoned and LOGICAL way to accommodate the story I wish to tell. i.e. Please don't waste my time and yours by leaving notes or reviews with nit-picking and smug declarations that you've caught me out on some incorrect historical detail. If you do, I might be tempted to slap you silly with the 20 hour lecture series I created and delivered on the history of Egyptology. Remember kidlets it's – N!
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; I make no money from my scribbles. Go on and sue me if you must, I'll enjoy reading femslash out loud in court just to show TPTB how it should be done.
Prologue
England: 1902
"Regina! Regina where are you? Wicked child, show yourself!"
Lady Cora O'Donnell swept into the nursery her voice cutting into the air like a sheet of ice. Glaring across the empty room she saw no sign of her eldest daughter and moved swiftly on into the small bedchamber attached to the nursery which appeared to be just as empty.
"If you are hiding under the bed again Regina I will show you how such skulking vermin are dealt with in this house. Come out this instant!"
She tilted her head allowing her very acute hearing to better pick up any possible sounds that might come from under the furniture but the room remained silent and she turned and left with a sniff of disgust.
"I swear child, if you are hiding in your father's study again I am going to beat you within an inch of your life. You will learn the price of disobedience this time."
Two floors and several corridors away in the East wing of the country house eight year old Lady Regina O'Donnell was happily curled up in her father's favourite chair fully engrossed in the book on her lap, the story had her completely riveted, Ben Hur: A Tale of Christ. She had been immersed in the tome since shortly after breakfast and the excitement of Judah Ben Hur's plight in the slave galley had her continuing to turn the pages long after she should have joined her little sister in the Chinese parlour for their deportment lesson.
Lady Cora's angry progress through the house had the servants scurrying to get out of her way lest her ire fall upon them. The agitated woman continued to mutter what she would do to her daughter as she walked, not raising her voice but still audible to those she passed. One of the younger maids who was particularly fond of little Regina, and not at all fond of her Mistress, ducked down a side hallway and ran as fast as she could through a service corridor leading more directly into the east wing intent on warning the little girl of her mother's advent. Not letting up on her speed she skidded into the study causing Regina to drop her book in fright at her sudden appearance.
"Miss Regina your mother is looking for you and she is very angry indeed." The servant managed to get out between great gulps of air as she tried to catch her breath. Knowing that Lady Cora was not far behind her the girl made her exit as quickly as she'd arrived hoping her warning would at least help the little girl hide until she could fetch the girl's father from the stables. The maid knew Lord Enrique doted on his eldest daughter and was confident he would mitigate any punishment Lady Cora might inflict on the young girl.
Regina looked at the clock over the mantel and her face paled in dismay the white standing out in stark contrast to the dark curls that framed her features. It was now nearly one o'clock she was an hour late for her hated lesson with Miss Abigail. Her head shot up as she heard her mother approaching and in a panic she lunged behind her father's desk diving behind the heavy brocade drapes framing the window where she crouched down trying to make herself as small as possible and bring her breathing under control lest it give her away to her mother who had just entered the study.
"Regina, where are you, you ungrateful child?" the woman barked out before noticing the book splayed out beside the chair by the fireplace.
Cora strode over and yanked the book from the floor to read the title, noting it as proof enough that Regina had been here just as she suspected. Her eyes scanned the room carefully, the book's tumbled state alerting her to a hasty and possibly unsuccessful escape by the girl. Nothing seemed to be out of place and a glance behind the couch and other furniture didn't produce any sign of her offspring. She was just turning to leave when her glance fell on the window and she noticed one curtain was draping differently to the other.
Cora's brow creased further as her anger ratcheted to pure fury which propelled her around the desk to rip the curtains away from the wall immediately exposing the crouching child behind them. Cora bent and wrenched the girl upright by one arm dragging her to the front of the desk.
"You ungrateful, wicked girl, how dare you embarrass me in front of your new Governess."
"I'm sorry Mother, I lost…" Her apology was cut short by the slap of her mother's hand across her face.
The pain exploded in her cheek causing instant tears to sting her eyes as they escaped without her consent. The tears continued but in an eerily silent way unaccompanied by any real sound from Regina who was busy bracing herself for the next blow, her mother didn't disappoint her expectation as she backhanded across the child's face. The angry woman ignored both Regina's wail of pain and the gout of blood that sprang from the gash one of her large rings had torn above the child's upper lip. A third blow which deposited some blood on her own hand seemed to give her pause and Regina now unable to hide her sobs of pain, dared to hope that her obvious injury would be enough to assuage her mother's anger.
