Elizabeth hesitated, and Edward was quick to notice it.
“So she has not made up her mind,” he said.
“She has never been asked to,” Elizabeth reminded him. “You have been obsessed with other things.”
“Yes.” He passed his hand over his eyes. “Obsessed. That is how it feels. As if there are times when I can see nothing, hear nothing, think of nothing but the tomb. And yet I love Sophie—”
“You love her?” asked Elizabeth.
“Yes, I love her. More than anything else in the world, I want to make her my wife.”
“Then you had better let her know your feelings. You are not the only young man on the expedition, and if she feels you are not serious, then you may lose her to another young man who is.”
“You are right,” said Edward, looking at Paul, who was talking to Sophie. “Curse him—oh, I had better not say that here. I do not mean it!” he said to the empty space. “I do not wish any harm to come to him, only that he will not steal my treasure away from me.”
They passed the model of a boat they had seen the day before—“To transport the lovers in the afterlife,” he said—and when they moved on, they found several casks which were locked and too heavy to move. On the casks were cartouches, and inside the cartouches were the names, in hieroglyphs, of Ammon and Husn.
“I knew it,” muttered Edward. “I knew we would find it.”
And suddenly his eyes gained a glazed look, and he spoke of Sophie no more.
He hurried on and Elizabeth had to remind him that at any moment the moat would open up beneath their feet.
“You are right,” he said, moving more slowly and holding his flambeau so that the flames showed the floor until at last he stood at the side of the pit.
“I wonder how many men have fallen here,” mused Darcy, raising his flambeaux to show the glittering treasures on the other side. “With their eyes fixed on the gold and jewels, they would not have noticed the moat until it was too late and fallen to their deaths.”
It was a sobering thought.
“We must go forward carefully,” said Darcy, addressing his flushed cousin. “There is no telling what other traps lie in store for us.”
The men set about laying the palm planks across the moat to create a bridge, and when it was done Edward set one foot warily on it. The plank creaked and sprang a little under his weight but otherwise seemed safe enough.
He edged his way across and at last reached the other side.
“It is even more magnificent than we realised!” he said. “There is another door at the far side of the room. I believe there is another chamber.”
“I think you had better stay here,” said Darcy to Elizabeth. “The plank is very narrow and—”
But she had already hitched up the corner of her skirt and was edging her way across the plank.
“It is as Edward says,” she called back. “I believe we have only scratched the surface of the tomb. It is a wonderful find. Edward’s name will be on everyone’s lips when we return home.”
Darcy quickly followed, with Paul helping Sophie, and they gazed in awe at the treasure trove in which they found themselves. Everywhere they looked there was the glint of gold. There were statues of people and animals—“Anubis!” exclaimed Paul, going over to a statue of the jackal-headed god and examining it in awe; golden hawks—“made of wood and covered in thick gold leaf,” Edward said, upon examining them; a young Egyptian man with a spear—“hunting hippos, most likely;” and the figure of a young man being reborn from a blue lotus—“the symbol of rebirth.” There were urns and vases, and over the walls were pictures of a lithe young man, engaged in his everyday activities as well as a young woman in a variety of poses.
“Ammon and Husn,” said Elizabeth.
“Remarkable,” said Darcy.
“And about to become more so,” said Edward, as he approached the door at the opposite side of the chamber.
This door, too, had been sealed, and Edward could barely restrain himself long enough to open it with the proper care. When he had done it, they tested the air for foul gases with their flambeaux as Sir Matthew had shown them, and when all seemed safe, they went through into a smaller chamber. Their way was blocked by boxes. Edward opened the first one he came across, and its contents dazzled them. There were pendants of gold inlaid with lapis lazuli, scarabs inlaid with turquoise carnelian, arm bracelets of gold inlaid with jasper, amulets of Anubis and Horus—a dazzling array of jewels and trinkets all twinkling in the dancing light. He whirled round in the centre of the room in high spirits, gazing at the blues and reds and golds that dazzled from every corner and from the magnificent sarcophagus in the centre.
Elizabeth lifted her flambeau to see the walls and gasped.
“The paintings,” she said. “They are the same as the paintings on the frieze of Aahotep I saw in the British Museum, where I first met Sir Matthew.”
“Aahotep must make amends,” muttered Edward, reading the hieroglyphs beneath the painting.
Paul was already busily sketching, his hands moving rapidly as he sought to make a record of everything he saw in its original place.
“And now the work begins,” said Darcy.
“Yes.” Edward shook his head as if shaking strange imaginings away. “We have to transport the treasures back to the camp. But where to begin?”
Their activities soon became more methodical. Returning to the first antechamber, they began to wrap the smaller items and place them in the sacks, and then the men carried the sacks across the plank bridge and deposited them there, ready to be carried to the donkeys later in the day. When they had removed all the portable pieces, they went through into the farthest antechamber and began to empty the chests, filling the sacks with jewels and pausing every now and then to rest and drink, for the air was stifling. But their spirits were high and they scarcely noticed the heat or the closeness of the air, working on willingly as the morning passed into afternoon.
“I think this must be the last one,” said Elizabeth, as she put a final pendant into the sack beside her.
“We can stay another hour and still be back at the camp before dark,” said Edward.
“I do not doubt it, but we have run out of sacks,” said Elizabeth.
Edward was startled.
“Have we really collected so much?” he asked.
“We have. The rest will have to wait. It will all be here tomorrow, and the next day, too,” said Darcy.
“But will it?” asked Edward. “I don’t like leaving it unguarded. I think I will sleep here tonight.”
He picked up his sack, Darcy carried a second one, and Paul, with every inch of paper in his book covered in drawings, picked up a last few items and put them in his pockets. Then they made their way into the outer antechamber and went toward the bridge.
“That’s odd,” said Paul, who had walked more quickly than the others. “I could have sworn the planks were here.”
“Have you lost them?” said Darcy jovially. “I am not surprised. You have not been back and forth all day as we have.” But when he joined Paul he said, “It is not possible.” He called to Edward, and Edward came up beside him. “The bridge,” he said. “It has gone.”
“Impossible,” said Edward.
“I know. But it has.”
“What is that, over there?” asked Paul, peering over the moat to the darkness beyond. “I thought I saw movement.”
“I knew it!” said Edward. “The fellahs have overcome their fear and have come to rob the tomb. They have thrown the planks into the moat, and we were too engrossed in what we were doing to hear them.”
“Not fellahs,” said Paul, whose light shone farthest across the void, remarking in surprise, “An Englishman.”