Egyptian Honeymoon (13 page)

Noelle was awakened by the stewardess bringing in her breakfast, and looking at her watch she saw it was much earlier than usual. Of course, the expedition to the Valley of the Kings! Steve must have ordered it yesterday when he was making arrangements, before…

Noelle settle herself back against her pillows, distastefully eyeing the rolls and butter. The coffee she drank eagerly, but felt no wish for food. The events of the previous night filtered back to her with painful clarity. She had been amazed to discover Steve had believe she had lived with Hugh, though she supposed it was not surprising, so many girls nowadays embarked upon a trial period before finally binding themselves. To Steve, with his materialistic outlook, love meant consummation, and she had told him she loved Hugh and was going to marry him. He had thought none of the worse of her for that, regarding her as some sort of widow, but it explained his snide remarks about her dead lover, and his resentment of her apparent coldness towards himself.

A woman who had been aroused did not meet sex with virginal shrinking as she had done. She had sustained a physical shock from his assault upon her. The dawning love she had confessed to Omar was as bruised as her body. It was as if a late-flowering rose, opening delicate petals to the rays of the sun, had met the sharp nip of frost before it could bloom. Whether it would recover or wither away, she could not decide, for her feelings towards her husband were in a state of chaos—love and hate, repulsion and attraction warred for supremacy, only that last kiss offered balm to her hurt susceptibilities, but that she was sure she had dreamed, for neither by word nor look had Steve ever shown her any tenderness, and the door between their cabins was shut.

It flashed into her mind that he could not now annul their marriage, and again she was not certain if she were glad or sorry. Yesterday she would have been relieved, but this morning? It all depended upon how he treated her henceforth. If he were suitably contrite… Steve contrite? She nearly laughed. That would be the day! She didn't suppose he would appear any different from usual, but what about tonight? Then she recollected that they would be leaving, and the night would be spent over two thousand feet up in the air. No problem there, and thank God they would have left Omar and Marcia behind.

Meanwhile she must get up and get ready for this excursion, upon which she did not want to go, for she felt languid and would prefer to rest, but she could not think up an excuse that did not sound feeble, and Steve would imagine she was sulking because he had asserted his rights. And they were his rights, she must remember that, the payment for all he had given her. He had not cancelled the arrangements, being under the impression that she wanted this last trip, he might even have meant it as a way of making amends for his brutality, but it was hardly adequate.

She dressed in cream-coloured slacks and an amber shirt, as she combed her hair she noticed a mark on her neck. She went hot as she realised what it was. Selecting a chiffon scarf, she draped it about her neck to conceal it. The linen hat and dark glasses completed her toilet. Neither were becoming, but she had learned to respect the Egyptian sun.

When she went out on deck she found Steve waiting for her, standing looking over the rail. He too was wearing trousers and a linen coat, but instead of the Arab headdress—Arab was a dirty word to him after last night—a panama hat. As he rarely wore one, it made him look unfamiliar, so that Noelle hesitated, a slim, boyish figure standing half in sun and half in shade, but there was no mistaking that tall, lean body that had embraced her so savagely last night, and as he turned to look at her, the blood ran up under her thin skin, making her blush fierily.

'Hello, you're in good time.'

'You told me to be,' she said dully, vaguely disappointed by this casual greeting, though she did not know what else she had expected. Her heart was beating rapidly, a sign that physically she was reacting to his presence, however resentful her mind might be. He came towards her.

'What have you got round your neck?'

'Oh, just a scarf.'

'You won't need that.' He whisked it away and saw what she had sought to hide. Again Noelle blushed and hung her head.

Steve touched it with the tip of one finger.

'A love bite,' he said softly.

'I wouldn't call it that,' she returned disdainfully. 'The mark of the beast would be more accurate.'

He looked at her searchingly, but she turned her head away, and he sighed.

'Come on, we'd better get moving.'

Noelle pushed the scarf into the neck of her shirt and preceded him down the companionway. They had reached the lowest promenade and were proceeding towards the gangway, when there was a patter of slippered feet behind them, and an urgent voice called:

'Steve! Wait!'

