Treasures of Egypt
Copyright © 2008
HDKingsbury

Chapter 36
Courtship

Love is best.
~Robert Browning, Love Among the Ruins

Ardent caresses eased into gentle kisses. As the poet once said, parting is such sweet sorrow, and Erik and Elizabeth were loath to say goodnight. They settled down together on the sofa in front of the fire, and spent the greater part of the night whispering words of love and taking liberties in expressing their mutual affection. Long after the fire had died down, Elizabeth had fallen asleep in Erik's arms. He lifted her, careful not to wake her, and carried her with the intent of slipping her into her own bed before returning to his. That was when he noticed that Alpheus and Millie had closed the door tight behind them when they'd beat a discreet retreat the previous evening.

Fortunately, the handle on the door of the study was an ornate style; he balanced on one foot and pushed the lever down with the other, opening the door. He paused, allowing his eyes time to adjust to the darkened hallway, and took a step across the threshold--and right onto the sleeping body of Min, who had kept vigil throughout the wee hours, waiting patiently for his new friend to emerge.

Min, much to his credit, did not so much yelp as growl at Erik for the rude awakening. The dog danced around Erik's feet, somehow managing to avoid tripping him. Erik slowly made his way up the stairs, pausing only when Elizabeth stirred, quieting her with a soft kiss on her forehead. She did not awaken when he lay her down upon her own bed, nor when he whispered that he loved her and covered her with a warm blanket.

By dawn, Erik was in his pajamas and snuggled comfortably in his own bed--alone, missing the woman he loved, but content in the knowledge that, for the first time in his life, he was loved in return. A cold nose informed him when Min burrowed under the covers next to him, and the dog snored contentedly as Erik dreamt of Elizabeth.

-0-0-0-

Millicent had been awake since shortly before dawn and was now in the kitchen, filling the house with the aroma of sizzling bacon and hot coffee. Min scratched at the bedroom door, ready to start his rounds. Loyalty has its limits, and as far as the terrier was concerned, at this moment Erik was far less interesting than Millie and the prospect of food. Erik stumbled from bed, opened the door wide enough to allow the dog to escape, and blinked in surprise at the sight that greeted him.

Outside, poised to knock, stood Elizabeth, looking fresh and well-rested. She stepped aside as the dog rushed past her, and giggled when Erik, suddenly wide awake, drew her inside. He pushed her against the door, his body flush against hers, and stole a kiss--then another.

She tousled his hair, his real hair, and placed a warm hand upon his ravaged cheek. She kept her voice low, hoping it would not carry beyond this room. "It's good to see you…really see you…at last."

That was all the encouragement he needed. He lifted her into his arms as he kissed her, and sighed as she molded herself to him.

"Breakfast will be cold," she teased.

"Breakfast be damned," he replied. "I have everything I need right here."

"Father and Aunt Millicent will be down there already, eating. If you'd prefer to sleep, you may, but I really must--Erik, stop that!--join them at the table."

He sighed dejectedly as she attempted to back out the door. "I will behave myself…if I must." He stole one last kiss. "But it won't be easy."

The morning light filtered through the open window and lit up the room with a cheerful glow, and the scent of English roses were carried on the breeze. Erik held out his arms, inviting her to come to him. Her lips, red and kiss-swollen from the night before, had never been more compelling.

She reached out and brushed the shock of hair that had fallen into his eyes away, and let her hand linger.

She was transfixed, reluctant to leave, but knowing that if she stayed, she might never go back down the stairs to breakfast where her father and her aunt waited.

"Here I am, trying to maintain some semblance of decorum, while you…. No, sir," she said, with mock determination, "I will not have my way with you, no matter how much you encourage me. Now, do be a gentleman and get dressed. We are waiting for you at the family table. I believe Father has plans for you this morning."

He took a step away and brushed her hands with his lips. He gazed at her longingly, aching to hold her, and picked up his dressing gown and shrugged it on. "That sounds ominous," he said with a playful frown. "Is he sending me packing?"

"Worse," she chuckled. "I have a hunch that he wants to enlist your help in cataloging some of his artifacts."

Erik nodded. "I see. It is a test of knowledge," he surmised.

