The Golden One (49 page)

Read The Golden One Online

Authors: Elizabeth Peters

BOOK: The Golden One
4.05Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

‘O unbelievers, prepare for death! O ye unrighteous, who walk in darkness pursued by afrits and . . .’ The speech ended in an anticlimactic squawk.

In a body we rushed to the window and flung the screen open. In the moonlight I saw a dark mass huddled outside the gate, and Selim, his shoulder braced against it. Realizing they had been
discovered, the invaders began battering at the gate.

I tried, too late, to catch hold of Ramses, who had climbed over the sill. He dropped to the ground and reached Selim as the gate gave way. Selim’s knife flashed. Ramses had snatched up a
lever or spanner as he ran past the motorcar; he swung his arm, and a scream from one of the attackers wavered into silence.

‘Quick!’ Emerson exclaimed. ‘Out the bab-sirr, all of you.’

‘Be damned to that!’ I shrieked, for my blood was up. ‘ “Now who will stand on either hand, And keep the bridge with –” ’

‘Me,’ said Emerson. ‘Curse it, Peabody, get the girls out of here. You know what to do.’

He was already halfway out the window, lowering himself by one hand.

The fighting instincts of the Peabodys were not easily controlled; but the confidence he had placed in me enabled me to master them. I expected some objection from Nefret, but she made none.
Pausing only long enough to collect the bundles we had packed earlier, we fled down the stairs and through the rooms of the ground floor towards the small chamber that contained the secret door.
Esin had spoken only once: ‘Is it my father?’

‘I don’t know. Be quiet and hurry.’

The house was deserted. The servants who lived in had run away or were in hiding. One could hardly blame them for refusing to become involved in the affairs of strangers. No doubt the local
authorities, such as they were, felt the same. I hoped the uproar at the gate would attract the attention of the military police, but by the time they arrived it might be too late.

Nefret had not spoken at all. We both had our torches; she held the light steady while I searched for the catch Emerson had shown me. It was stiff with disuse, but finally it yielded. The panel
swung open, and we all crowded into the space beyond. The passage went through the thick wall of the house. It was ten feet long and less than two feet wide; we had to go single-file, our bundles
bumping against the walls. At the end was a wooden door. It was not bolted or locked; one simply pressed a handle to release the latch, which was presumably less visible from the other side.

I did not know what lay beyond that door. This was as far as I had gone with Emerson.

‘Go ahead,’ Nefret whispered. ‘What are you waiting for?’

Her face gleamed with perspiration. Esin’s eyes were wide with terror and her breath came in short gasps. I was as anxious as they to get out of that cramped place; it was like standing in
an upright coffin, with dust clogging the nostrils and a strange, sour smell. Many generations of rodents must have lived and died in that passage; their bones had crunched under our feet as we
walked.

‘I am waiting for the men to join us,’ I replied. ‘We cannot take the risk of being separated. Since I do not know whether they will follow us through the bab-sirr or come
round to the back, we had better remain where we are. Put out the torch, Nefret. I expect they will be along shortly.’

My confidence was not assumed. With the aid of Emerson’s strength, they should be able to close and barricade the gate and beat a strategic retreat. However, it is difficult to estimate
time in the dark; we waited, breathing with difficulty, for what seemed like hours, before hinges creaked and a square of paler darkness opened before me.

‘Don’t shoot,’ said a familiar voice.

I tucked my pistol back into my pocket. ‘I couldn’t be sure it was you,’ I explained. ‘Are Ramses and Selim – ’

‘All present and accounted for,’ said Ramses breathlessly. ‘We can’t stay here, they’ll be looking for us. Let’s go.’

‘Where?’ I demanded, squeezing through a narrow aperture and a curtain of thorny vines.

‘We have an appointment at midnight, I believe. I am all the more anxious now to hear what the . . . fellow has to say. Damn these cactuses,’ Emerson added.

They formed a hedge a few feet away. The wall of the house rose sheer and windowless behind us. Nefret and Esin followed me out and Emerson closed the panel, which was of wood painted to
resemble the plastered surface of which it formed a part.

‘Lead on,’ I said.

The narrow lane into which we had emerged led back to the square, but it was obvious we could not go that way; from the sounds of it, a full-scale riot was in progress. A tongue of fire shot up.
Someone usually sets fire to something during these affairs, which, once started, go on of their own momentum – especially when there are interested parties fanning the flames. As we
retreated in the opposite direction, I heard the same high-pitched shriek of ‘unbelievers’.

