The Last Camel Died at Noon (34 page)

'His wits are a trifle slow,' said Emerson to me. 'It's an interesting idea, Peabody. I had a strange feeling you were thinking along those lines.'

'I endeavoured to suggest that possibility, Mama,' said Ramses in an injured voice. 'And you and Papa implied I was imagining things.'

'We have acquired additional information since then, Ramses. I would be the first to agree that the sum total of it is inconclusive, but I must insist that we cannot depart without making absolutely certain that Mrs Forth is not a prisoner of the priests.'

'But,' Reggie stuttered. 'But Mrs Amelia - '

'I told you not to waste your breath arguing with her,' said Emerson. 'In this case I must say that I am in complete agreement. It is probable that Mrs Forth is dead, but we can't take the word of sinister savages, can we?'

'She is no savage,' Reggie said hotly. 'And she swore -'

'She may have been deceived,' said Emerson. 'You refer to your - er-- fiancee, I presume.'

'Er - yes. I cannot believe...' Reggie appeared dazed. Then he reached into his knapsack. 'She gave me this.'

The object he withdrew was a small book bound in shabby brown cloth.

'The Book,' I cried. 'Of course! Emerson - '

Emerson's teeth lost their grip on his pipe, which fell onto my lap. He leapt at me and began beating out the smouldering patches.

'I do beg your pardon, Peabody. I was caught quite by surprise.

'So I see. Curse it, I shan't be able to mend these holes; I gave my sewing kit to Her Majesty.'

'It is certainly a book,' Emerson went on, taking it from Reggie. 'The Moonstone, by Wilkie Collins. I am not at all surprised; it is precisely the sort of literature I would have expected Willie Forth to enjoy. Yes, here is his name on the inside cover.'

'He gave it to her,' Reggie said. 'Upon his deathbed. She was his favourite pupil.'

'She,' Emerson repeated thoughtfully. 'Are you telling us that she - your friend - confound it, what is the girl's name?'

'She is Princess Amenit - the daughter of the former king.' Reggie smiled at our looks of surprise. 'You see now why I am so confident she can arrange for our escape.'

'Can she also arrange for us to see the High Priestess of Isis?' I asked.

'I don't think...' Reggie's face brightened. 'That won't be necessary; all we need do is ask her. She must know whether the woman she serves is - '

'I do not wish to question the veracity of your sweetheart, Reggie but you must see that her mere word would not be sufficient. She may be deceived; she may be so concerned with your safety that she would conceal the truth if it meant further risk to you.'

'I can't believe she would lie to me,' Reggie muttered.

'Mrs Emerson can,' said Emerson, knocking out his pipe. 'And so can I. We must see the High Priestess unveiled!'

'I could not have put it better myself, Emerson,' I said approvingly.

'Hmph,' said Emerson. 'It's a rather tall order, though. If she doesn't receive visitors, and dwells in the most remote areas of the temple... I doubt the high-handed methods we employed this morning would work, Peabody.'

'We can but try, Emerson. We must make the attempt.'

'Let me talk with Amenit,' Reggie said urgently. 'Promise me you won't do anything until I have consulted her. She may be able to arrange something, but if you go blundering in... Excuse me! I meant to say - '

'I will pretend I didn't hear it,' said Emerson, rising in awful majesty and scowling like Jove. '"Blundering"! Come along, Peabody it is time for your rest.'

We left Reggie frowning at his feet, deep in thought. 'You were a little hard on him, my dear,' I said 'And I really don't see how Amenit can get us admitted to the presence of the High Priestess.'

'There's no harm in asking, is there?' Emerson sat down beside me on the edge of my bed. 'Curse it, Peabody, I've got to the point where even a tombstone would fail to convince me. All we have is a series of unproven and contradictory statements; I don't know what to believe or whom to trust.'

'I quite agree, Emerson. By the way, thank you for setting my trousers on fire. I keep forgetting that Reggie has no more sense than a lizard. He certainly can't be the messenger promised us by my nocturnal visitor. But that little book of Mr Forth's was a strange coincidence. Could Princess Amenit be the messenger?'

'If so, she has taken a dangerously roundabout method of approaching us,' said Emerson. 'It may be no more than a coincidence after all; we don't know the size of Willie's library, or how many books he gave his friends and students. I recommend discretion on the subject of the rekkit with both young lovers, Peabody. People of that sort seldom give a curse about anything except their own precious skins.'

'I would not go so far as to say that. However, they are inclined to be gullible when they fancy themselves in love. Reggie may be deceived by this young woman.'

'Quite so. Confound it, Peabody, I hate to sneak away without having done something for those poor devils in the village. We'll have to mount a second expedition.'