"Nonsense," she huffed. "It is simply his way of getting acquainted." She turned and walked away, calling over her shoulder, "Don't be long, darling," she said with a wink. "I'll keep your sausage warm while you are dressing."

Erik stared at the trousers hanging on the edge of his trunk, thinking of what she'd said, and wondered how he would ever manage to put them on in his current state.

-0-0-0-

Later, Erik joined Elizabeth and Aunt Millie at the breakfast table. Millicent had been pleased when she saw that her niece had left her hair down and was wearing a lovely lavender walking dress. But she admired even more the cut of her young man's jib in his impeccably tailored dark blue morning coat, a color so dark that it was almost black, but that brought out the color of his eyes. Even the mask was impeccable, but then again, Aunt Millie suspected that was always the case with Erik Rien--that the man could make a simple working man's shirt and trousers look above reproach.

They took their seats, and a moment later, Erik felt something on the top of his foot. He looked down to find his four legged shadow resting his head on the toe of Erik's boot, mournful brown eyes staring up pleadingly.

"You can't possibly be hungry," Erik whispered, only to have Min respond by cocking a canine brow, looking for all the world as if he knew what humans said. Now that Elizabeth was onto him for slipping food to Min, he made a greater effort at subtlety. "I'm not terribly hungry," he explained to Millie, who had taken it as a personal challenge to fill out Erik's lean frame.

"You're practically gaunt," she complained. "Hmph. Anyone can see that you've been wasting away in Egypt during Beth's absence."

Elizabeth sat up straight as she heard Erik's voice as clearly as if he had whispered it directly in her ear. "I'm not hungry…for food," he had said, in a way that made her temperature rise. She never saw his lips move, but judging by the look on his face, he'd said it all right--and meant it.

Aunt Millie ignored the silent signals that were being passed across the table and went about cheerily setting out breakfast. There were several serving dishes. Erik lifted the lids to find what looked like undercooked eggs in one, half-cooked bacon in another and a mound of fat sausages in a third. He had his doubts that he would be able to do justice to so much food when Millie brought even more dishes to the table.

"Stewed tomatoes and some kippered herring," she said, explaining what was in the dishes. "My brother loves them with his eggs."

Erik stared warily at all the food, accustomed to breaking his fast with a simple cup of tea, a piece of toast and an occasional pastry.

"You must be a good person," Millie said.

Engrossed on what he could eat without insulting his hostess, Erik realized he had not been listening to what the woman was saying. "Beg pardon?" he asked, having decided that a cup of tea would be all right.

Millicent pointed to the dog. "He doesn't cozy up to just anyone. Jack Russells in general, and Min in particular, are very astute judges of human character. Over the years, I've learned to trust his instincts implicitly and never once has he failed me. By the way, I do hope you're planning a nice, long visit with us! We so rarely have visitors, and you are already like a member of our family."

Erik looked across the table to Elizabeth, waiting to take his cue from her. Before either could answer, Aunt Millie pressed on. "I think it would be splendid if you spent the summer here in Burford. Much nicer here than in Egypt this time of year."

At that moment, Alpheus entered the room. "Ah!" he exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. "Breakfast."

"Sit down and help yourself," his sister said, noticeably less helpful with her brother than she had been with Erik.

Alpheus attacked the eggs like a starving man and put a generous portion of them onto his plate. Then, he found the stewed tomatoes with fresh mushrooms and placed a helping of them on top of the eggs. Another serving spoon plopped herring next to the tomatoes and eggs, and the whole thing was topped off with a hefty serving of bacon and sausage. Erik could only stare in wonderment, amazed at the prospect of one man putting away so much food at one sitting!

The professor beamed merrily at Erik as he tucked his napkin into his collar. "Now then, what is it that we are we talking about?" he asked as he buttered some toast and slathered it with marmalade.

"I was asking," answered Millicent, "if Mr. Rien might like to spend the summer here in Burford, that it is much more clement than summer in Egypt."

The professor nodded and scooped some eggs onto his toast and took a bite. "Quite right. Nothing worse that desert heat and scorpions." He was so intent on his food that Alpheus missed the humorous looks Erik and Elizabeth exchanged. Instead, he asked Erik, "How long have you been in the antiquities business?"

"Five years," he replied.

