The Last Camel Died at Noon - Elizabeth Peters [150]
Nagging worry about Ramses made me all the more anxious to get on with my plan for rendering Amenit hors de combat. Reggie was a complication I had not expected, and I wished with all my heart that Nasty, as Emerson had taken to calling him, had not returned the young man. A few days more in the dungeon would not have hurt him.
As soon as I was able, I took Amenit aside and warned her not to mention our scheme to her lover. “If you tell him, he will say what all men do, that he loves you as you are. He believes that, but it is not true. Let it be a surprise when you show yourself in all your new beauty.”
She agreed that this was an excellent plan.
Leaving Emerson to distract Reggie with farfetched suggestions for escape, I retired with Amenit to my room, where the supplies I had requested had been brought. I made quite a performance of it, crooning “incantations” in Latin and Hebrew as I mixed and stirred and blended.
I had been teasing my dear Emerson when I claimed to be carrying arsenic and other poisons (though it might not be a bad idea to have something of the sort on hand in the future). Had I been in dear old England, I could have gleaned numerous deadly substances from the fields and hedgerows. No such richness was available to me here, and the purgatives, of which I always carried an ample supply, acted too quickly for my purposes. I did not want the girl to blame her illness on my ministrations.
I had one thing on hand that would have done the trick— a necklace given me by one of my ladies-in-waiting after I had admired the pretty mottled black-and-brown beads. They were castor beans, from which castor oil is extracted. Cooking destroys the poison, so castor oil was perfectly safe, but these beans had not been cooked before being strung, only dried. There was enough poison in my necklace to dispatch Amenit and half a dozen of the guards.
But did I dare administer it? I had crushed the seeds and set them to soak in cold water. I could probably persuade Amenit to drink some of it under the pretext that it would beautify her from the inside out, but I had not the faintest idea how potent the brew might be. It might have no effect at all, it might induce the cramps and digestive distress I wanted—or it might put an end to her.
I am a Christian woman. I set the liquid aside.
I had washed her hair and plastered her face and arms with a paste of my own invention when the second intrusion of the day occurred—the familiar noises of marching feet and clashing weapons. It was getting monotonous.
Amenit reacted as any woman would when the intimate secrets of the toilette are in danger of being exposed. In other words, she squealed and shrieked and looked around for a place in which to hide. She really was a dreadful sight; I had added some pounded herbs to the mess, for color, and she looked as if she were wearing a copper mask suffering severely from verdigris. “Don’t wash it off,” I warned, handing her her veils. “You will spoil the magic.”
I heard Emerson call my name. Wiping a few flecks of the green paste from my forearms (I had taken care to apply it with a cloth), I hurried into the reception room.
Nastasen had not honored us with his personal attention this time. In command of the troop of soldiers was one of the nobles who had attended our impromptu dinner party.
I greeted him with a bow and a polite “Good afternoon,” which seemed to fluster him. He started to reply in kind, and got as far as, “The gods favor—” before he recollected himself. “You come,” he said, scowling.
“I really am rather busy,” I replied. “Can’t this wait?”
“Don’t push him too far, Peabody,” said Emerson, repressing a smile. “We seem to be wanted; it would be more dignified to go of our own accord instead of being forced.”
“Oh, certainly, Emerson. Is Reggie also invited?”
Reggie