A River in the Sky (17 page)

“So we are being watched,” Ramses said.

“There are spy holes in every room of this place. An old Turkish custom.”

“Are there guards at the door?” Ramses asked.

“They are mine.”

“So it’s yours and his, is it?”

“It has come to that. Listen now, you and your friend. He is trustworthy?”

David had settled onto the floor, legs crossed, next to the box that held their only weapons. “We are brothers,” he said briefly.

“If you expect us to help you carry out your mission,” Ramses began.

“And you believe you know what that mission is?”

“Why don’t you tell us?” Ramses said.

Her eyes reflected the dim light with a pale glow. “I did not set out on this journey to foment rebellion and violence. My wish was simply to visit the archaeological sites where I have worked in the
past and others where I would like to work in the future. I am looking for relics, if you like; I would call them artifacts, objects that will tell us more about the history of this region. I visited Samaria because the site has many possibilities; if Mr. Reisner gives up his concession, I may ask for the firman.”

She paused, reaching for the water jug. David jumped to his feet and poured a cup for her. He pointedly avoided looking at Ramses.

He hasn’t fallen for it either, Ramses thought. But, by God, she was doing a beautiful job of covering the suspicious points. He didn’t doubt she had spoken the truth when she said she was not trying to stir up a rebellion. Not now. It was too soon, Germany wasn’t ready. And her claim to be investigating future sites for excavation couldn’t be disproved.

“So where does Mansur enter into this?” he asked.

“He came to me before I left Istanbul and offered his services. It was clear to me that he was in the pay of the Sublime Porte and that I had no choice but to accept his offer or be refused permission to travel. The soldiers who accompanied us were under his command. As I learned to know him, I came to admire his intelligence and knowledge of Islam. I found myself increasingly in sympathy with his aspirations, his detestation of Ottoman rule, his hopes of freedom and prosperity for his people.”

A rattle of the screens made her start. She spoke more hurriedly. “It took me some time to realize that he was not willing to wait for that freedom, that he was spreading messages of hatred and violence. When I charged him with it tonight, he denied it, but now he knows I am no longer in sympathy with his schemes. He will make me stay with him. I am afraid of him.”

“What can we do?” David asked. “We are prisoners.”

“He hasn’t made up his mind what to do with you. He would
like to kill you both, but he is familiar, as am I, with Professor Emerson’s reputation. If you disappeared, he would move heaven and earth to learn what had befallen you. For the time being you are safe with Mansur—and I will be safe if you are with him. Perhaps together we can come up with a plan. Will you give me your word you will not try to escape without me?”

“Word of an Englishman,” Ramses said solemnly.

“Thank you. I must go now. We will speak again soon.”

She held out her hand. Instead of kissing it, Ramses gave it a firm British shake.

She left them in darkness, and a lingering fragrance of lily.

David let out his breath. “How does she do it? She’s a small woman, with a soft voice—”

“‘An excellent thing in woman,’” Ramses quoted.

“—but I feel as if I’ve been leaning into a gale for the past five minutes.”

“I know what you mean. It’s called force of personality.” Ramses slid off the divan and felt his way toward David. The room wasn’t totally dark; irregular spots of light danced on the floor under the wind-shaken mashrabiya screens.

“The screens are loose,” he said. “And cracked. Empty your bag and start packing the things we’ll need. We’re getting out of here tonight.”

“What about word of an Englishman?”

“It has about the same value as word of a German lady. That was just another gambit, to convince us to submit quietly to captivity. Which leads me to believe we’d better get out of here as soon as we can.”

David’s bag was surprisingly and encouragingly full when they finished. The box of medical supplies, the rolls and sacks of cash, a pair of rather gaudy blue-and-white-striped pajamas and two of the galabeeyahs Ramses preferred for sleeping attire. A small adjoining
bath chamber contributed several linen towels and a bar of soap. Some of the money went into their pockets, along with a roll of twine, a box of matches, and the scalpels from the surgical kit.

“What if we can’t break through the screens?” David asked.

“We’ll set fire to them. There’s some oil left in the lamp.”