"Tricky business, you know. It can take a lifetime of study to learn to tell the real thing from a fake. Even then, a good forger can slip one past even the most knowledgeable of experts. I once knew a man who had a rather original way of giving his smaller pieces that ancient look."

"And what was that, may I ask?"

"This man--can't recall his name; it's been many years--would carve the most exquisite scarabs, and would then feed them to his geese."

"Whatever did he do that for?" asked Millicent.

"Well, what goes in must come out, m'dear," said her brother. "And when the goose would expel the scarab, it came out with a perfectly aged patina."

Elizabeth let out an unladylike snicker. "I'm sorry," she said, an impish look on her face. "I was only thinking how fortunate Erik is to have A'aqil. To see that things run smoothly while you're here," she added quickly.

"Who's this A'aqil?"

"An expert at detecting forgeries, Father," she explained. To Erik, she said, "I'm sure he is doing an impressive job."

Erik ignored her remarks, knowing she was teasing him over his servant's earlier admission to making 'authentic reproductions,' and decided to try one of the sausages. He quirked an eyebrow at Elizabeth as he chose the largest one on the platter.

"I have an idea!" said Elizabeth, suppressing a laugh as Erik wrangled his sausage. "Father, why don't you show Erik your collection? I'm sure the two of you would find much to discuss."

-0-0-0-

After breakfast, Alpheus and Erik retired to the professor's study. Elizabeth had been invited to accompany them, but chose to linger in the background. It pleased her greatly to see the two most important men in her life getting comfortable with each other, but she wanted to remain nearby, should she be needed to smooth over any unforeseen difficulties. She watched as Erik admired a small statuette of a woman, the way he turned it in his hands making her wish he were touching her.

The statuette was almost seventeen inches tall and carved from milky alabaster. The slight shade of pink in the alabaster lent an ethereal quality to the sculpture of a woman standing erect, her arms at her sides as her face looked forward. She wore a simple sheath dress and a heavy wig.

Erik was familiar with the style, and recognized it as a fashion that was favored by both royalty and commoner at the time this work had been created.

"The sculptor displays fine modeling and a sensitivity to the subtleties of the feminine form," he said, choosing his words carefully, knowing that Professor Cutteridge was judging him. "This suggests that the statue is, in all likelihood, a product of a royal studio."

"It is the first piece I ever found," Alpheus said with more than a little pride. "Look here." He pointed to an inscription. "These hieroglyphics spell out her name. Nephritis or something like that."

Erik coughed delicately.

"Did I get something wrong?" Cutteridge asked.

"I believe nephritis is a disease of the kidneys," Erik said, carefully correcting the other man. He knew, of course, that Cutteridge was only testing him, and found it amusing that the elderly professor was so clumsy at deceit. He took a closer look at the archaic writing. "It looks more like her name is Nafrit."

Professor Cutteridge smirked. "Nafrit? The Virgin?" he said innocently as he accepted the statue back from Erik and replaced it on the shelf. "Yes, no doubt you are correct."

They walked over to another piece.

"Now, here is a fine example of a Middle Kingdom block statue," said the professor, pointing to a piece almost two feet high, carved of dark granite. This time, it was the figure of a man wearing a simple shoulder-length wig and chin beard. He stood solemnly with his arms crossed over his chest, wrapping his body in a rectangular mantle on which the sculptor had carved names and attributes.

"Very nice indeed," agreed Erik. "As I recall, these cloaked figures were an invention of the Middle Kingdom." He inspected the piece more closely. "Late 11th Dynasty, perhaps."

The professor nodded approvingly. "12th Dynasty, actually, but your guess is quite close for having only given the piece a brief look."

Erik raised a brow. "Guess? No, Professor, I never guess. I took into account the manner in which the man is dressed, the style of his wig and the hieroglyphics and deduced that this was either late 11th Dynasty or early 12th. With a more thorough examination, I'm certain I would have been able to narrow the date down with more accuracy."

The professor only muttered something that sounded like "Touché" as they continued their examination. Before he could say anything about the next piece--a foot-high sculpture of a husband and wife seated next to each other--Erik beat him to the punch.

"New Kingdom," he pronounced.

The professor nodded. "18th Dynasty, in fact."

