Night Train to Memphis - Elizabeth Peters [39]
I had a feeling that by lunchtime I would be tempted to join the weaker vessels. I had read about Amarna, and Perry’s lecture the previous evening had brought my memories into sharper focus.
The site is a great empty plain shaped like a half-moon, with the river forming the straight side and the cliffs of the high desert forming the curve. Amarna had been the capital city of the heretic king Akhenaton. He was one of the most interesting and enigmatic of ancient rulers; I had seen dignified scholars turn purple in the face and threaten to punch one another out when they got to arguing about whether Akhenaton was a monotheist or a pacifist or an idealist or a crazy religious fanatic or a disgusting ‘pre-vert.’ The artistic conventions of the period intrigued me, but the best examples of the painting and sculpture were elsewhere – in museums and private collections – since the site had been thoroughly vandalized in ancient and modern times.
I was not looking forward to enjoying Perry’s company all day, especially when we visited the city ruins. I knew what it would be like, since I’ve seen a number of archaeological sites: boring mud-brick walls, some as low as foundations, some as high as my head, in a confusing maze. The guide would say things like, ‘And this was the great reception hall,’ and we’d all gape at a square of dirt bounded by more of the bare brick walls and then he’d go on for hours pointing out things that had once been there but weren’t there now.
Feisal interrupted my thoughts with a sharp, ‘Vicky, please don’t dawdle,’ and I trotted obediently after him. Perry trotted after me.
‘Has he got a hangover or what?’ I whispered.
‘He doesn’t drink,’ Perry said. ‘Muslims don’t – ’
‘I was joking. What is bugging him?’
‘We’re in Middle Egypt now,’ Perry said soberly. ‘This is the area where terrorist attacks have been most frequent. But every precaution has been taken.’
They sure had. The first thing I saw when I stepped out onto the gangplank was a truck full of soldiers. ‘An armed escort?’ I exclaimed.
‘If anything happened to a member of this group, there’d be hell to pay,’ Perry said. ‘Ignore them and be thankful they’re here.’
I tried to follow his advice. The view was rather wonderful, unless you were of the school that insists on things like trees and flowers and grass and babbling brooks. It was a beauty of line and subtle shadings of colour, shadows that deepened from violet to blue-black, rugged rock walls turning from golden pink to paler silver as the sunlight strengthened. I wasn’t awfully taken by our means of transport – a tractor pulling an open metal trailer with rows of benches – but I didn’t suggest walking. Not with those grim-faced guys in uniform watching me.
The trailer proved to be just as uncomfortable as I had expected. I held on to the edge of the bench as we bumped along over a track that was barely distinguishable from the surrounding desert. I had managed to escape Perry, but when Sweet offered me a seat next to him (and, I hardly need say, Bright), there was no way I could refuse without rudeness. John obligingly shifted over to give me plenty of room. He also gave me a smile that indicated he was well aware I would have preferred another place.
‘I haven’t seen much of you lately,’ I said, turning my back on him and favouring Sweet with my most seductive smile.
‘We were shy,’ said Sweet, giggling. ‘You are so popular, Vicky. With all the handsome young men following you we thought you wouldn’t want to associate with two old bores like us.’
Bright grinned and nodded. Could he talk? Maybe he had some painfully embarrassing speech defect, a bad stutter or a lisp.
We exchanged a few coy jokes – about their good looks and my irresistible appeal – and then I said, ‘I haven’t seen Larry this morning. Did he stay on board?’
‘My dear, he was first off the boat!’
‘He has a schoolboy crush on Nefertiti,’ said John.
I would have ignored this,