"Look at this mess, you bleed like a stuck pig you useless girl." Cora maintained her painful grip on Regina's arm while fastidiously wiping her daughter's blood from her hand onto the girl's dress, carefully examining herself to ensure no blood had stained her own clothes.
"Please m..m…Mother, I'm truly sorry." Regina stuttered her apology while trying to stop the flow of blood from her lip with her hand.
"Oh you'll be sorry alright my girl. You are going to learn once and for all not to defy me Regina." She shook the frightened child several times while also scanning the room for something she could use to assist her in her intended discipline. Her lips quirked in a cruel smile when she spotted the stand containing several of her husband's favoured walking sticks and she dragged the now terrified and protesting child behind her to the stand.
Regina was long used to her mother's ideas of discipline indeed her first memory of her mother was of the woman spanking her for having sneezed all over herself while her picture portrait was being taken, she hadn't been more than two years old at the time but Cora had believed the infant Regina had done it on purpose and disciplined her for it. Lady O'Donnell was definitely a supporter of the adage if you spare the rod you spoil the child and she wasn't one to spoil her eldest child in any way.
Until today however her many physical chastisements had all been done with the flat of her hand or by proxy through the hand of the girl's nurse. She'd never used an implement to strike Regina before and for that reason alone the girl's mind was slow to understand the implication of what was about to happen when her mother removed one of her father's sturdy wooden walking sticks, almost an inch thick, from the stand near the fireplace.
Cora dragged the crying child to the chair she'd been sitting in only moments before and pushed her face down over the side, adjusting her talon like grip on Regina's arm better to keep her in place as she swung the stick down across the girl's backside. The howl of pain the poor child let loose made no impression on her mother who began to beat her with a flurry of strokes.
"You will never disobey me like that again, do you hear? I will not suffer your constant flouting of my instructions and your disrespect for one more minute." Cora continued her assault as she ran through a list of transgressions she was punishing Regina for, blithely ignoring the sounds of pain and distress from her daughter. Regina for her part tried to get away from the grip her mother had on her only for the woman to cruelly twist her arm behind her back and continue with the beating.
"Dios Mio! What do you think you are doing?!" Lord Enrique O'Donnell called out as he entered the room and saw what his wife was doing to his beloved daughter. Hearing her father's voice seemed to lend Regina renewed strength and she struggled mightily to get away from her mother.
"You're not going anywhere." Cora growled at Regina punctuating her statement with a vicious strike of the cane. Regina screamed in pain not yet registering that the stroke had broken the skin on the back of her leg. Sobbing she cried out to her father.
"Ella me está haciendo daño. Ayúdame papá."
"Cora Stop!" Enrique roared moving across the room at speed.
Cora had never seen her husband this angry, nor heard him raise his voice so loud and was momentarily stunned, hand raised mid-strike. Regina took advantage of the distraction and finally wrenched herself from her mother's hold. Shock wearing off, Cora's grip tried to tighten again causing her nails to tear through the girl's sleeve scoring deep bloody marks in tender flesh as she broke free. Regina stumbled toward her father on damaged legs and flung herself into his arms sobbing incoherently and clinging to him with all her strength.
"Estoy aquí mi niña querida." Reassuring her that he was indeed there, her father held the child close for a moment allowing her to cry into his shoulder. He wasn't sure if the shaking in his arms was from Regina's sobs or his own anger over what he'd just witnessed.
He glared over Regina's head at his wife who stood proudly unrepentant, walking stick still in hand scowling right back at him. Patting the child's back he coaxed her away from his shoulder and gasped when he got a proper look at her torn lip. Murmuring comforting words in a mixture of English and Spanish he pulled the cravat from his neck and pressed it to her face to staunch the still bleeding wound. He encouraged Regina to take the cloth and hold it in place as he gently picked her up and turned toward the door.
"Where do you think you are going Enrique, I'm not done with that disgrace of a daughter." Enrique continued toward the door ignoring his wife's cold tones until he caught her movement toward them from the corner of his eye and he stopped turning his head back to the Cora but shielding Regina's body with his own.
"Listen carefully bruja, take one more step and I swear I will use that walking stick on you." His words came out in a menacing growl that stopped Cora in her tracks.
He continued to the door and stepped into the hall where the butler and the young maid who'd warned Regina about her mother stood waiting. The resourceful girl had run toward the stables and been relieved to run right into Lord O'Donnell who had returned early from his ride because of the rain. Tears sprang to her eyes when she saw the number of injuries little Regina had sustained.
