The Last Camel Died at Noon - Elizabeth Peters [161]
“Cursed if I don’t think you are right, Peabody,” Emerson breathed. “Didn’t you tell me the cat wears a collar?”
That brilliantly incisive question dispelled the clouds of superstition. As one man, so to speak, we fell upon the cat, but with the circumspection Bastet had taught us to exhibit toward felines. While I stroked the cat and complimented it, Emerson managed to undo the collar, and almost at once let out a muffled cry.
“Are you missing any hairpins, Peabody?”
“That is an impossible question to answer, Emerson. One is always missing hairpins. Have you found one?”
“I just pricked my finger on it. It has been used to fasten a bit of paper to the collar. Here, hold on”—to the cat, he meant; it had indicated its intentions of leaving—“I had better put the collar back on.”
The cat submitted with relative grace; after it had slid away I sucked my scratched finger and asked, “Is it a message? Who is it from? What does it say?”
“It is paper, not the local imitation,” Emerson replied. “That is in itself suggestive, but further than that I cannot say without reading it. Dare we light a lamp?”
“We must take the chance,” I whispered. “Suspense weighs heavily upon me. Wait, I will get a match.”
Emerson did not wait, he followed me while I located my belt, the tin box, the matches within, and one of the small pottery lamps. In the wavering light, heads together, we read the words on the paper.
“Tutus sum, liber sum, et dies ultionis meae est propinqua. Nolite timere pro filio vestro fortimissimo et astutissimo. Cum summa peritia et audacia ille viam suam ad me invenit. Conviemus in templo in die adventus dei. Usque ad illud tempus manete; facite nihil.”
“Thank heaven,” whispered Emerson. “Our son is safe. The handwriting is his. He must have written this at Tarek’s dictation.”
“Certain of the expressions strongly suggest that Ramses not only wrote it but composed it,” I replied. ” ‘Astutissimo,’ indeed. I suppose he used Latin to prevent the message from being understood if it were intercepted.”
(For the benefit of those few among my Readers whose command of the language of the Caesars is weak, I append a translation: “I am safe, I am free, and the day of my vengeance is near. Fear not for your very brave, very clever son. With consummate skill and daring he found his way to me. We will meet in the temple on the day of the coming forth of the god. Till then, wait; do nothing.”)
Emerson blew out the lamp. “Back to bed, Peabody. We have much to discuss.”
“I have an uneasy feeling that we are being watched, Emerson.”
“That is almost a certainty, my dear. I am glad we took the risk, though; I can sleep more soundly knowing that Ramses is with our friend. It will be hard to wait, though. We must find out when the ceremony is to take place.”
“That is what I was about to tell you, Emerson, when the cat arrived. The ceremony is in two days’ time—the day after tomorrow.”
The message opened endless avenues of speculation. How had Ramses managed to find his way to Tarek? Where were they now? What precisely were the prince’s plans? He sounded very confident that matters would work out to his advantage, but we agreed we would feel easier if we knew what he intended. Emerson expressed some indignation over Tarek’s (or Ramses’s?) order to refrain from action. “There is a decided suggestion of criticism there, Peabody, don’t you think? As if we had done too much already. And how does he expect us to sit twiddling our thumbs for two cursed days? It is not humanly possible. What if his plans go awry?”
They were legitimate questions, but unfortunately I could no more think of sensible answers than could Emerson.
The following day stands out in my mind as unquestionably the most unpleasant of the entire adventure. Dying of thirst is not an activity in which I would care to engage again; anticipating the violent death of Emerson was extremely painful; the anguish of believing that Ramses had vanished forever into the rocky bowels of the cliffs tried my nerves severely. But on the whole, activity of any kind