Marcia had evidently dashed out of her cabin when she saw them go by. She had pulled on a wrap over her pyjamas, but she had not done her face. The morning light made her look haggard, and under the boudoir cap on her head she was wearing curlers.

'Where did you get to last night?' she asked reproachfully. 'I wanted you to meet my friends.'

'Sorry about that, but I had another appointment,' he returned smoothly. 'Something very urgent cropped up.'

His eyes flickered towards Noelle, who tried not to look conscious.

'Oh? Was someone playing truant?'

Noelle was sure then that Marcia had known of Omar's invitation, had probably connived at it, and it was part of the plan to lure Steve to the hotel so he would not miss her. She had seen them hobnobbing together. She waited anxiously for Steve's reply.

His face was bland, as he replied:

'What an odd idea! Who would want to do that?'

'Oh, I get these… hunches,' Marcia shrugged. 'It seems I was wrong. And where are you off to now?'

'To visit the dead,' Steve told her solemnly.

'Across the river? You make it sound so macabre!' She giggled, a sign that she was not quite at ease. 'If you'll hang on a moment, darling, I'll come with you. It won't take me a moment to dress.' She was rattled, she usually refrained from using endearments in Noelle's presence.

'I'm afraid we can't wait,' Steve drawled. 'And this is an expedition strictly for two… a honeymoon trip.'

Marcia's face fell. She looked suddenly old, and stared at Steve as if she couldn't believe her ears, while Noelle's apathy was pierced by a dart of triumph. Steve had actually snubbed Marcia!

'A bit belated,' Marcia said nastily.

'It's never too late to mend,' Steve observed airily.

Marcia rallied; she forced an inviting smile.

'The
Serapis
doesn't leave until tomorrow evening. Will you take me to Karnak in the morning? I'm sure Noelle will be too exhausted after a day among the tombs to want to come.'

'Possibly. I'll see you about it after dinner.'

Marcia let them go with a satisfied smile.

'I thought we were leaving tonight?' Noelle asked uncertainly.

'Exactly. We are.'

So he was not going to tell Marcia they were going. She felt a fleeting pity for her. Steve was not kind to his women.

He went on: 'She's becoming tedious and she's got no tact. I can't abide possessive women. Her friends are going on to Aswan with her. We were only incidental until they arrived.'

Oh, sublime understatement! Noelle was still convinced that Marcia's presence on the boat had been prearranged when she discovered Steve was in Cairo, and throughout her aim had been to detach him from his new wife, but she had ceased to amuse him and she was to be discarded without being told of his departure.

'You're cruel sometimes,' she declared as they walked along the landing stage.

'Only sometimes?' he queried mockingly. 'I thought you believed it was my natural bent.'

Noelle made no comment. He had treated her cruelly last night, considering it was well-deserved chastisement.

'Do you always punish severely when you discover a misdemeanour?' she asked with seeming artlessness.

He gave her a crooked smile.

'Always. It's the best way to ensure that the crime is not repeated.'

'Even though as a result the offender may detest and resent you?'

'If so, that's too bad,' he said indifferently.

It was no use, she could not get under his skin. She wished she could detest him, but he had brought down her defences, and she had become vulnerable, she was becoming more and more aware of his sexual magnetism. What did the Greek playwright say? 'One night in a man's arms will make a woman tame.'

Another thought occurred to her. She had married because she wanted children; it had been the strongest of her reasons. Though the first time rarely had that result, it was possible her wish was already granted. Did Steve want them too? Her father thought that was his main reason for surrendering his bachelorhood. Most men wanted a son, and Steve would want to give his all the privileges he had been denied himself—a competent nanny, a public school, Harrow or Eton. Would she be allowed any part in his upbringing? A child was more likely to be a cause of friction than a bond between them, but perhaps she would have a daughter.

'You're very thoughtful, my love,' Steve broke into her cogitations, as they reached the ferry. 'Yes, I've a lot to consider.'

For once he had not caught her thought.

'I hope your conclusions will be satisfactory.'

'So do I,' she agreed.

