The Last Camel Died at Noon (12 page)

'Have you stabbed your foot again with your shovel, careless one?' I inquired sarcastically.

No, Sitt Hakim - no. There is a camel coming, and a man upon the camel, and the camel is running, and the man is about to fall off the camel, I believe; for look, Sitt Hakim, he sits the camel as no man who wishes to remain upright sits upon -'

But I heard no more, for I had seen what he had seen and had realised that for once his appraisal of the situation was fairly accurate. The rider was not sitting on the camel, he was listing dangerously from side to side. Hastening to meet him, I addressed the camel with an emphatic 'Adar ya-yan, confound you!'

The camel stopped. I whacked it with my parasol, but before it could kneel (supposing that it had intended to do so), the rider slid from the saddle and fell unconscious at my feet.

The rider was, of course, Mr Reginald Forthright. I had anticipated this, as I am sure the Reader must have done.

'He Is the Man!'

'Good Gad!' said Emerson. 'I wonder if the fellow makes a habit of introducing himself in this fashion, or if we have a particularly unfortunate effect on his nerves. Peabody, I absolutely forbid you to touch him. It may well be that your unnecessarily demonstrative attentions last time inspired this -'

'Don't be absurd, my dear.' With a strange sensation of deja vu I knelt beside the young man. He was lying on his back this time, in a particularly graceful attitude; but what a change from the well-dressed, neatly groomed individual who had fallen upon our hearth-rug a few weeks earlier! His suit had been cut by an excellent tailor, but it was crumpled and stained. Sunburn had scorched his cheeks and peeled the skin from his nose. His hat (a fashionable but inappropriate tweed cap) had fallen from his head; from under the sweat-darkened curls on his brow a thin trickle of blood traced a path across one cheek.

Emerson had been the first on the scene, but the others soon followed, and curious spectators ringed us round as I dampened my handkerchief from the canteen at my belt and wiped the young man's flushed face. The response was prompt. As soon as consciousness returned, a flush of embarrassment further reddened Mr Forthright's cheeks, and he began stammering apologies.

Emerson cut them short. 'If you are stupid enough to wear wool clothing in this climate and go racing around in the hot sun, you must expect to be overcome by the heat.'

'It was not the heat that caused my collapse/ Forthright exclaimed. 'I was struck on the head by a stone, or some other missile. Another struck my camel, which bolted, and... Good heavens!' He sat up, catching at my shoulder for support, and levered an accusing finger. 'There is my assailant - that man there!'

He was pointing at Kemit.

'Nonsense,' Emerson said. 'Kemit has been working at my side all afternoon. Do you often suffer from hallucinations, Mr Forthright?'

'Then it was a man very like him,' Forthright said stubbornly. 'Tall, dark-skinned -'

'As are most of the male inhabitants of this region.' Emerson leaned over him and with ruthless efficiency parted the curls on his brow. Forthright flinched and bit his lip. 'Hmph,' said Emerson. 'There is no swelling, only a small nick in the scalp. No stone caused this injury, Mr Forthright; it was a sharp-edged object like a knife.'

'What difference does that make, Emerson?' I demanded. 'Mr Forthright was obviously attacked - though not by Kemit, who, as you have said, was with us at the time. I suggest we retire to the shade and partake of some liquid refreshment while we discuss the situation. Mr Forthright has a good deal of explaining to do.'

'That is certainly true,' said Emerson, his brows lowering. 'But I have no intention of stopping work early on his account. Take him away, Peabody, and see if you can get any sense out of him.' Beckoning the men to follow, he stalked off, still complaining. 'What the devil are we going to do with him? He can't go back to the camp alone, he'd get himself lost and fall off the cursed camel again and knock himself unconscious and die of exposure or thirst or both and it would be on my

The words died into an unintelligible but still audible grumble. 'He is right, you know,' I remarked, assisting Forthright to rise. Tt was extremely foolish of you to start out in search of us alone.'

'I was not alone,' Forthright replied gently. 'My servants were with me. It is not their fault that I so far outstripped them. They were attempting to follow when I last saw them, and I expect they will be here before long.'

'That must be them now,' said Ramses.

'"They," not "them,"' I corrected. 'Ramses, what the dev -why are you still here? Papa told you to get back to work.'

