The Last Camel Died at Noon (37 page)

The High Priest of Aminreh let out a harsh bark of laughter. 'Soon you will kneel to him and the hand of the Heneshem(?) will-'

'It is I who will say what will happen,' Nastasen shouted, turning on his ally.

'Yes, yes, great one, great prince. Forgive your servant.'

Really, I thought (for I deemed it prudent not to speak just then), Prince Nastasen was nothing more than a nasty, spoiled little boy. He would make a very poor ruler, and it would not be long before Pesaker was the real power in the land.

However, nasty little boys can be dangerous when they command a lot of men armed with big sharp spears, and Nastasen proceeded to demonstrate that he was not so stupid as I had believed. His breathing slowed, his muscles relaxed, and a slow, evil smile replaced his frown.

'You are strangers,' he said. 'You have no friends here? But you had a friend before you came. You are the friends of a traitor.'

'Guilt by association,' I remarked to Emerson.

'Let him finish,' Emerson said. 'I have an unpleasant feeling about this...'

'He is a traitor to his people,' said Nastasen. 'He would betray his own kind and raise up the (obviously a pejorative term of some kind) to rule over them.' He struck himself on his chest with the flat of his hand. 'But I, the great prince, the defender of the people, cast my all-seeing eyes upon the land! I saw this scum; I knew him, I knew his name! And now - '

He clapped his hands sharply and turned. Two soldiers entered, gripping a prisoner. Roughly they forced him to his knees. His arms were bound behind him, not at the wrists, but at the elbows, a particularly uncomfortable position familiar to me from ancient Egyptian depictions of captives. The hood still covered his face, and the coarsely woven kilt was the one he had worn the night before. They must have taken him shortly after he left us. We had delayed too long - or someone had laid a trap for him. I looked around for Amenit. She had disappeared, and so had Reggie.

Nastasen stood gloating over his brother like a stage villain. 'He has quite a talent for melodrama,' Emerson muttered. 'I wonder if they still perform the old religious plays here? Get ready for the next scene, Peabody.'

I moved closer to Emerson. He slipped his arm around my waist. There was a slithering sound behind me as Ramses moved; whither, I could not tell.

Nastasen was enjoying his triumph and his theatrics too much to heed us. 'He hides his face like a coward, but I know him! My eye sees all, knows all. Your eyes are weak; perhaps you do not know him. Look then!'

He snatched the hood off. I was relieved to see that except

for a few scratches Tarek appeared to be unharmed. He was a trifle paler than usual, but there was no sign of fear on his face, only contempt, as he looked steadily at his brother. Nastasen gripped him roughly by the hair and pulled his head back. Whipping a knife from his belt, he laid the sharp blade against the beating vein in Tarek's throat.

A faint moaning sound, like a sad winter wind, echoed through the room. The little people were watching; they mourned the death of their hope with the capture of their hero.

A thin trickle of blood slid down Tarek's bronzed throat. He made no sound, nor did his expression change. Emerson's fingers moved along the leather of my belt, as if he were tightening his grasp. I felt a small body press against my back in apparent terror; extending my hand towards my son I felt, not trembling flesh but a hard metal shaft. I closed my fingers around it and waited.

With a sudden movement, Nastasen sheathed his knife. 'The king does not kill except in war,' he declared. 'This death would be too merciful.'

I had anticipated some such conclusion, but I was immensely relieved all the same, for weak, unbalanced personalities do not always behave predictably, and Nastasen's hatred of his brother distorted every feature of his face.

He pushed Tarek into the grasp of the soldiers, who dragged him to his feet. 'Now,' he said, turning to us. 'Here is your friend, the traitor. You will share his fate, but not until after you have witnessed the failure of your plans and the crowning of the rightful king. Do you wish to say farewell to your friend the traitor? You will not see him again until you meet before the altar of the god. And then... then, I think, he will have no tongue with which to speak.'

'What an unpleasant little swine he is,' said Emerson in a conversational tone. 'Now, Peabody.'

I had planned to burst into tears and fling myself at Nastasen's feet, but I simply could not make myself do it. The shriek I emitted instead proved equally effective; Nastasen started back, but he was not nimble enough to avoid me as I rushed at him, waving my arms in feigned agitation and screaming at the top of my lungs. A carefully calculated stumble and a failed recovery brought my lowered head into painful contact with the prince's midsection. He took one of the soldiers down with him as he fell; another dropped when my parasol got tangled in his legs.

