'But was it real?'
Serena thought for a moment. 'Charley seemed to think so. Real or not, Anna, I think you should probably regard them as deadly. I don't think I would hang around to argue the toss, and neither should you if you see it!' She shook her head and ran her hand across her eyes. 'Dear God, I'm confused. My love, it's late. I think we should get some sleep. Can I make a suggestion? Why not hide the bottle somewhere safe? Out on deck, perhaps. Just until you can put it in the safe. Don't take it back to your cabin.'
Anna didn't argue. They let themselves out of the door onto the rear deck. 'The pot plants,' Anna whispered. 'Why don't I stick it in one of the pots?'
They made their way to the ladder and climbed up onto the sundeck. There, arranged around the bows, were a dozen tubs of brilliant flowers, scarlet geraniums and hibiscus and bougainvillaea. The deck was completely deserted in the darkness.
'I need something to dig a hole,' Anna said quietly. 'The earth is so hard. I don't want to break the bottle.' She glanced up. The river bank ahead of them was suddenly bright with lights.
'Hurry. I think we're nearly at Aswan.' Serena had looked up too. 'Someone told me that while we're there it's so crowded we'll be tied up alongside other boats, so this is our last chance to do anything unseen. Wait. I'll fetch something.' She disappeared in the darkness, then a few seconds later she was back. 'I noticed it earlier and it was still there. Someone left their comb on one of the tables.' It was steel and had a sharply pointed handle.
Scraping frantically, Anna dug a small pocket in the dry sandy soil and slipped the bottle into it. Pushing the soil back over it she dusted her hands together. 'That's all right as long as no one pinches the plants.'
'They won't. They take great care of them. Haven't you noticed, they water them every morning at sun up.' Serena turned to the rail for a moment.
The boat had slowed. It was turning towards the bank. They were still some distance from the town.
'You know, it's quite stunning up here, isn't it?' She paused. 'It 121.
looks as though we're going to wait here till tomorrow. It's probably too crowded ahead to moor in the dark. Anna dear, you'll be all right tonight? You won't be afraid?' Her eyes strayed back to the plants for a second.
'I won't be afraid.' Anna repeated it like a mantra. She had to make herself believe it.
Even so, when she reached her cabin she hesitated. The door was still ajar, the lights on. She gazed in, looking in spite of herself for the distinctive sinuous movements of a snake.
She had searched the cabin three times from floor to ceiling before she at last turned back to the door and pushing it shut, locked it. There was no sign of either the snake or of the earth that Charley had described. She searched her bed meticulously then with another glance up at the ceiling in the shower she pulled off her clothes and turning on the tepid water she allowed it to flow over her for a long, long time. When at last she had dried herself and climbed into bed she was almost asleep.
It took only the smallest sound from the direction of the shower to shock her awake again though, adrenaline flowing. She turned on the light, rechecked the bathroom, tightened the tap against an incipient drip and climbed back into bed. In the dark, faintly, she could smell a sickly, resinous smell. What was that stuff? And where on earth had it come from? With a shudder she reached for the diary. The urge to sleep had gone.
122.Hail thou lion god! Let not this my heart be carried away from me!Three hundred years have passed. In the luminous desert the rock face changes from silver to deeper velvet black where the shadows hide it from the moonlight. As the three men cr'eep towards the cleft in the cliff they are barely more than shadows themselves. Their sandals make no sound, so the sudden chink of metal on rock as the pick begins its work is the more shocking in the silence.
The men work without speaking, swiftly and with certainty that this at last is the place for which they have been searching for so long. They have looked for signs, taken bearings in the daylight. But the exposure itself the rape of the site, has to be quick and secret lest pharaoh's men see them and exert the punishment tomb robbers have courted for a thousand years.
The note of the pick - metal on stone - changes. The three men stop and hold their breath, listening as one. Then, cautiously they step closer, hands outstretched to feel amidst the tumbled rubble for the hidden edge of the doorway.
Many, many years before, so legend has it, another pharaoh 123.
ordered the sealing of the tomb after the murder of the high priest...