'I beg your pardon, Mama, but I did not hear Papa address a direct order to me. Admittedly the general tenor of his comments suggested that he wished the work to resume, but in view of his failure to make a specific -'

'Never mind,' I said.

'Yes, Mama. I had thought I might start a fire to boil water for tea.'

'What a thoughtful lad,' said Forthright, smiling at the boy. 'It is easy to see that he is devoted to his dear mama.'

'Hmmm, yes,' I said, studying my son with mixed emotions. Like his father he seized every excuse to remove his clothing, and since by hook or crook (design or accident, rather) he managed to ruin his nice little Norfolk suits, no matter how many of them I brought along, I was forced to allow him to rely to some extent on locally available attire. At this time he was wearing the trousers of one of his suits and a pair of boots, but from the waist up he might have passed for an Egyptian youth. Upon his black curls he had clapped a cap woven in bright red, yellow, and green patterns, and his coarse cotton shirt was one I had fashioned from a native robe by cutting off several feet of the length.

'Well,' I said, 'so long as you are here, Ramses, you may as well make yourself useful. Go and meet Mr Forthright's servants and take them... somewhere. Anywhere that is suitable for a temporary camping site - er - so long as it is some distance from -' 'From the tent of Papa and yourself,' said Ramses. 'Quite. I am afraid you will have to rough it tonight, Mr Forthright. We have no extra tents or cots. We were not expecting guests.'

'But of course I brought my own equipment and supplies, Mrs Emerson,' said the young man, adding with a little laugh, 'You had no way of knowing when I might arrive, so I could hardly expect you to provide for me.'

His eyes were as candid as those of Ramses. (More so, in fact.) 'When you might arrive,' I repeated. 'Quite so. We have a good deal to talk about, Mr Forthright. Follow me, if you please.'

The shades of night had fallen before Emerson called a halt to the excavation and dismissed the men. The last half hour of work had been punctuated with curses and exclamations of pain as individuals fell into or over various obstacles, for it was really too dark by then to see what one was doing. Emerson had gone on beyond the usual time, in order to prove... Well, one wonders precisely what. But that is the way of the masculine sex, and a woman can only accept these minor aberrations in what is in many ways a thoroughly satisfactory part of the human race.

Mr Forthright and I were sitting in front of the tent, enjoying the crackle and colour of our little fire when Emerson brushed past us with a mumble of greeting and vanished into the tent. I had thoughtfully lit a lantern for his convenience; he promptly kicked it over and proceeded with whatever he was doing in utter darkness and relative silence. Only the splash of water and an occasional swear word betokened his presence. However, when he emerged at last, with his black hair curling on his brow and a clean shirt clinging to the muscular breadth of his shoulders, he was obviously in a better mood, for he gave me a surreptitious caress in passing and actually nodded at Mr Forthright. Our evening ablutions were a great deal of trouble because every drop of water had to be fetched from the Nile, over a mile away, and filtered before it could be used, but I felt they were a necessity rather than a luxury, raising the spirits even as they cleansed the body. I am sure I need not say that they were my idea. Left to himself, Emerson would not have changed his shirt from the beginning of the week to its end. If, that is, he wore a shirt at all.

'We have been waiting for you, my dear,' I said pleasantly. 'Late as it is, I believe there is time for a sip of our usual beverage. We should drink a toast to Mr Forthright, and the perils he has survived.'

Emerson filled the glasses and passed them around, ignoring the hand Ramses had extended. Ramses never gave up hope that Emerson would absent-mindedly include him in the evening ritual - not so much, I think, because he liked the taste of whiskey as because it represented maturity and equal status with his parents.

'And what perils has Mr Forthright survived?' Emerson asked sarcastically.

'Only the ordinary dangers of travel in this region,' the young man replied modestly. 'Mrs Emerson has convinced me that the attack this afternoon was one of them. A disaffected follower of the late and unlamented Mahdi, perhaps.'

'There are a good many disaffected persons in the area,' said Emerson. 'Myself among them. No doubt you have explained your presence to the satisfaction of Mrs Emerson; she is a kind-hearted individual with a peculiar weakness for romantic young idiots. You will find me harder to win over, Mr Forthright.'

