Seeing a Large Cat (11 page)

"It is a goat-a kid, rather. It must be in trouble, it is not moving."

The sound came again. There was no question about it, the creature was frightened or in pain-and young, to judge by the pitch of its voice.

"Nefret," I exclaimed. "Wait. I will call-"

I knew it was in vain. That tender heart could not resist the cry of a creature in need of help. By the time I got to my feet she had started up.

"Curse it," I said, and hastened, not toward her, but toward the tomb entrance. "Ramses! Emerson! David!"

The peremptory note in my voice brought them running. She was a good twenty feet up by the time they arrived on the scene, moving carefully but quickly on her hands and knees.

Emerson swore and started forward.

"Wait, Father," Ramses said. "She's gone after something- a goat, I think. You know Nefret, she won't come down without it. We will need a rope."

His cool voice stopped Emerson in his tracks. "Rope," he repeated in extreme agitation. "Yes. Damn the girl! No! No, I didn't mean that-"

"Good heavens," Bellingham exclaimed. "Stop her. Go after her!"

"I intend to," Ramses replied. "No, Father, please remain here. The rock is friable, your weight may bring more of it down." I observed that he had removed his boots and stockings. Now he took the coil of rope David handed him and slung it over his shoulder.

Ramses had always been able to climb like a monkey. On this occasion he ascended almost as rapidly as I could have walked, pulling himself from one handhold to another. Nefret, perilously spread-eagled across a stretch of sheer cliff, stopped and looked back. Then-I was tempted to say, "Damn the girl!" myself-she crept on. The ledge where the goat lay was not easily accessible from the path; she had to cross that sheer stretch to reach it. The goat must have been encouraged, or possibly it was irritated, by her approach. It began bleating loudly and tried to scramble up. Pebbles rained down.

Ramses had reached a point just below her booted feet-foot, I should say, since the other one was stretched out, feeling for an invisible foothold. Up to that moment I had been praying only that he would get to her before she fell. Now I began to wonder how the devil he was going to get her back down.

He did not pause. Instead of trying to catch hold of her he went to one side, passed her, and stopped, slightly above and to her left. After uncoiling the rope, he tossed a loop of it over some projection-I assumed that was what it was, though I could not see it from below-grasped the dangling end, and swung himself down until he was within a foot of her and on the same level. Finding a purchase for his bare toes, he leaned over and seized her round the waist.

Emerson's breath came out in an explosive whoop. He had not dared to speak before. Now he bellowed at the top of his lungs, "Come down this instant!"

Neither of them moved. They were arguing. I could hear raised voices, but could not make out the words, which was probably just as well.

"I had better go and fetch the goat," David said cheerfully. "She won't come without it, and Ramses cannot manage both of them."

With a smile at Emerson and a pat on my shoulder, he started up. He too was barefooted. It was the safest way, of course; that was how the Egyptians managed such climbs, but their feet were more hardened than those of the boys. At least I had assumed that was the case. It was obvious that both David and Ramses had been up and/or down that path before, unbeknownst to me.

The goat had decided it would rather stay where it was. Ramses had to unhand Nefret and drag the creature, kicking and bleating, off the ledge before he could drop it into David's upstretched hands. Fortunately it was not a very large goat. Tucking it under one arm, David started down, and Nefret allowed Ramses to draw her back onto the path-such as it was. They went on arguing, probably because he had taken hold of her again. At least she had sense enough not to struggle to free herself. Though one of his hands still gripped the rope, their position was far from stable.

They had reached a point less than twenty feet from the ground when the inevitable happened; one of her boots slipped, the other lost its tenuous hold, and for one awful second she hung suspended by her hands before Ramses's arm slammed her against his side with a force that made her yelp with pain. He completed the descent in a rush, dropping the last six feet onto the slope of scree at the base of the cliff and clinging to the rope to stop himself from falling.

Emerson, cursing quietly and monotonously, mopped his perspiring face with his sleeve. He stopped swearing and said curtly, "Put her down." Nefret took one look at his infuriated countenance and tightened her grip on Ramses. He was still holding her with her feet dangling several inches off the ground, and she was extremely short of breath, but the unevenness of her voice was primarily due to laughter. "No-please! Not while he is so angry! Protect me!"

