The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [135]
“You don’t look at all well, Ramses,” I said. “Is your hand bothering you?”
“No, Mother.” He held out the member in question for my inspection. He had removed the bandage. There was still some swelling and discoloration, but when I bent each finger in turn, he endured it without visible signs of discomfort.
“Something to help you sleep?” I inquired. “You had a particularly unpleasant experience yesterday.”
“Unpleasant,” Ramses repeated. “You have a talent for understatement, Mother. Thank you for your consideration, but I don’t need any of your laudanum. I believe I will go to bed, though. Say good night to the others for me, I don’t want to disturb them.”
Evelyn’s golden head now rested upon a cushion, and her eyes were closed. I covered her with an afghan and tiptoed out. Though why I bothered to tiptoe I do not know, since Emerson and Walter were talking in loud voices.
Fatima was in the kitchen, her chin propped on her hands and her eyes fixed on some object on the table in front of her. So intense was her concentration that she started and squeaked when she realized I had come in. I saw that the object was a book—the copy of the Koran Nefret had given her.
“You shouldn’t read by candlelight, Fatima, it is hard on your eyes,” I said, putting my hand on her shoulder. “I am ashamed I have not been of more help to you with your studies.”
“All help me, Sitt Hakim. So kind. Shall I read to you?”
I could not refuse. She faltered once or twice, and I supplied the words; then I praised her again and told her to get some sleep.
Peeping into the parlor I saw the men were still at it and that Evelyn was sleeping sweetly. I decided I would check on my other charges. I went down the passageway and into the courtyard. My soft evening slippers made no sound on the dusty ground. I put my ear to Ramses’s door, thinking as I listened how quiet and beautiful the place looked in the pale moonlight. My little garden was flourishing, thanks to Fatima’s care. The hibiscus plant in the far corner was a good-sized tree now, almost as tall as I and luxuriant with foliage.
Then I realized I was not the only one to enjoy the moonlight. A gust of wind stirred the leaves of the hibiscus and I caught a glimpse of someone standing beside it. No—not one person—two persons, so close to one another that they appeared to be a single form. All I could see of her were the slender arms twined round his neck and the flowing lines of a full white skirt. His back was to me, but as the breeze moved the leaves and the pale light shifted across his form I saw the dark head bent over the girl’s, and the long length of him, and the way his shirt strained across his back. Nefret had worn emerald-green satin that night. The girl was Lia—in the ardent embrace of my son!
I don’t suppose they would have heard me if I had screamed aloud. I could not have done so, in fact; astonishment—for I had not had the least notion that any such thing was going on—kept me mute. I must have made some sound, however, or leaned against the door; for it opened suddenly and I would have toppled over backward if hands had not caught and steadied me.
The hands were those of Ramses. There could be no doubt of that, for the rest of him was there too, standing just behind me—not in the courtyard with Lia in his arms.
He saw them too. I heard his breath catch and felt his hands tighten painfully on my ribs, and then at last I was able to speak.
“Good Gad!” I cried.
The guilty parties broke apart. He would have moved away from her, but she caught hold of his arm with both hands and held him fast. My outcry had not been loud; Nefret must have been awake and listening. Her door opened. She looked from me to the miscreants, and then back at me.
“Damn!” she said.
“What is the meaning of this?” I demanded.
“Now, Aunt Amelia, please remain calm,” Nefret said. “I can explain.”
“You knew of this? For how long, pray tell?”
“Don’t be angry with her.” David put the girl’s hands