'Of course. But I haven't given up hope of hearing from my mysterious visitor, one way or another.'

I looked forwards with great anticipation to the lovers' first meeting after so many days of separation and uncertainty. My sympathetic imagination visualised Amenit's tears of anguish as she contemplated her sweetheart's danger, her tears of joy when she learned of his deliverance. I pictured them flying into one another's arms - their embraces - their murmured endearments. And then they would wander off, hand in hand, to the seclusion of the garden, where, soothed by the humming of bees and the cooing of doves in the mimosa trees, they would lose themselves in the rapture of love restored and hope renewed.

I pictured it, but of course I knew it was romantic nonsense. Any open expression of affection would have to wait until after they had succeeded in their plan of escaping from the valley, for the latter hope would be doomed if the former were known. It was Amenit who came later, I knew that gliding walk of hers, but she paid no more attention to Reggie than she did to the rest of us, and he scarcely glanced at her. However, he soon excused himself and went to his rooms; and a short time later Amenit quietly vanished.

They were gone for quite some time. Amenit was the first to return. She went about her duties, imperturbably as ever (it is very easy to look imperturbable when one is completely swaddled in veils). My anticipation had risen to fever pitch before Reggie entered, yawning and stretching and declaring that he had had a most refreshing nap.

'I seem to have lost a button off my shirt, though,' he added gazing at his chest with an expression of chagrin that would not have fooled an infant. 'Could I impose on you, Mrs Amelia?'

I followed him into my sleeping chamber. 'You silly young man,' I hissed. 'I gave my sewing kit to the queen; every woman in the city must know of it by now.'

'Well, how could I have known?' Reggie asked, looking injured. 'I wanted an excuse to speak with you alone."

'You have no talent for intrigue, Reggie. You had better... Well what is it, Ramses?' For he had entered, followed by his father.

'Here is your needle and thread, Mama,' said Ramses. 'I borrowed it. I hope you do not mind.'

It was not my needle and thread. The dirty grey colour of the latter (not its original shade) betrayed its real ownership. I was afraid to ask why Ramses had needle and thread. Too many hideous possibilities came to mind.

'Thank you,' I said, advancing upon Reggie. Seizing cloth and button firmly, I plunged the threaded needle into the hole.

'Ouch,' cried Reggie.

'Talk quickly,' I ordered. 'I can't prolong this indefinitely. We look ridiculous.' For Emerson and Ramses were pretending to watch intently, as if the sewing on of a button were a rare and remarkable event.

'Everything is prepared,' Reggie hissed. 'Tomorrow night Amenit will lead us to the waiting caravan.'

'What about Mrs Forth?' I asked. Reggie sucked in his breath. 'I am sorry,' I said. 'I am no needlewoman.'

'You are determined on this?' Reggie inquired.

'Yes, certainly, of course,' came our united replies.

'Very well. Amenit will try. She laughed when I told her of your theory, but if you cannot be convinced otherwise... Be ready tonight.'

'When?' we chorused.

'At whatever time she can manage it,' was the grim reply. 'It will be very dangerous. Don't sleep; await her summons.'

'That should do the trick,' I said aloud, as one of the attendants appeared in the doorway, bright-eyed with curiosity.

'Thank you,' said Reggie, staring at his shirtfront.

'I think you have sewn the button to his undervest, Mama,' said Ramses.

How long I lay waiting in the dark I cannot say; it seemed an eternity. I did not have to fight sleep, for I had never been more wakeful. After a rather acrimonious discussion with Reggie I had reluctantly agreed to leave my belt and its accoutrements behind. Not so unexpectedly, Emerson supported him. 'You jingle, Peabody. You always say you won't and you always do, so don't say you won't. Besides, if we are surprised along the way we might be able to pass for natives if we wear native attire.'

I was deep in thought - not slumber - when a hand brushed mine. Silently I rose from the bed and stood beside the white-veiled figure.

After the other three had joined us, Amenit glided away, not towards the garden or the outer door, as I had expected, but towards the rock-cut chambers at the back of the palace. Farther back and farther we went, through narrow doorways and rooms dusty with disuse. The darkness pressed in on us like something actively malevolent that had fed on centuries of lightlessness. The tiny flame of Amenit's lamp flickered like a will-o'-the-wisp. Her white robes might have enclosed empty air.

At last she stopped in a small windowless chamber. I could see very little, but there appeared to be no furniture except for a stone bench or ledge, approximately two feet high and barely wide enough to support a reclining form. The ghostly form of the handmaiden bent over it. There was a click and a murmuring sound, and the top of the bench rose, as on a spring. Hoisting her skirts with a curiously modern gesture, she climbed nimbly over the edge and sank out of sight.