Leaving the Forresters to entertain the passengers of a neighbouring dahabeeyah on their first day moored at Aswan, Louisa excused herself on the grounds of a headache induced by the intense heat or this southern latitude and persuaded them, with little difficulty, she noticed, that nothing would be better for her than for Hassan to take her over the narrow strip of water in the sandal to visit the low, blessedly green, northern tip of the Island of Elephantine.
He brought the small boat ashore on a narrow sandy beach and helped her out. She stared round in amazed delight at the trees and flowers - hibiscus, poinsettia, bougainvillaea, mimosa and acacia. After the low arid cliffs and the sandbanks of the approach to Aswan it was like heaven.
By now it was with no embarrassment at all that she took the bag from Hassan which contained her loose soft green gown and native slippers and vanished behind some bushes. They were both used to the routine now. Safely sheltered, she would strip off her dress, her petticoats, her stockings, her corset, even her drawers, feeling for a few brief moments the heaven of the sunlight and the touch of the light wind on her hot bare skin, then she would pull the featherlight gown over her head and make her way back to Hassan who would by now have unrolled the rug, set out her paints and sketchbook and the baskets which contained their food and drink.
Today she lingered longer than before over her transformation. The island was silent, save for the calls of birds in the trees and the gentle lap of water on the shore. There were Nubian villages further north, Hassan had told her, but here although boats frequently rowed or sailed across from the town, it was completely quiet.
There was no one around as the sun rose higher in the sky. If 124.
she straightened a little she could see the river; even the Ibis at anchor near the other boats in the distance. The dappled sunlight touched her shoulders. She smiled, lifting the hot weight of her knotted hair off her neck with her hands. It was heaven to feel her breasts free in the languid air, to experience the soft touch of leaves against her thigh.
'Sitt Louisa, there are people coming.' Hassan's voice was very close, just the other side of the bush. He sounded agitated.
With an exclamation of horror and embarrassment she grabbed her dress and pulled it on, hastily brushing back her hair as the hem settled around her bare feet. Scooping up her discarded clothes she wadded them into a pile and emerged breathless.
'Here. Please. Quickly!' Hassan took the clothes from her and put a pencil into her hand. He stooped and pulled something from the picnic basket. 'Please, SitI Louisa, a veil for your hair.' With only the slightest hesitation he shook out its folds and laid the silk scarf over her head, draping one end across her shoulder.
As a group of some half-dozen people emerged onto the path nearby talking loudly, Has san was once more the respectful servant, unpacking the food at the edge of the rug whilst Louisa, although somewhat unconventionally dressed, was respectably covered from head to toe. Becoming conscious of her bare feet even as the visitors approached she had drawn them quickly out of sight beneath her gown. She didn't think they had seen.
They were English, from Hampshire, on their last day in Aswan before setting out for the long voyage back to Alexandria. For a terrible moment she thought they wanted to stay, to sit down beside her, to talk, but after a pause for breath, an exchange of greetings, a polite, cursory glance at the sketchbook which Hassan had, with enormous presence of mind, folded back to show a river scene from the previous week, they were gone, the sound of their conversation dying away as swiftly as it had come.
Louisa dropped her pencil and threw back her head. The veil slipped from her hair. 'If you hadn't warned me, I should have been caught totally naked!'
Hassan dropped his eyes. 'I am sure you were careful and modest, Sitt Louisa.' She smiled. 'Even so. I didn't hear them coming.' She slipped off the stool onto the rug and her bare toes once more peeped from beneath her hem.
125.
His eyes met hers. 'You look happy here amongst the flowers.'
'I am happy.' She leant back on her elbows, staring up at the trees above their heads. 'It is beautiful here, Hassan. A paradise.' A hoopoe was flitting back and forth on the branches above their heads flirting its crest, its pretty pink and black plumage a gentle contrast to the lush green, its mellow call echoing across the water.
'The hoopoe is a bird of good fortune.' Hassan leant against the trunk of the acacia tree. He was watching her closely, an indulgent half-smile on his face. 'Would you draw a picture of the bird for me?'
She sat up and looked at him, astonished. 'Would you really like one?'
He nodded.
