The Last Camel Died at Noon (21 page)

A brief pause ensued; then all six of them - soldiers, nobles, and swaddled forms - bowed low as a single individual entered with stately stride.

It was Kemit - but how incredibly changed! His strong, keen features were the same, his frame as tall and well-formed. Indeed I had not realised how well-formed until then, for like the other men he wore only a short kilt. His was finely pleated, and the belt that confined his narrow waist was inlaid with gold and gleaming stones. A collar of the same precious substances lay across his broad shoulders, and a narrow band of gold shone against the black of his hair.

'Kemit!' I exclaimed, gaping at this apparition from the distant past - for I am sure the Reader, like myself, recognises the costume as that worn by nobles of imperial Egypt.

Still holding me, Emerson rose to his feet. 'That was his nom de guerre, Peabody. Permit me to present His Highness Prince Tarekenidal.'

The title seemed entirely appropriate. His bearing had always been royal, and I could only wonder why it had taken me so long to realise that he was no common tribesman. I was keenly aware of my own lack of dignity, cradled like an infant in Emerson's arms and clad informally. I did the best I could under the circumstances, inclining my head and repeating, 'Your Highness. I am deeply grateful to you for saving my life and those of my husband and child.'

Tarekenidal raised his hands in the gesture with which he had always greeted me and which I now recognised (how could I have failed to do so!) as one depicted in innumerable ancient reliefs. 'My heart is happy, Lady, to see you well again. Here is my brother the Count Amenislo, son of the Lady Bartare' - he indicated the younger man, a chubby-cheeked smiling chap wearing long golden earrings - 'and the Royal Councillor, High Priest of Isis, First Prophet of Osiris, Murtek.'

The elderly gentleman's mouth stretched in a broad smile that displayed gums almost entirely without teeth. Only two remained, and they were brown and worn. Despite the sinister appearance of his dental apparatus, there was no mistaking his goodwill, for he bowed repeatedly and kept raising and lowering his hands in salutation. Then he cleared his throat and said, 'Good morning, sir and madam.'

'Good gracious,' I exclaimed. 'Does everyone here speak English?'

The prince smiled. 'Some among us speak a little and understand a little. My uncle the high priest wished to see you and be sure your sickness was ended.'

His uncle was seeing more of me than I would have preferred, for my linen robe was sleeveless and sheer as the finest lawn. I have never been studied with such intense fascination (by another than my husband), and it was clear, to me at least, that the old gentleman had not lost all the interests and instincts of youth. Oddly enough, I did not find his survey of my person insulting. It approved without offending, if I may put it that way.

Emerson did not appreciate these subtle distinctions. He folded me up, knees to chest, in an attempt to conceal as much of me as possible. 'If you will permit me, Your Highness, I will return Mrs Emerson to her bed.'

He proceeded to do so, covering me to my chin with a linen sheet. Murtek gestured; one of the white-veiled figures glided fowards and approached the bed. Its feet must have been bare, for it made no sound whatever, and the effect was so uncanny I could not help shrinking back when it bent over me. The veils were thinner over the face; I saw a gleam of eyes regarding me.

'It is all right, Peabody,' said Emerson, ever-watchful. 'This is the medical person I mentioned.'

A hand appeared from amid the filmy draperies. With the brisk assurance of any Western physician, it drew the sheet aside, opened my robe, and pressed down upon my exposed bosom. It was not the professionalism of the gesture that surprised me - one of the ancient medical papyri had proved that the Egyptians knew of 'the voice of the heart' and where upon the body it could be 'heard' - but the fact that the hand was slim and small, with tapering nails.

'I forgot to mention,' Emerson went on, 'that the medical person was a woman.'

'How do you know it's the same one?' I demanded. 'I beg your pardon?' said Emerson.

The visitors had departed, except for the 'medical person,' whose duties appeared to include several a Western doctor would have considered beneath him. After performing those services only a woman can properly render to another female, she was now occupied in heating something over a brazier at the far side of the room. I deduced that it was soup of some kind; the smell was most appetising.

'I said, how do you know she is the same person who nursed me on the journey?' I said. 'Those veils render her effectively anonymous, and since I have seen two people so attired, I assume it is a kind of uniform or costume. Or do all the women here go veiled?'

