Daughter of the God-King(32)

Bing shot her a measuring glance from under the brim of her hat. “Perhaps he will rendezvous with you in Egypt, now that he is untrothed.”

But Hattie would not be drawn on the subject, having relegated her old friend to the category of also-rans long before the passionate embrace of the night before. “Soon we will be in Cairo, Bing. I can hardly credit it.”

Her companion looked out over the sea again. “I confess I am looking forward to seeing those things that Edward described in his letters—it is unfortunate that this journey is tempered with sadness.”

“No need to be sad on my account,” Hattie reminded her with a small smile. “You know I hardly knew them—why, your brother knew them better than I.”

“Then we shall look to do your duty, rather than mourn.”

“Edward was fond of them—you said so last night.” Hattie had been awaiting just such an opening, as she wished to do a little probing.

Bing nodded. “He admired them greatly. They were utterly dedicated, and not distracted by worldly gain—they made no attempt to capitalize on their own fame as many others did.”

“You mentioned,” Hattie added diffidently, “that he had some concerns about the dateline.”

Bing raised her brows in surprise. “Heavens—did I?”

Hattie prompted, “I think it had to do with which pharaoh was the princess’s father.”

After hesitating for a moment, her companion confessed, “The Blackhouses were certain it was the great Seti, and so Edward deferred to their judgment, although he was not convinced.”

“Were there discrepancies in the hieroglyphics, perhaps?” Bing’s reticence to discuss the subject only fueled Hattie’s curiosity; that, along with the fact that the captain had seemed inordinately interested last night.

Weighing her words, her companion said with an apologetic air, “Edward’s correspondence always contained strict instruction that I was not to speak of these matters to anyone.”

“I suppose he was afraid of tomb raiders,” Hattie conceded, hesitant to press any further in the face of Bing’s reluctance.

“Or rivals in their field, or even government agents—remember Egypt’s rule has changed hands several times over; it would not do to unwittingly invite another such change of hands by boasting of a particular find. Edward did mention”—here Bing cast a glance over her shoulder so as to ensure they were not overheard—“that your parents were entering into negotiations with the British, unbeknownst to Muhammad Ali, the local viceroy who holds power at present.”

Hattie considered this, but it didn’t seem particularly alarming. “I suppose they knew the British would re-establish rule, sooner or later.”

Bing nodded. “Apparently, it was extremely tiresome to have to be constantly reassessing who might hold control over the sites in Thebes—all the archaeologists had to be adept at politics even though they held very little interest in such things; deals had to be struck so as to continue the work that was so important to them.”

Assimilating this information, Hattie steered the conversation back to the original topic. “Did Edward think the princess was from an earlier or a later dynasty?”

Bing lowered her voice and confessed, “That was the problem; in his opinion there was too little upon which to make a deduction—very few artifacts were found in her tomb. And the hieroglyphics were not particularly helpful with respect to her identity.”

Even Hattie, who paid little heed to the particulars, knew the tombs were usually bursting at the seams with artifacts piled up for use in the afterlife. “Perhaps it had been raided already,” she suggested.

“Not exactly. Edward seemed to think”—Bing took another cautious look around—“that there was a secret chamber, one that the Blackhouses knew of which supported their theory; but that he and the others on the site were not privy to its location.”

Ah, thought Hattie, the penny drops; her parents indeed had a valuable secret—a secret chamber. Although why it was a secret was unclear; they had uncovered many such treasures in the past without such secretive measures. “Perhaps it is a particularly rich trove, and they didn’t want to reveal it until they had concluded their negotiations with the British.” She frowned even as she posited the theory aloud—this didn’t make much sense either. Such a course would only postpone whatever outrage they feared from the current viceroy, not avoid it. Hattie was vaguely aware it was never a good idea to double-deal with the powerful local potentates—why, one could simply disappear, never to be heard from again. With this alarming thought, she stood very still for a moment and didn’t hear Bing’s response. Pulling herself together, she said, “I’m sorry, Bing, I was wool-gathering. What was it?”