“Are you serious?”

“I want out of here tonight. When Frau von Eine turns soft and timid she’s up to no good.”

The only object that might conceivably serve as a lever was the fluted rim of the lamp. While David pried away at one of the sides, Ramses inserted his fingers into several of the holes and pulled. A small segment broke off, then another. The wood was old and in some places rotten enough to yield to pressure, but progress was slow—too slow for his taste. The small frustrations and torments of the past few days had suddenly become unendurable.

“How’s it coming?” he asked.

“Not so good. If I had a proper lever—”

“Why not wish for an ax while you’re at it? At the rate I’m going it will take all night to open a large-enough hole. I think the whole damned thing would give way if I hit it hard enough.” He picked a few splinters out of his fingers.

“The fellow at the listening post might take notice of that,” David said drily. “We haven’t made a lot of noise or struck a light, but crashing through the screen would certainly get his attention.”

“I have my doubts about the spy hole. She didn’t seem worried about being seen or heard with us, did she? It doesn’t matter. I’m willing to take the chance.”

He didn’t have to ask David if he was willing. David would go along with any plan he suggested. It was a foolhardy plan, but the alternative might be worse, especially for David. He himself was his father’s son and a valuable hostage. If David became a nuisance they might decide he was expendable. They couldn’t know that the entire
Emerson family would track his killers down with the same ferocity they would have demonstrated for Ramses himself.

“Maybe we had better have a look before we leap,” David said. “How high up are we?”

It was, like all David’s suggestions, eminently sensible. Ramses tried to remember the route they had followed when they brought him into the haremlik. An open stone-paved courtyard, then a long corridor, a flight of stairs, a turn to the right, another corridor. They were on the first floor of the building and toward the back. The main reception rooms were below and at the front. They probably faced, as was customary, onto an enclosed court. The harem quarters might face another court or even a street. The heavy screens were designed to keep lascivious eyes from ogling the beauties within. The beauties couldn’t see out, either, but at least the poor creatures got a bit of air. He applied an eye to the opening, which was roughly eight inches in diameter.

The light came from a glorious full moon. Its rays illumined a narrow street lined with dwellings and shops. The shops were shuttered; there were no lights in any of the houses. The cobblestones of the street were a good twenty feet below. They looked extremely hard.

A
T THE LAST MOMENT
the bandit, for such he appeared to be, veered away from me, toward the spot where Selim and Emerson stood. I cried out a warning. Emerson spun round and assumed a posture of defense as the apparition rushed toward him. Avoiding the blow directed at him, the fellow threw both arms round Emerson, pulled his head down, and planted whiskery kisses on both cheeks.

“It is you!” he cried. “It is indeed you. We heard you were come to the Holy City but I did not allow myself to believe I would see you
so soon. You will come to my house, you will stay with me and make my heart rejoice.”

“Well, well,” said Emerson, freeing his head in time to avoid a second round of kisses. “If it isn’t Abdul Kamir. What are you doing here, you old villain?”

I had of course risen to my feet, parasol at the ready, when it appeared my husband might be in danger of attack. Now I sank back onto the stony seat. Another of Emerson’s dear old, disreputable old, friends. Was there no spot on earth free of them?

Upon closer examination Kamir did not look so menacing or so disreputable. His gray beard was neatly trimmed, the robes he had tucked up under his belt in order to run were clean and without holes. A pair of cracked spectacles perched on the end of his nose gave him a whimsical appearance, reinforced by his rotund frame and broad smile.

“An Arabic Father Christmas,” said Nefret, chuckling. “He looks much jollier than the Professor’s old friends usually do. Perhaps he can solve our housing problem.”

“We are certainly not staying with him,” I remarked—but softly, since Emerson was leading Kamir toward us. He presented all of us in turn. It took a while, since Kamir kept interrupting with effusive words of praise and plea sure at having the honor of meeting us.

“Are you then the sheikh of this village?” I asked, when Kamir had run out of compliments. I knew the word could mean any number of things, from an actual position to a generalized title of respect.