At his insistence, Emerson was the first to follow her. I went next, and found myself on a flight of narrow stone-cut steps. They were so steep I was forced to descend them like a ladder, holding on with both hands, but my dear Emerson's arm steadied me and offered assurance of rescue should I miss my footing. Ramses managed to step on my hand several times but eventually we reached the bottom of the steps and paused to count noses and catch our breaths.

'All right, Mrs Amelia?' Reggie asked.

Amenit had already started off down the tunnel that led straight ahead. 'Yes, certainly,' I said. 'Hurry or we shall lose our guide.'

It would have been dangerous to do so, for the tunnel began to bend and turn, and other passages opened up on either side. I have been in pyramids whose inner structures were as complex and in far worse repair; but it did occur to me as we went on that if I wanted to rid myself of unwelcome guests I could hardly find a more convenient place. Amenit must know the way by memory, for the walls were unmarked. If we ever lost her, we could never find our way back. The place was a regular maze.

Emerson, close on Amenit's heels, kept staring at the rough stone surfaces that pressed so close upon us. 'I wish we had more light,' he muttered. 'From what I can see... Yes, that would explain a good many things.'

'What do you mean?' I asked.

'Remember the famous gold of Cush, Peabody? Most scholars believe the mines were in the eastern desert - but if this maze was not begun as a mining project, I miss my guess. The vein is exhausted now, and the tunnels have been adapted to serve other purposes, but there is still gold in these hills -there must be. Where else would our hosts get the metal they use for their ornaments, and what other commodity could they trade for the foodstuffs they import?'

'I am sure you are right, Papa,' said Ramses, behind me. 'And have you observed the small openings that occasionally break the surface of the walls? No doubt there are shafts leading to the surface, as was the case in some of the Egyptian pyramids. The air here is remarkably fresh, considering we must be deep underground.'

The air was only relatively fresh. It was very dry, and my throat was beginning to ache. I poked Emerson in the back. 'Ask her how much farther.'

'Curse it, Peabody, have you got that cursed parasol? I told you -'

'You said I must not jingle, Emerson. My parasol does not jingle. Ask her -'

Amenit interrupted me with a vehement demand for silence. 'Not far now. They will hear. Be still!'

After a few more minutes of walking, the tunnel opened into a larger space. Another hiss from Amenit brought us to her side before what seemed to be a blank wall. 'Be still,' she breathed. 'Be still!' Then she blew out the lamp.

I had no idea darkness could be that intense.

Then came light, like a benediction. A small square had opened in the wall before us. The light came from it - faint, yellow, and flickering, but more welcome than the sun's most brilliant beam. I took Ramses firmly by the arm and moved him off my left foot; he was crowding me, trying to see through the opening, but it was above his eye level. Emerson's cheek pressed against mine as together we gazed into the chamber beyond.

Archaeological fever! There is no passion like it, few that equal it in intensity. It gripped me even as it gripped my remarkable spouse. There could be no question as to the function of the chamber that lay beyond. Rich furnishings - carved chests, great jars of wine and oil, statues adorned with gilt and faience - were illumined by several alabaster lamps. The piece de resistance lay upon a low bed in the centre of the room - a mouldering corpse, reduced by time and the natural processes of decay to a semi-skeleton. The yellowing teeth were bared in a hideous grin, and the bones of one arm protruded through the withered flesh.

'They don't practice mummification,' exclaimed Emerson. 'Hard to get natron, I - oof!'

I do not know whether it was Reggie or Amenit who had reminded him, somewhat forcibly, that silence was imperative, but the gesture had the desired effect. And it was just in time. The light strengthened. It came from lamps carried by a pair of figures whose contours we knew well - two of the handmaidens, swaddled from crown to heel. I did not think either was Mentarit, however.

The High Priestess followed them.

Only her gold-embroidered draperies differentiated her from the others. She gestured. Her attendants placed the lamps on a chest and joined her, one on either side, as she took up a position before the grisly remains. Three voices blended in a soft chant.

Amenit had done what we asked. Before us stood the High priestess. But unless she unveiled, the long, tortuous, dangerous journey would have been in vain. Fortunately for my nerves the ceremony was brief, almost, one might say, perfunctory. After a short chorus, the three figures knelt and rose and knelt again. The two on either side remained kneeling. The central figure rose and lifted its hands to its face. The draperies quivered and fell. Then - I confess it with some shame - I closed my eyes. The reason she had unveiled was so that she might kiss the corpse's withered brow.

