The Last Camel Died at Noon (33 page)

'Damnation,' said Emerson. 'I should have anticipated this... You heard me, though,' he added in Meroitic.

The young man winced. 'The voice of the Father of Curses rolls like the thunder, and his hand is heavy as the hand of the god.'

'Good Gad, Emerson, what are we to do?' I exclaimed. 'We cannot let these poor fellows be punished on our account. Is it because they were unable to prevent us from visiting the cemetery?'

Emerson repeated the question in Meroitic. The young man nodded. 'We failed in our duty. The penalty is death. Now I will die the second death for hearing, for speaking. Will the Father of Curses take his hand from me so that I may die with my men?'

'I think you are hurting him, Emerson,' I said. 'His arm is turning blue.'

'If I let him go he will bolt,' Emerson said abstractedly. 'Discipline is certainly tight in these parts. Hmmm.'

The young officer stood passive in Emerson's grasp, his face as expressionless as that of the dead man he claimed to be. After a moment Emerson said, 'Stand back a bit, my dear Peabody.'

I did so, and as an additional precaution I clapped my hands over my ears.

'I am the Father of Curses,' Emerson bellowed, shaking the young man like a doll. 'When I speak the dead hear and obey! When I command, the gods tremble! The power of my voice troubles the heavens and makes the ground shake!'

He went on for some time in this vein. By the time he reached his peroration he had attracted quite an audience, a dozen or more soldiers, including several officers; a few of the attendants; and, unobtrusive as curious mice, some of the little servants. Ramses and Reggie came trotting in, and behind them was the white-robed form of the handmaiden - whichever one it was.

Emerson pretended not to notice them, but his voice rose to an even more penetrating pitch and his sparkling orbs betrayed his enjoyment. He is always at his best in the presence of a large audience.

'I forbid you to die!' he shouted. 'You are my men, you belong to the Father of Curses! Pick up your spears!' And, with a gesture as graceful as it was powerful, he sent the young officer staggering towards his fallen weapon.

I must say it was one of Emerson's most impressive performances. I felt an overpowering urge to rush off and pick up a spear myself.

One of the officers made a vague gesture of protest as the doomed men, looking a good deal more cheerful, hastened to obey. Quick as a cat, Emerson wheeled on him. 'The men of the Father of Curses are sacred! No man dares touch them.'

Turning, he offered me his arm. As we proceeded towards our apartments the audience melted away, leaving only Ramses and Reggie to greet us. 'Upon my word, Professor,' Reggie exclaimed, 'that was - that was certainly... Er - what was it all about?'

Emerson deigned to explain.

'It was a brilliant performance, my dear,' I said. 'And it has, I trust, gained us a few loyal adherents. Those men owe you their lives.'

'Don't count on it, Peabody. Old superstitions die hard. And it may backfire. Successful demagogues are not popular in tyrannical societies.' Emerson's frown cleared and he shrugged his broad shoulders. 'Ah, well, I had no choice in the matter. Now I want my bath. Where are those abominable attendants? Never around when you need them!'

After bathing and changing we sat down to an excellent meal and Emerson and I at least did it justice. I was forced to speak to Ramses about eating with his fingers and putting his elbows on the table. 'You are turning into a perfect little Cushite, Ramses,' I scolded. 'And your head is still bare as an egg. I told you not to let them continue shaving it.'

'They were quite insistent, Mama,' said Ramses.

'Then you must be more insistent. I won't have you going back to civilised society with your hair in that state.'

When the table had been cleared and the crumbs swept up, Reggie suggested we go into the garden. 'I must speak to Mentarit about Ramses's hair,' I said. 'I will not have... Where is she? I didn't see her leave.'

Reggie took my arm. 'That is what I wanted to tell you,' he whispered. 'She has gone back to the temple. It will be Amenit who returns.'

'Mrs Emerson is quite capable of walking without your assistance, Forthright,' said Emerson, scowling. 'Hands off my wife, if you please.'

Reggie jumped away from me as if he had been stung, and we proceeded into the garden. As we walked along the pool, the vines along the far wall swayed violently. A face peered down at us. It was covered with tan fur.

Ramses went to greet the cat with one of his peculiar murmuring noises. It replied in kind, but instead of jumping down, it began pacing along the top of the wall. Ramses trailed it, eyes lifted and arms extended, like a miniature Romeo in pursuit of a furry, ambulatory Juliet.

