Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [77]
She withdrew rather quickly. Ramses saw that Newbold was close behind him. The hunter’s gaze was fixed on the nearest soldier, one of the youngest of the troop, who sported a thin golden armlet. Ramses felt as if he could read Newbold’s mind. There was the gold he sought, worn by a common soldier. He’ll try something, Ramses thought. But what can he do?
If he hadn’t known the oasis was near, he would have taken the vision of palms and verdure for a mirage. The men saw it too; a low chorus of amazement and relief arose.
“So the Father of Curses spoke truth,” exclaimed Masud, his bloodshot eyes narrowing.
“The Father of Curses does not lie,” said Daoud.
The place was larger in extent than Ramses remembered—acres of lush grass, with several small pools and trees of various species. They rode for a quarter of an hour into the green heart of the place before the escort halted in a clearing. In the shade of the date palms was a cluster of huts, constructed like the Nubian tukhuls of branches and mud brick.
Ramses hurried to his father, who appeared to be having some difficulty understanding the officer’s remarks. As soon as Har saw Ramses he made his camel kneel and dismounted, bowing and raising his hands.
“These have been made ready for the Great Ones,” he said, indicating the huts. “All that you need and wish will be brought to you.”
“I wonder if Selim and Daoud rank as Great Ones,” said Ramses, watching the troop lead the rest of the caravan away. “And Daria.” He addressed the officer in Meroitic. “Where are they taking our people?”
“To a place where they can camp. It is not fitting that they should be close to the Great Ones. Now, will you go within? Rest well tonight, for tomorrow we will go on. Servants will come to you.”
“Tell him we want Selim and Daoud with us,” Emerson ordered.
“What about Newbold?”
“Him too,” said Emerson ungrammatically but forcibly. “I want to keep my eye on the bastard. There are enough huts to go round.”
“You aren’t going to let him take Daria—”
“No,” said Emerson, in a voice like a large boulder slamming onto stone.
He helped his wife dismount and led her to the largest of the huts. She gave it a quick inspection. “Excellent,” she said happily. “One of them must have ridden on ahead to warn of our arrival. There are even basins of water for bathing!”
Emerson proceeded to allocate houses, directing Newbold to one on the edge of the group. Nefret and Daria shared another, next to the elder Emersons, and Daoud and Selim a third. Half a dozen servants turned up while Ramses was selecting his abode. They wore kilts and a few strings of beads, and they were carrying a miscellaneous lot of luggage. Bent over from the waist in a token of deep respect, one of them murmured something which Ramses translated. “He says if we give them our clothes, they will wash them.”
“Splendid,” said Emerson. “That should make you happy, Peabody. Come in and freshen up a bit, eh?” He lifted the curtain over the door invitingly.
“Everything appears to be quite satisfactory,” his wife conceded.
Except for one little detail, Ramses thought, watching his parents vanish into comparative privacy. All the servants were men. He hadn’t set eyes on a single woman. This was a military encampment, after all; no doubt the garrison was changed at regular intervals, and the men were expected to get along without distracting female companionship while on this duty. How could they leave Daria here, alone with Newbold and several dozen soldiers?
After a refreshing if limited bath, I assumed the least grubby of my garments and settled onto a stool with my journal. I had fallen rather behind with it and there was certainly a great deal to write about. We had been served a light repast—dates, so sweet and fresh they might have been an entirely different fruit than the hardened objects we had eaten along the way, fresh-baked unleavened bread, and wine. The servants assured us better and more ample