The Golden One - Elizabeth Peters [89]
Emerson’s glazed stare indicated that he had stopped listening. He considers me far too prone to offer advice, and talk of courting bores him. “A stick,” he said suddenly. “Get the boy a good stout stick, let him do whatever he likes.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Emerson,” I said.
At Cyrus’s suggestion we dined informally at the Castle. Bertie was pleased to see us, and even more pleased when he was offered the chance to return to work. I examined his ankle; it was better; the swelling had gone down and there was only a little bruising. Everyone attributed this to Kadija’s miraculous ointment, and such may well have been the case, though I had begun to wonder whether its greatest effectiveness came from the mind of the patient.
After dinner the young man hobbled off to the library with the others. I remained with Katherine to offer additional reassurances.
“I have set up a nice little shelter where Bertie will be perfectly comfortable, and if it proves necessary for him to work elsewhere on the site, we will make certain he does not exert himself. Jumana has taken it upon herself to look after him.”
This last was not, perhaps, what Katherine wanted to hear. In my opinion her worries about a serious attachment were groundless as well as prejudiced. Bertie had not got over his interest in the girl, but she had given no evidence of reciprocating; she treated him rather like a slow-witted child. I gave Katherine a little lecture on the subject, adding, “After all, Katherine, there is nothing so destructive of romance than continued proximity.”
Katherine pursed up her mouth. “It didn’t work that way for Ramses and Nefret.”
“That is a special case. Mark my words, working together will soon make Bertie and Jumana detest one another.”
I had exaggerated a trifle, but over the next few days Bertie showed increasing evidence of impatience with Jumana. Being a man, he wanted to impress her with his strength and professional skill; being Jumana, she took advantage of his enforced helplessness to fuss over him. By moving his chair and table from one part of the site to another, we made it possible for him to assist with the surveying, at which task he was skilled, but he spent a good deal of the time sitting still. Watching Jumana bustle about, climbing nimbly up the hillside and dashing back down to readjust his sunshade, strained his temper considerably. Only his equable nature and inherent good manners prevented an explosion.
One mildly disquieting incident marred the productive happiness of the next few days. It had nothing to do with Jamil, though as the Reader may well believe, I had not forgotten him. I did not suppose Jumana had heard from him, since I kept a close eye on her, but his very avoidance of her began to worry me. He needed money, if only for bare subsistence. Where was he getting it?
If it was from his friends and family in Gurneh, none of them would admit it. A wall of silence blocked Selim’s inquiries.
“Some are speaking the truth, I think,” he had said. “But with certain others, something has frozen their tongues. It is like the old days when the Master controlled the illegal antiquities business and all men went in fear of his wrath.”
“Could it be?” Emerson asked me, after Selim had gone on his way.
“Impossible, Emerson.”
“Why? We haven’t heard from the . . . from him for weeks. We don’t know where the devil he’s got to.”
“He would never interfere with our work, or tolerate a contemptible boy like Jamil.”
We were seldom interrupted by visitors. However, one morning when I was investigating a ruined chapel up on the hillside—helping Cyrus with his plan of the tombs, as I had explained to Emerson—I saw a pair of horsemen approaching. Both were wearing the drab olive of military uniform. I made haste to scramble down the slope in the hope of heading them off before they ventured to approach Emerson.
I was too slow, or Emerson was too quick. When I reached them the two men had dismounted and were endeavoring to carry on a polite conversation with my husband. They were finding it heavy going.