Treasures of Egypt
Copyright © 2008
HDKingsbury
Chapter 9
Ruffled Feathers
"You say your husband is missing?" the oily man sitting across from Elizabeth asked, his voice laced with boredom.
Concerned that she had allowed too much time to elapse before doing something, Elizabeth had come to the police station in Luxor to report her husband as missing. Even though it was winter, the coolest time of the year in Egypt, the air inside the dingy room was oppressive and reeked of body odor, spicy food, and something else quite unpleasant.
She glanced around the room, trying to ascertain the source of the offensive smell. Perhaps it was the drunken man snoring in the corner, or the remains of somebody's meal sitting on another desk. Whatever it was, the stink was doing nothing to improve her attitude. Just sitting in the room made her feel dirty. The heat was making her drowsy, and she stifled a yawn. It was all she could do to force herself not to fidget with her gloves.
The official sitting across from her was not helping matters, either. It was obvious that the slightly balding, middle-aged man was little more than an insignificant bureaucrat with an overblown opinion of himself. From his manner, it was evident that his mind was not on taking her report. No doubt, he wished to be somewhere else.
"Yes," she said, forcing her voice to remain even. No sense in antagonizing the man any more than necessary, but he was doing his best to annoy her. "As I've already explained, Mr. Brackenstall has been missing for the better part of two weeks."
The police officer made some notations on his pad of paper, then turned his attention back to her. "Is it possible that he is not actually missing, but has merely absented himself?"
Elizabeth's eyes narrowed and she felt her face grow hot with anger. "Exactly what are you suggesting, sir? That my husband has deliberately abandoned me? That he has taken up with another woman?"
"Of course not, Madam," the man said, attempting to smooth the feathers he'd just ruffled. "My apologies if I gave you that impression," he added, failing dismally in his attempt to flash an ingratiating smile her way. "Now then, shall we start once more at the beginning? Good. When was the last time you saw your husband?"
"On the 7th of this month."
The man tsked. "That long ago? Why did you not report his absence sooner?"
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. How many times did she have to repeat herself? "Mr. Brackenstall said he was going into the field to investigate a possible new excavation site and that he would be away for a few days." She did not mention that Leo told this to Ra'id, not her. "Normally, when he does this, he sends back word within two or three days, but there have been times when he's been gone for as long as a week."
She clutched her reticule tightly as she spoke, comforting herself that Leo's journal with its potentially damning entry was safely tucked inside. She had no intention of showing the book to the police officer, especially after his offensive insinuation. The only reason she'd brought the book with her was to prevent it from becoming misplaced.
Elizabeth Cotteridge Brackenstall was nothing if not loyal. Leo was her husband, and she would not implicate him in anything illegal. If she showed this man the journal, however, that is exactly the conclusion he would jump to. No, best to keep this piece of evidence to herself, at least for now. She looked back at the officer and saw he was frowning at her.
"You realize," he said, "that any concession would have to be granted by the Director of Antiquities?"
The more he spoke, the more the man's condescending tone of voice grated on her nerves. She glared back at him, assuming her most haughty bearing. "I am no novice when it comes to the business of archaeological digs in your country, Officer…I'm sorry; what did you say your name was?" She smiled inwardly at that last touch. Yes, put the little man in his place!
"Asmari," the police officer replied with a sneer.
"Yes, of course. How silly of me to have forgotten. As I was saying, Officer Asmari, I have been involved in archaeological fieldwork for a number of years. Before I was married, I accompanied my father on numerous digs. I am well acquainted with the proper procedures for obtaining proper permission from the Department of Antiquities, and am personally acquainted with Monsieur le directeur Auguste Mariette."
Asmari made some more marks on his pad. Elizabeth was convinced he was doing nothing more than doodling.
"Can you describe your husband for me?"