'One of the temple cats - here?' Reggie exclaimed. 'How do you know it is a temple cat?' Emerson asked, as I simultaneously inquired, 'The temple of Bastet?'

As courtesy demanded, Reggie answered me first. 'Bastet, Isis, Mut - all these heathen goddesses are the same. Her cats are of a particular breed, larger than the common kind and held to be sacred.'

'She won't come down,' exclaimed Ramses, sounding as pettish as any ordinary child. 'Mama, can you - '

'No, I cannot,' I replied firmly. 'Cats are not susceptible to the sort of persuasion one uses on human beings, and what is more, they are eccentric individualists - '

'Who possess extremely keen hearing,' Emerson said. 'I believe we are about to have a visitor, Amelia.'

Moved by an indefinable instinct, we moved closer together. The cat vanished and Ramses came to stand beside me. When the visitor appeared, following an escort of archers and white-garbed maidens, Reggie let out an oath and retreated to the far side of the pool.

Tarek - for it was he - seated himself in the chair a servant hastily placed behind him. His broad golden armlets glistened in the sunlight as he gestured; other chairs were brought, for us and for the men who had accompanied him. One was Pesaker, the High Priest of Aminreh. He did not appear to be in a pleasant frame of mind.

Neither was Tarek. The eyes he fixed upon us lacked the kindly look they had always held before, and instead of uttering the formal greetings he burst into angry speech. 'What manner of people are you, that you lack courtesy and gratitude towards those who have rescued you? Have you no respect for our customs? You violate one of our strict laws; we show you mercy, we restore your friend to you. Now you have committed sacrilege. If one of our people had acted in such a way he would die!'

'But we are not of your people,' said Emerson calmly. 'If we have offended we did so in ignorance, and we deeply regret having done so. We will make whatever reparation you think proper.'

'It is true that you are ignorant barbarians,' Tarek said thoughtfully.

The corners of Emerson's mouth twitched. 'True,' he said, with equal gravity. 'It is the duty of the wise to educate the ignorant, not punish them. Is not that also true?'

Tarek considered the idea. Pesaker's face darkened. He may not have understood all that was said, but he could see the prince's mood had softened and he was not pleased. 'What do they say?' he barked. 'Do not listen to them. There is no excuse(?) for their crime. I order - '

Tarek turned on him. 'You dare to order me? You do not speak for the god here. I will decide the fate of these offenders.'

I have sometimes been accused of being precipitate and of acting upon impulse. Such was not the case now. I had carefully considered what I meant to do, and in fact Emerson himself had made a similar suggestion. (Though of course he claimed afterwards he never intended it to be taken seriously.)

'We are most grateful for Your Highness's kindness,' I said. 'And as my husband has said, we deeply regret any inadvertent rudeness. Perhaps the best thing would be for us to leave. We will need camels - a dozen or so should be sufficient - and an escort as far as the oasis.'

Emerson choked and muttered something. The word might have been 'incorrigible.'

Tarek leaned back in his chair and studied me unsmilingly. 'What, would you leave us? Perhaps what you say is true; we should teach, not punish you. You could also teach us, and win great honour and high position.'

'Yes, well, that is very good of you, but I am afraid we must be going.'

Emerson had enjoyed a hearty if muffled laugh during the conversation. Now he sobered and spoke slowly and emphatically. 'You know why we came, Tarek. Our friend is found, as you see. You tell me that the others we sought are with the gods. We have accomplished our task. It is time for us to return to our own place, our own country.'

The High Priest followed that speech, or part of it. (Was that why Emerson had used simple words and spoken slowly? I wondered.) Hands clenched on the arms of his chair, he burst out, 'No! It is forbidden! What, will you allow these strangers, these -, to defy the laws of - '

Tarek caught his eye, and he stopped.

'My friends,' said Tarek. 'For you are my friends; can my heart deny those whom I have loved, even when they love me not? If you must go, you will have your way, though I will mourn you as I would those who have gone to the god.'

'Somehow I don't like the sound of that,' murmured Emerson. Aloud he said, 'You will help us, then?"

Tarek nodded.

'When?' Emerson asked.

'Soon, my friends.'

'Tomorrow?' I asked.

