The Last Camel Died at Noon (11 page)

'Bah,' said Emerson, as I had expected he would.

Pleased to have had my stratagem of keeping Emerson and Mr Budge apart succeed, I was extremely annoyed to find that I had overlooked one fact. Mr Budge's workmen, too, were enjoying their day of rest, and Mr Budge had decided to pay a visit to his friends at the camp.

Fortunately Emerson was not with me when I made this discovery. He and Ramses had gone off to the village, ostensibly for the purpose of trying to hire more men, though, knowing their habits, I had the direst suspicions of what they would actually do. It had been left to me to strengthen our ties with the military establishment. I therefore rode directly to the camel hospital (my humorous term for it), since the beast I bestrode had an eye infection concerning which I was anxious to consult Captain Griffith. After a delightful and useful conversation, he informed me that General Rundle, having heard of my arrival, had invited me to join him and some of the other officers at luncheon. 'And the professor too, of course,' he added.

'Oh, I have not the slightest idea where Emerson may be at this time,' I replied. 'No doubt he is lunching with a Dervish or a Greek shopkeeper or a Beduin sheikh. So I will be happy to accept the general's invitation.'

I tucked the tube of ointment he had given me into one of the pouches at my belt. Captain Griffith studied this accessory curiously. 'Pardon me, Mrs Emerson, but you seem to be somewhat - er - encumbered. Would you care to leave your -er - accoutrements here? They will be quite safe, I assure you.'

'My dear Captain, I would as soon think of going about without my - er - my hat as without my belt,' I replied, taking the arm he offered. 'It is a trifle noisy, I confess; Emerson is always complaining about how I jangle and clank when I walk; but every object has proved not only useful but, upon occasion, essential to survival. A compass, a small canteen, a notebook and pencil, a knife, a waterproof box containing matches and candles -'

'Yes, I see,' the young man said, his eyes shining with interest. 'Why waterproof, may I ask?'

I proceeded to tell him about the time Emerson and I had been flung into the flooded burial chamber of a pyramid, and then, as he seemed to be genuinely fascinated, went on to explain my theories of appropriate attire for excavation. 'One of these days,' I declared, 'women will boldly usurp your trousers, Captain. That is to say - not yours in particular - '

We enjoyed a hearty laugh over this, and the captain assured me that my meaning had been quite clear. 'I have no designs on them myself,' I went on. 'These full, divided skirts are more flattering to a female figure, and yet they allow perfect freedom of movement. Furthermore, I suspect that the flow of air through their folds renders them more comfortable in a hot climate than those close-fitting nether garments of yours.'

He quite agreed with me; and in such interesting conversation the brief walk seemed even briefer. The general occupied a 'mansion' - two rooms and a walled courtyard, plus a separate shed which served as a kitchen - built of mud brick instead of the usual interwoven branches. Emerson is always going on about the decadence of military officers, who have to have their personal servants wherever they go, but after the random efforts of our camp cook whose regular occupation was that of camel driver, I was looking forward to a decent meal prepared by a trained servant. My pleasure received only a slight check when I saw Mr Budge among the men who rose to greet me.

'I believe you know Mr Budge,' General Rundle said, after he had introduced the others.

'Yes, yes, we are old friends,' said Mr Budge, beaming all over his round, red face and transferring his glass to his left hand in order to give me a damp handshake. 'And where have you left the professor, Mrs Emerson? You are making great discoveries at Nuri, I understand.'

The grin that accompanied the last sentence explained his good humour; having appropriated the best site for himself and having made certain that there was nothing of obvious value at ours, he could afford to gloat. I replied with perfect courtesy, of course.

We took our places at the table. I was, naturally, seated next to General Rundle. He was an amiable man but his conversational efforts did not tax me unduly; I was able to observe that Budge kept shooting glances at me, and something in his look aroused the direst of suspicions. It was as if he knew something I did not know - and if it amused Budge, it was certain not to amuse me. Sure enough as the last course was being cleared away and a lull fell upon the conversation, Budge addressed me directly.

'I do hope, Mrs Emerson, that you and young Ramses aren't planning to go with the professor when he sets off in search of the Lost Oasis.'

'I beg your pardon?' I gasped.

'Do try to dissuade him from such a fruitless and dangerous , quest,' Budge said, pursing his lips in the most hypocritical look of| concern I have ever seen on a human countenance. 'A fine fellow, the professor - in his way - but given to these little fancies - eh?

'Quite right, ma'am,' the general rumbled. 'No such place, you know. Native tales and idle rumours - never thought the professor would be so gullible.'