'Then of course I will.' Her eyes met his again. This time he did not look away. She felt a flutter of excitement deep inside her and for a moment she found she couldn't breathe.
She swallowed hard. This must not happen. She could not let it happen. She had to stop it now while it was still possible. But she was still looking at him, drowning in his gaze, feeling the strangeness of new infinite possibilities. She couldn't look away.
It was Hassan who broke the spell. In one lithe movement he was on his feet, heading down to the beach where he stood for a moment staring out across the water, clenching his fists. When he turned back to her he was in control of himself again. 'I shall serve the food, with your permission,' he said formally.
Unable for a moment to trust herself to speak she nodded.
She ate very little, her eyes on the Nile, watching feluccas swooping back and forth in the strong breeze which had arisen, funnelling down between the low cliffs. Lost in her dreams she did not even try to keep track of the time. Slowly the sun was moving across the sky.
'Sitt Louisa?' She realised suddenly that Hassan was standing at the edge of the rug. 'Shall I pack away the food? The flies.
She nodded without speaking and he bowed. Silently he filled the basket with the almost untouched bread and goat's cheese and fruit. When he had finished he disappeared for a moment into the trees. When he returned he was holding a spray of scarlet flowers in his hand. He presented them to her as if they were the most precious gift on earth.
126.
She took them without a word. Examining them closely she took in their beauty, the perfection of petals and stamens, then she glanced up. He was watching her. She smiled almost shyly, suddenly as self-conscious as a young girl, then she raised the flowers to her lips and kissed them gently.
Neither of them spoke. It wasn't necessary. Both knew that from this moment their relationship had changed for ever.
'Do you want to go back to the boat now?' She could hear the regret in his voice. She nodded. 'There is always tomorrow, Hassan.'
'If it is the will of Allah!' He bowed almost imperceptibly. 'I will take you on an excursion to see the unfinished obelisk where it lies still in the quarry where they were cutting it from the stone thousands of years ago. We will have to go on camels!' He smiled mischievously.
'Then you can be sure that the Forresters will not want to accompany us!' She said it with some spirit. 'I should like that, Hassan. And then there are so many things to see. The cataract, Philae, the souk.' She watched as he loaded the baskets into the small boat.
When he had finished he turned to her. 'You should change your clothes now.
For one moment she thought of refusing, of climbing back into the sandal in her cool loose-fitting gown, feeling the warm water which slopped on the bleached boards of the little boat rippling over her toes, then she realised the folly of the dream. The Forresters would be scandalised. She might alienate them so much they refused to allow her to travel any further with them. She had no money to hire her own boat. If they put her ashore she would be stranded until the steamer came and even then she would not be able to afford the ticket back to Cairo. Taking the bundle of clothes from him she retreated once more to the bushes, and this time it was with a heavy heart that after a few moments of glorious nakedness she began to wriggle back into the stiffly boned corset, struggle with its laces, pull on her drawers and stockings and at last step into the blackdyed muslin. Then, the final act of constraint, she wound her hair into a knot and rammed her ivory hairpins into it to hold it neatly in place before putting on her black lace cap once more beneath her sun hat.
'I hate it like this,' she wailed at Hassan as she watched him pack away the soft gown, still warm from her body. 'I want to be free!'
127.
It was a useless wish, for even as she said it, she knew it could never be. Not as long as she had the two boys at home waiting for her. She saw him, just for a second, hold the material against his cheek, then it was folded away and the basket had joined the others in the boat.
'My dear, we've been waiting for you.' Sir John Forrester was on deck, reaching down to hand her up onto the dahabeeyah. 'I particularly wanted you to meet our guests before they depart.' He was leading the way into the saloon when he paused as though the thought had just struck him. 'I trust your headache is now better?'
'Indeed it is - thank you.' She forced herself to smile, wondering why she had not taken the escape route his question had offered and claimed that her headache was still unendurable. Behind her Hassan had brought the food baskets up on deck. As he went back for her painting things she wondered what he did with her cool, soft clothes while they were on the boat. He could not give them to her. Jane Treece would have found them in her cabin and wondered why she took a nightgown with her on her trips ashore. As though reading her thoughts, he bowed a little in her direction and informed her that he would put the paints and sketchbooks in her cabin for her, then he was gone. For a moment she felt bereft. She turned and followed Sir John inside and found Augusta sitting there with their guests. Two gentlemen rose and bowed as she appeared.
