The Falcon at the Portal: An Amelia Peabody Mystery (41 page)

Emerson's brows drew together. He is not the most sensitive of men (except with regard to me), but even he heard something chilling in that even, unemotional voice. "Don't get me off the track," he growled. "You would not mind, then, if they came here to stay?"

"Why should I? You heard me make the same suggestion at dinner. I repeated it later to Geoffrey. The suite Nefret decorated so prettily will be ideal for them. He accepted with thanks—subject, of course, to your approval."

"What about Nefret's approval?" I inquired.

"She did not object. In fact, I had intended to begin moving my things back to my old room tonight, so if you will excuse me—"

"One more thing," said Emerson. "You haven't found her yet?"

Ramses had drunk very little of his whiskey. He reached for the glass again; it tipped and spilled. "Damn it," said Ramses, glaring at his thumb. "I beg your pardon, Mother. But it's not just one thing, Father, it's too damned—"

"Don't apologize again," I said wearily. "It's too damned many things, isn't it? Have you spoken to David about the forgeries?"

"We've both spoken to him, but neither of us has given
him a
chance to offer an opinion! Then there's Maude's death, and Mr. Vandergelt's theory about the accidents, and my visit to Wardani—David isn't going to like my interfering, not one damned bit, but I'll have to tell him—and my futile search for Rashida ...

She's gone, Mother. I'd have located her by now if she were anywhere in Cairo—and alive."

"If she were dead, her body would have been found," I said.

"No. Deaths like hers aren't reported. She'd have been swept up and thrown out with the other refuse of the streets."

Over his bowed head I met Emerson's eyes, and in their icy blue depths I saw confirmation of Ramses's bitter words.

"What about Kalaan?" he asked.

"I found out where he lives. It wasn't easy. None of his women knew—they wouldn't—and he doesn't advertise his whereabouts. The house is in Heliopolis—quite an elegant establishment. No one was there. The place was shut up and swept clean."

"What did you do, break in?" Emerson inquired.

"Well, yes, you might call it that. From the amount of dust I would say he'd been gone for at least a week, and from the absence of everything except a few sticks of furniture I would say he isn't coming back in a hurry."

Emerson put his hand on Ramses's shoulder.

"We'll find him. We've never been defeated yet, and we won't be this time. How can we lose with your Mother and her deadly parasol on our side?"

"Quite right," I said briskly, and patted Ramses's other shoulder. "Go to bed now. Things will look better in the morning. It is always darkest before the dawn."

Ramses let out a choked sound that might have been a laugh or a muffled swear word, and got heavily to his feet. "Yes, Mother."

"I wonder how much Nefret has told Geoffrey," I said. "He will have to be taken into our confidence."

"Of course," Ramses said. "He's one of the family now, isn't he?"

Ramses brought Sennia down to breakfast next morning, without bothering to consult me. The sight of the child roused Emerson from his habitual grouchiness and reduced him to a state of fatuous amiability I hadn't seen in him at that hour for many years. Horus came with them. He squatted on the floor as close to the child as he could get and never took his eyes off her. Before long we were joined by Lia and David, who had, as Lia declared, been unable to stay away. It was almost like old times, with everyone laughing and talking at once, for David wanted to tell Emerson all about Crete and Lia demanded a tour of the house, and both of them kept offering tidbits to Sennia, while Fatima hovered over the table like a benevolent genie and the new nursemaid stood shyly in the doorway, afraid to come closer and unwilling to leave her charge entirely to others. Finally Sennia became so sticky with jam that even Emerson did not protest when I ordered that she be removed. She was borne off in triumph by the nurse. Horus got up and went after them.

"You needn't worry, Mother," said Ramses, reading my expression accurately. "I had to rescue
him
this morning; she had hold of his tail with both hands and was trying to eat it. He didn't even scratch me when I detached her."

"How long did you wait before you detached her?" David asked. He had never been fond of Horus either.