'I assure you, General,' I assured him, 'that "gullible" is not the word for Professor Emerson. May I ask, Mr Budge, where you heard this piece of idle and inaccurate gossip?'

'I assure you, ma'am, it is not idle gossip. My informant was a certain Major Sir Richard Bassington, who arrived yesterday on the paddle wheeler from Kerma, and he got it direct from the source - Mr Reginald Forthright, grandson of Lord Blacktower. Major Bassington met him at Wadi Haifa, some days ago. He was looking for transport south - without success - '

'I should hope not,' General Rundle exclaimed. 'Don't want a lot of civilians hanging about. Er - present company excepted, of course. Who is this fellow and what put this particular bee in his bonnet?'

Budge proceeded to explain, at quite unnecessary length. The name of Willoughby Forth made an impression; several of the older officers had heard of him, and General Rundle appeared to know something of his history. 'Sad case, very,' he mumbled, shaking his head. 'Hopeless, though. Quite hopeless. The damned - excuse me, ma'am - the confounded Dervishes must have got him. Can't imagine why that old reprobate Blacktower would allow his grandson to go baring off on such a ridiculous jaunt.'

'Forthright seemed very determined,' Budge said smoothly. 'He had a message from Professor Emerson, inviting him to join in the expedition. Dear me, Mrs Emerson, you look quite thunderstruck. I hope I have not been indiscreet.'

Rallying, I said firmly, 'I am only surprised at the folly of people who invent such stories, and the greater folly of those who credit them. General, I have greatly enjoyed your hospitality; I won't detain you and your officers any longer from the labours that await you.'

With a last mocking salutation, Budge strutted off in the company of some of the younger officers, and I took my leave.

The Reader can well imagine the bitterness of spirit that filled me as I hastened on towards the suk, where Emerson and I had agreed to meet. My husband - my other half - the man who had sworn his eternal devotion, and to whom I had given mine - Emerson had deceived me! If he had really asked young Mr Forthright to join him, he must be planning to pursue the quest he had so often derided as folly. And if he had not consulted me, he must be planning to go without me. It was treachery of the vilest and most contemptible kind; never would I have believed Emerson could be capable of such betrayal.

The rich, malodorously mingled scents of the market assaulted my nostrils. It is said that the olfactory sense is the quickest to adapt; certainly I had found that within a day or so after arriving in Egypt, I no longer noticed the distinctive odours of the country, which many Europeans find distasteful. I cannot claim that I breathed them in with the same pleasure I would have found in the aroma of a rose or a lilac, but they brought back delightful memories and were thereby rendered tolerable. Today, however, the stench made me feel a trifle ill, compounded as it was of rotting vegetation, dried camel dung, and sweating unwashed human bodies. I rather regretted having eaten quite so much.

I traversed the suk from end to end without seeing any sign of my husband and son. Retracing my steps, I settled myself on a bench in front of one of the more prosperous establishments and prepared to purchase foodstuffs. The Greek shopkeepers do not engage in the long exchange of courtesies that precedes any purchase in the suks of Cairo, but I expected I would have to do some bargaining, and so it proved. Rice, dates, tinned vegetables, and some water jars - of the coarse, porous type that permits cooling by evaporation - had been acquired when the shopkeeper broke off his discussion and began a series of extravagant bows. Turning, I saw the familiar form of my husband approaching.

He was bareheaded, as usual, and his waving dark locks shone with bronze highlights. His smiling face, the strong brown throat bared by the open collar of his shirt, the muscular forearms, also bared, had their usual softening effect; after all, I thought, perhaps he had not deceived me. The story I had heard had been third-hand; it might have been distorted, especially by Budge, who was always eager to think the worst of Emerson.

I did not see Ramses, but I assumed he was there, his slighter form hidden by the crowd, for Emerson would not have looked so pleased if he had managed to lose the boy. However, it would have been hard to overlook the individual who followed my husband at a respectful distance. The folds of his mantle shadowed his features, but his height and lithe movements made his identity unmistakable.

'My dear Peabody!' said Emerson.

'Good afternoon, Emerson,' I replied. 'And where is... Oh, there you are, Ramses. Don't try to hide behind your father; you are even dirtier than I expected you would be, but I can't do anything about that now. What is that brown stain all down your shirtfront?'

Ramses chose to ignore the direct question in favour of the accusation. 'I was not hiding, Mama. I was talking with Mr Kemit here. He has taught me a number of useful phrases in his language, including -'

'You may tell me later, Ramses.' The brown stain appeared to be the residue of some kind of food or drink - something sticky, to judge by the number of flies that clung to it. I transferred my attention to Ramses's tutor, who replied with one of his curious gestures of greeting. 'So your name is Kemit, is it?'

