He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [73]
The inadequacies of the little acacia tree had been disguised by Nefret’s decorations; candles glowed softly and charming ornaments of baked clay and tin filled in the empty spaces. David had made those ornaments; for years now they had been part of our holiday tradition. The sight of them dampened my spirits for a moment; I hated to think of him passing the holiday alone in that wretched hovel in Maadi, only a few miles away. At least I had pressed upon him a parcel of food and a nice warm knitted scarf, made by my own hands. My friend Helen McIntosh had shown me how to do it, and I found, as she had claimed, that it actually assisted in ratiocination, since the process soon became mechanical and did not require one’s attention. I had made the scarf for Ramses, but he assured me he did not at all mind relinquishing it to his friend.
After all the gifts had been unwrapped, and I had put on the elegant tea gown that had been Nefret’s present, and Ramses had pretended to be delighted by the dozen white handkerchiefs I had given him, Emerson rose from his chair.
“One more,” he said, beaming at me. “Close your eyes, Peabody, and hold out your hands.”
He had not attempted to wrap the thing; it would have made a cumbersome parcel. As soon as it came to rest on my outstretched palms I knew what it was.
“Why, Emerson, how nice!” I exclaimed. “Another parasol. I can always use an extra, and this one—”
“Is more than it appears,” said my husband. “Watch closely.”
Seizing the handle, he gave it a twist and a pull. This time my exclamation of pleasure was louder and more enthusiastic.
“A sword umbrella! Oh, Emerson, I have always wanted one! How does it work?”
He demonstrated again, and I rose to my feet, kicking the elegant lace flounces of my gown aside. “En garde!” I cried, brandishing the weapon.
Nefret laughed. “Professor, that was sweet of you.”
“Hmmm,” said Ramses. “Mother, watch out for the candles.”
“I may need a few lessons,” I admitted. “Ramses, would you show me—”
“What, now?” His eyebrows tilted till they formed a perfect obtuse angle.
“I cannot wait to begin!” I cried, bending my knees and thrusting.
Emerson hastily moved aside—an unnecessary precaution, since the blade had not come within a foot of him. “I am glad you like it, Peabody, but you had better learn how to use it before you go lunging at people.”
Ramses was trying not to laugh. “I beg your pardon, Mother,” he gasped. “It’s just that I’ve never fenced with an opponent armed with an umbrella, whose head barely reaches my chin.”
“I see no reason why that should be a difficulty. Do you, Nefret?”
She was watching Ramses, who had dropped into a chair, helpless with laughter. She started when I addressed her.
“What? Well, Aunt Amelia, I’m sure you can persuade him. Not with that umbrella, though; it looks frightfully sharp.”
“Quite,” said Emerson, who looked as if he was having second thoughts. “You’ll need proper foils, with blunted tips. And masks, and plastrons and—”
That set Ramses off again. I could not understand why he was so amused, but I was pleased to have cheered him up. As David had said, it was necessary to find what enjoyment we could in an otherwise dismal situation.
After Ramses had calmed down, he condescended to show me how to salute my opponent and place my feet and arms. He stood well behind me, even though I had, of course, sheathed the blade, and for some reason he found it necessary to read me a little lecture.
“Now, Mother, promise me that if you encounter someone armed with a saber or sword, you won’t whip that thing out and rush at him.”
“Quite,” said Emerson emphatically.