The Last Camel Died at Noon (28 page)

I have described the ceremony that followed in a scholarly article (whose publication, I regret to say, must be delayed for reasons that will become apparent as I proceed), so I will not bore the lay reader with details. In some ways (unfortunately including the sacrifice of a pair of poor geese) it was reminiscent of what little we knew of similar ceremonies in the ancient world. Emerson gripped Ramses tightly when the geese were brought in, but I give the lad credit; he saw the futility of protesting. However, if he had stared at me as he stared at Pesaker, who wielded the sacrificial knife with obvious relish, I would have hired extra guards.

Following the sacrifice a group of priests trotted out with a huge linen sheet, elaborately embroidered, which they proceeded to drape over the stony shoulders of Amon. I did not see how they managed it, for they worked from behind the statue; one had to postulate scaffolding or ladders. When they came back into view they were leading a woman garbed more richly than any female I had yet seen, in a gown of sheer pleated linen, and crowned like a queen. Pesaker advanced to meet her and escorted her to the front of the statue, where she proceeded to embrace the feet and certain other parts of it, and to make a number of gestures whose import was only too plain but which it is not necessary to describe. Pesaker then took her hand and led her behind the statue, and she was seen no more.

Amon having received his due, it was the turn of Osiris and Isis. The veiled figure before the altar rose, lifting her hands. I had not recognised the implements they held; hearing the sounds that came forth as they were gently shaken, I knew they were sistra, the curious rattle-like instruments sacred to the goddess Hathor. Beads of crystal and bronze strung on wires produced a soft, musical murmur, like water flowing over stone. She shook them at Osiris, singing as she did so, then did the same before the statue of Isis; flowers were heaped at the feet of both statues by the handmaidens, and then she returned to her chair.

How, you may ask, do I know that the veiled form was female? Despite the muffling veils I could see that she was slight and graceful, and when she spoke, as she eventually did, her voice left no doubt as to her sex.

In fact, we first heard her voice when she addressed the god in song. It was a high, clear voice, and would have been quite pretty, I thought, if it were properly trained. The quavering ululations that passed for song here did not do it justice, but Ramses appeared quite struck by it; I saw him lean forwards, his face intent.

The priests scampered up the ladder again and removed Amon's robe; they folded it carefully, like housemaids folding a sheet. Pesaker made a final, almost perfunctory gesture of respect towards the statue... and then, with a suddenness that made me start, he whirled around and pointed at us.

I could not make out what he said, but from his impassioned tones and the expression on his face I got the distinct impression that he was not suggesting that we be raised to the rank of royal councillors. My hand stole to the breast of my robe.

'Calm yourself, Peabody,' hissed Emerson out of the corner of his mouth. 'There is no danger. Trust me."

If I had trusted the Nubian Robin Hood, I could hardly do less for my husband. My hand dropped to my side.

When Pesaker had finished, Nastasen rose, as if to comment further; but before he could speak, the high, sweet, and now fairly shrill voice of the mysterious veiled lady was heard. She spoke for some time, waving her arms like graceful white wings. When she finished, there was no rebuttal. Biting his lip in obvious vexation Pesaker bowed, and the whole group began to file out.

'Well!' I exclaimed, turning to Emerson. 'We are still honoured guests, it seems. I really expected Pesaker to demand we be put to death.'

'Quite the contrary. He invited us to come and stay here in the sacred temple area.'

'Yes,' said Ramses eagerly. 'And she - Mama, did you hear

'Certainly, Ramses, my hearing is perfectly good. But I confess I did not understand all she said.'

Our attendants, chattering among themselves, began leading us to the exit. Scuffling carefully along in the detested sandals, Emerson replied, 'The language of religious ritual often preserves archaic forms. The survival of Coptic, which has not been spoken for hundreds of years, in the Egyptian Christian Church - curse it!'

He was not referring to the Church (at least not on that occasion) but to his sandal, which had come off. 'But Mama,' said Ramses, fairly prancing with excitement. 'She - '

'Ah, yes,' I said. The litter bearers were waiting, grumbling, Emerson climbed into his. 'She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed - as this mysterious lady was. Veiled all in white lest her incredible beauty arouse the passions of all who behold her - '

Emerson's head popped out between the curtains of his litter. He was scowling horribly. 'You are speaking of a figment of some cursed writer's imagination, Peabody. Get in your litter.'