"I can do better than that." She reached inside her reticule and pulled out a recent photograph of Leo, one that had been taken earlier this season at a studio in Luxor. She gazed longingly for a few moments at the man staring back at her. She smiled wistfully when she saw the sandy brown hair that had refused to stay in place the day of the photograph, and noticed the mischievous twinkle that was always in his eyes. At heart, Leo was still little more than an eager little boy who wanted desperately to impress everyone. Perhaps that was why he had gone off in search of this secret cache, to impress his wife. She handed the photograph the Asmari.
"A handsome man," he acknowledged. "No doubt, he has turned many a female's head."
"Perhaps you should confine yourself to taking the lady's report, rather than impugning her husband's character."
Both Elizabeth and Asmari looked up, surprised to find Erik Rien standing before them both. He was dressed from head to toe in black – from his soft leather boots, to the Eastern-style baggy trousers, to his tunic, sash, outer robe and turban. The only thing to break the somber attire was a gold pendant around his neck – a figure of Ra-Harakhti, an ancient Egyptian solar god, in the form of a falcon with outstretched wings.1 As always, the lower half of his face was covered.
She paused to gaze at Rien. A phrase one of her school friends had used whenever she'd see a man she found particularly attractive popped into Elizabeth's head. "He's got 'the way' about him," her friend used to say. For once, Elizabeth found that expression perfectly in keeping with the enigmatic Erik Rien. Yes, he undoubtedly had 'the way'.
The change Erik elicited in Asmari was sudden, a complete turn about from how he had been treating Elizabeth. He quickly snapped to attention, and was most deferential. "Monsieur Rien," he said with a grin, "what a pleasure to see you." He held out his hand.
Erik made no move to take it. "I highly doubt that, Asmari." Even Elizabeth could see the scowl on Rien's face.
"How may I assist you?" Asmari said, by now completely ignoring Elizabeth.
Erik nodded his head in her direction. "Take the lady's report. Then, you may take mine."
A worried expression appeared on the policeman's face. "Is there something wrong?"
Asmari, she noticed with pleasure, did not appear in any kind of mood to give Monsieur Rien any nonsense. In fact, he looked to be squirming. Apparently, these two had met before.
"Why else would I come to a police station?" Erik said patiently, as if addressing a half-wit. "There was an attempted burglary. My shop was broken into. Now, take the lady's report."
In spite of their earlier differences, Elizabeth was silently grateful for Rien's intervention. Thanks to him, the rest of her interview went smoothly. When she was finished, she offered Erik the chair she had been sitting in and turned to leave.
Erik insisted that she remain seated. "Would you mind waiting?" he asked. "I have something I wish to say to you. This shouldn't take long, and I can give Asmari whatever information he needs to know while standing."
She waited while the Frenchman gave his report, and found herself focusing on the rich timbre and almost hypnotic quality of his voice. It was captivating, how he could make the details of a crime sound almost mesmerizing. She had the silliest notion that with his voice, Rien could keep a room of people entertained for hours by doing nothing more than reading from an encyclopedia.
Once both interviews were concluded, Erik walked towards the door, Elizabeth close behind.
"I should like to thank you for your assistance back there," she said, a little reluctantly. It was awkward to be indebted to this man, but he had done her a favor. Thanking him was the least she could do.
He stopped and turned to reply. "We need to talk," he said tersely.
She felt herself bristling once again at his high-handed tone. Here she had extended an olive branch, and what did the man do? We need to talk, he said, as if he were commanding her.
"We already did that, remember? And it accomplished absolutely nothing."
Erik looked around the room of the police station, at the people – officers and civilians alike – straining an ear, trying to listen in on their conversation.
"Please, Mrs. Brackenstall, you needn't assume airs with me. And may I suggest we continue this outside?" he said, lowering his voice. "Or would you prefer for the two of us to stand here and be gawked at?"
She realized her mistake. "I see what you mean," she replied, keeping her voice low as well.
They exited the building.
Erik allowed her to lead the way, giving himself another chance to look at the lady without her knowing it. She really wasn't all that bad looking, he thought. The dress, while serviceable, was several seasons out of fashion. Then, of course, she had come to Egypt to dig, not to mingle with the upper crust of European society who came to winter here.