'He has agreed to work for us,' Emerson said happily. 'And bring two others of his tribe. Isn't that splendid?'

'Very. And where do your people live, Mr - er, Kemit?'

'It is a tragic story," said Ramses, squatting with a supple ease no English lad should have demonstrated. 'His village was one of many destroyed by the Dervishes. They cut down the date palms, killed the men and boys and dishonoured - '

'Ramses!'

'I see that as always you have made good use of your time, Peabody,' Emerson said quickly. 'Are we ready to go back to Nuri?'

'No. I want to buy some trinkets - beads, mirrors, and the like - as gifts for the men to take their wives. You know I always try to become friendly with the women, in the hope of instructing them in the rights and privileges to which their sex is morally entitled.'

'Yes, Peabody, I do know,' Emerson said. 'And while I am in full sympathy with the justice of that cause, I do feel - as I have had occasion to mention before, my dear - that your chances of bringing about any lasting change... Well, but that is by the by; shall we finish making our purchases and be on our way?'

Followed by porters carrying our goods, we made our way to another booth. Ramses chose to honour me with his company. 'You would like Kemit's people, Mama,' he remarked. 'Their women are highly respected - except by the Dervishes, who, as I told you, dishonoured - '

'Kindly refrain from referring to the subject again, Ramses. You don't know what you are talking about.'

However, I had an uneasy feeling that he did know.

Like all men, Emerson grows very impatient over the necessary deliberations of shopping. If it were left to him, he would simply point to the first object of its kind he saw and order a dozen. His grumbling and fidgeting were checked, however, when I had the pleasure of telling him that I had got the loan of five more camels from Captain Griffith.

'How the devil did you do that?' he asked admiringly. 'These cursed military men - '

'Are British officers and gentlemen, my dear. I persuaded them that since the animals in question are not yet fit for the arduous trips the Camel Corps makes, they can just as well recuperate at our camp as here. Captain Griffith was kind enough to express full confidence in my veterinary skills.'

'Hmph,' said Emerson. But he said it very softly.

We picked up the camels and a supply of medication for them, and loaded our purchases. The weight of them was negligible compared to the loads camels are accustomed to carry, and I was careful to see that it was done properly, placing pads over the healing sores on the beasts' backs and sides and adjusting the saddles to protect them. I was surprised to see how quick Kemit was to understand the reasoning behind these procedures, and how adept at carrying them out.

'He seems quite an intelligent individual,' I said to Emerson, as we rode side by side out of the village. 'Perhaps he can be taught some of the excavation techniques, as you did with the men of Aziyeh. How I miss our friends, dear old Abdullah and his son and grandsons and nephews!'

'I was thinking the same thing, Peabody. Kemit is clearly a mentally superior individual. If his fellow tribesmen are as capable... Ha! Speak of the devil!'

Two men had appeared from among the palm trees, so suddenly and silently that they might have materialised out of thin air. They were attired in the same short trousers and long mantles. Kemit advanced to meet them; after a brief conversation he came back to Emerson. 'They will come. They speak no English. But they will work. They are faithful.'

We mounted Kemit's friends on two of the camels - which they bestrode with a facility that indicated considerable familiarity with that means of transport - and resumed our journey. The gait of the camel does not permit comfortable conversation; I resolved to wait until Emerson and I were alone before raising the subject of Reginald Forthright and my husband's unacceptable behaviour.

However, when the desired condition of privacy was at last attained, other considerations soon intervened, and when they had been concluded (to the satisfaction of both parties), I am bound to confess that Reginald Forthright was the last subject on my mind.

Kemit and his two attendants proved to be all that he had claimed and more. They not only worked tirelessly and carefully at any task assigned them, following directions to the letter, but they all - Kemit especially - proved astonishingly quick at learning the methods of excavation we used. Naturally we rewarded them by giving them increased responsibility and respect (though I hope I need not tell the Reader that we treated all our men with the same courtesy we would have accorded English servants). They were not popular with the villagers, whose insular parochialism made them view even members of nearby tribes as strangers, but the trouble I half expected did not occur. Kemit's crew kept aloof from the others; they built themselves a little tukhul some distance away from the men's camp and retired there as soon as the working day was over.

We usually began work at an early hour, after only a cup of tea, and then paused for breakfast in mid-morning. It was while we were at this meal on the day after our return from the camp that I found an opportunity of speaking with Emerson about Mr Forthright. He had mentioned Mr Budge, remarking, in his bluff manner, 'I caught a glimpse of a familiar fat form strutting around camp yesterday, in the company of some of the officers. Did you happen to run into him, Peabody?'