I rolled over in time to see Tarek dash towards the back of the room with one of the soldiers hot on his heels. The great spear was raised, it was about to leave the pursuer's hand, when a wicker basket loaded with linens shot across his path with the fine accuracy of a pitch to the wicket. The spear clattered to the floor, the soldier fell on top of it, and Ramses prudently skuttled back behind a huge jar of wine. Running like the wind, Tarek vanished through the doorway. It was several seconds before another soldier followed.

Tarek was safe - at least I hoped he was. But what of my gallant, my courageous spouse? I could not move, since Nastasen had me by the throat and was trying to throttle me and bang my head against the floor. It was a fairly ineffectual performance and just went to prove what I was always telling Ramses - that it is difficult to do two things at the same time unless one is equipped with superior mental and physical qualities.

A hand plucked the prince from me and tossed him away like a rag doll. 'All right, Peabody?' Emerson inquired, helping me to my feet.

The knife he had taken from my belt was not in his hand. I concluded he had managed to slip it into his pocket after cutting Tarek's bonds.

Nastasen was pounding the floor and screaming, Murtek had taken refuge behind a very tall soldier and was wringing his hands as only he could do. Pesaker was the only one who kept his head. He shouted out an order. It was the one I (or any sensible person) would have given. The soldiers left off waving their spears at me and Emerson and hastened towards the doorway through which Tarek had gone.

'I believe I feel a trifle faint, Emerson,' I said.

'That might be an excellent idea, my dear.'

So I rolled my eyes up as far as they would go and sagged at the knees. Emerson lifted me with a cry of distress; I reclined comfortably in his arms and listened with interest to the ensuing discussion.

Emerson demanded medical assistance for me. Nastasen, in a voice so choked with fury it was scarcely recognisable, replied that he would do anything possible to ensure my survival since he hoped to have the pleasure of killing me with his own hands. He began describing some of the methods he had in mind. The High Priest of Aminreh broke into this tirade with an accusation Emerson indignantly denied. His poor wife had become hysterical, as women will; hastening to her assistance, he had been attacked by the prisoner, who had struck him down along with several of the soldiers. He had no idea how the prisoner had got his arms free. One of the soldiers must be a traitor.

Everyone began shouting at once. The first sound to be heard when the tumult died was the timid but high-pitched voice of Murtek. 'To kill these strangers now would be a mistake. First, they are the god's; he will be angry if another drinks their blood. Second while you talked, the traitor has escaped. If the strangers helped him, he will be grateful. He will return to help them.'

'Huh,' said Nastasen. 'That would be - foolish. I would not take such a risk'

'No, my prince. But Prince Tarek would. Even as a child he was weak and soft of heart, listening to the stories of Forth.'

'As did you,' said Pesaker in a grating voice. 'Your own loyalty is doubtful, Murtek. What did you do to prevent Tarek's escape?'

'I am an old man,' Murtek said pitifully. 'I help as I can - by giving good advice, words of wisdom. The god must not be robbed of his sacrifice.'

'That at least is true,' said the High Priest of Aminreh. 'And the other, it may be, is also true. We will take the strangers to the darkest cells in the prison - '

Murtek coughed deprecatingly. 'You wish to set a trap for Prince Tarek? Then leave the strangers here in this place, where Tarek lived as a child, and whose hidden ways are known to him. He cannot reach Prince Nastasen's cells. He will not try.'

There was a long thoughtful silence. I knew our fate hung in the balance and I decided I would face it standing, as a true Briton should. 'Put me down, Emerson,' I muttered.

'Good, she wakes,' said Nastasen, as Emerson set me on my feet. 'She will hear her doom from the lips of the king.'

'You aren't king yet, you young villain,' said Emerson between his teeth. Aloud he said in Meroitic, 'Come, wife. We go to the house of Prince Nastasen.'

'Wait!' The High Priest of Aminreh raised his hand. 'You are ready to go? You do not ask to remain here?'

Emerson shrugged. 'One place is as good as another. We are ready.'

'This is -,' said Pesaker, studying us with narrowed eyes and an expression that made the meaning of the word clear. 'They are too willing. I have a better plan. They will stay. We will take the child.'