"Regina listen to me, Rebecca here is going to take you to Papa's rooms and see to your wounds while Mr Jeffries sends for the doctor. I want you to go with her while I speak to your mother." His voice was gentle and he looked at her poor ravaged face with the saddest, gentlest eyes even as his gut still roiled with anger.
"No one will ever raise their hand to you again, I promise on my life. You are hija de mi alma and I'm so sorry I didn't know how bad things were." Regina cut him off squeezing him into a tighter hug, oblivious to the blood and other fluids she was smearing over his riding pinks. He rubbed her back, eased her away and put her down making sure she was steady before turning her toward the waiting maid.
"Go now mi niño precioso. I will be along as soon as I can."
"Come along Miss Regina, we'll get a soothing compress for that lip and draw you a warm bath." Rebecca put her arm gently round Regina's shoulders and led her away before Enrique turned to the butler.
"Send a footman in a carriage to fetch Doctor Carter as quick as you can. Unless he's actually performing surgery I expect to see him here within the hour. And Jeffries, I want my valet outside my rooms at all times until I say otherwise." He looked the tall man directly in the eye. "Inform him that under no circumstances whatsoever is Lady O'Donnell or Miss Abigail to be allowed in to see my daughter until I say otherwise."
"Very good My Lord. I'll send for the doctor immediately." With a short bow he turned and moved quickly down the corridor.
Lord Enrique O'Donnell y Jorres, Marques de Tetuan stood for a moment in thought and strove to tamp down on the rage he felt toward the woman in the other room. He tried to remember the stunning and witty person he'd been pleasantly enamoured of a decade earlier when they met in London and the reasons why he had decided to pursue her hand. True their marriage had not been a grand romance but they had shared both affection and common interest for some time, or so he'd thought.
The truth was they'd been leading virtually separate lives since the birth of their second child Alexandra four years previously. They remained at the country house he'd purchased for them in Bedfordshire some few miles from Cora's ancestral home; but maintained appearances only for social niceties, rarely interacting unless guests were present. Unlike most men of his class and generation Enrique was in no way obsessed with producing a male heir, and as a Spanish nobleman he had no problem with his eldest daughter, on whom he doted, being his heir as allowed by Spanish custom.
The estrangement aside Enrique could not reconcile the memory of the woman he'd married with the She-Demon he had just caught beating their child. He knew that Cora had never bonded with Regina the way she quite obviously had with Alexandra who followed her mother everywhere when allowed to do so. He thought the reason might possibly be because of Regina's very difficult and painful birth or perhaps from the fact Cora had been too ill for months afterward to have anything to do with caring for her first child or maybe it was because she'd wanted a boy. Mayhap it was all or none of these but it was a fact that Cora had never shown any affection to her eldest daughter.
The morning's events had him wondering how many of the small bruises and injuries he'd seen Regina sporting over the years had indeed been the result of the usual childhood mishaps and how many had actually been inflicted by his wife. He decided it didn't matter now, as she would never again have the privilege of her daughter's company in which to so misuse her. Decision made he squared his shoulders and returned to his study to confront Cora and inform her that he and Regina would be leaving this house as soon as he arranged a new home for them far away from her vindictive temper. He would not take Alexandra from his wife for the same reason he would not leave Regina in her care; separating the younger girl would be as damaging to her as leaving his elder child in Cora's care would be to Regina.
Enrique and Regina had come down to London as soon as the doctor had agreed Regina could travel and stayed with a scholarly friend of Enrique's while he found them a suitable new home. Six weeks later found them ensconced in a modest country house in Richmond-Upon-Thames. It was less than half the size of the house in Bedfordshire which he left to his wife, but more than adequate for Regina and himself and all their needs. The small household was made up of a few loyal servants who came with them, including his valet and the young maid Rebecca, with the addition of a pleasant elderly widow, Mrs Jane Shepherd and her baby grand-daughter Ruby, his Lordship had engaged as a nanny for Regina.
Before leaving her he had informed Cora that he would not divorce her unless she chose to petition for a divorce herself and that he would continue to properly support her, but he was adamant that she would never see her eldest daughter again until such time as Regina might choose to meet with her. Cora had been visibly relieved when he'd also informed her that he would not take Alexandra from her but that he expected the child to visit Richmond regularly so that she could maintain a relationship with her father and her sister.