It was fortunate that we had explored the town earlier. Cactus hedges and high walls formed barricades that had to be got round, and twice the sight of men waving torches forced us to retreat in
haste. It was quite exciting. However, we found ourselves at last in the open countryside. The moon shone brightly down on fields of waving grain and groves of orange and fig trees.

Moonlight is good for lovers but it is cursed inconvenient for fugitives. We kept to the shadows whenever we could, and once the sound of approaching hoofbeats made us dive for cover in a ditch.
After the small troop had galloped past, I said to Emerson, ‘They were our fellows, Australians and New Zealanders. Perhaps we ought to have stopped them.’

‘Do you want to explain this evening’s events – and her – to General Chetwode?’ Emerson demanded.

It was a rhetorical question, and he did not wait for an answer.

The distance was less than two miles, but I would never have found the place without a guide. The small hamlet had long been abandoned and the majority of the houses had collapsed into shapeless
piles of stone. One or two of them still retained their walls and parts of the roof. There was no sign of life in the half-ruined structure to which Ramses led us.

‘We are a trifle late,’ I whispered. ‘Perhaps he has left.’

‘If he isn’t there, I will go to Gaza and drag him out by his collar,’ Emerson muttered.

He wasn’t there. Ramses, who had insisted on searching the place before we entered, returned to report this fact. ‘It’s not that late,’ he added. ‘Give him
time.’

‘I suppose we can’t expect punctuality under these circumstances,’ Emerson admitted. ‘This is as good a place as any to rest; we may as well make ourselves comfortable.
What have you got in that bundle, Peabody?’

‘Only the bare necessities, I fear. Water, of course, and my first-aid kit. Did any of you incur injuries that require attention?’

‘Nothing to speak of,’ Emerson said. He let out a soft laugh. ‘Your quotation was apropos. The damned fools tried to crowd in all at once. “In yon straight path a
thousand may well be stopped by three”, as the
Lays of Ancient Rome
so poetically expresses it. We pushed them back, got the gate closed, and shoved a cart up against it. Then, unlike
Horatius and his comrades, we retreated in good order. Selim wanted to stay and fight on, but I dragged him away.’

‘It was a good fight,’ Selim said reminiscently.

He reached for the water bottle, which was passing round, and I said with a sigh of exasperation, ‘All right, Selim, let me see your hand. Why didn’t you tell me you had been
wounded?’

‘It is nothing,’ said Selim. ‘It will heal. I do not need anything on it.’

He meant antiseptics. Men are strange creatures; he had taken a cut on the side of his wrist which had bled copiously and must have hurt quite a lot, but I had to speak sternly to him before he
let me swab it with alcohol.

It was a relief to rest our weary limbs. Esin was half asleep already, stretched out on a patch of ground Selim had gallantly swept clean of pebbles, with her head on one of the bundles.
‘Biscuit, anyone?’ I inquired, extracting the packet from my parcel.

Emerson chuckled. ‘What, no whisky? My dear girl, packing those bundles was a brilliant thought, but I have come to expect no less of you.’ We were sitting side by side in a darkish
corner, so he gave me a quick demonstration of approval.

‘How long can we stay here without being discovered?’ I asked.

‘It’s safe enough,’ Ramses replied. ‘The locals think the place is haunted.’

‘By you?’ Nefret asked.

‘I encouraged the idea. I wonder . . .’ He went to the darkest corner of the place and shifted a few stones. After a moment he said, ‘No, it’s not here – the pistol
I took from Chetwode. He must have collected it on his way back.’

‘Pity,’ said Emerson. ‘We may want a weapon before the night is over. Ah, well, we usually manage without one.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Ramses agreed. He went back to Nefret and sat down. She leaned her head against his shoulder and he put his arm round her. ‘Darling, why don’t you stretch out
and sleep for a while? It’s beginning to look as if he – ’

He broke off with a hiss of breath, his head turning alertly, and raised a finger to his lips. Ramses’s acute hearing had prompted one of Daoud’s more memorable sayings: ‘He
can hear a whisper across the Nile.’ We froze, holding our breaths. Ramses rose and drifted towards the door, silent as a shadow in his dark galabeeyah.

Someone was coming. He walked quietly but not noiselessly. I heard a twig snap and then a form appeared in the ragged moonlit aperture of the door. The silhouette was that of a tall man wearing
a turban and a long robe. He leaned forward, peering into the darkness, his arms raised in greeting or defence. One sleeve hung limp from the elbow.

Ramses seized the fellow in a tight grip and clapped a hand over his mouth. ‘Hell and damnation,’ Emerson exclaimed, surging to his feet. ‘Bring him in. Keep him quiet. He must
be the bastard who was howling out anathemas against the unbelievers; I thought that voice was familiar! If he’s led that pack of jackals here . . . We need a gag, Peabody. Tear up some
extraneous garment or other.’