Without intending to, he started imagining how she would look if she were to let her hair down, perhaps adopt native clothing as he had. A jalabiya, or kaftan, would surely be more comfortable than the multiple layers of clothing European women were compelled to wear over their corsets and stays. But if she did that, he wouldn't be able to watch her bustle bob up and down as she walked, or hear the click of her heels on the sidewalk.
Stop it! Don't even think of it. She's a married woman, and even if she weren't, she's a lady. She'd never give a cur like you a second glance.
"Someplace public, yet private," Erik suggested, forcing his mind back on the matter at hand. "A place where we will not be overheard. It is not my wish to place a lady in a situation that could compromise her reputation."
Elizabeth was ready to snap back with a smart retort, but looked at what she could see of his face and saw that he was entirely sincere. "There's a park nearby," she said, pointing to an oasis of greenery across the street, near the riverbank. "We can talk there."
-0-0-0-
They found a park bench near a stand of palm trees that provided shade from the noonday sun. Nearby, there was a fountain, and around the fountain were rambling roses. It was a perfect place for the two of them to talk – not too secluded, but not out in the open, either.
Elizabeth spoke first. "You mentioned in the station that your shop was broken into, and that your servants were hurt. Are they all right?"
"Yes. A'aqil has a cut on the head, and Safa is a bit shaken up, but they'll both be fine. Thank you for asking. They are the closest thing to family I've ever had. I would hate for either of them to come to harm because of me."
Elizabeth found herself softening towards this man as she listened to him speak about his servants with such heartfelt emotion. Perhaps he wasn't so bad after all. That he could feel this way about his servants showed that there must be some good qualities lurking around. "You mentioned inside the station that we needed to talk. What is it you wished to speak to me about?"
Erik pulled the satchel out from under his robe. "I would like to return this." He opened the satchel and took out something wrapped in linen and handed it to her. She unwrapped it and saw that it was the painting.
"It was terribly rude of me to keep it these past days," he said. "You may take it back in this." He handed her the bag, and remained silent for several moments. "I also wanted to tell you that you were correct."
"About what?"
"About your husband coming to see me a couple of weeks ago. At the time, I thought little of the incident. It seems he had this ludicrous scheme to uncover a hidden cache of royal mummies, or one royal mummy – that of a minor pharaoh named Tut-Ankh-Aten who is supposedly buried near el-Amarna. That piece of tomb painting was his proof of its existence."
His admission stunned her. "Why didn't you mention this the other day?"
"Because I thought this was little more than a marital squabble. You see, what he came to me for was funding for an expedition. He said he was low on ready cash, but that what we would find would more than repay us. I told him I was an antiquities dealer, and that I am not in the habit of funding expeditions, especially those based upon little more than rumor. When you showed up, I realized Brackenstall had not told you about our conversation. I was positive that it was because you and he had quarreled, and I had no wish to get myself caught in the middle."
"Yes," she said thoughtfully. "I can see how it might have appeared that way. But what about today? Why didn't you mention this to Officer Asmari?"
"Asmari is un morceau de merde," he said contemptuously. "My apologies, Mrs. Brackenstall. I should not have spoken so crudely in front of you."
She put her hand to her mouth and forced back the laugh that was trying desperately to escape. "Yes, it is rather crude to say such a thing, but I fear you are correct."
"You know French?"
"And Arabic, and some German. It helps to be multi-lingual in my line of work. As for your description of Asmari, I have heard much worse working in the field. Even though the men try very hard to watch their language in front of me, the occasional off-color expressions slip out now and then. In the heat of the moment, you understand."
Erik nodded. "Yes, we often do things we later regret…in the heat of the moment."
"So tell me, why do you have such a low opinion of Officer Asmari?"
"Simply put, he is lazy and corrupt. The quality of his work is directly proportional to the quantity of the baksheesh one gives him."
"Then I shan't hold out much hope that he will be of much use in locating my husband." She looked around the park, the gurgling of the water and the profusion of scented flowers a balm for her inner turmoil. "You have piqued my curiosity. I understand why you said nothing to me initially, but I am wondering – why it is you did not mention your meeting with Leo to Asmari?"