"Reign of Amenophis III," Erik added, narrowing down the date.

The professor was impressed. "And how do you deduce that?"

"Look at the faces of the man and woman--their round cheeks, slanted eyes and ingenuous expressions. They could be duplicates for the pharaoh." He paused, but could see that Cutteridge was waiting for him to continue explaining his reasoning. "The people of ancient Egypt wanted to emulate their living god, and what better way to do this in their carvings and paintings than to give to themselves their pharaoh's features?"

"Quite true," the professor admitted.

Erik inspected the details of the sculpture. "I would also hazard to suggest that the couple enjoyed a loving relationship."

"Now you are surely guessing!"

"On the contrary," Erik countered, warming up to the subject as his confidence grew. "Look here," he said, pointing to the man. "See how he holds an emblem of male virility. And his wife, the way she tenderly cups her hand under his elbow in a gesture of intimacy. I suspect these two were very much in love with each other," he added, perhaps a bit wistfully as his thoughts went back to Beth. He glanced over his shoulder and saw her standing quietly in a corner, smiling at him.

"And what do you make of this?" Elizabeth asked, stepping forward and holding something in her hand. She gave it to Erik, who saw that it was an ancient mirror handle carved of wood and in the form of a nude girl holding a kitten in one hand and pushing her hair back over her shoulder with the other.

"It once graced a lady's mirror," said Erik.

"Notice the details," Elizabeth said. "Women's hair had strong erotic connotations for the ancient Egyptians. In the New Kingdom, this sort of gesture--of a woman pushing her hair back over one shoulder--clearly had sexual meaning." When she realized how bold she had become, she felt her face blush.

Erik said nothing, but only stared, while her father asked, "And where did you learn this?"

"It's something…that I…uhm, deduced on my own," she answered, waiting for her father to make some sort of reprimand.

Instead, he exclaimed, "Brilliant!" He squinted as a thought crossed his mine. "Hold on a moment. Something arrived in the mail yesterday that I want you both to see." He hurried to his desk and began sifting through mountains of correspondence, searching for the document in question.

Elizabeth took advantage of the moment and brushed against Erik. With a slow, deliberate motion, she tossed her long hair over her shoulder.

He suppressed a sigh and shook his head at her audacity. "Temptress!" he muttered.

"Here it is," Alpheus declared triumphantly, waving a flat box in the air. "It is a papyrus one of my contacts in Cairo sent to me. It appears to be a love poem, dedicated to a betrothed couple." He presented it to Elizabeth. "I thought you might enjoy translating it in your spare time."

She beamed and opened the box gingerly, careful not to disrupt the contents. She scanned the document, pursing her lips as she read. "Oh, Father," she said reverently. "It's exquisite!"

Erik leaned in for a better look, and unconsciously placed his hand on the small of Beth's back. She glanced up at him, her face flushed with excitement from the new discovery, and batted her eyelashes. It was all he could do not to kiss her.

"Yes," Alpheus said, watching them closely. "This will keep you both busy for an hour or two."

Erik stood up straight, remembering himself. "Elizabeth is the expert," he commented dryly. "I have little experience with such artifacts. Most of my customers are interested in decorative items for their homes. Occasionally, museum representatives come to me for specific items, but these men are as likely as not to deal in the black market."

Alpheus opened his mouth, then closed it, hesitant to broach the subject that had niggled the back of his mind.

"You want to ask if I am a legitimate dealer," Erik said emotionlessly. He appeared unruffled, calm, as though accustomed to living with constant questions about his past.

"Not at all. My daughter would not associate with you if you were as bad as you like to pretend to be," Alpheus averred. "I was about to say that I've been known to dabble in the black market on occasion m'self."

Elizabeth gasped. "Father!"

"Better an item of genuine value end up in my hands than in the garden of some pretentious nobleman with delusions of grandeur," he sniffed.

-0-0-0-

They were so engrossed in their task that they did not notice when Alpheus quietly left them. Heads touching, each took a segment of the fragment and studied it, translating the hieroglyphs into English. Occasionally, Erik would interrupt Elizabeth, asking for clarification with his understanding of the verse.

"They are love poems," she explained. "Imagine! These were written more than 3,000 years ago."

