Guardian of the Horizon (6 page)

for a long time. He had his reclusive moments; from time to time he would go off on long, solitary rambles across the countryside, returning soaked with perspiration and scratched by brambles. I thought he was overdoing it, and said so. He replied that he was trying to get in fit condition for the arduous labors that lay ahead. If by "fit" he meant thin, he certainly achieved that condition. Rose wrung her hands over him and had cook make all his favorite dishes. By the time we left England, he was as brown and as lean as one of the ancient wooden statues in the Cairo Museum. "You look more and more like Count Hesi-Re," Nefret remarked. She poked him in the chest with a slim forefinger. "Ow. You feel like him too. Solid wood." "I take that as a compliment," said Ramses. "He's not a bad-looking chap. Shall I grow a mustache to further the resemblance?" "No, I don't like mustaches. Or beards." "You may have to put up with them," said Emerson, who had listened to the exchange with interest. He gave me a challenging look and fingered the cleft in his prominent chin. "Can't waste water shaving in the desert." Emerson is always looking for an excuse to grow a beard. I refused to rise to the challenge. But I made sure his razors were packed. Once we had announced our departure, Walter and Evelyn came hurrying from Yorkshire to pay us a farewell visit. They brought Lia, naturally, and David said no more about accompanying us. (Love--if I may be permitted a poetic metaphor--settles like a warm blanket on the brain, smothering the critical faculties.) Walter was not so easily hornswoggled (a most expressive slang word, which I had learned from Cyrus Vandergelt). He managed to corner Emerson and me one afternoon, while Nefret was entertaining Evelyn. "This is your first visit to the Sudan in a long time," he began. "Er--yes," said Emerson. "We wanted then to excavate at Meroe, as you recall," I said, realizing that Emerson was not up to the task of convincing deception. "Since the expeditionary armies had not got that far in '97 and the southern Sudan was still in the hands of the Dervishes, we were forced to settle for Napata. Now we have the opportunity to do a comprehensive survey of the region, and I am told that conditions have improved greatly." "Yes, I see. So you have no intention of returning to ... you know the place." "Walter, you are letting your imagination run away with you," I declared. "Why on earth would we do such a foolish thing? There are a number of nice ruins in Nubia, including pyramids, and they are vanishing at alarming speed. Our primary duty is to preserve and record those specimens of the past. Emerson believes that the remains of the ancient city of Meroe lie under the sands. What a contribution to science its discovery would be!" "I've never heard such a pack of lies, not even from you, Peabody," said Emerson, after Walter had left us. "If you think over what I said, Emerson, you will do me the credit of conceding that I did not tell a single falsehood. I never do, unless it is absolutely necessary." I heard nothing from Kevin O'Connell. Inquiries produced the information that he was in hospital in Switzerland, having fallen off a mountain while following up a ridiculous rumor that the remains of the Ark of the Deluge had been seen there. I was not at all surprised; Kevin specialized in ancient curses and wild invention. After almost dying ofexposure, he was making a good recovery, but it would be some time before he could return to work. I sent him a nice box of glaceed apricots from Fortnum and Mason. One of the advantages of our itinerary (one of the few advantages, I should say) was that we could not possibly take a cat along. One or another of them, starting with Ramses's lost but never-to-be-forgotten Bastet, had usually accompanied us to Egypt, but travel inthe Sudan was still inconvenient and complicated--and the very idea of Horus riding a camel through the desert for two weeks boggled the mind. Neither Horus nor Gargery approved of the former's staying at Amarna House, and we left both of them sulking. On the day of our departure we stood at the rail of the steamer waving farewell to those who had come to see us off. The family had turned out in force, including two of Lia's brothers. Johnny and Willie were as alike as two peas, with their father's refined features and their mother's fair hair, but their temperaments were quite different; Willie was a serious soul and Johnny as ebullient as a schoolboy. He was livelier even than usual that day, playing the clown to keep spirits high; for parting is always painful. He had one arm round David's shoulders and the other round Lia. The twins had been unwavering in their support for the lovers; their influence, as much as my own, had helped to win over their parents. Catching my fond eye, Johnny raised his voice to a bellow. "Don't worry, Aunt Amelia, we'll make sure they behave themselves." He directed a low-voiced