"Do you wish that I had?"
"No," she admitted. "I am appreciative that you kept silent on the matter. The truth is, I fear that my husband has gotten himself into a difficult situation." She considered showing Erik the journal, but held back. She wanted to trust this man, but could not be sure. Not yet.
"I suspect Mr. Brackenstall is in even greater difficulty than you realize." He handed her the paper he'd torn down from the wall in the shop. "This was left in my shop after it had been vandalized. Obviously a warning."
She gasped when she read it. "Oh dear, what has my husband gotten himself into?" All the tranquility in the world couldn't calm her now. She knew she had to ask. "When you and Leo met, was it by chance in the Great Hypostyle?"
"No, we were in my shop. Why do you ask?"
It was time. She had to show Rien the journal. When he'd finished reading it, she asked, "Have you any suggestion as to how I should proceed?"
Erik handed the journal back to her. "I shall go to Amarna. I shall find your husband for you, and learn why I have been threatened."
"We shall go to Amarna. Leo is my husband, after all. Do you truly think I could tolerate remaining behind for who knows how many weeks, waiting to learn what has happened?"
"It will be a rough journey, not the kind of trip for a lady."
"I am accustomed to such things. I am not some naïve miss who's never been away from the comforts of home. I am an Egyptologist who has spent many seasons in the field."
Erik had to admit to himself that she had made several good points. Besides, he suspected it would be useless to argue the matter with her. If he didn't accept her as a traveling companion, she would simply follow on her own. "Very well. We shall go to Amarna."
"There is one thing I must tell you up front," she said. "I find this rather awkward to say, but the truth is that I'm not quite sure how far I can trust you."
"I understand your reluctance, Mrs. Brackenstall. All I can offer you is my word. Would that be acceptable?"
"Will you shake hands on that?" she asked, offering him hers. "A handshake is a very sacrosanct thing, Mr. Rien. Dire consequences await the man or woman who breaks his or her word after shaking hands."
Erik looked into her face and for a moment saw a sparkle of humor in her eyes. By god, this woman had pluck! He accepted her offer. "A handshake it shall be."
"Good! Now then, when shall we leave?"
"More important," Erik said, "is, how shall we travel? Amarna is nearly 250 miles north of here. Going by land would be extremely slow. If we rent a boat, we can get there in less than a week. Then, when we get close to one of the villages near Amarna, we can hire some pack animals. It will take at least a couple of days to make the arrangements for the boat, to purchase provisions and other necessities for two people."
"Three," Elizabeth said.
"Three?"
"I'm sure my man Ra'id will want to come along. He's my foreman, and worked many years for my father before working for my husband and me. He is absolutely reliable."
"Yes, of course. Ra'id must come along."
"Why are you frowning?"
"I was only thinking that A'aqil will probably want to come along as well."
"Oh dear," she said, a sudden thought striking her.
"You disapprove of A'aqil?"
"No, it's not that at all! I only meant…I realize that such things are normally not discussed in genteel company, but I believe we have passed that point. What I meant was, how much will all of this cost?"
Erik understood only too well what the problem was. "Your husband didn't leave you any money?"
"It's not that," she said. She hesitated, uncomfortable with having to admit to being dependent upon the kindness of strangers. "Oh, blast it, yes it is. What little cash we had on hand disappeared when Leo left. I assure you that I am not poor. I can secure the necessary funds, but it will take a few days."
"That won't be necessary, Mrs. Brackenstall."
"But…I won't have you thinking…"
"I'm not thinking anything."
She shot him a look. "You most certainly are. You're thinking I'm a scatter-brained woman who can't even keep track of her own husband. And you'd be right." She blinked hard several times, and when that didn't work, took a handkerchief from her reticule and wiped her eyes. "Annoying sand."
"Yes," he said softly, "the sand does have a way of getting in one's eyes." He waited until she had gathered her composure before continuing. "May I escort you back to your camp? It wouldn't do for a lady to walk alone on the streets of the city."
