Daughter of the God-King(33)
“I confess I did wonder,” Bing repeated, “if the cave-in that killed Edward and the others was an attempt to discover the secret chamber.”
Meeting her companion’s troubled gaze, Hattie shook her head in disagreement. “If Edward was anything like you, it seems very unlikely that he would flaunt my parents’ wishes in such a way.”
“That is true,” Bing conceded. “He would defer to them, despite his own curiosity.”
Hattie put a hand on Bing’s at the railing. “Perhaps we shall discover what happened to Edward as well as my parents—solve both mysteries at once.”
But Bing only shook her head a bit sadly. “I don’t believe it is much of a mystery, Hathor; cave-ins are an unfortunate hazard of tunneling. I am reconciled—he died doing that which he most loved.”
Hattie said nothing, not wanting to share her concerns with Bing, who was not aware of Berry’s hints nor of the deadly scuffle on the deck the night before. She had little doubt that Edward’s death was yet another suspicious one connected to the new excavation. Reminded, she asked, “What did Edward think about the curse?”
Bing gave her a look. “Edward was a scientist, Hathor; there are no such things as curses.”
“But everyone seems to think there is, Bing—and it does seem that a great many have died, one after the other.”
Bing rested her chin on her chest. “The natives are credulous, of course. It comes from centuries of tradition steeped in superstition; but as Edward would say, superstition is a crutch for the fearful.”
Gazing out over the horizon, Hattie voiced aloud a thought she had entertained last night, when she was thinking about all the things she needed to think about. “In a way, the curse is almost helpful—no one would interfere with the site if they feared the wrath of the gods.”
“Someone—unfortunately—was not afraid of the gods,” Bing pointed out. “And your poor parents suffered for it.”
“True—although I suppose it works both ways; someone may believe that it would best please the gods to kill those who desecrate the tomb.”
Bing sighed. “If that is indeed the case, then it seems unlikely we will ever know the truth of what happened to your parents.”
The two women stood in the sun for a few minutes, watching the distant shoreline as the boat heeled with the wind. I believe we will discover the truth, thought Hattie. Berry knows the truth—or most of it—and as much as he would like to winkle information out of me, I think I could do some winkling of my own; he is smitten, I believe. She took a glance around the deck, hoping to spy him.
“Your parasol, Hathor,” Bing reminded her gently. “You will be mistaken for a native, else.”
Chapter 14
Hattie noted that the brisk sea air had brought a bit of color to the other woman’s pale cheeks.
“Are you able to contemplate a bite to eat? I am afraid you will blow away in the breeze, Bing.”
Her companion considered the suggestion without enthusiasm. “I shall make the attempt, I suppose. It is so lowering to be felled by such an embarrassing weakness.”
“You shall simply have to stay on in Cairo and never board a ship again,” Hattie teased. “I imagine there are plenty of excavations where they’d welcome another pair of hands.”
“The excavation sites are upriver, at Thebes,” Bing reminded her.
“Then gird your loins,” Hattie advised with a smile. “The transport of necessity is by waterway.”
“I’d rather not think of it,” the other replied, and they made their way to the companionway stairs to forage for a meal.
Upon entering the officer’s galley they met the captain, who was leaving but did not hesitate to turn back so as to join them. “Miss Bing; I trust you are feeling more the thing.”
Bing nodded graciously. “Indeed, I am, Captain, and I thank you for your restorative, which appears to have turned the trick. I shall attempt some tea and toast.”
The three had just settled into the wooden benches when Berry made an appearance. Although Hattie had been concerned about controlling her reaction when next they met, she needn’t have worried—instead she felt a resurgence of that sense of exhilaration and met his eye without a flicker as he bowed in greeting. Noting his cut lip and a bruise over one eye, she asked with feigned concern, “Why, Monsieur Berry—I believe you have injured yourself.”
As he seated himself across from her, he nodded in acknowledgment. “I am a clumsy fellow—I ran up against the mizzenmast last night.”
Struggling to keep her countenance, Hattie dropped her gaze to her plate.