The house was surrounded by several acres of gardens and rough woodland with a small stable and several outbuildings attached to the estate. Enrique had chosen it for its proximity to Richmond Park which afforded excellent riding trails for him and Regina to indulge their passion for horses. The happy father and daughter had just returned from such a ride and where making their way back to the house to change when Enrique took Regina's hand and lead her to the garden at the back of the house.
When they rounded the corner Regina spied the gardener Mr Wilton rolling a wheelbarrow to the far end of the lawn where a cherry tree and a plum tree grew near the garden wall. He stopped beside a medium sized hole already dug out about ten feet away from the other trees and set the wheelbarrow down before touching his cap to her father.
"Here you are, just as you ordered your Lordship, one Early Red One sapling. I tell you it was a right circus trying to find one of these. They come from some foreign parts so the salesman said and he only had the one left in stock."
Lord O'Donnell laughed and smiled as he thanked the man and sent him on his way to other duties. He then took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, instructing Regina to do the same with her jacket and sleeves.
"Regina, it is a tradition in my family that when you wish a new endeavour or adventure to be fruitful and to endure a long time that you should plant a fruit tree that may grow with it, sustain it and bring good fortune to your success."
He gently gathered the apple tree sapling from the barrow and loosened the loose sacking round the roots before lowering it into the hole.
"Come and hold the sapling straight mi Princesa while I fill in the hole and pack it down."
"What kind of tree will it be Papa?" Regina asked as she smiled at her father, hardly feeling the pull of the scab still covering the healing cut above her lip. The visible scar that would be left behind by her mother's cruelty was already being soothed away by the love and companionship of her beloved father.
"This is an apple tree Queridisima. It will grow the most beautiful apples and they will be the deepest red you've ever seen, that's why the species is simply called Early Red One."
Finished with the planting he instructed Regina to bring the watering can that was also in the wheelbarrow over and to carefully water all around the new sapling. Regina did so, struggling at first with the heavy metal canister but managing better as she sprinkled the contents all around the little tree until the watering can was empty. Enrique pulled her to his side and squeezed her shoulder affectionately.
"You and I will take care of this tree together and help it to grow and you will also grow tall and strong and sweet just like this tree and one day, when I am old and you have found your true love you will bring them here to our tree, so that you can sit in its shade and taste its sweetness together. I hope that I will be here to see that day, but even if I am not, you will hear my words of blessing in the whisper of the leaves."
They smiled at each other once more before gathering their jackets and continuing on into the house, their new life ready to begin.
Egypt: 1912
The silvery glow of the waning moon reflected off the desert sands providing just enough light to see by for the three small figures making their way over the rocky fields of the ancient necropolis. Green eyes gleamed in the moonlight when the lead figure paused a moment looking up to gauge the time by the moon's new position. The threesome had been walking for more than two hours over sand and rock since leaving the lush green crops at the desert edge. Two of them with bare feet more used to the dusty streets of Cairo, were feeling the cruel edges of stones and rocks, their soles becoming tender and achy with every step.
Eyes focused once more on the ground, the leader motioned the other two to follow in a new direction leading away from the main part of the field of ruins. Continuing their trek the smallest of the three stumbled over a large rock half hidden in the sand and tumbled forward knocking into the boy in front of him and sending them both tumbling down a short hillock. The scramble of the two boys and small cry of pain and surprise earned a glare and hissed shushing sound from the one still standing atop the hillock. The two boys managed to untangle themselves both taking a moment to catch their breath after the fall. They stayed where they sat making no move to rise, the younger one sniffling as he rubbed his injured toe.
After a quick survey to pinpoint their location, the leader decided they would make their intended destination quite soon and decided to join the two boys and take a break before the next part of their mission. Slipping down the incline of sand and rock the larger figure finely came to a halt on the same level and sat down beside the other two. Getting settled they gently took the younger boy's foot and examined it pleased to see the skin was unbroken before whispering.
"Well that's not too bad Ali, from your reaction I thought you'd broken your toe or sliced it open at least."
The boy blushed and continued to rub his toe as he whispered a disgruntled reply.
"It hurt, a lot."
"Yeah, well when we get close to the tents you better not make a sound, even if you rip your toe off. Understand Ali? I'm serious, you make a sound and we get caught we'll be in for more than just a beating, they may even take a hand." Green eyes bore into the younger boy re-enforcing the seriousness of the statement.
"I understand Amr, I do honest, and Magdi said he'd cuff me if I didn't do as you say, even if we don't get caught."
Amr smiled at that, a grin that was infectious and was soon mirrored on the other two adventurers' faces. A further glance at the moon and tensed shoulders relaxed a little, they definitely had time to spare.