Some part of this affecting performance was aimed, I felt sure, at Dolly Bellingham. She had risen to her feet and was staring raptly at Ramses, her hands at her throat. I wondered if she had any idea how silly she looked. "You were wonderful," she breathed.

Ramses returned Nefret to solid earth with a thump that made her knees buckle. "Do your worst, Father. I cannot in conscience stand between her and your righteous wrath." Turning to Dolly, he added, "I had no idea you were an animal lover, Miss Bellingham. It is good of you to share your luncheon with the goat."

And indeed, the intelligent creature had taken advantage of our distraction to invade the luncheon basket. It was probably the best meal it had ever enjoyed, and it had made the most of its opportunity. Dolly screamed and flapped at it with her parasol, and Emerson did his worst with his daughter-i.e., he seized her in a tight embrace and kissed her on the top of her golden head.

After the Bellinghams had gone and Nefret had examined the goat-it had suffered a broken leg, which she splinted quite neatly-we tied the protesting animal to a large rock and opened our own picnic basket.

"What a pity the Bellinghams lost their lunch," Nefret said, her eyes dancing.

"The Colonel took it with more grace than one might have expected," I said. "He actually laughed."

"He appears to have a genuine interest in Egptology," Emerson admitted grudgingly. "He asked some intelligent questions. I told him he might come by another tune if he liked."

"Here?" I inquired.

"Where else?" Emerson replied. "We will probably be here for another day or two. Longer, if we dawdle. Come along, my Ramses lingered. "We may as well give the rest of the food to the goat," he suggested, as I began to pack the luncheon things. "What shall we call it?"

"Why should we call it anything?"

"You know Nefret will want to adopt it." He tossed the creature a large chunk of cheese. "We will be lucky if she doesn't insist one of us sit with it until its leg is healed."

"That was well done, Ramses," I said.

"What?" He turned, dusting breadcrumbs off his hands, and looked at me in surprise.

"Don't say 'What?' It sounds ill-bred. You understood my meaning, I am sure. Wait a moment, I want to talk to you."

"Father will expect me to-"

"It will not take long. How did you find Mrs. Fraser last night?"

The slight start he gave would have been imperceptible to anyone but me. He said resignedly, "Who told you?"

"No one. Your early departure from the house yesterday afternoon suggested that you had plans for the evening. The fact that you did not see fit to mention them to me further suggests that they were of a nature I might not approve. The amusements available to young men in Luxor immediately come to mind. I do you the credit to assume your motives were not entirely frivolous or-er-improper, so I conclude you went to call upon an acquaintance. You knew Mrs. Fraser was in Luxor-"

"Your reasoning is, as always, irrefutable," said Ramses.

"You did see her."

"Yes. I-er-had intended to tell you about it."

"Of course," I said dryly.

"It is difficult to find an opportunity of speaking privately with you. You know Father's views about matters that interfere with his excavations."

"Better than you, I fancy. Never mind your father, I will deal with him. Don't beat around the bush, Ramses."

"In a nutshell," said Ramses, "it appears my original theory was completely in error. It is not Mrs. Fraser who is suffering from a mental disorder. Her husband has received messages from an ancient Egyptian princess named Tasherit. She wants him to find her tomb and..." He placed his hand respectfully but firmly over my mouth. "I beg you will not shout, Mother. Take a seat on this rock. Compose yourself before you speak."

I sat on the rock. It would have been difficult not to, for he put me on it by pressing down on my shoulder.

After he had removed the hand that covered my mouth, I remarked, "If you had wished to avoid an involuntary exclamation from me, Ramses, you would have chosen your words more carefully. I have had occasion, in the past, to suggest that brevity is to be cultivated in the course of narration, but I did not intend you should take it quite that far. However. The messages to Mr. Fraser came, I assume, through Mrs. Whitney-Jones?"

He nodded, and I went on, "And the princess-the young, beautiful princess-died an untimely death? Murdered by her cruel father, perhaps, because she had dared to love a commoner? Or did she waste away after seeing her lover murdered by the aforementioned cruel father?"

The ends of Ramses's mustache quivered. I deduced this indicated an expression of amusement. "The princess and her lover were both murdered by Papa-entombed alive, to perish in one another's arms."