'Lord Carstairs, Mr and Mrs David Fielding, and Miss Fielding.' Sir John made the introductions and ushered her to a seat. 'My dear, we have a special favour to ask you.'
Louisa brushed a wisp of hair off her face, aware that she must look flushed and untidy and that her clothes were somewhat in disarray after her hasty donning of them behind the bush on the island. Even as she thought of it she saw a sprig of greenery caught in the braid on her skirt and surreptitiously she pulled it free. She could feel the critical eyes of Venetia Fielding on her. She was David Fielding's sister, rather than his daughter, she guessed. The young woman was dressed in the latest Paris fashions with her dress looped back into a slight bustle and her hair smoothed into intricate ringlets. Mrs Fielding was, in spite of her heavily draped 128.
efforts to hide the fact, as fashion demanded, clearly in an interesting condition; she looked exhausted.
It would be a portrait, of course. One of them wanted a picture of themselves or possibly an Egyptian temple, or of themselves outside an Egyptian temple, to take back to London to show their elegant companions. Lord Carstairs' words took her completely aback.
'Sir John was telling us, Mrs Shelley, about the scent bottle in your possession and the Arabic curse that accompanies it. I wondered if I could see it?'
She had been watching him while he was speaking. He had deep burnished copper hair and a narrow, sun-tanned face with prominent cheekbones and eye sockets, and a thin somewhat large nose which made him look, she thought with sudden suppressed mirth, like nothing so much as Horus, the hawk god. The effect was not entirely displeasing. He was a good-looking, imposing man.
'I'll fetch it for you, with pleasure.' She rose, thankful for the excuse to leave them for a few minutes to freshen her face and hands and make a few adjustments to her costume.
When she returned she found that tea had been served. The Fielding ladies were laughing prettily with Augusta and the three men had drawn a little apart around the saloon table. Unsure where to sit, she hesitated for a moment in the doorway. It was the gentlemen who rose and made room for her amongst them. The women continued their talk uninterrupted, but at least one pair of eyes were fixed on her back as she made her way towards the proffered chair. She glanced in their direction and found that Venetia Fielding was watching her with an expression of tight-lipped animosity.
Sitting down she produced the scent bottle, laying it in the centre of the table. The paper which accompanied it she pushed towards Lord Carstairs. Do you read Arabic, my lord?' She smiled at him and was surprised to see his face light up in response.
'Indeed I do, dear lady.' He lifted up the paper, but she could see his eyes had gone straight to the bottle. He was obviously anxious to touch it, but restraining himself with enormous self-control.
There was a moment's silence, then he began to read out loud. His translation was substantially the same as Sir John's and when he had finished he let the paper fall to the table.
He leant forward, staring intently at the bottle. Neither of the other men had made the slightest attempt to pick it up. There was 129.
a long pause then he looked at Louisa again. 'And have you seen the spirits that guard it. There was no levity in the tone of the question. It appeared to be totally serious. She was about to shake her head then she hesitated.
His eyes narrowed. 'Yes?' It was the merest whisper.
She shrugged, half-embarrassed. 'I fear that I am somewhat imaginative, my lord. This country encourages one towards all kinds of fancies.'
'Just tell me.' His eyes were locked onto hers.
She moved uncomfortably in her chair. 'Once or twice I have had the feeling I was being watched. And in the temple at Edfu I thought I saw someone. I assumed it was my dragoman, Hassan.' She hesitated almost imperceptibly over his name and was disconcerted to see the other man's eyes narrow slightly.
'But it wasn't Hassan?' he echoed. His voice was smooth.
'No, it wasn't Hassan.'
'What did it look like? The figure?'
She could sense his excitement, hidden beneath an impassive face. Glancing at Sir John and David Fielding she could see both men were uncomfortable.
'It looked like a tall man in a white galabiyya. But it was no more than an impression, in the shadows of the temple.'