"A bit longer than was strictly necessary." Ramses smiled. I was relieved to see that he looked tanned and rested and not so tense. Having David back was good for him.

Emerson had been scrubbing ineffectually at the jelly spots on his shirt. They looked unpleasantly like fresh blood.

"You had better change it," I said.

"Never mind that," Emerson grunted. "I thought we might just take a little ride and—er—"

"Have a quick look at the site? Emerson, I told you—"

"A ride would be enjoyable," David said. "I haven't said hello to Asfur and Risha. What do you say, Lia?"

It was obvious that she had anticipated something of the sort, for she was dressed for riding—not in the absurd garments that had once been de rigeur for lady equestriennes, but in the short divided skirt and neat boots both girls wore on the dig—and her ready acquiescence assured me she was anxious to return to the busy life she had learned to love as dearly as the rest of us did.

"Did Nefret—and Geoffrey—say anything about coming round today?" I asked, as we made our way through the garden toward the stable.

"I believe they plan to," Lia replied. "Are they really ... Is it true that they will be moving in with you?"

"Good gracious, Lia, you sound as if you don't approve."

"No, not at all, Aunt Amelia. I mean, no, I don't mean to sound that way. Are these the stables? How nice the garden looks! It will be good to see the horses again."

"Selim has taken excellent care of them," Ramses said, as David flung both arms round Asfur's neck and she nuzzled his shirt. "Shall we take them out, then? Mother, perhaps you would rather not—"

"If you are all going, I am going too," I declared. "The mare Selim hired for me in place of that other wretched animal does very well."

From the open door at the far end of the stable came a murmur of sounds—squeaks, squawks and the rustle of straw. "I see Nefret has her usual collection of animal patients," Lia said, looking in. "What on earth is in that large cage, and why is it covered?"

"Oh, dear," I said. "I had forgot about him. I hope Mohammed ..."

"He's all right," said Ramses, behind me. "He has to be hooded or covered so he won't hurt himself trying to fly."

He lifted the cloth covering the cage and Lia let out a cry of sympathy and admiration. The bird was a young male peregrine falcon, the same species depicted in the hieroglyph for the name of the god Horus. He sat hunched and unmoving, his great talons gripping the perch.

"Who has been feeding him?" I asked guiltily. I hadn't given much thought to Nefret's pets; I knew I could count on Mohammed to care for the others, but he had a superstitious fear of the great bird of prey. I knew the answer, though. Like Nefret, Ramses had a well-nigh uncanny rapprochement with animals, even feral beasts few people would have cared to approach. He opened the cage and reached inside. The bird stirred uneasily but did not struggle as his long brown fingers closed round its body and moved gently along the wings.

"The wing has healed," he explained. "She wanted to give him a few more days' rest before she freed him."

"She always hates to let them go," Lia said softly. "I suppose she has given him a name?"

"Harakhte," Ramses replied. "She couldn't call him Horus, since that repellent cat had already preempted the name."

"It means Horus of the Horizon," I explained. "Horus was a solar deity as well as the son of Osiris. After passing through the perils of the underworld, he emerged from the portal of dawn into a new day."

"Thank you, Aunt Amelia," Lia said.

The windows were always shuttered at night, to keep predators out. Ramses unlatched the nearest shutter and pulled it back. The hawk let out a strange little mewing cry and stirred, raising shoulders and wings slightly before letting them fall again. The sunlight brought out the delicate tracery of black feathers and the fierce curved beak. Ramses reached into his pocket. He must have stopped by the kitchen before joining us, since the bundle he withdrew squelched and—despite the oiled paper—began to drip darkly.

"Not a pretty sight, I'm afraid," he said to Lia as he unfolded the oiled paper. "Falcons like their food fresh and bloody. I hope I can coax him to eat. He's—"

He broke off, and I turned, following the direction of his gaze, to see Nefret standing in the doorway.

"Good morning," she said. "How is he?"

"As you see. Would you care to do it?" Ramses held out his hand. The nasty objects, now fully exposed, reeked with the smell of fresh blood.

