The Serpent on the Crown - Elizabeth Peters [63]
“Nothing wrong with his vocal cords, I see,” Emerson remarked.
“Not your fault, Lidman,” Cyrus assured the man. “You’ll be fit again in a day or two. Just take it easy and do what the lady says. She’s a first-rate doctor.”
“I’ll go with them,” Ramses said.
“What?” Emerson scowled, and then nodded reluctantly. “Yes, I suppose you had better. In case he falls off the confounded horse. Hurry back.”
Ramses tactfully refrained from replying. If the afflicted German’s condition was serious, Nefret might need his help.
Lidman kept up well at first, chattering with forced cheerfulness about the life and times of Akhenaton. Hoping to distract him from his discomfort, Ramses kept up the conversation (when he could get a word in); but the hot sun and the rough terrain eventually took their toll, and by the time they reached the house Lidman was bent almost double over the horse’s neck. He slid awkwardly off into Ramses’s grasp and had to be helped into the clinic.
“Do you want me to stay?” Ramses asked.
He had addressed his wife, but it was Lidman who replied. Flat on his back, clutching modestly at the neck of his shirt, he gasped, “Please. If it is not too much trouble.”
“You needn’t be embarrassed,” Nefret said, from the sink where she was washing her hands. “I just want to listen to your heart and take your temperature. And I’ve seen a lot of men with their shirts off. Ramses, would you help him?”
The flabby white torso bared by the removal of Lidman’s shirt was not an attractive sight, but he submitted without visible embarrassment to Nefret’s quick examination.
“No fever,” she announced, shaking down the thermometer. “And there’s nothing wrong with your heart.”
Lidman groaned and pressed his hands to his belly. “You can give me medicine? Then I will return to my duties.”
“Not today,” Nefret said. “I can give you something that will settle your stomach, but I want to be certain it is working properly and that there are no adverse side effects. You had better spend the night. We’ll see how you feel in the morning.”
“But I must—I must—”
“It’s a waste of breath arguing with her,” Ramses said pleasantly. “We can fit you out with pajamas and the rest.”
He left it to Nefret and Fatima to make the arrangements, and went off to his workroom in a thoughtful frame of mind.
They were all on the veranda waiting for tea, except for his mother, who was upstairs working on her notes, when his father returned. After a word of apology, he headed straight for the bath chamber, leaving a distinct smell of garbage in his wake. Emerson wouldn’t ask any man to do a job he shirked.
“Good heavens,” said Sethos, wrinkling his nose. “I see I was wise to remain here today.”
“I do hope you weren’t bored,” Ramses said. “How did you pass the time?”
“Playing with us,” Carla said. “He knows lots of good stories about tomb robbers.”
“I’ll just bet he does,” Ramses muttered.
“But he cheated at blindman’s buff.”
She grinned admiringly at Sethos, who grinned back at her. “So did you. How is your patient, Nefret?”
No need to ask how he had found out about Lidman. Fatima, arranging the tea things, was humming quietly.
“It’s nothing more than the usual stomach trouble,” Nefret said. “But I want to keep him here overnight to be certain.”
“There’s no time for sickness in this business,” said Emerson, erupting from the house in his usual abrupt fashion. “Get the fellow up, Nefret, work is the best medicine—as Peabody has often said.”
He held the door for his wife. “Isn’t that right, my dear?” he inquired politely.
“Generally speaking, yes.” She took a chair and beckoned to Fatima. “However, Nefret is quite right to be cautious. Egypt is full of perils for those who are not acclimated.”
“Hmmm, yes,” Emerson said. Ramses deduced they had had another argument. They were always excessively polite to each other afterward.
Lidman did not appear for tea or for dinner. Fatima had taken him a tray. Nefret reported that he had eaten everything on it and seemed better, but