The Golden One - Elizabeth Peters [37]
“Luncheon? We?” Emerson’s heavy black brows drew together. “See here, Peabody—”
“I will tell her now,” I said with a sigh. “Fortunately she always has a full larder. Are we taking Selim and Daoud with us?”
“Yes. No. Oh, curse it,” said Emerson.
“What about Jumana?” I persisted.
“No,” said Emerson firmly.
“I don’t believe we ought to leave her alone.”
“She won’t be alone. There are a dozen people . . . Damnation. You don’t think she would creep out to meet that young swine? She gave me her word—”
“No, she did not. I don’t trust her out of my sight. She’s been climbing over those hills since she was a child, she can keep up as well as the rest of us.”
“If you are going to make a full-scale expedition of this—”
“You would have gone off without so much as a water bottle,” I retorted. “I will change my boots and get my parasol, and have a few words with Fatima.”
Emerson made one last, and as he ought to have known, futile attempt to head me off. “But, Peabody, I thought you meant to spend the day here. There is a great deal to do, unpacking and—”
“Yes, my dear, there is. Obviously it will have to wait. I won’t be long.”
I had my few words with Fatima and sent one of the maids to tell Jumana she was wanted in the sitting room. It took me a while to find my boots, which were buried under a heap of Emerson’s clothes. The most important part of my costume was ready at hand. Though my working attire of trousers and tweed coat is well equipped with pockets, I have never abandoned my invaluable belt of tools. Over the years I had refined and added to these accoutrements: a pistol and knife, a coil of rope, a small flask of brandy, candles and matches in a waterproof box, and other useful items. On an expedition such as this, one could not take too many precautions. I hung a small first-aid kit and a brush from two of the empty hooks, and returned to the breakfast room, where I found that Jumana had joined the others.
Emerson, who objects to my being hung all round with sharp-edged or blunt objects, gave me a sour look but refrained from comment. I turned to Nefret.
“Are you coming, my dear, or would you prefer to stay here and get your new quarters in order? I purchased goods for draperies—a very pretty blue, shot with silver—but I haven’t done anything about servants, since I assumed you would wish to select them yourself. One of Yusuf’s brother’s cousins has already come round asking—”
“Yes, Mother, you mentioned that. I am coming, of course. Do you suppose I would allow my poor helpless husband to go off without me to protect him?”
Jumana gave her a startled look, and Ramses’s lips parted in a grin. He must have told Nefret of the plan the night before. She certainly had him well in hand—better than I had Emerson!
Fatima bustled in with two heavily laden baskets, and we went to the stable, where we found Daoud chatting with the stableman and Selim chatting with the horses. He was a fine rider, and he had been in charge of the splendid Arabians while we were away. Risha and Asfur had been gifts to Ramses and David from a Bedouin friend. Their progeny, which included Nefret’s mare Moonlight, had increased over the years.
“Are we taking the horses?” I inquired. I knew the answer even before Emerson shook his head. He had told Selim and Daoud to meet him in the stable so I wouldn’t see them! Neither appeared surprised to see me, however. Selim greeted me with a knowing smile. He and Daoud both carried coils of rope. I had a feeling we would need ropes before the day was over, if the paths Emerson meant to take were too rough for the horses.
I have clambered over the Theban mountains many a time, by day and by night. The exercise is delightful during the time of full moon, when the rugged surface is a symphony of silver and shadow. The first part of the trek was familiar to me, and not difficult—up the slope behind Deir el Bahri to the top of the plateau and the path that led from the workmen’s village to the Valley of