She was not Mrs Forth. Her jetty locks and smooth brown cheeks were those of a high-bred Cushite maiden.

'I Would as Soon Leave Ramses'

I moved away from the window so that Emerson could lift Ramses, who had, by increasingly peremptory tugs and pokes, indicated his wish to see too. A few moments later the light within the chamber dimmed but did not yield to utter darkness. The lamps that had been left to light the dead would burn on until the oil was consumed - an ironic commentary on the brevity of human life. We too go out into darkness when our light is consumed.

So wrapped was I in philosophic and other musings that Reggie's whisper sounded like a shout. 'Well? Was it... ?'

Only then did it occur to me that he had not been given a chance to look for himself. 'No,' I whispered.

The return trip was made in silence. I should have been speculating on the meaning of the grisly ceremony and making mental notes of the contents of the burial chamber for future publication, but I was in the grip of a foolish depression. I had never really believed in Ramses's theory that Mrs Forth was the High Priestess, but I had allowed myself to hope. The fate of the poor young bride had always seemed to me more tragic than that of her husband. He at least had known what he was getting into, while she had followed him, loyally and without question, trusting in his judgment and in his protective strength.

It may have been stupid, but it was noble. I felt an affinity with her - not with her stupidity, but with her courage.

We gained our apartments without incident, finding them dark and deserted as they had been when we left them. 'I would like to bathe,' I said softly to Emerson, 'but I suppose it would be ill-advised to risk waking one of the attendants. I say, Emerson, what about the clothes we are wearing? The dust and cobwebs clinging to them may alert a spy.'

Amenit understood this, or part of it. She giggled. 'I will hide. Give them me.'

'What, now?' said Emerson, outraged.

'This is no time for jokes, Professor,' said Reggie. 'Get to bed at once. The guard changes at midnight.'

He took his own advice, hastening towards his room. Amenit went with him. I could not see clearly in the dark, but their two forms were so close together I assumed his arm must have been around her. A soft giggle floated back to us as they melted into the shadows.

'Did you hear, Emerson?' I whispered. 'The guard changes at midnight!'

'Hmmm, yes. Presumably the first shift is loyal to the lady and the second is not. She seems an efficient sort of girl; if only she wouldn't giggle! Hurry, Peabody, we had better follow Forthright's advice.'

There seemed to be an endless supply of the fine linen robes. I bundled the soiled ones up and hid them under the bed, hoping Amenit would deal with them in the morning. She apparently had other plans for the remainder of the night.

It was not long before Emerson joined me. 'I won't stay if you are sleepy, Peabody,' he whispered.

'I doubt if I will sleep at all. What are we to do, Emerson? Is that young woman true to poor Reggie, do you think?'

If she isn't in love with him she is putting on a convincing show. No woman could do more for a man.'

I sat up in bed. 'Emerson! You didn't!'

Certainly I did. Our lives may hang on the genuineness of her affection. I had to find out.' He put his arms around me and pulled me down beside him before continuing, 'There remains a more serious doubt. Has she the power to do what she has promised? It won't be easy to equip an expedition of that size, in absolute secrecy, even for a princess of the royal house.'

'That is certainly a consideration,' I replied. 'And there are others that suggest we ought not be in any particular hurry to rush off. We should at least hear what the promised messenger has to say.'

'I don't know why you're so set on that fellow and his vague promises,' Emerson said suspiciously. 'What sort of man was he? Old and feeble, did you tell me?'

I smiled in the darkness. 'I told you I never saw his face. He certainly was not old and feeble, though. Quite the contrary.'

'Hmph,' said Emerson. 'It has been several days. He may have been captured.'

'I don't think so.'

'Curse it, Peabody - '

He broke off with a sound that, in a lesser man, I might have taken for a muffled cry of alarm. I should explain that we were lying on our sides facing one another; in the heat of argument Emerson had raised himself on his elbow, so he could see past my recumbent body. Hastily I rolled over. A white-swathed form bent over me, its hand outstretched.

'Good Gad,' I hissed. 'What is it, Amenit? Why do you disturb us?'

With a brusque gesture the girl tore the veil from her face. I could not make out her features clearly; it was the movement itself that betrayed her identity. 'Mentarit,' I exclaimed.

Her hand covered my lips. The other hand reached into the breast of her robe and came out with...

'Emerson,' I whispered. 'It is a book, I believe.'

'Another one?' said Emerson dubiously.

'Come,' Mentarit said softly. 'Will you trust me? I bring the sign he promised you. There is little time and great danger. You must come now.'

'Emerson?'

'Are you asking me, Peabody? Remarkable. Well, why not? If you can persuade the lady to turn her back while I...'