He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [37]
“The same old story,” Ramses replied. “What is particularly amusing is that everyone believes Percy is too modest to speak of it, despite the fact that he published a book describing his daring escape.”
“But it’s a bloody lie from start to finish,” Emerson expostulated.
“And getting better all the time,” Ramses said. “Now he’s claiming he allowed himself to be caught and that he had to fight his way out.”
It had taken us far longer than it ought to have done to learn the truth about that particular chapter of Percy’s wretched little book. Ramses had not spoken of it, and I had never bothered to peruse the volume; the few excerpts Nefret had read aloud were quite enough for me. It was Emerson who forced himself to plow through Percy’s turgid prose—driven, according to Emerson, by mounting disbelief and indignation. When he reached the part of the book that described Percy’s courageous escape and his rescue of the young Arab prince who had been his fellow prisoner, my intelligent spouse’s suspicions had been aroused, and, in his usual forthright manner, he had confronted Ramses with them.
“It was you, wasn’t it? It couldn’t have been Prince Feisal, he’d never be damned fool enough to take such a risk. And don’t try to tell me Percy was the hero of the occasion because I wouldn’t believe it if I had the word direct from God and all his prophets! He couldn’t escape from a biscuit tin, much less rescue someone else.”
Thus challenged, Ramses had had no choice but to confess, and correct Percy’s version. He had also admitted, under considerable pressure, that the truth was known to David and Lia and Nefret. “I asked them not to speak of it,” he had added, raising his voice to be heard over Emerson’s grumbles. “And I would rather you didn’t mention it again, not even to them.”
He had been so emphatic about it that we had no choice but to accede to his wishes. Now Emerson cleared his throat. “Ramses, it is up to you, of course, but don’t you think you ought to let the true story be known?”
“What would be the point? No one would believe me, anyhow. Not now.”
Emerson leaned back in his chair and studied his son’s impassive countenance thoughtfully. “I understand why you did not choose to make the facts public. It does you credit, though in my opinion one can sometimes carry noblesse oblige too damned far. However, given the fact that Percy’s military career seems to have been based on that series of lies, some individuals might feel an obligation to expose him. He could do a great deal of damage if he were entrusted with duties he is incapable of carrying out.”
“He’ll take care to avoid such duties,” Ramses said. “He’s good at that sort of thing. Father, what were you talking about with Philippides?”
The change of subject was so abrupt as to make it evident Ramses had no intention of discussing the matter further. I glanced at Nefret, whose failure to offer her opinion had been decidedly unusual. Her eyes were fixed on her teacup, and I thought her cheeks were a trifle flushed.
“Who?” Emerson looked shifty. “Oh, that bastard. I just happened to find myself standing next to him, so I took advantage of the opportunity to put in a good word for David. Philippides has a great deal of influence with his chief; if he recommended that David be released—”
“It’s out of his hands now,” Ramses said. “David’s connection with Wardani was well known, and it would take a direct order from the War Office to get him out.”
“It never hurts to try,” said Emerson. “I was mingling with the crowd, taking the temper of the community—”
“What nonsense!” I exclaimed.
“Not at all, Mother,” Ramses said. “What is the temper of the community, Father?”
“Sour, surly, resentful—”
“Naturally,” I said.
“You didn’t allow me to finish, Peabody. There is something uglier than resentment in the air. The enforcement of martial law has not ended anti-British sentiment, it has only driven it underground. Those blind idiots in the Government refuse to see it, but mark my words, this city is a powder keg waiting to be—”
The next word was drowned out by a loud