'I don't blame you for being annoyed, Professor,' Forthright said. 'As soon as I arrived at Sanam Abu Dom, I found that Mr Budge's version of my mission had spread throughout the camp. It really is too bad! I had not imagined a man of his reputation would be so ill-natured. But perhaps he was only misinformed.'

'He was not misinformed,' Emerson growled.

'Well, you may be sure I immediately set the matter straight. On my honour, Professor, he or his informant completely misinterpreted my remarks and my motives. I have no intention of persuading you to risk your life for a hopeless cause. I simply wanted to be on the spot in case... You had said, you know, that if any further information came to light...' The explanation which had begun so glibly faltered into silence. Then Mr Forthright said simply, 'If there is a risk to be taken, I am the one to take it. You have heard nothing - learned nothing?' 'No,' said Emerson.

'I see.' The young man sighed. 'My grandfather has become very frail. It is hope alone that keeps him alive, I believe.' I began, 'Mr Forthright - '

'I beg, Mrs Emerson, that you will do me the honour to call me Reginald - or Reggie, if you prefer. That is what my friends call me, and I hope I may number you among them.'

'You may indeed,' I said warmly. 'Emerson, Reggie has undergone considerable discomfort, not to say peril, in order to pursue this quest, or convince himself that it is hopeless. And all for the sake of his poor old grandfather. Proof of his son's death would be exceedingly painful to Lord Blacktower, but it would be less painful than the agonising uncertainty that has tormented him. Hope deferred can fester and grow - '

'Yes, yes,' Emerson said. 'So how do you intend to pursue this quest, Mr Forthright?'

Darkness was complete. A shining net of stars spanned the deep vault of heaven, and in the west a silvery glow outlined the ragged crest of the hills. It flooded the landscape in pallid light as the half-grown moon lifted slowly into view. From the cookfire a voice rose in poignant melody.

'How beautiful this is,' Reggie said softly. 'To have experienced such a moment makes the journey worthwhile. Travel broadens the mind, it is said; it has certainly broadened mine. I understand now what drew my uncle to these wild, yet magical regions.'

'Hmph,' said Emerson. 'It is one thing to sit comfortably in the cool of the evening with a glass of whiskey in one's hand and a servant preparing dinner. You wouldn't find it quite so magical if you were lost in the desert with an empty canteen and the sun broiling you like a chicken on a spit and your tongue as dry as a scrap of leather. You haven't answered my question, Mr Forthright.'

'Oh.' The young man started. 'I beg your pardon, Professor. There are refugees arriving daily, I am told, from the areas which have been held by the Dervishes. The officers of the Intelligence Department who question them have promised me they will ask about captives held in remote places.'

'That seems harmless enough,' Emerson muttered.

'And while I wait for news, I will take up the study and practice of archaeology,' Reggie went on gaily. 'Can you use another pair of hands, Professor? I have some knowledge of surveying, but I will wield a spade like the humblest native if that is what you want.'

This handsome offer was welcomed by Emerson with less enthusiasm than it merited, but after voicing the expected (by me) reservations concerning lack of experience and absence of a long-term commitment, he unbent so far as to produce his plan of the site. The ensuing explanation soon took on the length of a lecture, which was interrupted only by the appearance of the cook summoning us to the evening meal. As soon as it was consumed, Reggie expressed his intention of retiring, pleading fatigue, and we soon followed suit; for our working day began at sunrise.

As we prepared for bed I awaited with considerable interest Emerson's comments. He said nothing, however; so after he had put out the light and reclined at my side, I ventured to introduce the subject myself.

'Reggie's assistance will be helpful, don't you think?'

'No,' said Emerson.

'We should have realised that Mr Budge would put the worst possible interpretation on his presence in Nubia. I thought his reasons for coming were both sensible and admirable.'

'Hmph,' said Emerson.

Who do you suppose it was who threw the rock at him?' It could not have been a rock that struck him.' I agree. You were quite right, my dear. A knife, a spear, an arrow -'

®Oh, an arrow, by all means,' said Emerson, goaded at last "ito sarcasm. 'The Bowmen of Gush formed one of the crack units of the Egyptian Army; no doubt the ghost of one of them mistook Forthright for an ancient Nubian. The bow has not been employed in this region for over a thousand years¯.

'A knife or a spear, then.'