The Last Camel Died at Noon - Elizabeth Peters [40]
“Yes, Peabody, I do know,” Emerson said. “And while I am in full sympathy with the justice of that cause, I do feel—as I have had occasion to mention before, my dear— that your chances of bringing about any lasting change… Well, but that is by the by; shall we finish making our purchases and be on our way?”
Followed by porters carrying our goods, we made our way to another booth. Ramses chose to honor me with his company. “You would like Kemit’s people, Mama,” he remarked. “Their women are highly respected—except by the Dervishes, who, as I told you, dishonored—”
“Kindly refrain from referring to the subject again, Ramses. You don’t know what you are talking about.”
However, I had an uneasy feeling that he did know.
Like all men, Emerson grows very impatient over the necessary deliberations of shopping. If it were left to him, he would simply point to the first object of its kind he saw and order a dozen. His grumbling and fidgeting were checked, however, when I had the pleasure of telling him that I had got the loan of five more camels from Captain Griffith.
“How the devil did you do that?” he asked admiringly. “These cursed military men—”
“Are British officers and gentlemen, my dear. I persuaded them that since the animals in question are not yet fit for the arduous trips the Camel Corps makes, they can just as well recuperate at our camp as here. Captain Griffith was kind enough to express full confidence in my veterinary skills.”
“Hmph,” said Emerson. But he said it very softly.
We picked up the camels and a supply of medication for them, and loaded our purchases. The weight of them was negligible compared to the loads camels are accustomed to carry, and I was careful to see that it was done properly, placing pads over the healing sores on the beasts’ backs and sides and adjusting the saddles to protect them. I was surprised to see how quick Kemit was to understand the reasoning behind these procedures, and how adept at carrying them out.
“He seems quite an intelligent individual,” I said to Emerson, as we rode side by side out of the village. “Perhaps he can be taught some of the excavation techniques, as you did with the men of Aziyeh. How I miss our friends, dear old Abdullah and his son and grandsons and nephews!”
“I was thinking the same thing, Peabody. Kemit is clearly a mentally superior individual. If his fellow tribesmen are as capable…Ha! Speak of the devil!”
Two men had appeared from among the palm trees, so suddenly and silently that they might have materialized out of thin air. They were attired in the same short trousers and long mantles. Kemit advanced to meet them; after a brief conversation he came back to Emerson. “They will come. They speak no English. But they will work. They are faithful.”
We mounted Kemit’s friends on two of the camels—which they bestrode with a facility that indicated considerable familiarity with that means of transport—and resumed our journey. The gait of the camel does not permit comfortable conversation; I resolved to wait until Emerson and I were alone before raising the subject of Reginald Forthright and my husband’s unacceptable behavior.
However, when the desired condition of privacy was at last attained, other considerations soon intervened, and when they had been concluded (to the satisfaction of both parties), I am bound to confess that Reginald Forthright was the last subject on my mind.
Kemit and his two attendants proved to be all that he had claimed and more. They not only worked tirelessly and carefully at any task assigned them, following directions to the letter, but they all—Kemit especially—proved astonishingly quick at learning the methods of excavation we used. Naturally we rewarded them by giving them increased responsibility and respect (though I hope I need not tell the Reader that we treated all our men with the same courtesy we would have accorded English servants). They were not popular with the villagers,