‘The only quibble I have with the deal is that you handed all that lovely hard-won lolly over to them,’ Nicholas mourned. ‘Hell, Mek, fifteen million iron men don’t come along every day.’
‘I didn’t hand it to them,’ Mek corrected him. ‘It was paid into the state coffers, where I can keep an eye on what eventually happens to it.’
‘Still, fifteen mill is a lot of bread,’ Nicholas sighed. ‘Try as I might, I cannot approve of such extravagance, but I must admit that I do approve of your choice of running mate in your bid for the Presidency in the coming elections.’
They both looked at Tessay’s slim back and bush of springing black curls as she strode along ahead of them on shapely brown legs under the white skirt.
‘I may not approve of you as Minister of Defence, but I can see that she makes a very charming Minister of Culture and Tourism in the interim government.’
‘She will make an even more impressive Vice-President when we win next August,’ Mek predicted easily, and at that moment Royan looked back over her shoulder at them.
‘We’ll cross the road here,’ she called. Nicholas had been so engrossed that he had not realized they had come up opposite to the new annexe to the Luxor Museum of Antiquities. The two women waited for them to catch up and then they separated and each of them took the arm of her own husband.
As they crossed the wide boulevard, threading their way between the slow clip-clopping horse-drawn gharries, Nicholas leaned down and brushed her cheek with his lips. ‘You are really quite delectable, Lady Quenton-Harper.’
‘You make me blush, Sir Nicky,’ she giggled. ‘You know that I am still not used to being called that.’
They reached the other side of the thoroughfare and paused before the entrance to the museum annexe. The sloping roof was supported by tall hypostyle columns, miniature copies of those at the temple of Karnak. The walls were made of massive blocks of yellow sandstone, and the lines of the building were clean and simple. It was very impressive.
Royan led them to the entrance doors of the museum, which was not yet open to the public. The President was flying up on Monday for the official opening, and Mek and Tessay were to be the official representatives of the Ethiopian government at the opening ceremony. The guards at the door saluted Royan respectfully and hurried to open the heavy brass-bound doors to let them pass.
The interior was hushed and cool, the air conditioning carefully regulated to preserve the ancient exhibits. The display cases were built into the sandstone walls, and the lighting was subtle and artful. It showed off the wondrous treasures of the Mamose funerary hoard to full advantage. The exhibits, arranged in ascending order of beauty and archaeological importance, sparkled and glowed in their nests of blue satin, the royal blue of the Pharaoh Mamose.
The four visitors were quiet and reverential as they passed, their voices soft and subdued as they asked questions of Royan. Wonder and amazement held them enthralled. They paused at the entrance of the final chamber, the one that housed the most extraordinary and valuable items in this glittering collection.
‘To think that this is only a small part of what treasure still remains in Mamose’s tomb, sealed by the waters of the Dandera river,’ whispered Tessay. ‘It’s so exciting that I can hardly wait for the adventure to continue.’
‘I forgot to tell you!’ Mek exclaimed, and it was clear from his triumphant grin that he had not forgotten at all, but had been merely waiting for the appropriate moment to impart his news. ‘The Smithsonian have confirmed their grant to redam the Dandera and reopen the tomb. It will be a joint venture between the Institution and the governments of our two countries, Egypt and Ethiopia.’
‘That is wonderful news,’ Royan exclaimed delightedly. ‘The tomb itself will be one of the great archaeological sites of the world, and a huge source of tourist revenue for Ethiopia—’
‘Not so fast,’ Mek interrupted her. ‘There is one condition that they stipulate.’
Royan looked crestfallen. ‘What is their condition?’
‘They insist that you, Royan, take on the job of director of the project.’
She clapped her hands with delight, and then put on a mock-serious expression. ‘However, I have my own condition before I accept,’ she said.
‘And what is that?’ Mek demanded.
‘That I am able to appoint my own assistant on the dig.’
Mek let out a roar of laughter. ‘We all know who that will be.’ And he clapped Nicholas on the back. ‘Just make sure that none of the artefacts cling to his sticky little fingers!’ he warned.
Royan hugged Nicholas around the waist. ‘He has completely reformed, I will now give you final proof of that.’ Still clinging to her husband, she led them into the last chamber.
Mek and Tessay stopped in the entrance, silent with awe as they stared at the contents of the free-standing display case of armoured glass in the centre of the room. The red and white crown of the united kingdoms of upper and lower Egypt stood side by side with the glistening golden death-mask of Pharaoh Mamose in the brilliant light of the overhead spotlights.
At last Mek Nimmur recovered from the shock. Advancing slowly to the front panel of the display case, he stooped to read aloud the brass plate fixed to the front of it: ‘“The permanent loan of Sir Nicholas and Lady Quenton-Harper.”’
He turned back to stare at Nicholas incredulously. ‘And you were the one who picked on me for turning over the money from the sale of the blue crown!’ he accused him. ‘How could you bring yourself to give up your share of the loot, Nicholas?’
‘It wasn’t easy,’ Nicholas admitted with a sigh, ‘but I was faced with a delicate ultimatum from a certain party who is not standing a million miles away from us at this very moment.’
‘Don’t feel too sorry for the poor boy,’ Royan laughed. ‘He still has a big lump of Peter Walsh’s money tucked away in Switzerland, the proceeds of the sale of the Nemes crown. I was unable to talk him into handing everything over.’
‘Enough of these public disclosures of my domestic affairs,’ said Nicholas firmly. ‘The sun is long gone, and it’s whisky time. I think I saw a bottle of Laphroaig behind the bar at the hotel. Let’s go and find out if I was mistaken.’
He took Royan’s arm and led her away, and the other two followed closely, laughing delightedly at his discomfort.
Wilbur Smith, The Seventh Scroll: A Novel of Ancient Egypt
(Series: # )
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