"We've made really good time, so we need to rest here for a while, we can't arrive too early or the guard will still be awake."
"How much farther is it Bajea?" The larger boy asked, using his friend's preferred street name.
"Hmm, about the distance from Akbar's shop to Mosque Ibn Tulun." The familiar Cairo landmarks gave them all a clear idea of the distance.
"You two try and get some sleep I'll wake you in an hour."
Glad of a chance to rest, the two boys made themselves as comfortable as they could folding the empty cloth sacks they carried into makeshift pillows, lying close together for warmth and pulling their threadbare robes tighter to their thin frames. Seeing the boys settled, the leader moved half way up the hill to be able to see the surrounding ruins and keep an eye on the sleeping figures at the same time. Although the two boys were counted as friends, their leader was not happy with having them along on this job, worried about their inexperience and generally preferring to work alone.
A desert breeze swept past leaving behind a thin film of sand covering the wary sentinel causing them to stand and shake the dust off before settling again. Amr was dressed similarly to the sleeping figures below, in the standard clothing of thousands of Cairo street boys; black skull cap, a well-worn thin cotton long shirt called a gallabiyah covered by a slightly thicker outer kaftan robe both reaching to just below mid-calf. Unlike the two boys Ali and Youssef, Amr also wore a pair of simple sandals densely woven from dried reeds and a pair of loose fitted trousers held up with a cloth belt under the outer robes. The former items provided just enough protection from the stony terrain to keep the soles of the feet from becoming tender and to avoid unexpected cuts from sharp rocks; the trousers were the only protection, flimsy as it was, to Amr's greatest secret. Appearances aside, the leader of this little band was not really a Cairo street boy, but an orphaned and runaway girl whose real name was Emma White.
The twelve year old had run away from a terrible living situation when she was nearly ten and had been making her own way on the streets of the ancient city for more than two years. At first she'd been fortunate enough to be taken in and given work by the kindly man who ran the laundry that serviced the British household from which she'd run away. Ibrahim Abed, the Launderer, had happened upon the small orphan girl sporting ugly bruises and cuts from regular beatings many times when picking up or delivering the laundry to the house. Over time she had charmed him with her good humour even in her sad circumstances and the respect she showed to him and his younger son Khaled who worked with him, marvelling at her perfect command of Arabic and local customs. When she'd shown up obviously badly beaten on his doorstep nearly three years ago he had been unable to refuse her sanctuary. Both he and Khaled, who had also befriended the ill-used girl, kept her secret, helping to create her new identity of Amr Bajea, an abandoned boy, bastard son of an Egyptian mother and a British civil servant long since returned to his native country. The story, a well-known occurrence in the backstreets of the capital, was accepted by all who heard the tale.
Emma had worked for Ibrahim until he fell ill and his eldest son Mohamed had returned from El Minya to run the family business. Mohamed was a supporter of those who were agitating to take back control of their country from the British administration and hated westerners as a matter of principal, so when he arrived in Cairo his first action had been to dismiss the half British 'boy' from the laundry and to turf him out onto the streets.
Luckily for Emma, Khaled told his father what had happened and old Ibrahim instructed him to take her to his friend Magdi Hasan the antiquities dealer in the Khan el-Khalili souk. Magdi was always looking for intelligent and quick witted boys for his various enterprises which included the sale and acquisition of antiquities by fair means and more often by far more dubious means. Ibrahim's recommendation and the fact that Emma could speak English and French as well as Arabic convinced Magdi the boy Amr would be a great asset. He'd started Emma off doing work in his private workshop creating very convincing fake antiquities, using the real things for models. Emma loved the work and quickly became adept at being able to distinguish between the real thing and the fakes, a skill that would stand her in good stead in the future.
Discovering that Emma was extremely intelligent and could read and write in two of the three languages she spoke, Magdi had soon promoted her to work with the small team of street boys he used to raid archaeological sites and to do illegal digging around the city and beyond. Emma had been fine with clandestine digs having a natural aptitude for picking likely sites to dig in, but she had balked at stealing from other people's digs. Magdi convinced her that the archaeologists were the ones stealing from the native Egyptians in the first place so there really wasn't anything wrong with relieving them of some of their already ill-gotten gains , at least if Magdi was selling the pieces the money went to an Egyptian. So talented was she that within a year Magdi allowed her to lead raids and to work alone choosing her own likely targets for pilfering.