'Indeed I did,' said I. 'He and I had the honour of lunching with General Rundle. You were invited, Emerson.'

'They couldn't invite me because they couldn't find me,' Emerson said smugly. 'I had a notion some such thing would happen; that is why I kept out of the way. And you see, Peabody, how well it turned out. It's difficult enough to be civil to a group of military blockheads; Budge would have been too much for me. Bragging and boasting as usual, I suppose?"

'To some extent. But it was not his bragging that would have been too much for you.'

'What, then?' Emerson's countenance darkened. 'Did he have the effrontery to admire you, Peabody? By heaven, if he so much as touched your sleeve - '

'Oh, come, Emerson. You must get over this notion (flattering though it may be) that every man I meet falls madly in love with me. Mr Budge has never shown the slightest indication of doing so.'

'He has not the delicacy of taste to appreciate you,' Emerson agreed. 'So what did he do, Peabody?'

'He was kind enough to inform me - and the officers - that Mr Reginald Forthright is on his way here, having been invited by you to join an expedition in search of the Lost Oasis.'

Fortunately Emerson had finished his tea. Otherwise I am convinced he would have choked. I will spare the Reader a description of the broken, incoherent outcries that escaped his lips. With his accustomed quickness he had immediately grasped that the result of Budge's statement must be to make him an object of ridicule, and this seemed to be the major theme of his complaints. Interspersed with the curses which have made Emerson famous along the length of the Nile Valley, his comments rose to a pitch that was audible at some distance. The men turned to stare, and Kemit, who was waiting for instructions, opened his eyes very wide - the first sign of emotion I had seen on his composed countenance.

I suggested that Emerson moderate his voice. He fell silent, and I went on, 'When last heard of, Mr Forthright had got as far as Wadi Haifa. I had not expected the young man would have such determination. He must have had strong encouragement to proceed, don't you think?'

'I do not engage in idle speculation concerning the motives of individuals with whom I am barely acquainted,' Emerson replied.

'Then you did not invite - '

'Curse it, Amelia...' Emerson caught himself. It creates a bad impression for leaders of an expedition to quarrel openly before the men - or for the parents of a child like Ramses to disagree. He went on in a more moderate voice. 'I certainly did not encourage Mr Forthright to come to Nubia. Quite the reverse.'

'Ah. So you did communicate with him before we left England.'

Emerson's cheeks turned a handsome mahogany shade and the dimple in his chin quivered ominously. 'And you, Peabody - weren't you moved to send a sympathetic message to the bereaved old father?'

It was a shrewd hit. I believe my countenance remained relatively unmoved, but Emerson knows me too well to be deceived. His tight lips relaxed and a humorous gleam brightened the brilliant blue of his eyes. 'Cards on the table, Peabody. If this young idiot is about to descend upon us, we must know precisely where we stand. I did write to Forthright. I assured him that we would make inquiries, and that if - I underlined the word twice, Peabody - if we discovered anything that substantiated the possibility of Forth's survival, we would communicate with him and his grandfather at once. I fail to see what was wrong with that, or how he could possibly have construed it as a promise or an invitation.'

'I said essentially the same thing,' I admitted. 'To Lord Blacktower.'

Ramses had been uncharacteristically silent up to this point, his wide dark eyes moving from my face to that of his father as we spoke. Now he cleared his throat. 'Perhaps Mr Forthright has received additional information. It would be difficult for him to pass it on to us through the usual channels; the telegraph is reserved for the military, and our whereabouts have been uncertain.'

'Hmph,' said Emerson thoughtfully.

'Well, we can only wait and see,' I remarked. 'There is no way of heading Mr Forthright off, so we had better get as much work as possible accomplished before he arrives.'

Emerson scowled at me. 'His arrival will not affect my activities in the slightest, Peabody. How many times must I repeat that I have no intention of going off on a wild-goose chase?'

'But if it were not a wild-goose chase, Papa?' Ramses asked. 'One could not abandon a friend if there was any hope of rescue.'

Emerson had risen. Fingering the cleft in his chin, he looked down at his son. 'I am glad to find, Ramses, that your principles are those of an English... that is, of a gentleman. I would move heaven and earth to save Forth, or his wife, if I truly believed either of them still lived. I don't believe it, and it would take overpowering evidence to convince me I am wrong. So much for that. Now, Kemit. I want to do some digging around the second of the pyramids in line - this one.' Unrolling his plan, he indicated the structure in question. 'Lepsius shows a chapel on the southeast side. There are no signs of it now, but the cursed scavengers can't have carried away every cursed stone; there must be some traces left. Confound it, we need to find some inscriptional material, if only to identify the builders of these structures.'

