“Was the 3rd Division involved in any of Wellington’s great victories?” asked Bing. “I’m afraid I must profess some ignorance.”
“I had the honor of meeting the Iron Duke at Salamanca,” Smithson replied, “and heard his stirring exhortations before the coming battle. A great man—one could sense it immediately.”
“‘We few, we happy few, we band of brothers,’” quoted Bing, impressed. “‘For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother.’ How fortunate, to take part in such events.”
Making a discard, the other shook his head. “I’m afraid I shall not ‘stand a tip toe when this day is named.’ War is a terrible thing—thank heaven it finally came to an end.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Bing, a trifle mortified.
“Oh dear—I meant no rebuke,” the other explained hastily. “There is no question that this was a just war, and well fought by the Allies; I only regret the necessity.”
Hattie noted that the other man did not inquire after Berry’s service, probably because Berry was, to all appearances, French and there was every likelihood the two men fought against each other—good manners precluded such a pursuit. I wonder for whom he fought, if anyone, Hattie thought, watching Berry from beneath her lashes. And if he also saw heavy action or if he merely lurked behind the scenes as he does here.
They played for an hour and then Smithson stood to take his leave, thanking them for allowing him the pleasure. “A very amiable man,” pronounced Bing, watching him leave. “It appears he has hidden depths.”
But Berry was not interested in pleasantries, and dealt another hand so that it appeared they continued to play. “You have made a translation?”
“Yes—as you say, I believe it is a map. The disks are marked with a pair of numbers that correspond to squares on the board, rather like ‘four across and two down.’ When they are laid out in order on the board, the measurements upon them explain the direction and how many feet to travel to follow the map.”
“Excellent,” Berry said with approval. “You have done extraordinary work.”
But Bing made a gesture of regret. “Unfortunately, there was one additional safeguard made to ensure the secrecy of the clues. One cannot ascertain where the map begins or ends without some sort of starting point and a reference to a compass of some sort.”
The other two stared at her. “It does not explain which way is north?” asked Hattie.
Bing nodded. “From what I can understand, the disk at the center of the puzzle must be replaced with another to ascertain this information—and the location of the missing disk is disclosed upon the false one.”
“Well then, Bing; where is the missing disk?” asked Hattie impatiently.
“It is affixed on the princess herself,” explained Bing in a regretful tone. “Inside the sarcophagus.”
Chapter 27
“‘The hundred-gated Thebes,’” quoted Bing in reverent tones as she stood on the deck, shading her eyes against the bright sun. “Sacred city to countless generations of the ancients.”
The barge had docked at the wooden quay the night before and its passengers now prepared to disembark onto the embankment, which was enclosed by a gated palisade hewn from new wood. Observing it, Hattie noted, “It seems the dock here is more secure than the one in Cairo.”
“Of a necessity,” explained Hafez, who stood beside them. “Visitors must now register upon arrival and no one may depart absent a search of the vessel. Fortunately, the river is the only practical means of transportation and this allows us to control the comings and goings. We must do what we can to prevent the further depletion of my country’s treasures.”
With a nod of her head, Bing indicated the west bank on the opposite side of the wide river, the ruins of the Necropolis near the shore and the famed barren cliffs rising starkly in the background. “Edward said it was helpful that the only entrance to the Valley of the Kings is narrow—any other entry or exit is nearly impossible.”
Hattie held the brim of her straw hat pulled low over her eyes, and tilted her head back to contemplate the famous Necropolis across the Nile. That morning she had noted with some alarm that she was indeed so brown that she could be mistaken for an American Indian; it came from walking on the deck in the hopes of meeting up with Berry. Poor Bing, on the other hand, was deprived of her sun bonnet as it served as the hiding place for the senet board. “The tombs are beyond those cliffs in the back?”
Hafez nodded. “And within them—as Miss Bing indicates, there is a single narrow entrance to the Valley.” Leaning over, he pointed to explain the location on the opposite shore and Hattie was impressed—despite herself—by the sheer history of it.