They faced one another across the cage, and I could not help thinking (for I am a connoisseur of the fine arts) that the tableau would have made a splendid subject for one of the pre-Raphaelite painters like Holman Hunt, or the great Dante Gabriel Rossetti. On one side the maiden, crowned with the coils of her golden hair; on the other the tall, dark-haired youth, his outstretched hand crimson with the blood of sacrifice; between them the god, the falcon of the dawn, caged in darkness. What rich symbolism, what evocative hints of myth and legend! Sunlight framed the figures like the gold gesso so lavishly employed by the school of painting to which I have referred. Rossetti would probably give the maiden robes of forest-green velvet...

Then the maiden said, "Throw the filthy stuff away."

"It would be a pity to waste it," Ramses murmured. He returned the mess to the paper and put it down on the table.

"Don't wipe your hand on your trousers, Ramses," I said, a moment too late.

The others had come to see what was going on. "Stay out," Nefret ordered.

Geoffrey, in the lead, gave her a look of hurt surprise. "What are you doing, sweetheart? Can I help?"

"I'm going to free him. Get out of my way. Ramses, open the back door."

He caught hold of her hands as she reached for the cage. "Not without the gloves."

The heavy gauntlets had seen hard usage and were streaked with droppings. She took them from him and drew them on. Once in the stableyard, she lifted the bird onto her forearm. He was not full grown and she was no fragile blossom of civilized leisure, but I did not see how she could manage the muscular effort necessary for what she contemplated doing. I thought for a moment that Ramses was going to offer to do it for her, or perhaps suggest a more practical, if less theatrical, method; but she turned her head to look at him and his parted lips closed.

She stood motionless for a moment, her free hand hovering over the feathered head, and I could have sworn she whispered to the creature. When she moved, the bird moved, at the same instant and with the same splendid strength. Its wings spread as she flung it up; it rose under its own power and soared, circling and climbing. She stood watching it, her head thrown back, until a great scream of triumph and release floated down from the morning sky. Then she turned and went back into the shed.

Geoffrey was standing next to me. "Magnificent," he whispered, his eyes shining. "She is like a goddess! What have I done to deserve a woman like that?"

"I am sure I have no idea," I replied, and then smiled as he bent a reproachful look on me. "Just one of my little jokes, Geoffrey. You will become accustomed to them in time. No, don't follow her yet. It always hurts her to let them go."

We left shortly thereafter, and since everyone was keen on trying the horses anyhow, I could see no objection to visiting the site. The fine animals made nothing of the short distance.

The men were not at work that day. Daoud and Selim were preparing for the fantasia, which they had assured us would be the most magnificent ever held in Egypt, and the site lay barren and deserted under the rays of the midday sun. A dry little wind blew mists of sand across the plateau. Nefret had drawn a thin scarf across her face, like the veil of a Moslem lady.

After we had walked round the perimeter and inspected the steeply sloping entrance stairs, we retired to my little shelter and sipped the cold tea I had brought along. David did his best to express enthusiasm over our battered pyramid and rows of wretched graves, but I could tell he was not excited about it, and so could Emerson.

"We are spoiled, that is our trouble," he announced gloomily. "Never forget, David, that this is what Egyptology is all about. Painstaking, dull research, not gold and treasure."

"I don't wonder you are spoiled, after finding the tomb of Tetisheri," Geoffrey remarked. "How I envy you the experience! We have come across some interesting things at Giza, but nothing to compare with that."

Since there were not enough chairs and stools for all of us, he was stretched gracefully at Nefret's feet. His coloring was even fairer than Lia's, his hair bleached almost to silver by the sun; the regularity of his features gave his face a look of remoteness unless it was warmed by animation, as it was now.

"I've been thinking," he went on, with a charming air of diffidence. "I hope you won't think me presumptuous for suggesting this, Professor—it is only a suggestion ..."

"Well?" Emerson demanded.