'And you checked there was no one else there?'
'Of course.'
'Yes!' This time the single word was a hiss of satisfaction. She watched, a small frown on her face, as he stretched out his hand towards the bottle. With his fingers only half an inch from it, he paused and she saw him take a deep steadying breath, then at last he picked it up. He didn't actually look at it, she noticed. He held it for a long moment, his eyes on hers, then slowly his lids dropped and he sat silently, eyes closed, totally withdrawn. There was an awkward silence, broken only on the far side of the saloon by a trill of feminine laughter.
Louisa, watching Carstairs' face, saw a sudden shudder pass through his body, before he opened his eyes and looked down at the bottle in his hands.
'Yes!' For the third time that was all he said. Just the one soft, sibilant word. Louisa could stay silent no longer. 'You seem very interested in my bottle, Lord Carstairs.' It seemed important to emphasise her 130.
ownership of it. He was holding it so gloatingly and with such proprietorial triumph.
The sound of her voice seemed to drag him back to reality with a jolt. As though remembering where he was he laid the bottle down on the table. His regret at doing so was palpable.
'Where did you say you got it?' His eyes sought hers again and held them.
'My dragoman found it for me in the bazaar in Luxor.' She hoped the inference was that she had sent him to find her something as a keepsake of her visit to the town. 'Indeed.' He was looking down at it again. 'May I ask what you gave for it?'
The question floored her. She could not admit that it had been a gift. 'I gave him money for several purchases. I am afraid I have no idea how much he beat them down to in the end. Why do you wish to know?'
'Because I wish to buy it from you. I will reimburse you and give you the full value again, so you may purchase something else.' One finger reached out to touch the bottle with an almost reverent delicacy.
'I am sorry, Lord Carstairs, but it is not for sale. Sir John, in any case, feels that it is a fake.'
'It is no fake!' Carstairs flashed a look of pure disdain at his host. 'It is genuine. From the 18th dynasty. Even so, the monetary value is not high. These are comparatively common in Luxor. Stolen, of course, from the tombs. But it pleases me., He turned back to Louisa. 'Mrs Shelley, you would be doing me the greatest service by allowing me to have it. It is not irreplaceable. Your dragoman could probably find you several like it on your return to Luxor.'
'Then why could you not find one like it yourself, my lord? Louisa enquired softly. 'Why must you have mine?'
Carstairs met her eyes again. His face was becoming disconcertingly florid. 'I have a personal reason for wanting this one.' As though becoming aware of the strange looks being directed at him by the other two men at the table he frowned, for the first time a little flustered. 'The legend: it pleases me. You would be doing me an inestimable favour, Mrs Shelley.' He smiled. His whole face lit up and she felt the radiance of his charm. For a moment she nearly wavered, then with a shock she realised she had almost changed her mind, almost been swayed to do what he wanted. Almost, she 131.
had to force herself to put out her hand and lift up the bottle. 'I am sorry, I really am. But I intend to keep this for myself. I am sure you will find one just as intriguing, my lord.' With her other hand she reached out quickly and scooped up the sheet of paper and standing up she gave a little bow. 'My lord, gentlemen, please excuse me. I am very tired after my visit to Elephantine Island. I shall retire to my cabin for a little while.' She turned to the ladies, and making a similar excuse, left them to it.
In her cabin she sat down on the bed with a sigh, looking at the bottle in her hands. Hassan's gift. Since those special moments on Elephantine Island it had become doubly important to her. Trebly so. Almost without thinking she raised it to her lips and felt the glass cool against her hot skin.
The knock on the door made her frown. Surely it could not already be time for Jane Treece to help her get ready for dinner. To her surprise it was Augusta Forrester. She pushed her way into the small cabin and closed the door behind her.
'I want you to reconsider Roger Carstairs' offer, Louisa. You would be doing a great favour to John and myself.' Both women looked down at the scent bottle which was still lying on the bed. 'I appreciate that it is an intriguing little souvenir for you, but surely you are not so attached to it as to be obdurate!' She sat down, her petite frame suddenly voluminous in her magenta silk as she perched on the small powder stool and smiled at Louisa.