'Your wits are as keen as ever, my dear,' said Emerson, who had pulled up a chair to the side of the bed. 'The costume appears to be peculiar to one group of women, who are known as the Handmaidens of the Goddess. The goddess in question is Isis, and it seems that here she has become the patroness of medicine, instead of Thoth, who held that role in Egypt. Isis makes better sense, when you come to think about it; she brought her husband Osiris back from the dead, and a physician can't do better than that. As for the Handmaidens, one of them has always been here with you, but to be truthful I can't tell one from the other and I have no idea how many of them there are.'

'Why are you whispering, Emerson? She can't understand what we are saying.'

It was Ramses who replied. At my invitation he had seated himself on the foot of the bed; he looked so like a lad of ancient Egypt that it was rather a shock to hear him speak English.

'As Tarek just told you, Mama, some of them do speak and understand our language.'

'How did they. Good heavens, of course!' I clapped my hand to my brow. 'Mr Forth. I am ashamed that I neglected to ask about him. Have you seen him? Is Mrs Forth here as well?'

'You did ask, Peabody, and the reason why you did not receive an answer is twofold,' said Emerson. 'Firstly, you asked too many questions without giving me an opportunity to reply. Secondly... well, er, to be frank - I don't know the answer.'

Tar be it from me to be critical, Emerson, but it seems to me you haven't made good use of your time. I would have insisted upon seeing and speaking with the Forths.'

Ramses said quietly, Tapa has sat by your side since we arrived here, Mama. He would not have left you even to sleep if I had not insisted.'

Tears filled my eyes. The truth is, I was weaker than I had thought, and that made me cross. 'My dear Emerson,' I said. 'Forgive me.'

'Certainly, my dear Peabody.' Emerson had to stop to clear his throat. He had taken the hand I had offered him; he held it like some fragile flower, as if the slightest pressure would bruise it.

Was I moved? Yes. Was I annoyed? Very. I was not accustomed to being handled like a delicate flower. I wanted Ramses to go away. I wanted the Handmaiden to go away. I wanted Emerson to seize me in his arms and squeeze the breath out of me, and... and tell me all the things I was dying to know.

Emerson read my mind. He can do that. The corners of his mouth twitched, and he said affectionately, 'I have the better of you just now, my dear, and I mean to take full advantage. You are not yet fit for prolonged activity, or even conversation. Apply yourself with your usual determination to recovering your strength, and then I will be delighted to supply - er - supply answers to all your questions.'

He was right, of course. Even the brief interlude with Tarek (for so we agreed to call him, his full name being something of a mouthful) had tired me. I forced myself to eat the bowl of soup the Handmaiden gave me; it was hearty and nourishing, thick with lentils and onions and bits of meat. 'Not chicken,' I said, after tasting it. 'Duck, perhaps?'

'Or goose. We have been served roast fowl on several occasions. They also raise cattle of some kind. The meat tastes strange; I have not been able to identify it.'

I forced myself to finish the soup to the last drop. Soon afterwards Ramses and Emerson took their leave.

'We sleep in the adjoining room,' Emerson explained, when I protested. 'I am, and have always been, within reach of your voice, Peabody.'

Blue-veiled twilight crept into the room. I watched drowsily as the ghostly form of the Handmaiden glided to and fro on her duties of mercy. As the darkness deepened, she lit the lamps -small earthenware vessels filled with oil and provided with wicks of twisted cloth. Such lamps are still used in Egypt and Nubia; they are of immemorial antiquity. They gave a soft, limited light, and the oil was scented with herbs.

I was almost asleep when the woman approached my couch and seated herself on a low stool. She raised her hands to her face. Was she about to unveil? I forced myself to breathe slowly and evenly, feigning slumber, but my heart pounded with anticipation. What would I see? A face as frighteningly lovely as that of Mr Haggard's immortal She? The withered countenance of an aged crone? Or even - for my imagination had fully recovered, if my body had not - a fair face crowned with silvery-golden hair, that of Mrs Willoughby Forth?