comment to David, who blushed. The ship moved away. David cupped his hands round his mouth and called out to Ramses, "Good luck, my brother!" "Good luck in what?" Nefret asked. "Nothing in particular," Ramses replied. Carefully he detached the little hands that clung to his arm. "Excuse me. I must unpack." If we could have proceeded directly from Port Said to the Sudan, avoiding all our friends and acquaintances, I would have been sorely tempted to do so. I have no moral objection to prevarication when it serves a good end, but--as I had learned from painful experience-- it is cursed difficult to avoid slips of the tongue. I was not worried about Ramses, who could look Saint Peter straight in the eye and lie, nor even about Nefret. Emerson was my chief concern. When in a temper, into which he is easily provoked, he is apt to blurt out the most appalling statements. To have behaved so unusually would only have invited speculation, which we had to avoid at all costs. A few days in Cairo, collecting supplies, a few more days in Luxor with our Egyptian family (Abdullah's kin), telling them the news for which they hungered, and preparing them for our removal to the Sudan, and then we would be on our way. We should arrive at Wadi Haifa by the first week in September. Another fortnight should complete our preparations, and by that time the weather would be, if not comfortable, endurable. My complacency received its first check when we docked at Port Said and I beheld a too-familiar form amid the throng of porters, customhouse officials, and souvenir sellers who vied for the attention of the arriving passengers. It was impossible to mistake Daoud, Abdullah's nephew and assistant reis; his elaborate turban towered a full head over those of the people around him, and his large, benevolent face bore a smile of welcome. I had to look again before I recognized the slighter man who stood next to him. Selim, Abdullah's youngest son, seemed to have grown several inches since the previous spring, and the beard he had decided to grow in order to give him greater authority as Abdullah's successor had got out of hand. It was neatly trimmed--Selim was a handsome man and something of a dandy--but it stretched clear down to his breastbone. "The devil," said Emerson. "What are they doing here? I didn't telegraph. Peabody, did you?" "No." I returned Daoud's salutation. Slouching against the rail, Ramses said, "The Cairo newspapers print the passenger lists of incoming boats. The word spreads. I assumed you had anticipated that, Mother." Nefret chuckled. "Just look at Selim's beard." "Hmph," said Emerson, staring enviously at the appendage. Daoud was at the foot of the gangplank when we descended. He never pushed or shoved, for he was the gentlest of men (unless provoked); he simply moved forward with ponderous inevitability, clearing a path. Not the slightest shade of reproach marred the sunshine of his smile, but after he had gone off with Ramses to deal with the luggage and the customs people, Selim bent a freezing frown upon me. "Why did you creep into the country like thieves, without telegraphing us?" "We wanted to surprise you," Nefret said, taking hold of his arm. "Selim--the beard! Magnificent!" Selim preened himself, but his grievance was too strong to be so easily overcome. "We heard it from Mohassib, who had been told by Abdul at the Winter Palace, who overheard a guest reading it from the newspaper. For us to get news of you from such people shames us. And why is David not with you? And why have you not told me where we will be working? And what--" "Don't lecture me, curse it," Emerson shouted. "At least not in public. Good Gad! You sound just like your father." There was a slight tremor in his manly voice when he pronounced the last words. He cleared his throat. "Hmph. Well, Peabody, what are we going to do with this insubordinate young rascal?" I had been against taking Selim and our other devoted men into the unknown. None of them, including Abdullah, had gone with us on our first trip to the Sudan; since we had been working in what was technically a war zone, the military authorities refused to give them permission. However, the situation had changed. Emerson and Ramses had pointed out, with depressing logic, that we would have to take some of them at least as far as Meroe in order to support the story about a survey. A point they had not made, which was now apparent, was that Selim would wax even more insubordinate if we attempted to go off without him. "Tell him our plans," I said with a sigh and a smile. "I hope you don't mind waiting, Selim, until we are on the train. I want to get out of this pestilential place and into the comforts of Shepheard's as soon as is possible." Selim folded his arms. "The Amelia is ready for you, Sitt. Fatima is there now." "How did you manage that?" I asked with sincere admiration. We had left the dahabeeyah in dry dock; Selim must have bullied, bribed, and threatened at least a dozen