Children of the Storm - Elizabeth Peters [48]
“I beg your pardon, ma’am. It’s just that your little matters of interest are often what others might call narrow escapes or close calls. What has happened? Is Ramses—”
“It usually is Ramses, isn’t it? As you see, he is perfectly fit. We will tell you all about it this evening, Bertie. May I take the liberty of bringing Selim? He and the others have been fully briefed on the situation. I don’t suppose poor Cyrus is capable of discussing anything else.”
“Selim is always welcome, of course,” Bertie said. “And you are right about Cyrus. He prides himself on his spotless reputation, and he feels it is in jeopardy.”
“Nothing of the sort,” I said firmly. “We’ll get him out of this with his reputation not only intact but enhanced. Tell him I said so, and that we will see you all this evening.”
CHAPTER FOUR
By the time we had the luggage sorted out and got it and ourselves across the river, the sun had passed the zenith. I decreed a light repast and a rest for our visitors, particularly the oldest and youngest of them. Evvie was borne off, howling, by her mother and Kadija, with Dolly trotting anxiously after them. The others dispersed, until only Emerson and I were left with the three younger men, who had settled down on the veranda and were engaged in animated conversation. What fine-looking young fellows they were, all three! The family resemblance between David and his uncle Selim was strong, and Ramses might have been kin to both, with his bronzed complexion and black curls.
As I watched them with a fond smile I realized that Emerson was watching them too, but with calculation predominating over fondness. Rubbing his hands, he declared, “It is still early. What do you say we go to the site?”
“Leave them alone, Emerson,” I said firmly.
“But, Peabody, I want—”
“I know what you want. For pity’s sake, give them this afternoon to enjoy one another’s company before you put them to work. Is it not delightful to see them so friendly together?”
“Hmph,” said Emerson. “Well . . .”
“Run along, Emerson.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere you like, so long as you do not disturb their privacy.”
Emerson thought it over. “Where has Sennia got to? I might give her an archaeology lesson.”
“I am sure she will play with you, Emerson, if you ask nicely.”
Grinning, Emerson went into the house, and I approached the boys. Their heads were close together, and solemnity had replaced their laughter. “Is there anything I can get you?” I asked, as they rose to greet me. “Coffee? Tea?”
“No, thank you, Mother,” Ramses said.
After a moment, David said, “Won’t you sit down, Aunt Amelia?”
“I would not want to disturb you, my dear.”
“Not at all,” said Ramses. The corners of his mouth turned up a trifle. “Take this chair, Mother. Would you like a cigarette?”
David had taken out his pipe and Selim a cigarette; so, in order to put them at ease, I accepted. “What is this I hear about Abdullah becoming a holy man?” I asked, attempting to blow out a smoke ring. The attempt was not successful. I had not yet got the trick of it, probably because I did not indulge often in tobacco. Every art requires practice.
“How did you find out about that?” David asked. “Ramses said he hadn’t mentioned it to you or the Professor.”
I turned a mildly reproachful look upon my son, who immediately began to invent excuses. “So much else has happened . . . it didn’t seem important . . . at the time.”
“At the time,” I repeated slowly.
Selim remarked, rolling his black eyes, “It was my father who told you? In a dream?”
Fearing skepticism (which I got, especially from Emerson), I had told only a few about my strange dreams of Abdullah, but I was not surprised that the story had spread. Fatima and Gargery were both accomplished eavesdroppers, and either would have passed on the information as a matter of general interest. Once Daoud got hold of the tale, all Luxor would know.
“As a matter of fact, I heard the news from Daoud,” I said. “Was that what you were discussing? You looked