'Oh, but such a journey cannot be arranged so quickly,' said Tarek, whose English had improved noticeably. 'A fitting escort, gifts... Ceremonies of honour and farewell.'

I didn't like the sound of that. 'Ceremonies,' I repeated.

'You wish to observe our customs,' said Tarek. 'Our strange, primitive ceremonies. That is your interest, is it not? That is one reason why you came. Yes. You will observe the greatest ceremony of all before you... depart. It is soon, very soon. And then, my friends... your departure.'

'Oh, dear,' I said. 'I fear I was sadly mistaken in our friend Tarek.'

'For one thing,' said Emerson, 'he speaks English much better than he led us to believe. A credit to his teacher, eh, Peabody?'

'Yes, although personally I found his style of speaking rather florid. He sounded exactly like - '

'How can you be so calm?' Reggie burst out. 'Didn't you understand the threat behind those suave words?'

'Why, I suppose they were meant to convey a threat,' said Emerson. He took out his pipe and gazed sadly at it. 'But what threat precisely? We have seen no indication that these people practice human sacrifice.'

'They do, though,' Reggie said, biting his lip. 'Tarek described in grisly detail

He broke off, shuddering. Ramses said interestedly, 'How is it done, Mr Forthright? In the old Egyptian style, by smashing the victim's head with a club, or - '

'Never mind, Ramses,' I said. 'If Mr Forthright is correct, we may have a firsthand opportunity to find out.'

'You astonish me, Mrs Emerson,' Reggie exclaimed. 'You are not taking this seriously. I assure you - '

'Let me assure you that we take it very seriously,' said Emerson, sucking on his empty pipe. 'But look on the bright side, Mr Forthright. If we have been chosen for the star roles in the performance they will take very good care of us in the meantime. I wonder..." He made a face and removed the pipe from his mouth. 'I wonder if Tarek could get me some tobacco. Obviously these people trade with some of the Nubian tribes.'

'Well, Professor, I must say you are a credit to the British nation,' said Reggie admiringly. 'Stiff upper lip, eh? If it's tobacco you want, I can supply you. I brought along an extra tin.'

'You did?' Emerson clapped him on the back. T will be in your debt, my dear chap. A nasty, dirty habit, as Mrs Emerson is always telling me, but I find it assists the process of ratiocination.'

One of the servants was sent to fetch Reggie's knapsack. After rummaging in its depths he produced a tin of tobacco, upon which Emerson fell like a starving man on a thick beefsteak. He filled his pipe, lit it, and blew out a great cloud of smoke. A look of blissful satisfaction transformed his face.

Reggie smiled, like an indulgent parent enjoying the pleasure of a child. 'Well, sir, are you now capable of ratiocination? We have no time to lose. Tarek's threats should have convinced you that I was right when I said we must escape before the ceremony."

'I never disagreed with your conclusion,' said Emerson mildly. 'I only wondered how you hoped to accomplish it.'

Reggie leaned closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. 'The arrangements were made before I was imprisoned. Camels, guides, supplies - all will be ready. We can leave as soon as - '

'As soon as we are certain Mrs Forth is no more,' I said.

Reggie's mouth hung ajar. Emerson looked at me with a smile; Ramses nodded vigorously. Having got the floor, I proceeded. 'We have only the statements of people whose veracity is questionable to prove that the Forths are not alive. We came here in haste, risking much, because we feared they were in imminent danger.'

Reggie closed his mouth. Then he opened it.

'Don't waste your breath arguing with her,' said Emerson, smoking placidly. 'It never has the slightest effect. Continue, my dear Peabody.'

I told Reggie and Ramses of our discovery that morning. 'I have been accused,' I went on, 'of jumping to conclusions. I do not believe anyone can accuse me of doing so if I state that we are still uncertain as to the fate of Mrs Forth. Would you agree with that, Emerson?'

'Oh, certainly,' said Emerson, grinning around the stem of his pipe.

'But - ' Reggie began.

'Let me finish, please, Reggie. In the light of what we learned today, several other points take on new significance. We were told that Mrs Forth had "gone to the god." We took it to mean that she had died; but here, as in ancient Egypt, it might have quite another meaning. Now during the ceremony at the temple, the High Priestess of Isis recited, or sang, certain English verses. Put all these details together, and what do we have?'

'Are you asking me?' Reggie's eyes were wide. 'I fail to see what you are driving at. You cannot mean - '