people to get it ready so quickly. All signs of pique forgotten, Emerson grinned and slapped the young man approvingly on the shoulder. He hates hotels. "I am your reis," said Selim. "The best reis in Egypt, now that my father is no more. Come. I have the tickets for the train." The train takes six and a half hours from Port Said to Cairo. Emerson and Ramses promptly removed coats, hats, waistcoats, and cravats, and after an apologetic glance at me Nefret unfastened the top buttons of her frock and pushed her sleeves up. As sand sifted into my collar and mixed with perspiration to form a gritty paste, I reflected that this was only a faint foretaste of the discomfort we could expect as we went farther south. We had never been in Egypt so early in the season. I now remembered why. At first Selim was not enthusiastic about working in the Sudan. However, when I said he and the others need not accompany us, since we could easily find local workers, his beard positively bristled. "Did you hear that, Daoud?" he demanded. "They say we must stay behind." "No, no," said Daoud placidly. "Where the Father of Curses goes, we go. Where is it he is going?" Emerson went on at length about the pyramids at Meroe and their ruinous condition and the need to record what was left of them before they fell apart. It was familiar stuff to Selim, and Daoud didn't really care. When Emerson ran down--after quite a long lecture-- Selim nodded and stroked his beard. "So. It should be an interesting adventure. Local workers we can hire, as you say, but you will need trained men to supervise them. How many?" There was not room for six in a single cab, especially when one of the six was Daoud, so Nefret asked Selim to ride with her. Very little disturbed Daoud's placid temperament, and he had accepted our explanation of David's absence with a nod. "A man must earn money to support a wife. He will work hard and make her happy. When will they be married? They must come to Egypt for that." I listened with a smile but only half an ear while he proceeded to plan the wedding, interrupting himself occasionally to thrust his head out the cab window and announce Emerson's presence in stentorian tones. Emerson was not at all put out by this, since he likes his presence to be known, and he was constantly hailing old acquaintances, of whom he has a great many in Cairo. After a rather vulgar exchange with one of these, he turned to Ramses. "So much for making an inconspicuous entry," he remarked. "Half the population of Cairo already knows we are here, and the rest will know by evening." This caught Daoud's attention. "The presence of the Father of Curses is like the sun rising over the desert," he announced. "Even a blind man feels the warmth of his presence." "Bah," said Emerson. We went to the docks at Boulaq, where the Amelia lay among others of her kind--not as many as in past years, alas, for the private dahabeeyah was no longer the favored method of travel. Cooks' steamers and the railroad had made tourism a popular business. In my opinion the change was not for the better. What had once been a leisurely, educational trip through the most fascinating country in the world had become a whirlwind tour with no time to inspect the sights and very little contact with the local population. Cooks' people went about in flocks like silly sheep, bleating and herded by their guides. They ate English food, lived in rooms furnished in English style, spoke only English, complained constantly, and bargained mercilessly with individuals whose daily income was a few pennies. I must confess I rather enjoyed seeing such a group set upon by the importunate peddlers and vendors and donkey boys. Fatima was waiting for us. There were rose petals in the washbasins. After a week in Cairo we had completed most of our necessary business and there had been no word from Merasen. "Where can the boy have got to?" I demanded, as we prepared for a little shopping trip. I needed a new parasol, and Emerson another pair of boots. "I hope nothing untoward has befallen him. I told you we ought to have sent him to lodge with one of your acquaintances in Cairo." "No, you didn't," Emerson snarled. He was not of the opinionthat he required another pair of boots. "The fewer contacts with our acquaintances, the better, you said." He was correct. I had said that. "You did tell him to leave a message for us here, announcing his safe arrival in Cairo?" "I told him to leave word at Shepheard's, since I had anticipated we would be staying there. As you know, they informed me there had been no such message and that they would send on any that might arrive." "Are you sure he understood?" Nefret asked anxiously. She and Ramses were not going with us. She had met a most interesting lady, a Syrian physician, and had hopes of persuading her to participate in a scheme dear to Nefret's tender heart--a clinic which would offer medical services to the miserable prostitutes of Cairo. Gazing into the mirror, she tipped