She offered Erik a weak smile. "Thank you; that is very kind of you, but I made arrangements with Ra'id to pick me up. That is he coming this way." She nodded to the Egyptian man walking towards the police station. "I told him to meet me there."
They stood up to take their leave of each other.
"I'll send word to your camp when everything is arranged, then," he said.
-0-0-0-
Once back home, the first thing Erik did was to check on his patient. Satisfied that A'aqil and Safa were all right and that there had been no further incidents, he went to the kitchen and prepared something for the three of them to eat. He found some leftover sambousek – fried pastries stuffed with cheese, meats and spices – and put them on a platter along with some fresh fruit and vegetables, and brought the food to the room.
"I should be doing this, Master," said Safa, taking the tray from Erik.
"Nonsense," said Erik said to the girl. "You've got enough on your hands at the moment." He nodded towards her brother who was resting comfortably in bed, propped up with half a dozen pillows and allowing himself to be pampered. "I suspect your brother's been running you ragged," he said with a chuckle. "And you," he said to A'aqil. "Don't get too comfortable. It is only a small bump on the head. I've seen you suffer worse with far less effect over the past five years."
"Perhaps so, Master, but this time, I think I've got a concussion," A'aqil countered. "I shall probably require bed rest for several days."
"You never lost consciousness. Can't be too severe of a concussion." Erik took a seat on one of the chairs in the room, munching on one of the sambousek. "But if that is so, I suppose I'll have to make the trip alone."
"What trip?" Safa and A'aqil asked in unison.
"The trip to Amarna that I am making with Mrs. Brackenstall."
That got A'aqil's attention, and he was suddenly sitting upright, any aftereffects from a concussion completely forgotten. "I will not allow you to go anywhere with that woman…alone. I will be well enough to travel. When do we leave?"
"I thought you weren't strong enough," said Erik blithely.
"It is as you said earlier, Master," said Safa, "my brother's head is very strong."
A'aqil beamed and puffed out his chest just a little. "You said that about me, Master?"
"Yes, he did," Safa said proudly. "He said your head has the strength of a bull."
"That's not quite how I worded it," Erik chuckled.
"So tell us," asked A'aqil, "when do we leave?"
Safa sat and listened as Erik told her and A'aqil only as much as he felt was necessary about what had transpired at the police station and the conversation he'd had in the park with Mrs. Brackenstall. When he was finished, the young girl shook her head in dismay. "This is most certainly wrong! It would not be proper for a lady to be traveling alone with three men. Therefore, I shall go along, too."
"No, Safa. It's safer if you stay here," A'aqil said.
She quirked an eyebrow at her brother. "Safer for me to stay here and have those men return to the shop? Think again, big brother."
A'aqil shot Erik a look. "She has a point, Master."
Erik was forced to agree. He turned to Safa. "Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, after what Mrs. Brackenstall said the other day?"
Safa jumped up, her hands on her hips, and glared first at Erik and then her brother. "You men, you are more concerned about your silly pride than the fact that she was truly concerned over how a lowly servant girl was being treated. Mrs. Brackenstall is a lady, and I will be with you two to see that she is treated accordingly."
"I wonder where she gets that stubborn streak from," Erik said to A'aqil.
A'aqil looked innocently as the ceiling. "I have no idea, Master."
Erik leaned back in his chair and started making some mental calculations regarding the number of people who were going to be part of the expedition, the provisions that would be needed, and so forth. He was beginning to wonder if it would be better to go by wagon train. "Why don't we bring the kids along, too?" he muttered under his breath.
A'aqil shot Erik a puzzled look. "Kids? What kids? You want goats? I'll bring you goats!"
Erik rolled his eyes and groaned.
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Notes:
Ra-Harakhti (and other spellings) – a variant of Horus, the falcon-headed solar god.
In case you're thinking "kids" is a modern term for children – it isn't. The first recorded use of "kid" as slang meaning of "child" was in 1599. By the 1840s, it was well established in informal usage.