Into the Bowels of the Earth

I bit my lip to repress an exclamation of dismay. Things had been working so nicely up to that point! In considerable agitation of mind I looked about me in search of inspiration. Ramses was nowhere to be seen, but I did not think he had had a chance to leave the room, and the most cursory of searches would reveal his hiding place behind the wine jars. Then I saw a pale face peering out from the doorway to my sleeping chamber. Had Reggie been there all along, skulking behind the draperies - and a woman's skirts? I felt a slight qualm about throwing him to the wolves but less than I would have felt had he played the man.

'Reggie!' I cried. 'Save him! Save Ramses!'

He had no opportunity to withdraw; one of the soldiers saw him and dragged him out of hiding. Perhaps he hoped that presenting this little bird to his master would sweeten his failure, tor, as he was forced to report, the eagle had escaped him.

Shall we continue to search, great prince?' he asked.

Yes," snapped Nastasen. 'You will search without food or drink until you find him. If you do not...'

I have found this one, great prince,' the soldier said, swallowing nervously.

Nastasen turned to his advisers. 'What shall we do with this vermin? Perhaps he would like to taste the pleasures of my cells.'

Neither of the reverend gentlemen appeared to have an opinion. Reggie drew himself up. There was mettle in the lad after all; perhaps it had been a paucity, not of courage but of intelligence that had made him hesitate before. 'I will go,' he said. 'Take me instead of the boy. Leave him with his mother.'

Nastasen nodded. 'One hostage is as good as another,' he said, or words to that effect. He shot a malignant glance at me. 'Later, I may bring this one back and take the boy. Or I may not. Amuse yourself, Lady, in trying to think what I will do.'

He turned on his heel and marched out. Pesaker made us a mocking bow. 'Until we meet before the god, strangers.'

Held fast in the grip of his guards, Reggie smiled bravely. 'I don't blame you, Mrs Amelia. Don't give up hope. There is still a chance -' He was dragged away. Murtek followed; he did not speak or look at us.

Then we were alone - except for a dozen or so soldiers bumbling around and Amenit, who had followed Reggie out of my room and was now staring at the row of wine jars.

I ran to her and put my arm around her. 'Poor girl! How well you conceal your anxiety for your lover! Is there nothing we can do to help him?'

Lithely as a snake she slithered out of my grasp. Her anger and frustration - which I had felt in the quivering tension of her body - were so great she could hardly bear for me to touch her. 'What have you done? You let him go free...'

Recollecting herself, she stopped speaking. I deemed it wiser to pretend I had misunderstood her meaning. 'I am a mother,' I said in her own tongue. 'Could I see my child taken from me? Your lover is a man, strong and brave. And you will hasten to his side and find how best to help him.'

Goodness, but the girl was slow! I had prevented her from betraying herself and practically spelled out what her next move should be, but it took her forever to think it through.

'Yes,' she said at last. 'I must hasten to him and find out... Stay here. Do not try to escape. Do nothing until I bring you word.'

She glided from the room. I waited a moment and then looked behind the wine jars. 'You can come out now, Ramses. It was clever of you to remain hidden; if they had been able to lay hands on you, they might not have accepted Reggie as your substitute.'

'It was clever of you, Mama, to distract Amenit,' said Ramses, emerging. 'When she said she would consult "him," it was not Mr Forthright she meant, was it?'

'What the devil did I do with my pipe?' Emerson demanded, rummaging through my notes and papers. 'If ever a man deserved a quiet smoke... Ah, here it is. And here, my dear Peabody, is your little knife. I commend you for keeping it well-sharpened. Tarek's bonds were not rope, they were raw-hide.'

'I wish I had a dozen pipes and a sack of tobacco for you, my dear Emerson,' I replied. 'They didn't hurt you?'

'Only a few bruises.' Emerson began filling his pipe. 'I felt certain we risked nothing worse; these polytheists do take their sacrifices, and lingering tortures, and that sort of thing so seriously. The only really ugly moment was when Nastasen threatened to pop us into his dungeon.'

'That was Pesaker's idea, I believe,' I said.

'Same thing. The young swine hasn't a brain in his head; Pesaker will find him a perfect tool, which is no doubt the reason he supports Nastasen rather than Tarek. Now we have a reprieve until the moment of the ceremony, and with Tarek on the loose we ought to be able to work something out - if we can keep out of Nastasen's dungeon.'