Noelle's impression of the necropolis was dust, heat and a uniform dun-coloured landscape. The barren Theban Hills were brown, the stone of the monuments weathered to shades of brown and ochre, and since the Nile was shrinking and it was between seasons for cultivations, what vegetation there was appeared brown and withered. Above them a brazen sun shone in a deep blue sky.

The Royal Mortuary Temples are roughly in a line parallel with the river, but divided from it by the flood plain with behind them the gaunt cliffs of the mountains, at a distance of about three miles from the Nile. The valleys in the mountains are honeycombed with tombs and tomb chapels for a distance of some two miles. There are about sixty tombs in the Valley of the Kings, and another seventy in that of the Queens, most notable of the latter being that of Nefertari, the favourite queen of Rameses the Great. She had died young and he appeared to have loved her very much.

It was impossible to visit all the tombs and chapels in this vast area, though their guide conscientiously tried to show them all the high spots. Perhaps the Temple of Queen Hatshepsut impressed Noelle most at Deir-el-Bahri, for it is still in a good state of preservation and is built in the form of colonnaded ascending terraces, connected by ramps. The tomb of this great queen is the largest in the Valley of the Kings, for Hatshepsut reigned in Egypt in the place of her young son, calling herself king, and is often depicted as a man. The god's wife, Noelle learned, was the title bestowed on the queen's consort, and Steve told her drily that since the Pharaohs allowed themselves to be worshipped as divine, they had to marry their sisters, for no one of lesser blood could be considered their equal.

The huge, battered Colossi of Memnon excited Noelle's wonder. They had guarded the entrance to Amenhotep the Third's enormous mortuary temple, of which nothing else was left except a few stones and a giant stele.

Visiting the tombs themselves was a failure. The descending passages interspersed by deep shafts to baffle robbers, and pillared vestibules, ending in the burial chamber, gave her claustrophobia. She had always hated being underground.

The wall paintings reminded her of those in Suleiman's house, which had been faithful copies. That was an episode she wanted to forget. After one visit she refused to enter another.

'I'm afraid you're not enjoying it after all,' Steve remarked as they went into the Ramesseum, the Temple of Rameses the Second, called the Great, through the wide outer pylon or gateway, decorated with scenes of the king's wars. Though much was in ruins, there was enough left to give some idea of its ancient grandeur.

'Oh, I am,' she declared gallantly, in spite of her aching feet, for he had thought to please her by coming. 'It's all a bit overwhelming.' She stared at the remains of what had been an enormous statue of the hero king, which their guide said had weighed a thousand tons, the huge head of which reposed on the floor. 'Not exactly modest, were they?'

'It's a little sad,' Steve said thoughtfully. 'All this effort and expense to create lasting monuments to their greatness which would have been buried under the desert sands if it weren't for the zeal of the archaeologists, while their poor mummified bodies moulder in their cases in various museums.'

Noelle recalled that he had expressed a similar trend of thought when they had viewed the Pyramids, and something of the camaraderie of that day seemed to have returned to them.

'But the monuments have lasted,' she pointed out, 'and give a great deal of pleasure and interest to visitors.'

'Who don't care a damn that Rameses defeated the Hittites, and who brings them offerings now?'

In spite of the heat, Noelle shivered, for all said and done, this was a burial ground, and she felt they were desecrating it.

'Centuries hence, tourists may travel to Highgate Cemetery and consider it a showpiece.'

'If it hasn't been blown to bits by a nuclear war. I've willed that I'm to be cremated and my ashes scattered. It's cleaner, and takes up less room.'

Again Noelle shivered; she could not bear to think of all Steve's splendid manhood extinguished.

'You're getting morbid,' she said, 'but if I predecease you, I'll hope you'll give me a tomb, like he…' she nodded towards the head, 'did for Nefertari.'

For that had been an expression of the great king's love and grief.

'Not me,' he returned, grinning. 'All you'll get is your ashes in an urn.'

'Don't be gruesome!' But he did not love her, he would soon forget her, she thought, and was surprised how much the reflection pained her.

'I think I've seen enough,' she went on, gazing round at the crumbling pillars. 'Sightseeing is tiring and I had a disturbed night.'