'Why do you lecture the poor fellow, Emerson?' I inquired softly. 'He doesn't understand a word you are saying.'

Emerson's lips curved in an enigmatic smile. 'No? Did you understand, Kemit?

'You want to know who made the stone houses. They were the great kings and queens. But they are gone. They are not here.'

Arms folded across his broad breast, he intoned the words like a priest reciting a mortuary formula.

'Where have they gone, Kemit?' Emerson asked.

'They are with the god.' Kemit's hand moved in a curiously fluid gesture from the horizon to the vault of the sky, now pale with heat.

'I pray that is so,' said Emerson courteously. 'Well, my friend, let us get on with it; our work will make their names live again, and in that, as you know, was their hope of immortality.'

They went off together, and I thought, not for the first time, what an impressive pair they made - and Emerson not the lesser of the two.

'Ramses,' I said absently - for part of my attention was concentrated on the graceful and athletic movements of my spouse's admirable form - 'as soon as you have finished at number six, I want you to move your crew to the largest Pyramid, and join me.'

'But Papa said - '

'Never mind what Papa said. He has succumbed to his lust -er - he has postponed his surveying in favour of excavation; he cannot complain if I do the same. The largest pyramid surely belongs to one of the great kings, Piankhi or Taharka or Shabaka. The superstructure has completely collapsed, but there must be a burial chamber underneath.'

Ramses stroked his chin. For a moment he looked uncannily like his father, though the resemblance was one of gesture and expression rather than physical likeness. 'Yes, Mama.'

A few days later my crew had moved several tons of stone without finding any trace of the entrance to the burial chamber, and Emerson had shifted his crew from the pyramids of the southeast row to a smaller, half-fallen structure behind them. Shortly after sunrise on the Wednesday I was electrified by a cry that echoed weirdly across the sandy waste. I at once hastened to the scene, and found Emerson hip-deep in his excavation trench. 'Eureka!' he cried in greeting. 'At last! I think we've hit on the chapel, Peabody!'

'Congratulations, my dear,' I replied.

'Get the rest of the men over here at once, Peabody. I want to deepen and widen the trench.'

'But, Emerson, I have not yet - '

Emerson wiped the sand from his perspiring face with his sleeve and gave me a comradely grin. 'My dear, I know you are aching to find some beastly collapsing tunnel into which you can crawl, at the risk of life and limb; but it is imperative that we clear this area as soon as possible. As soon as the locals get wind of our discovery, gossip and exaggeration will transform the find into a treasure of gold and gems, and every human rodent in the neighbourhood will start burrowing.'

'You are right, Emerson,' I said, sighing. 'I will of course do as you ask.'

It took several hours to enlarge the trench so as to expose fully the stones he had found, and to take careful notes of their precise location. As we measured and sketched, while the sun beat down and the sand filled our mouths and nostrils, I would have given a good deal to have a camera. I had proposed bringing one, but Emerson had vetoed the idea, pointing out that the cursed things were cumbersome and unreliable -except in the hands of a trained photographer, which we did not have - and that the efficient use of them required other equipment which was not easy to procure - clean water, chemicals, and the like.

Unfortunately one of the men turned up a few scraps of gold foil. I say unfortunately, for there is nothing that arouses the treasure-hunting instincts and the (alas!) concomitant willingness to commit violence for its possession more quickly than the aureus metal. Shining like the sun, soft enough to be easily worked, incorruptible, since time immemorial it has aroused in men a lust passing the love of women, not to mention their fellow men. The very name of Nubia is derived from the ancient Egyptian word for gold. It was for gold beyond all other treasures, that the pharaohs sent traders and armies into the land of Gush. I would not be at all surprised to find that it was for gold that Cain committed the first murder. (It happened a very long time ago, and Holy Writ, though no doubt divinely inspired, is a trifle careless about details. God is not a historian.)

There was undoubtedly a great deal of gold in Nubia at one time, but as Emerson remarked, studying the pitiful scrap in his big brown hand, there didn't seem to be a lot left. However, I felt it incumbent upon me to take over the task of sifting the soil removed from the trench - and a tedious, hot task it was.

The sun was far down the west and the shadows were lengthening, and I was looking forward to a sponge bath and a change of clothing (and perhaps a small whiskey and soda) when one of our less industrious workers, who spent more time leaning on his shovel than he did using it, cried out in surprise.