"Yet the emotion is as fresh today as they were when the ink was wet." He looked closely at the papyrus. "The poet's love endured the ages." He put down his quill and read the poem aloud, noticing that Elizabeth closed her eyes to listen carefully to his interpretation of the ancient words.

I wish I were your mirror
so that you always looked at me.
I wish I were your garment
so that you would always wear me.
I wish I were the water that washes your body.
I wish I were the unguent,
O woman, that I could anoint you.
And the band around your breasts,
and the beads around your neck.
I wish I were your sandals,
wrapped around your feet, encasing them protectively!

She sighed wistfully, the feelings evoked by the poems transcending time. It was her turn to read. She settled against the back of the chair, relaxing as the sultry poem colored her tone of voice.

O my beautiful one, I wish I were part of your affairs, like a wife.
With your hand in mine your love would be returned.
I implore my heart: "If my true love stays away tonight,
I shall be like someone already in the grave."
Are you not my health and my life?
How joyful is the heart that seeks you!

He pulled her into his lap, enjoying the sensation of her weight on his legs and her arms around his shoulders. "This is what I've always wanted," he said lovingly, nuzzling her tenderly. "I never realized that I needed anyone, but if I lost you now, I…."

"You won't lose me," she promised. "I need you, too." An idea crossed her mind. "Erik, do you recall saying that our worlds could not meet? Well, now that you have come to my home, I want to show you all of my favorite places. I want you to see the Cotswolds. After all, this quaint little village is as much your home as mine; that is, it is until…until you return to Luxor."

He froze. "Return?" he said slowly. There's nothing to go back to, without her. He loosened his collar as the world closed in upon him.

She peered at him, realizing something was wrong. "Erik, I'm not sending you away," she said, with a cheerful lilt. "I want to share everything I love with you. Everything in England that I cherish is right here in Burford – including one very dour, enigmatic Frenchman who happens to be the bravest man I know. After all, you came here expecting a firing squad, apparently," she said with a laugh, "and instead, you found…you found…" she stopped, noticing tears in his eyes.

"I found love," he said. "No going back now."

"We'll have a marvelous time. There's a magnificent church with a lovely old organ--"

"Organ?"

"A massive pipe organ! Surely you saw the church spires on your way here from the train station. This place has a magic to it, darling. It has been a healing balm for me, and I want you to see it for yourself." She smiled so charmingly, he could have refused her nothing. "You'll love it, Erik, I'm certain of it. Stay with me. You'll be happy here."

"I'd be happy no matter where I am, if you love me." He was still uncertain of her. In the light of day, would she see him for who he really was, and send him away?

"I do love you, and nothing you can say will change that." She pursed her lips. "There are no more skeletons, are there? Nothing lurking in your closet that I should know about?"

He chuckled. "I have no secrets from you. You know me as no one else does."

"You can always trust me," she said softly. "You know that." She pushed against his chest and cocked her head to one side. "Now, sir, put on your walking boots. We're going to see the town, and walk off some of that breakfast."

"What about lunch? I can hear Millie in the kitchen already."

"She's starting supper. We don't eat lunch here. Good heavens! After a farmer's breakfast, who has room for lunch?" She stood up and smoothed out her dress.

Erik watched her hands moving across her waist and her hips, saw the fabric ripple in front of her fingers as she pressed out the wrinkles. He groaned a little when she adjusted the bustle and shook out her skirt.

She turned to leave the room. "Aren't you coming?" she asked.

He cleared his throat. "I...I'll be along in a moment."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Erik. You should have told me that I was cutting off the circulation in your legs."

"It... it isn't that. I...just need a moment, that's all."

"Oh." She turned beet red. "I see," she said, smiling devilishly. "Then a good, long walk in the fresh country air is just what the doctor ordered."

-0-0-0-

Authors' Note: The Egyptian poems are authentic. We often think of the Egyptians as a gloomy, death-obsessed people; but that is only because we interpret them through the distorted lens of their tombs. The nobles among them at least yearned for an afterlife because they enjoyed this life too much to want to leave it. Their painting and poetry celebrates the pleasures of food, music, dance, and love.

Amenophis III is better known these days as Amenhotep III. He was the father of Akhenaten.