He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [173]
“No.” Ramses passed the bundles to David, who placed them in the cart. “Is that all?”
Emerson grunted and reached down. He had to use both hands to lift the rough wooden boxes.
“Grenades and ammunition,” Ramses said, tight-lipped. “What’s that one?”
It was larger and heavier. Emerson hauled it out. “I think I could hazard a guess, but you’d better have it open.”
The lid gave way with a hideous screech. Ramses pried it up just enough to look in.
“Holy God. It’s a machine gun. A Maxim, I think.”
“And here, I expect, is the mount,” said Emerson, removing another box. “That’s the last. I wonder how many more there were—and where they are now?”
“So do I,” Ramses said grimly. He hoisted the box into his arms and deposited it in the cart. “Someone else has been here.”
“It looks that way.” His father stood up. “I’ll drive the cart. You boys go on your way.”
“But, Father—”
“If I’m intercepted by a patrol I have a better chance of talking my way out of it than either of you.”
Ramses couldn’t argue with that. All his father would have to do was identify himself. No one would dare ask what he was doing or what the cart contained.
“I had intended to take them to Fort Tura,” Ramses began. Emerson nodded approval.
“The place is in ruins and nobody goes there. After I’ve unloaded I will proceed placidly back along the main road, a poor hard-working peasant with an empty cart. Where shall I leave your equipage, David?”
“Uh . . .”
Emerson climbed up onto the seat and picked up the reins. He was obviously impatient to be off. “Where did you hire it?”
“I stole it,” David admitted in a small voice. “The owner farms a few feddans near Kashlakat. He’s a very heavy sleeper.”
Emerson chuckled appreciatively. “Then he probably won’t notice it’s missing until morning. I’ll abandon it near the village. He’ll find it eventually.”
He spoke to the donkeys in Arabic and they groaned into motion. Ramses and David stood watching as the cart jounced along the path.
“He’ll be all right, won’t he?” David asked anxiously.
“The Father of Curses? He’ll be towing those donkeys before he’s gone much farther. We might just follow along the same path for a while, though. At a distance.”
The creak and rumble of the cart was audible a long way off. It stopped once; David stiffened, and Ramses laughed. “I told you he’d get off and tow the donkeys. There, he’s gone on.”
There wouldn’t be any trouble now. If an attack had been planned it would have already taken place, and he was certain no one had followed Emerson. The release of tension left him limp. He yawned.
“You’ve got a long walk ahead,” David said.
“Not as long as yours.”
“I slept most of the day. How was the ball?”
“Jolly.”
“I’m sure it was. Here, watch out.” He steadied Ramses with a hand on his arm.
“Stubbed my toe,” said the latter, hopping. “Damn these sandals.”
“Let’s go back to the road. It’s easier walking.”
There was no sign of the cart or the motorcar when they reached the road. The dusty surface lay like a pale ribbon in the moonlight.
“How are you and Nefret getting on?” David inquired.
“Why do you ask?”
“Something has happened,” David said calmly. “I can always tell.”
“Yes, you can, can’t you?” He was tired, and the comfort of David’s companionship loosened his tongue. “The truth is I . . . It’s been more difficult than I expected, staying at a safe distance and trying not to be alone with her. I slipped a few times. And then, tonight, she asked me to dance with her—I couldn’t refuse—and I wanted to—God, how I wanted to! I got the hell away as soon as I could, but she followed me into the garden, and I—I couldn’t stop myself.”
“From doing what?”
“What do you suppose? The options were limited in those surroundings. I kissed her, that’s all.”
“Finally!” David exclaimed. “Then what happened?”
“Damn it,” Ramses said, half laughing and half angry, “you’re as bad as Mother. She gave me plenty of advice. I don’t need any more from you.”
“About Nefret and you?” David asked in surprise. “I thought you didn