“No, no. But I am a man of importance here, with a fine house. You will stay with me, you will be my guests.”

“No, we won’t,” said Emerson, who considers courtesy a waste of valuable time. “We need a house of our own, Kamir. Can you find one for us?”

“Yes, yes. Come, I will show you now, you and your honored wife and your daughter. A light she is indeed, fair as the sun on the—”

“Mrs. Emerson will decide on the house,” Emerson said, shifting restlessly from one foot to the other. He had come upon something that intrigued him and could hardly wait to get back to it.

“But you will come and drink tea?”

As Emerson was well aware, it would have been a serious affront to refuse the invitation. “Er—yes,” he said resignedly. “As soon as I…er. Go on, go on, Selim and I will be there shortly.”

I asked Daoud to come with me, since I felt certain he would have come anyhow. He had not been favorably impressed by the locals he had met so far, and I had to admit that Kamir’s array of weaponry did not inspire confidence. “You, Daoud,” I went on, “and…Confound it! Where is Mr. Plato? Emerson, was he with you? Do you see him?”

Emerson did not pause or look back. “He was here a few minutes ago. The devil with him. Proceed, Peabody, proceed.”

“Really,” I said to Nefret, “the man is impossible. Emerson strictly forbade him to wander off.”

“He is probably close by, Aunt Amelia, examining the terrain as the Professor asked him to do. Shall I try to find him?”

“The devil with him,” I echoed. “Time is getting on and I want to find a house this morning.”

I had assumed the task of selecting a suitable abode would be mine. In fact I would have insisted upon it, since Emerson’s notion of suitable does not agree with mine. Followed by Daoud, Nefret and I made our way toward the village along a steep but manageable path.

“And where did you know the Father of Curses?” I inquired of Kamir, who was walking along next to me.

“In Babylon, Sitt,” said Kamir, referring not to the city of the famed Hanging Gardens but to an area of Cairo. “I came here to—uh—retire. Is that the word? Yes, retire from my labors. It was many years ago, but who could forget the Father of Curses?”

I did not inquire into the nature of Kamir’s “labors.” They had
probably been illegal, and his “retirement” a hasty departure to avoid arrest.

Our arrival had been heralded by some of the children, dashing ahead to announce the news. In such villages the arrival of strangers is always of consuming interest. Women came to their doorways to stare; some called out greetings and questions. When Nefret and I responded in their language, cries of admiration rewarded us. I noticed that there were no appeals for baksheesh from the children who tagged along at our heels, and that even the village dogs kept their opinions to themselves. Whoever the sheikh might be, he kept good order in his domain.

We inspected two houses. It did not take long. I had seen many such dwellings in Egypt: varying in size and state of repair, but similar in their basic plan. I selected the larger of the two, which had a spacious central room surrounded by bedchambers, one of which would serve as an office. The kitchen, such as it was, was located in a walled courtyard behind the house. It must have been vacant for some time, since there were birds’ nests in corners and the floors were littered with a variety of substances, from dust and dirt to petrified orange peels and bird droppings.

As I had surmised, the house belonged to Kamir. He explained disingenuously that he had not rented or sold it because no one had been able to meet the price he deemed proper for such a fine house. I told him it would have to do, since he had nothing better, and haggled over the price—he would have thought less of me if I had not.

We then proceeded to Kamir’s house, which was on a higher level. The village was a curious place, almost perpendicular, with houses perched on natural or buttressed ledges, but there was space for gardens and shade trees. Kamir’s house had both, surrounding an establishment of some size and, considering that he was one of Emerson’s old friends, remarkably clean and tidy.

We were seated in the main salon drinking tea when Emerson
finally joined us. After hurrying through the formal greetings—and trying, unsuccessfully, to avoid another affectionate embrace from Kamir—he inquired, “Everything settled, then?”

“The first step has been taken,” I replied. “As you ought to know, Emerson, a number of other arrangements must be made before we can move in. I may be able to purchase some furniture in the mercantile establishments in the city, but I would prefer to deal with local carpenters who can construct simple bed frames, tables, and the like. No doubt Kamir can suggest likely persons.”