Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [10]
Ramses gently freed his hand. “We’ll walk, shall we? It isn’t far, and we can move more quietly on foot.”
Tall elms lined the narrow path through the woods. The leaves hung limp and still in the warm air. As they went on, the shadows darkened. A thunderstorm was brewing; clouds piled up in the eastern sky. The place did have an uncanny atmosphere, especially in stormy weather, for the strange little monument in the glade was a pyramid in the Cushite style, steeper-sided and smaller than those of Egypt. Few people knew of it, and those who did took it to be one of the fake antiquities once popular with English gentry who had an interest in Egypt. On one side was a small enclosure in imitation of an offering chapel. Ramses had himself inscribed on the lintel the hieroglyphs that gave the dead boy’s name and titles and a short prayer invoking the goodwill of the gods of the judgment. Tabirka deserved an easy journey to the next world. He had been murdered by Nefret’s cousin, who had tried every dirty trick in the book to keep the Emersons from bringing her back to threaten his inheritance.
Ramses really didn’t expect to find anything or anyone. She had most probably been daydreaming a little, putting herself in a fanciful mood, and had misinterpreted the sound of an animal or bird. He was caught completely off guard when a hard body crashed into him, knocked him flat, and fell heavily on top of him. Winded and bruised, Ramses stared up into the dark face that hovered over him. It split in a wide, terrifying grin, and hands reached for his throat. Nefret was yelling and raining blows on the fellow’s back with a branch. It didn’t seem to have much effect.
Ramses found breath enough to yell back. “Get out of the way!” He brought his hands up in time to slam the other man’s forearms apart, rammed an elbow under his chin, heaved him up and over onto his back, and scrambled to his feet. Nefret lowered the branch.
“Nicely done, my boy,” she said breathlessly.
“Thank you.” Ramses stood poised, ready to kick out if his erst-while opponent showed signs of continuing the fight. The fellow was rubbing his throat, but he was still grinning, and his lean body, clad only in a kiltlike lower garment, was completely relaxed. Ramses stared in mounting disbelief. With his dark skin and bizarre costume he was as out of place in an English woodland as a tiger in a drawing room. There was something familiar about the aquiline features.
“Tarek was right,” the stranger remarked. “You have become aman.”
We have entertained a number of unusual guests in our home, but never had I seen one so extraordinary as the young man who was in the drawing room with Ramses and Nefret when I came down to tea. Barefoot and bareheaded, his body uncovered except for a brief skirt or kilt, he might have stepped out of an ancient Egyptian tomb painting. I stopped short; and Ramses said, “Mother, may I present Prince Merasen. He is the brother of Tarek, whom you surely remember.”
I am seldom at a loss for words, but on this occasion I was unable to do more than emit a wordless croak of surprise. Nefret hurried to me and took my arm. “Aunt Amelia, are you all right? Sit down, please.”
“A nice hot cup of tea,” I gurgled, staring. The young man raised his hands to shoulder height and bowed. It was the same gesture shown in innumerable tomb paintings, a gesture of respect to the gods and to superiors. He was far more at ease than I. Well, but he had been prepared for me, and I certainly had not been prepared for him!
“A nice whiskey and soda, instead?” said Ramses. He sounded a trifle sheepish. “I apologize, Mother. I didn’t think to warn you.”
“Not at all,” I replied, taking the glass he handed me. “Will you take a chair, Mr…. Er…Does he speak English?”
“I speak very good” was the cool reply. “It is why Tarek sent me.”
“Tarek sent you?” I repeated stupidly.
“Yes, Sitt Hakim. I am honored to see you. They tell many stories about you in the Holy City. And about the Father of Curses, and the Brother of Demons, and the Lady Nefret.”
“Father of Curses” was