The Last Camel Died at Noon - Elizabeth Peters [109]
From under the couch came a faint grinding sound. Ramses was trying to grit his teeth—one of the rather touching ways in which he strove to emulate his sire. He made no other objection, however, and his retreat was as silent as his approach had been. Only when the faint rustle of the hangings indicated that he had passed into the next room did Emerson continue with what he had been doing.
Our attendants reappeared the following morning, to Emerson’s extreme annoyance. As soon as we had finished breakfast he declared his intention of paying a few social calls, first on Murtek and then, if it was permitted, on the princes.
If he had hoped to elude his attendants, the trick did not work. The gentlemen of the bedchamber were close on his heels. He did not return, so I concluded he had been permitted to leave the building, and I determined to do the same.
When I suggested I might call on the High Priestess, the shocked reactions of my ladies-in-waiting made it clear that I had committed a social error by even suggesting such a thing. The Priestess did not entertain visitors or leave her chambers except to participate in religious ceremonies. I felt very sorry for the poor creature; even Moslem women had greater freedom, for they could walk in their gardens and go out if properly veiled and attended.
“Is it the same for all the noble women?” I asked. “Are they also prisoners?”
They hastened to assure me that, first, the Priestess was not a prisoner and, second, that priestesses were subject to different rules. Other women came and went as they pleased. And where did they go? I asked. Oh—to the temple, to one another’s houses, to wait on the queen and the royal children.…
That gave me my opening. I announced that I would also attend Her Majesty, to whom they had referred by her ancient title of Candace. “In my country,” I added, “all visitors pay their respects [literally, go and bow down] to our Queen. It would be rude [literally, bad conduct] not to do it.”
After some discussion, the ladies agreed I had struck on an excellent idea. It turned out to be a much more complicated procedure than I had anticipated; every step had to be argued and discussed. Should someone be sent ahead to announce our coming? (Yes, she should.) What should I wear? (We were unanimous on that point; I was determined to go armed and accoutred, and the ladies seemed to think Her Majesty would like to see my peculiar clothing.) How should we go? (A compromise was finally reached; the ladies took the litters, I walked.) Should Ramses accompany us?
Ramses was nowhere to be found, which settled that question. The ladies seemed to think it was a game, something like hide and seek, and would have gone on looking for him all day if I had not announced my intention of proceeding without him. I was not concerned about his safety, since he could not get out of the house, and it had already occurred to me that the visit might go more smoothly without him. One never knew what he might say. So finally we set out. The sun was high and the temperature extremely warm, but I did not mind; it was such a pleasure to stride freely, breathing deeply and taking in the sights along the way. I fancy the litter bearers were pleased too, for they were obliged to match my pace, and although that pace was brisk it was a good deal less tiring than their usual trot.
The stone-paved causeway was in excellent condition. A group of the little dark people was engaged in making repairs on one section; they knelt at the sight of the guards, and remained in that position until after we had passed. I caught glimpses of others working in the gardens along the way. Parts of the hillside were beautifully terraced and landscaped, but others had been given up to weeds and brambles,