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The Seventh Scroll - Smith Wilbur - Страница 103
the creatures of the land and the fish of the Nile waters. They
photographed each amulet in situ before working it free and placing it
into a numbered slot in the trays that had been set out upon the
workbench.
Pharaoh's feet were as small and delicate as his hands, and each toe was
laden with precious rings. Only his head was still covered, and both men
looked enquiringly at von Schiller. "It is very late, Herr von
Schiller," Reeper said, if you wish to rest-'
"Continue!" he ordered brusquely. So they moved up each side of the
mummy's head, while von Schiller on remained on his stand between them.
Gradually the king's face was exposed to the light, for the first time
in nearly four thousand years. His hair was thin and wispy, still red
with the henna dye he had used in his lifetime. His skin had been cured
with aromatic resins until it was hard as polished amber. His nose was
thin and beaked. His lips were drawn back in a soft, almost dreamy smile
which exposed the gap in his front teeth.
The resin coated his eyelashes, so that they seemed wet with tears and
the lids only half-shut. Life seemed to gleam there still, and only when
von Schiller leaned closer did he realize that the light in those
ancient sockets was the reflection from the white porcelain discs that
the undertakers had placed in the empty sockets during the embalming.
On his brow the Pharaoh wore the sacred uraeus crown. Every detail of
the cobra head was still perfect, There was no wearing or abrading of
the soft metal. The I serpent fangs were sharp and recurved, and the
long forked tongue curled between them. The eyes were of shining blue
glass. On the band of gold beneath the hooded asp was engraved the royal
cartouche of Mamose.
"I want that crown." Von Schiller's voice was choking with passion.
"Remove it, so that I can hold it in my own hands."
"We may not be able to lift it without damaging the head of the royal
mummy," Nahoot protested.
"Do not argue with me. Do as I tell you."
"Immediately, Herr von Schiller," Nahoot capitulated.
"But it will take time to free it. If Herr von Schiller wishes to rest
now, we will inform you when we have loosened the crown and have it
ready for you."
The circle of gold had adhered to the resin-soaked skin of the king's
forehead. In order to remove it Nahoot and Reeper first had to lift the
complete body out of the coffin and lay it on the stainless steel
mortuary stretcher which already waited to receive it. Then the resin
had to be softened and removed with specially prepared solvents.
The whole process took as long as Nahoot had predicted, but finally it
was completed.
They laid the golden uraeus upon a blue velvet cushion, as if for a
coronation ceremony. They dimmed all the other lights in the main
chamber of the vault, anded a single spot to fall upon the crown. Then
they arrang both went upstairs to inform von Schiller.
He would not let the two archaeologists accompany him when he returned
to the vaults to view the crown.
Only Utte Kemper was with him when he keyed the lock to the armoured
door of the vault, and the heavy door slid open.
The first thing that caught von Schiller's eye as he entered the vault
was the glittering crown in its velvet nest.
immediately he began to wheeze for air like an asthmatic, and he seized
her hand and squeezed until her knuckles crackled with the pressure and
she whimpered with pain. But the pain excited her. Von Schiller
undressed her, placed the golden crown upon her head and laid her naked
in the open coffin.
"I am the promise of life," she whispered from the ancient coffin. "Mine
is the shining face of immortality." He did not touch her. Naked, he
stood over the coffin with his inflamed and swollen rod thrusting from
the base of his belly like a creature with separate life.
She ran her hands slowly down her own body, and as they reached her mons
Veneris, she intoned gravely, "May you live for ever!'
The wondrous efficacy of the crown of Mamose was proven beyond any
doubt. Nothing before had produced this effect upon Gotthold von
Schiller. For at her words, the purple head of his penis erupted of its
own accord and glistening silver strings of his semen dribbled down and
splattered upon her soft white belly.
In the open coffin Utte Kemper arched her back, and writhed in her own
consuming orgasm.
It seemed to Royan that she had been away from Egypt for years instead
of weeks. She realized just -how much she had missed the crowded and
bustling streets of the city, the wondrous smells of spices and food and
perfume in the bazaars, and the wailing voice of the muezzin calling the
faithful to prayer from the turrets of the mosques.
That very first morning she left her flat in Giza while it was still
dark, and since her injured knee was still swollen and painful she used
her stick as she limped along the banks of the Nile. She watched the
dawn cobble the river waters with a pathway of gold and copper and set
the triangular sails of the feluccas ablaze.
This was a different Nile from the one she had encountered in Ethiopia.
This was not the Abbay, but the true Nile. It was broader and slower,
and the muddy stink of it was familiar and well beloved. This was her
river and her land. She found that her resolve to do what she had come
home to do was reinforced. Her doubts were set at rest, her conscience
soothed. As she turned away from it she felt strong and sure of herself
and the course that she must take.
She visited Duraid's family. She had to make amends to them for her
sudden departure and her long, unexplained absence. At first her
brother-in-law was cool and stiff towards her; but after his wife had
wept and embraced Royan and the children had clambered all over her -
she was always their favourite ammah - he warmed to her and relented
sufficiently to offer to drive her out to the oasis.
When she explained that she wanted to be alone when she visited the
cemetery, he unbent so far as to lend her his beloved Citron.
As she stood beside Duraid's grave the smell of the , desert filled her
nostrils and the hot breeze rid'eted with her hair. Duraid had loved the
desert. She was glad for him that from now onwards he would always be
close to it. The headstone was simple and traditional: just his name and
dates, under the outline of the cross. She knelt beside it and tidied
the grave, renewing the wilted and dried bouquets of flowers with those
that she had brought with her from Cairo.
Then she sat quietly beside him for a long while. She made no rehearsed
speeches, but " imply ran over in her mind so many of the good quiet
times they had passed together. She remembered his kindness and his
understanding, and the security and warmth of his love for her. She
regretted that she had never been able to return it in the same measure,
but she knew that he had accepted and understood that.
She hoped that he also understood why she had come back now. This was a
leave-taking. She had come to say goodbye. She had mourned him and,
although she would always remember him and he would always be a part of
her, it was time for -her to move on. It was time for him to let her go.
When at last she left the cemetery, she walked away without looking
back.
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