‘I do not possess any extraneous garments, Emerson. Hit him over the head.’

The prisoner, who had been quiescent until then, was galvanized into frantic movement. He managed to wrench Ramses’s hand from his face.

‘For God’s sake, don’t be hasty!’

The words were English. The accent was refined. The voice was not that of Sethos.

Ramses lowered his hand but did not release his hold. ‘Who the hell are you?’ he demanded.

‘A friend. That is the conventional reply, I believe. I really am, though.’

It had been a long time, but the well-bred drawl, with its undercurrent of amusement, struck a chord of memory.

‘Let him go, Ramses,’ I said. ‘You remember Sir Edward Washington, Sethos’s aide and co-conspirator?’

‘I am flattered, Mrs Emerson.’ Sir Edward removed himself from Ramses’s loosened grasp and made me an elegant bow. ‘How very good it is to see you again. And the
Professor . . .’ Another bow. ‘Nefret – do forgive the liberty – beautiful as ever . . . Selim, my friend . . . And I see you have the young lady safe. Well done.’

Ramses switched on his torch and stared incredulously at the tatterdemalion figure. Sir Edward bowed again, with the mocking grace that was peculiarly his.

‘By God, it is,’ Ramses muttered. ‘How the devil – ’

‘Never mind that now, Ramses,’ I interrupted. ‘Sir Edward, are you here in lieu of your chief?’

‘Straight to the point as always, Mrs Emerson. You are right to remind me we ought not waste time. The answer to your question is no. I have been waiting for him.’

‘Good Gad,’ Emerson exclaimed, recovering from his understandable surprise. ‘I never expected to see you again, Sir Edward; the last I heard, you were in . . .’ He broke
off, staring at the empty sleeve.

‘France,’ said Sir Edward coolly. ‘As you see, I have returned to private life.’

‘Did you follow us?’ I asked.

‘Only until you were safely out of the metropolis. Didn’t you hear me encouraging the riot? Kept everybody busy and happy and out of your way.’

‘Oh,’ said Emerson.

‘I came straight on after that,’ Sir Edward continued blithely. ‘It was a safe assumption that you would keep the appointment.’

‘But
he
didn’t,’ Emerson said. ‘Why not?’

Sir Edward scratched his side, murmured a genteel apology, and said, ‘He may have been unable to get away. Sahin’s been watching him closely, especially since Ramses escaped.
There’s no use staying here any longer.’

‘Where shall we go, then?’ I inquired. ‘In my opinion it would be inadvisable for us to return to Khan Yunus until we are apprised of conditions there. Some of Sahin’s
men may be lurking. Or were those assertive individuals not his men?’

‘I assumed they were. Don’t tell me you have another set of enemies after you!’

‘There would be nothing new in that,’ said Ramses. ‘Have you any place in mind, Sir Edward?’

Sir Edward hesitated. Under the skilful makeup and the ingrained dirt and the wisps of beard I could see the lines of worry and indecision that marked his face. Then he shrugged, with all his
old insouciance. ‘I know a place, yes. It’s a good ten miles away, too far for the ladies to walk. We’ll need transportation.’

‘I will go back and get the motorcar,’ Selim offered.

‘Too risky,’ Emerson said at once.

‘And too conspicuous,’ Sir Edward added. ‘We’ll have to borrow a few quadrupeds. Ramses, my lad, have you ever stolen a horse?’

‘As a matter of fact, he has,’ I replied.

‘I don’t know why I bothered to ask,’ Sir Edward muttered. ‘There’s a picket line a mile south of here. Ramses and Selim – no, Professor, not you. Someone
must stay with the ladies.’

‘This lady is going with you,’ Nefret said.

From Manuscript H

There was only one sentry. The enemy wasn’t in the habit of sending out raiding parties, and local horse thieves had learned not to tangle with the men of the Desert
Column. Trees and growing crops gave plenty of cover, and the moon was down. They crawled close enough to hear the snores of the men who lay rolled in their blankets beyond the line of horses.
Sir Edward brought his mouth against Ramses’s ear.

Other books

Memory Wall: Stories by Anthony Doerr
Time Thief: A Time Thief Novel by MacAlister, Katie
The Business by Martina Cole
Dominance by Will Lavender
Loving the Marquess by Medeiros, Suzanna
Polar Bears Past Bedtime by Mary Pope Osborne
Rebel, Bully, Geek, Pariah by Erin Jade Lange
The Bitter Taste by Leanne Fitzpatrick