The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [154]
“If you will wait a bit, I will go with you. Where is Geoffrey?”
Realizing that I had caught her fairly, she wandered to the window and stood looking out. There were no mashrabiya screens on this side of the house; the wooden shutters stood open to the warm afternoon air. Her back to me, she said, “He went to see Jack. He is worried about him.”
“Why? Ramses says he is behaving normally.”
Nefret turned. “Ramses is a damned liar.”
“Ramses never lies. However,” I admitted, “he is an expert at equivocation. What makes you think he is—er—misleading us about Jack?”
“Jack is behaving oddly again. He refused your last invitation, and he’s avoiding other people. Geoffrey says he spends most of his free time prowling the hills with a gun. When he can’t find anything else, he shoots jackals.”
“Is he drinking?”
Her slim shoulders lifted in a shrug.
“I had better go and see for myself,” I said, putting my papers into a neat pile and rising from my chair.
“I was afraid you would say that. Please, Aunt Amelia, don’t go rushing off. Geoffrey said he would try to bring Jack here for tea today.”
“Very well, I will wait and see if he comes.”
Nefret came and stood by my desk. She picked up a sheet of paper and examined it. “Will Ramses be here?”
“I don’t know. He’s got in the habit of having tea with David and Lia. In fact, I believe he went to the dahabeeyah earlier, as soon as he got back from Giza.”
“We haven’t seen a great deal of them lately.”
“You see them every day at the site,” I pointed out. “No doubt they appreciate their time alone together. You know, Nefret, that if you and Geoffrey would prefer to take tea, or any other meals, in your rooms, I would understand perfectly.”
“Thank you, but we are both quite happy with things the way they are.”
“Nefret …”
“Yes?” She looked directly at me, and the words that had risen to my lips died there. It was as if a door had slammed shut behind her eyes.
“I have been revising my little fairy tale,” I said, indicating the paper she held. “What do you think?”
“I’m no expert, Aunt Amelia.” She glanced at the page. I had the feeling she had not really looked at it until then.
“On the language? No more am I. What is wanted here is an examination of Sinuhe’s motives, and for that one needs not only a profound understanding of human nature but a familiarity with the sometimes oblique terms in which the ancient Egyptians expressed it.
“Everyone assumes that Sinuhe was a member of the conspiracy directed against the rightful heir, and indeed it is hard to conceive of another explanation for his flight and his fear of returning to Egypt. But Sinuhe claims he only learned of the plot by overhearing one of the conspirators talking—at least that is how I interpret a rather enigmatic passage—and that he was so terrified and dismayed, he fled. If that version is correct, he would be guilty of nothing worse than cowardice.”
“Obviously it isn’t correct,” Nefret said. “It’s the official version—the diplomatic lie. I think he was in the conspiracy up to his neck, and that what he overheard was a statement by one of Senusert’s supporters, to the effect that the new pharaoh was already on his way to claim the throne, that he knew all about the plot, and that the loyalists in the army were about to arrest the guilty parties.”
“Hmmm,” I said. “Yes, that is also my interpretation. And when, after many years, he begged forgiveness—”
“She forgave him,” Nefret said. She picked up the drawing that I knew was her favorite—the old man sitting at peace in his garden, looking out at the symbols of eternal life. “He had been in the service of the princess, hadn’t he? She was now queen. She forgave him because she had loved him, and because she knew how badly he wanted to come home.”
The silence that followed was broken only by the soft chirping of sparrows in the tamarisk tree outside the window—until one of Narmer’s sudden outrageous howls made Nefret laugh and me swear (under my breath, naturally).
I put my work away and we went to the courtyard. It was Geoffrey