She did unveil, throwing the folds of linen back with a very human sigh of relief. The face thus disclosed was neither fair-skinned nor terrifyingly lovely, though it had a beauty of sorts. Like Prince Tarek's, her features were finely cut, with high cheekbones and a strong, chiselled nose. A net of gold mesh confined the masses of her dark hair. I enjoyed the display of girlish vanity in her use of cosmetics on a face that was not meant to be seen - kohl that emphasised her dark eyes and long lashes, some reddish substance on lips and cheeks. She seemed so gentle and ordinary, in contrast to the enigmatic figure she had presented while veiled, that I debated as to whether I should speak to her, but before I could make up my mind I fell asleep.

For the next few days I did little except sleep and eat. The rood was surprisingly well prepared - roasted goose and duck served with different sauces, mutton in a variety of forms, fresh vegetables such as beans, radishes, and onions, and several kinds of bread, some shaped into little cakes that were sticky-sweet with honey. The fruit was particularly tasty - grapes, figs, and dates as sweet as the incomparable fruits of Sukkot. To drink we were offered wine (rather thin and sour but refreshing), a thick, dark beer, and goat milk. Water was not offered and I did not ask for it, since I suspected it would not be safe to drink unless it was boiled, and I had abandoned my tea with the rest of our supplies.

At Emerson's suggestion we made use of our forced inactivity to study the local dialect. I had hoped our knowledge of Egyptian would assist us, but except for certain titles and proper names, and a few common words, the language of the Holy Mountain was a different tongue entirely. Nevertheless we made excellent progress, not only because of certain mental attributes modesty prevents me from naming, but because Ramses had already picked up a good deal from Tarek-alias-Kemit even before we arrived. Needless to say he took full advantage of his position of instructor to his elders, and on several occasions I was sorely tempted to send him to his room.

One night I decided to try my burgeoning linguistic skill on my attendant. I let her finish her tasks and relax with face unveiled before I spoke. 'Greetings, maiden. I thank you for your good heart.'

She almost fell off the stool. I could not help laughing; recovering herself, she glared at me like any young person whose dignity has been damaged. In stumbling Meroitic I attempted to apologise.

She let out a flood of speech which I could not follow; then, visibly pleased at my lack of comprehension, she said slowly, 'You speak our tongue poorly.'

'Let us speak English, then,' I said in that language - making mental note of the adverbial form, whose meaning was quite clear.

She hesitated, biting her lip, and then said in Meroitic, 'I do not understand.'

'I think you do, a little. Do not all the high-born people of your land learn English? I can see that you are of the high-born.'

The compliment lowered her guard. 'I speak... a small. Not many words.'

'Ah, I knew it. You speak very well. What is your name?'

Again she hesitated, looking at me askance from under her long lashes. Finally she said, 'I am Amenitere, First Handmaiden to the Goddess.'

'How did you learn English?' I asked. 'Was it from the white man who came here?'

Her face went blank and she shook her head. None of my attempts to rephrase the question or render it in my stumbling version of her language brought an answer.

I learned a few things from her, however. She had never unveiled or spoken while Ramses or Emerson was present, but this was not as I initially supposed, because of their sex. Only 'the goddess' and her fellow handmaidens were supposed to see her face. She was unable or unwilling to explain why she made an exception in my case; I came to the conclusion that she found me so very unusual that she was not quite certain how to treat me.

We got to the point where we could chat in a friendly fashion about cosmetics and food and particularly about that subject dear to feminine hearts, clothing. My travel-stained garments had been carefully laundered and returned to me; she never tired of fingering the fabric, exploring the pockets, and laughing at the cut and style. She would have laughed even louder, I daresay, if she had known about corsets.

Since I only had the one set of garments, I was forced to assume native attire. It was extremely comfortable but rather lacking in variety, for all the women's clothes were nothing more than variations on a simple unshaped robe of linen or cotton. The most elegant of them - to judge by the fineness of the weave - were pure white, but some were brightly embroidered or woven with coloured threads. Possessing neither buttons nor clasps, they were open all the way down the front, and were meant to be kept closed by means of girdles or belts. Having not much confidence in such doubtful expedients, I made a strategic use of pins and wore my combinations under the skimpier garments.