The girl's green eyes trained on the distant ruins, she noted the movement of desert foxes and heard the call of jackals in the far hills. From habit her fingers absently traced the familiar contours of a small metal circle hidden under the thin fabric on her chest. The silver pendent, strung on a leather thong, was the lesser of her two secrets, always hidden, closely guarded and worn for as long as she could recollect, a connection to a different life long left behind and parents only vaguely remembered. The repetitive motions soothed and calmed her as she continued circling over the pendent one finger carefully tracing the outline of the silver bird in its centre, the bird from which she had taken part of her Arabic street name, Bajea, the Swan.
She looked again at the moon, judging the time to be just past midnight. Deciding it was time for some last minute instructions and to get on with the job at hand she scrambled down to her sleeping companions. Rousing them and making sure they were awake and alert she took them through the series of silent signals they would use to communicate when they got to the dig site. The older boy, Youssef, had been on two raids already, but this was Ali's first time so Emma quizzed him to make sure there would be no mistakes.
"Ali, tell me what things do we take?"
"Whole pots only no pieces, small clay, and stone and glazed statues, scarabs and amulets, only small wood or ivory boxes if there are any." The boy rattled off the list of items Emma had shown him in Magdi's shop earlier that day.
"Good." She gave both boys a pointed glare.
"And what things don't we take?"
"Gold, silver, anything metal or jewels or any money we might find." Both boys answered in tandem.
Magdi imposed the rules avoiding anything that had intrinsic value, like precious metals or jewels for his and the boys benefit in case they were ever caught. The penalties for stealing and dealing in antiquities were strict and sometimes severe but were mostly ignored by the authorities when it came to anything that wasn't gold, silver or unique and different artistically. Hence thousands of common statue figures and amulets in clay, wood, glass and the glazed work called Faience were freely sold to adventurous tourists in the souks of Cairo and Luxor
Satisfied that the boys would do their job properly, Emma led them over the hillock and continued almost due west heading to a recent dig on the desert edges of the Saqqara necropolis run by a Frenchman and his small team of one assistant archaeologist and five full time workmen. Emma had spent three days working as a spoil carrier on the dig the week before in order to case the camp and get a better idea of the dig's routines. Despite the hard work of dragging heavy baskets of rubble for hours on end for very little money, Emma used this method of infiltration on a regular basis, showing up with her sturdy reed basket along with dozens of other boys her age all hoping for work, it was the perfect camouflage.
Smiling in the darkness, Emma remembered being hastily corralled and moved away from the main area of the dig by the site foreman seven days ago when a pit had been discovered early in the day's digging. The spoil boys and one workman were moved to a different part of the dig while a flurry of activity continued around the new pit as it was further opened, the workman dragging away the rubble on their own. When the other workmen joined them for the midday meal and rest, the foreman and his friend spoke in French about the tomb they'd discovered. They apparently saw no harm in their casual talk, believing the others were asleep and only spoke Arabic in any case. Emma had lain there feigning slumber as they described the bountiful find of several damaged mummies and an exceptionally large number of grave goods including hundreds of shabti figures.
Emma stayed for three more days while the archaeologists and chief workmen continued to carefully remove material from the pit to the two large tents set up to process the finds. This was her standard practice to judge if it was worth coming back to relieve the foreigners of their new treasures. On the fourth day she had cried off sick saying she was going back to her village to rest before actually returning to Cairo to plan the current raid with Magdi. The antiquities dealer was insistent that Emma should take along the other two boys in order to bring back a decent number of items from the large find. Getting to the dig site Emma made sure the one guard left on the site was sound asleep and quickly and silently led the other boys into the main tent, their bags ready in their hands.
Four hours later the trio were retracing their path through the dense vegetation near the river, heading for their small felucca, carefully hidden and moored away from any houses near the bank. Their progress was slower than the evening before as they were heavily laden with their full satchels over their shoulders and Ali was very glad they'd be able to rest while they sailed back to the city. Emma knew Magdi would be pleased with them, this was one of the best raids she'd led and he'd be able to get top prices for the fine pieces she'd nabbed. She split her time as they travelled between reminding the boys not to draw attention with their exuberance and excitement over the successful raid, and carefully planning what she would do with her share of the money they would receive.
When they got to the little boat and stowed their treasures Emma pushed them off into the current that would take them home, scrambling into the boat at the last minute. Grinning down at her now wet and muddy legs the little blonde decided the first thing she would be getting was a new set of clothes. Decision made she took the tiller and guided the little craft into the waking traffic heading north to Cairo.