'But Papa!' Ramses's voice rose to a near shriek. 'She -'

'Do as your papa told you, Ramses,' I ordered, and took my place in the litter.

The return journey seemed to last longer than the trip to the temple perhaps because I was so impatient to discuss the remarkable events of the evening with Emerson. We might even natch a few moments alone; for surely Mentarit (or Amenit, as me case might be) would have duties to perform for her mistress before returning to us.

However, this expectation was doomed to disappointment. After delivering us to our rooms, the litter bearers departed. Not so our attendants. Emerson, who had removed his sandals and was carrying them in his hand, turned to the hovering group and bade them a pointed 'Good night.' They replied with smiles and nods, and continued to hover.

'Curse it,' said Emerson. 'Why don't they go away?' He gestured forcibly at the door.

The gesture was misinterpreted. One of the men took the sandals from Emerson's hand; two others darted at him and began removing his ornaments.

'They are preparing you for bed, I think,' I called, as Emerson retreated like a cornered lion harassed by snapping jackals. 'It is a sign of respect, Emerson.'

'Respect be - ' said Emerson, backing through the doorway into his room, followed closely by his attentive servants.

I resigned myself to receive similar attentions from the ladies. As their hands moved deftly and deferentially to divest me of my ceremonial attire, loosen my hair, and wrap me in the softest of linen robes, I told myself that one must adjust gracefully to different customs, however painful the experience may be. When they tucked me into bed I was reminded of the rituals of medieval days, when the newly married couple was escorted to the nuptial couch by hordes of well-wishers - many of them intoxicated and all of them making rude jokes. The ladies were not intoxicated, I believe, but they giggled a great deal; and when one of them indicated the door to Emerson's room, with a roll of her eyes and a series of extremely graphic gestures, they let out little screams and giggled again.

There was no sound from behind that door; the curtains remained closed. The ladies settled down by my couch and stared expectantly at me.

It had all been rather amusing, but something had to be done; my poor Emerson would never come out while they were present. I raised myself up and called to the white-veiled figure that sat in its accustomed place by the wall. 'Mentarit. Tell them to go away.'

It broke their hearts to obey, but obey they did. Mentarit left with them. After a moment the curtain quivered and was drawn aside just enough to allow Emerson's head to emerge. His eyes moved on a slow, suspicious survey of the entire room; then, pausing only to extinguish the one remaining lamp, he came to my side.

'How did you get rid of them, Peabody?'

'I asked Mentarit to send them away. She is also one who must be obeyed, it seems. How did you - '

'I sent them away myself,' said Emerson with an evil chuckle.

'They are a nuisance, I agree, but I believe they are a sign of our improved status. It's astonishing, isn't it? I thought we would be punished, or at least reprimanded for interfering with the discipline of the rekkit; instead we are even more respected.'

'Or feared,' said Emerson. 'Though that seems unlikely. Fascinating ceremony, wasn't it?'

'Yes, indeed, I believe it is safe to assume this was one of the religious rituals performed at set intervals to honour the gods. We were privileged to be able to observe it.'

'Privileged in more than one way,' Emerson replied thoughtfully. 'Professionally it was a remarkable experience, but even more remarkable, in my opinion, is the fact that we were invited to attend.'

'Oh, I imagine there were sinister undercurrents of which we were unaware,' I said cheerfully. 'Perhaps the High Priest of Amon hoped by this means to get his hands on us and subject us to imprisonment and hideous tortures. Or perhaps the High priestess of Isis had similar designs on our humble persons. Who was that other female, the richly dressed individual who made such - such unladylike advances to the statue of Amon?'

'Obviously she represented the god's concubine,' Emerson said. 'I couldn't quite make out her title, though Pesaker addressed her by it several times.' He took me in his arms and kissed the top of my head.

'High Priestess of Amon?' I tilted my head back. Emerson's lips moved to my temple.

'It didn't sound like it. The other lady, the one with all the swaddling, was certainly the High Priestess of Isis. Both may be king's daughters, which raises the question of how much real political power, as opposed to religious rank, they actually have. I mean to do a paper on that subject one day...'

