He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [190]
“We could close down for the day,” Emerson said heavily. “It would be the proper thing to do.”
“I doubt Johnny would care about the proper thing,” said Ramses. “But we might plan some sort of ceremony. Daoud and Selim would like it, and the others will want to show their affection and respect.”
“Oh, yes, Sitt,” Fatima exclaimed. “They will all want to come. Those who did not know him have heard of him, of his laughter and his kindness.”
“It is a nice thought,” I said, trying to conceal my emotion. “But not today. Perhaps in a day—or two—we will be able to bring stronger hearts to such a ceremony.”
I was thinking of David. It would be infinitely comforting to have him with us again. How that part of the business was to be managed Ramses had not said, but if the authorities did not acknowledge his courage and sacrifice immediately, I would just have to have a few words with General Maxwell.
“We may as well go to Giza for a while, then,” Emerson said. “Keep ourselves occupied, eh? We will stop at midday. I have other plans for this afternoon.”
Ramses’s eyebrows shot up. “Father, may I have a word with you?”
“You certainly may,” said his father with considerable emphasis. “Nefret, that frock is very becoming, but hadn’t you better change? If you are coming with us, that is.”
It was not a frock, but one of her ruffled negligees. I had not reproached her for coming down to breakfast en déshabillé, for she did not look at all well, her eyes shadowed and her cheeks paler than usual. However, she was quick to express her intention of accompanying us, and hurried off to change.
With a wink and a nod, Emerson led us out into the garden.
“I am bloody damned tired of this sneaking and whispering,” he grumbled. “What is it now, Ramses? If you tell me the business has been put off I may lose my temper.”
“God forbid,” Ramses said. “No, sir, it hasn’t been put off, but there has been a slight change in plan. Russell wants to wait another day or two before he rounds up the malcontents. If that is what you had in mind for this afternoon, you will have to put it off.”
Emerson’s heavy brows drew together. “Why?”
“Well, they are harmless enough, aren’t they? They are waiting for word, which they won’t get because I won’t give it, and without weapons there isn’t much they can do.”
Emerson was obviously not convinced of the logic of this. He was itching to hit someone, or, if possible, a great number of people.
“You weren’t thinking of warning certain of them, were you?” he demanded. “You seem to have a soft spot for that fellow Asad.”
“I am thinking,” said Ramses, whose narrowed eyes and flushed cheeks indicated that he was close to losing his temper, “that you should leave this in my hands.”
To my astonishment Emerson shuffled his feet and looked sheepish. “Er—yes. As you say, my boy.”
“There’s Nefret. Let’s go.”
Once we were mounted and on our way, Ramses took the lead, with Nefret not far behind. It was a gray, misty morning, and the gloomy skies reflected my unhappy mood.
“Let them go on ahead,” I said to Emerson. “I want to talk to you.”
“And I to you. Proceed, my dear; ladies first.”
“I was surprised to see you so meek with Ramses. Are you really going to take orders from him?”
“Yes, I am. And so are you. He has earned the right to give them. I have a great deal of—er—respect for the boy.”
“Have you told him so? Have you told him you love him and are proud to be his father?”
Emerson looked shocked. “Good Gad, Peabody, men don’t say that sort of thing to other men. He knows how I feel. What the devil brought this on?”
“I was thinking of Johnny,” I said with a sigh. “When it is too late, one always wishes one had said more, expressed one’s feelings more openly.”
“Damnation, Peabody, what a morbid thought! You will have ample opportunity to express any feelings you like to Ramses and David. The only thing left for them to do is to pass on the final message to Russell, so that he will know when to act.”
“There was no message this morning, so it must