The Seventh Scroll - Smith Wilbur - Страница 134

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friend to friend, of teacher to pupil, of sex to sex."'

"That's the third time you have picked out that particular quotation

this morning. What is there about it that appeals to you so strongly?"

She did not look up at him, but the back of her neck turned a ruddier

shade of red.

Sorry! Thought you might find that one as romantic as the other," he

mumbled. "Let's try this one then. "I have suffered and loved. I have

withstood the wind and the storm.

The arrow pierced my flesh but did not harm me. I have eschewed the

false path that lies straight before me. I have taken the hidden

stairway to the seat of the gods."'

Royan rocked back on her heels and glanced down the long gallery.

"Something there perhaps. "The false path that lies straight before me.

The hidden stairway"?"

"We are straining a bit now. Snapping at gnats like a hungry trout."

She stood up and pushed the tendrils of sweaty hair off her forehead.

"Oh, Nicky. It's so discouraging. We don't even know where to begin."

"Courage, lassie." He feigned the cheerfulness he did not feel. "We

begin at the beginning like your friend Taita said we must. Let me try

you with this one again." He laced his hand over his heart like a

Victorian actor and emoted, "'The vulture rises on mighty pinions to

greet the sun"-'

She laughed softly at his clowning, and then her eyes wandered from his

face and passed over his shoulder.

Suddenly she started.

"The vulture!" she blurted, and pointed at the wall behind him.

He spun around and stared in the direction she was indicating.

There was the vulture, a magnificent image of the bird, the fierce eyes

glaring and the yellow beak hooked and spread wide, with each feather

ointed. Its wings were outlined in jewel-like colours. It stood as tall

as Nicholas, but its wing-spread covered half the wall. They stared at

it together, and then Royan lifted her eyes to the ceiliAg high above

where they stood. She touched his arm and motioned him to do the same.

"The sun!" she whispered. The golden sun disc of Ra was painted in the

highest portion of the roof. Its warmth seemed to illuminate the

shadows. Its rays spread out Mi every direction, but one of these beams

followed the curve of the wall and descended to envelop the vulture

image in its spreading luminosity.

"'The vulture rises to greet the sun"," she repeated. "Does Taita mean

it literally?"

He moved closer to the mural and examined it minutely, running his hands

over the wings and down its belly to the cruel curved talons. Beneath

the paint the plastered wall was smooth. There was no Projection or any

irregularity.

The head, Nicky. Look at the head of the bird!" She jumped up and tried

to reach it, but her fingers fell short and she turned to him with a

desperate edge to her voice.

"You do it - you are much taller than I am," Only then did he see the

slight shadow down one side of the bird's head where the floodlamp

caught it, and as he touched it he realized that the head was in relief,

standing slightly above the level of the surrounding wall. He ran his

fingers over the raised head and found that the beak was part of the

relief.

"Can you feel any joint in the plaster?" Royan demanded.

He shook his head. "No. It's smooth. It all seems to be part of the main

wall."

"'The vulture rises to greet the sun",, she insisted. "Can't you detect

any movement? Try pushing the head upwards towards the sun painting."

He placed the heel of his hand under the bulge of the head and pushed

upwards. "Nothing!" he grunted.

"It's been there for almost four thousand years." She was hopping from

one foot to the other with frustration.

"Dammit, Nicky, if there is a moving part, it will be stiff.

Harder! Push harder!'

He shifted his feet to get well under it and placed both hands under the

projection of the head. Slowly he brought all his strength to bear. The

cords in his neck stood out and blood flooded his face, turning it a

deep, angry red.

"Harder!" she implored him, but at last he dropped his arms to his sides

and stood back.

"No." His voice was hoarse and strained with the effort.

"It's solid. Won't budge."

"Lift me up. Let me look."

"With the greatest of pleasure. Any excuse to lay hannds on you." He

stepped behind her and placed lascivious han both arms around her waist,

then lifted her until she was able to touch the bird's head.

Quickly she explored it with her fingertips, and then she let out a

small cry of triumph.

"Nicky! You have started something. The paint is cracked all around the

outline of the head. I can feel it.

Lift me higher!

He grunted with the effort but raised her another foot off the floor.

"Yes, definitely!" she exclaimed. "Something has a hairline crack in the

wall above the moved. There is head, as well. You have a look!

He fetched one of the empty ammunition crates from the landing outside

the entrance and placed it below the vulture image. When he stepped up

on to it he was on a level with the vulture's eye.

His expression changed. Quickly he groped in his pocket and brought out

his clasp knife, He opened the blade and probed carefully around the

outline of the head.

Tiny specks of dried paint and plaster filtered down as he worked.

It does look as though the head is a separate detached piece, "he

admitted.

"Look on top of it, higher up the wall. There along the edge of the

sunbeam. Can't you see a vertical crack in the plaster?"

"You are right, you know," he admitted. "But if I try to open that crack

I am going to damage the mural. Do you want me to do that?"

She hesitated only a moment. "This tomb is going to be reflooded when

the river rises, so we are going to lose it again anyway. It's worth the

risk. Do it, Nicky!'

life-blade into the fine He pressed the point of the kn crack and

twisted it gently. A slab of painted plaster the size of his s'read hand

fell out of the wall and splattered into the dust on the agate tiles of

the floor.

He peered into the cavity that it had left in the wall.

"It looks like some kind of slot or groove in the wall," he said. "I am

going to clear its full length." Carefully he worked at the cavity he

had opened, and more loose plaster rained down.

Royan sneezed in the dust, but would not retreat, Particles of debris

lodged in her hair like confetti.

"Yes," he said at last. "There is a vertical groove running up here."

"Chip the plaster away from the crack around the vulture's head," she

ordered, and he wiped the blade against his trouser leg and attacked the

wall again.

"It's free," he said at last. "It looks as though the head will travel

up the groove. Anyway, I am going to try it, Stand back and give me room

to work."

He placed the heels of both hands under the head of the vulture, and

heaved upwards against it. Royan bunched her hands into fists and

screwed up her face in sympathy with his effort.

There was a soft grating sound, and the head began to move jerkily up

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