"Good Gad, the woman has no imagination whatever," I said in disgust. "She can't even invent an original scenario. I suppose she has been extracting large sums of money from Donald. I am not surprised at his gullibility-more intelligent men than he have fallen victim to charlatans-but I would not have supposed him to be susceptible to such flagrant romanticism. So that is why he was trying to persuade Emerson to dig in the Valley of the Queens!"

"You observed how quickly Mrs. Whitney-Jones got him off the subject," said Ramses. "Skepticism, especially of the variety Father expresses, might weaken Mr. Fraser's belief. The longer the lady has him under her influence, the more money she can extract from him."

"The money is, or was, Enid's," I said. "No wonder she is so distraught. And yet my intuition tells me that there is something else amiss, something darker and more dangerous than simple extortion! I wonder what..."

I paused invitingly, but this time Ramses did not take advantage of my tolerance to propose another theory. I supposed he was embarrassed at being so wide of the mark the first time.

"It is, after all, a commonplace story," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Any stranger who asks for money should be immediately suspect, and yet people go on contributing to causes as questionable as their sponsors are corrupt."

"We must think of a way of exposing the woman."

"It will be difficult. Mr. Fraser is stubborn and uncommonly stupid."

The statement was unkind, but probably correct. After a moment he added, as if to himself, "Mrs. Fraser does not deserve such bad luck. I would like to be of service to her if I can."

"You don't fancy yourself still romantically attached to her, I hope."

Ramses's brows drew together. Like his father's, his eyebrows are thick and black. Unlike Emerson's, his tilt up at the outer comers. The resultant shape was a mirror image of the shape of his ridiculous mustache, and for some unaccountable reason I found myself becoming vexed.

"Don't glower at me," I said sharply. "I have no recollection of any promise you made Mrs. Fraser, but the promise of a little boy in the throes of puppy love has no significance. You are no longer a little boy-"

"Thank you," said Ramses.

"And don't interrupt. You are no longer a little boy, and I hope you have sense enough to refrain from making some childish, romantic gesture that would do more harm than good. If an idea occurs to you, discuss it with me before you act."

"Father wants us," Ramses said, and walked away.

He did, but that was only an excuse. I felt certain Ramses had not told me everything.

Ramses had not told his mother everything, as the following excerpt from Manuscript H demonstrates:

The dahabeeyah rocked gently at its moorings. From the crewmen, relaxing after their evening meal of bread and beans, mutton and lentils, came the sounds of laughter and idle conversation. The men who worked for the Father of Curses were the envy of others because they were extravagantly well fed-meat at least once a day!-and paid their wages even when the boat was docked. The lectures of the Sitt Hakim on diet, cleanliness, and other superstitions were a small price to pay. She meant well, they assured one another tolerantly.

"Should we? " David asked, glancing apprehensively at the open window of Ramses's room, as if he expected to see his adopted aunt staring in at them. "We haven't permission."

Ramses gave himself a final inspection in the small mirror and tossed his brushes into the drawer. Trying to flatten his hair was an impossible job; it was not as rampantly curly as it had been when he was younger, but it persisted in waving no matter what he did to it.

"We are not children," he said stoutly. "A man does not ask his mama's permission every time he takes a step. What's the harm in running across to Luxor for a few hours?"

David shrugged. "Shall we take the cat? " he asked, trying to detach Sekhmet from his trouser leg.

"That furry blob? Good God, no. Why did you bring her with you? "

"She wanted to come," David said.

"You mean she stuck to you, and you couldn't get her off"

"She tikes to ride horses." David nibbed the cat under its chin. "Why not bring her along? She will never learn unless you train her."

"Cats cannot be trained."

"The cat Bastet-"

"Pry the creature loose and come," Ramses said shortly.

The sunset colors were particularly vivid that night; ribbons of fiery rose and purple shimmered in the wake of the small boat. When it reached the East Bank the rowers settled back to smoke and fahddle (gossip), and Ramses and David climbed the steps to the street. The hotel was a short distance from the riverbank, and their progress was slowed by encounters with friends and acquaintances, all of whom wanted them to stop and talk. By the time they reached the Luxor, darkness had fallen. Ramses went to the desk and spoke with the clerk, and the two young men seated themselves in the lobby to wait for a reply to the message he had sent.