He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [201]
She raised her head and brushed the tears from her face with the back of her hand. “You are trying to distract me, aren’t you? To keep me from losing my head and acting without direction or thought. I’ve done it before, only too often. It was from me that Percy learned it was Ramses who rescued him from Zaal’s camp. David and Lia knew, and they told me, and swore me to secrecy, and I gave my word, and then one day Percy came sneaking round to see me, and he made me so angry, paying me sickening compliments and making insulting remarks about Ramses, and—and—”
I had not tried to stop her; it was only when her breath gave out that I managed to get a word in.
“I understand. My dear, you mustn’t blame yourself. How could you have known how Percy would react?”
“Ramses knew. That was why he didn’t want Percy to find out. That isn’t the point, Aunt Amelia! Don’t you see—I lost my temper and betrayed a confidence, and that broken promise was the start of it all. If I can’t be trusted to keep my word—”
“Enough of this,” I exclaimed, breaking into a tirade of self-reproach. “You meant no harm, and Percy might have used Sennia to injure Ramses anyhow. He has hated Ramses since they were children. Really, Nefret, I thought you had better sense!”
Sympathy would have broken her down. My stern but kindly tone was precisely what was needed. She stiffened her shoulders and gave me a watery smile. “I’ll try,” she said humbly. “I’ve been trying to think. There is one place they might have gone, but I don’t think Ramses could have known of it, and surely he wouldn’t . . .”
She got to her feet and I did the same, taking firm hold of her, for I feared she was on the verge of losing control again. “We cannot act on doubtful grounds, Nefret. If you are mistaken we would lose valuable time and we would not be here when Emerson rings.”
“I know. I wasn’t suggesting . . .” Then she stiffened and pulled away from me. “Listen.”
Her ears were keener than mine; she was halfway to the door before I heard the hoofbeats, and then a shout from Ali the doorman. I followed Nefret through the hall to the front door, in time to see Ali trying to lower a body from the horse that stood sweating and shivering outside. It was that of a man, dead or unconscious. Nefret sprang to Ali’s assistance.
“Take his shoulders, Ali,” she said crisply. “Get him into the drawing room. Aunt Amelia—”
I helped her to raise the man’s feet, and the three of us, staggering under his dead weight, bore him through the hall and into the lighted room, where we lowered him onto the rug.
It was David, deathly pale, insensible, and bleeding, but alive, thank God. There was blood everywhere—on my hands, on those of Nefret, and on her skirts. David’s right leg was saturated, from hip to foot. Kneeling beside him, Nefret pulled his knife from the scabbard and began cutting away his trouser leg. She snapped out orders as she worked.
“Ring for Fatima and the others. I want a basin of water, towels, my medical bag, blankets.”
Within seconds the entire household was assembled. The shock to poor Fatima on seeing her beloved David, not only here, but desperately injured, was extreme; but she pulled herself together, as I had known she would, and flew into action.
“A bullet wound,” Nefret said, tightening the strip of cloth cut from her skirt. “He’s lost a great deal of blood. Where the devil is my bag? I need proper bandages. Ali, take Asfur to the stable and have a look at her. The bullet went straight through David’s thigh, it may have injured her. Then saddle two of the other horses. Fatima, hold this. Aunt Amelia, ring the hospital. Ask Sophia to come at once.”
I did as she asked, telling the doctor to make haste. When I went back to Nefret she was knotting the last of the bandages.
“Twenty minutes,” I reported. “Nefret—”
“Don’t talk to me now, Aunt Amelia. I’ve stopped the bleeding;