`I have already begun a paper on that subject,' I murmured.

'Mama! Papa!'

It was not a cry for help from the adjoining room. It was a penetrating whisper from only too close at hand.

Every muscle in Emerson's body convulsed. Every muscle in mine cracked painfully as his arms contracted like bands of steel. I let out a gasp of protest.

'I beg your pardon, Peabody,' said Emerson, relaxing his grip but not his teeth. I could feel most of them, clenched and grinding, against my cheek.

I was unable to reply. Emerson patted my back and rolled over. 'Ramses,' he said very softly. 'Where are you?'

'Under the bed. I am very sorry, Mama and Papa, but you would not listen to me before and it is absolutely imperative that you -'

The bedsprings (straps of woven leather) creaked as Emerson lifted himself and propped his chin on his hand. 'I have never given you a sound thrashing, Ramses, have I?'

'No, Papa. Should you feel my present behaviour merits such punishment, I would accept it without resentment. I would never have stooped to such a trick had I not felt -'

'Be quiet until I give you leave to speak.'

Ramses obeyed; but in the silence that followed I could hear him breathing fast. He sounded as if he were on the verge of choking and I sincerely wished he would.

'Peabody,' said Emerson.

'Yes, my dear?'

'Remind me, when we return to Cairo, to have a word with the headmaster of the Academy for Young Gentlemen.'

'I will go with you, Emerson.' Now that the first shock had passed I was beginning to see the humour of the situation. (I am known for my sense of humour; my ability to make little jokes has got me and my friends through several tight spots.) 'So long as he is here, however, shall we let him stay awhile? He may be able to contribute something to our evaluation of the ceremony.'

'He may as well stay,' Emerson remarked gloomily. 'Conversation is the only activity in which I am able to engage at the moment. Very well, Ramses. You presumably overheard our discussion about the priestesses.'

'Yes, Papa. But - '

'It was the Priestesss of Isis who decided that we should remain in our present quarters instead of moving to the temple area. The High Priest of Amon, who suggested the latter course, was visibly displeased, but he didn't argue the matter. Now can we conclude that he wished to get us into the hands of the priests, and that she countermanded the order because she felt we would be safer here?'

'Pa - ' said the voice under the bed.

'The reverse might be argued, Emerson,' I said. 'We would be more closely protected in the temple. And perhaps closer to the tunnel through which we must escape.'

'Mama-'

'We agree, however, do we not, that two different, opposing factions are in contention for control of our humble selves?'

'At least two. Even if we assume that the High Priestess of Isis and Pesaker favour different princes, don't forget my visitor. He must represent a third party - that of the people.'

'Not necessarily,' Emerson argued. 'The theory of government by the people is alien to a culture such as this. The best the rekkit can hope for is a king sympathetic to their needs.'

'Democratic government may be an alien concept, but the seizure of power by an adventurer is not.'

'True. The next time you are visited by Robert of Locksley, you might ask him what his intentions are. I think we might have a little chat with the Priestess of Isis. That is a suitable task for you, Peabody; it would be only courteous to pay your respects. She may have been hinting at just such a visit when she said -'

'"From Greenland's icy mountains!"' Ramses's whisper was as forcible as a shout. '"From India's coral strand!"'

'I beg your pardon?' said Emerson.

The words tumbled out. 'She did not say it, Papa, Mama, she sang it. The hymn. When she sang to the god. Mixed in with the other words. "Hail Amon-Re great progenitor from Greenland's icy mountains, It is thou who wakens the child in the womb from India's coral strand." Mama, Papa - she sang it in English.'

'Another Pair of Confounded Young Lovers!'

Our response to Ramses's announcement was - quite without malicious intent - the most deflating we could have made. I stifled my laughter against Emerson's broad shoulder, and he said with kindly tolerance, 'Did she, my boy? Well, that is not surprising; the priestesses are all of noble birth, and as we know, many of them learned a bit of English from Forth. She may have intended a delicate compliment to her god by singing the hymn of another faith. Or even... I say, Peabody! Could it have been meant as a delicate compliment to us - a sign that she means us well?'