Read Crocodile on the Sandbank Online
Authors: Elizabeth Peters
Tags: #Historical fiction, #Detective and mystery stories, #Mystery fiction, #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #Historical, #Suspense, #Crime & mystery, #Political, #Women detectives - Egypt, #Peabody, #Amelia (Fictious character), #Crime & Thriller, #Mummies, #Peabody, #Amelia (Fictitious character), #Egyptology, #Cairo (Egypt), #Mystery, #Detective, #Women detectives, #Emerson, #Radcliffe (Fictitious character), #Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths, #Archaeologists' spouses, #Mystery & Detective - General, #Egypt, #Fiction - Mystery
Crocodile on the Sandbank (3 page)
* * *
When she had finished, Evelyn's blue eyes were swimming with tears, andher voice was unsteady; but she had kept her promise to remain calm.
She had spoken with vigor and decision throughout the last part of this
shameful narrative. I was silent, trying to decide which of many things
I should say first. My silence was painful to the girl; she drew a
long,
shuddering breath. Her hands were clasped so tightly that the knuckles
showed white; the slender shoulders under my flannel nightdress were
braced as if for a blow. I was in a state of some mental confusion. The
words that finally came from my lips were not at all those I had meant
to say. "Tell me, Evelyn— what is it like? Is it pleasant?" Evelyn's
astonishment was hardly greater man my own; but having once begun, I
had to explain more fully. I hurried on.
"You will forgive me for probing into what must be a source of pain for
you; but I have never had the opportunity of inquiring.... One hears
such conflicting stories. My sisters-in-law whisper and shake their
heads and speak of the cross a wife must bear. But I have seen the
village girls in the meadows with their sweethearts and they seem— they
look— in short, they do not seem to find.... Dear me! How strange, I
seem to be at a loss for words. That does not often occur. Do you
understand what I am trying to ask?"
For a moment longer Evelyn stared at me, her wide eyes brimming. Then
an extraordinary grimace crossed her face. She covered it with her
hands; her shoulders shook convulsively.
"I must apologize," I said resignedly. "Now I suppose I will never
know. I did not intend—"
A choked sound from Evelyn interrupted me. She lowered her hands. Her
face was flushed and tear-streaked. She was gasping— with laughter.
I took it for hysteria, of course, and moved alertly forward. She
caught my lifted hand.
"No, no, you needn't slap me; I am not at all hysterical. But, Amelia,
you are— you are so— Is that
really all you can think of to ask me, after
such a story as mine?" I considered the matter.
"Why, I really do not think there is anything else to ask. The shameful
behavior of your abominable old grandfather and your villain of a lover
require no comment. I presume your other family connections are equally
cold-hearted, or you would
have appealed to them."
"And you are not repelled by my ruined character?"
"I do not consider that it is ruined. Indeed, the experience has
probably strengthened your character."
Evelyn shook her head. "I can't believe you are real!"
"There is nothing extraordinary about me. However, I suppose— yes, I am
sure that it would be wise for you to make certain I am what I claim to
be before you accept the position I offer. My father had friends in
academic circles; I can give you references to a clergyman here in
Rome, and the consul knows of my— "
"No. I do not need to make such inquiries." With a gesture, Evelyn
indicated that I should take a seat on the bed beside her. I did so.
She studied me earnestly for a few moments. Then she said,
"Before I answer your question, Amelia, perhaps you will answer one for
me. Why did you say, 'I will never know'? Referring, of course, to the
question— "
"Well, it is unlikely that I shall ever have firsthand experience. I am
fully acquainted with the use of the mirror and the calendar. The
latter tells me that I am thirty-two years old; the former reproduces
my plain features without flattery. Moreover, my nature does not lend
itself to the meekness required of a wife in our society, I could not
endure a man who would let himself be ruled by me, and I would not
endure a man who tried to rule me. However, I am curious. I had
thought----- But no doubt I spoke out of place. My brothers assure me
that I constantly do so."
"If I have not answered your question," Evelyn said, "it is not because
I consider it unfair, but because I find it difficult to give a
balanced answer. At this time, my recollection of the hours I
spent— shall we say in Alberto's arms?— makes a shudder of disgust pass
through me. But at the time— at the time----- "
She leaned forward. Her eyes were brilliant.
"Oh, Amelia, under the right circumstances, it is— in a word— perfectly
splendid!"
"Ah. I suspected as much. Well, my dear Evelyn, I am indebted to you
for the information. And now shall we consider a more pressing
question? No doubt you will wish to inquire of those references I
mentioned before making a decision as to— "
"No." Evelyn shook her head vigorously. Her golden curls danced. "I
need no references, and no time to consider. I would love to be your
companion, Amelia. Indeed— I think we will get on very well together."
With a quick, graceful movement she leaned forward and kissed me
lightly on the cheek. The gesture took me quite by surprise. I mumbled
something and left the room. I never had a sister. I began to think
that perhaps a gesture that had begun as an act of charity might
benefit me as much as it helped its object.
* * *
I may say, without undue egotism, that when I make up my mind to dosomething, it is done quickly.
The lethargic old city of the Popes
fairly quaked under my ruthless hand during the following week.
The week brought several surprises to me. I had looked forward to
adopting Evelyn and dressing her, rather as if she had been a pretty,
living doll. I wanted to buy for her all the dainty, impractical
garments I could not wear myself. But she was not a doll, and she soon
made that fact apparent. I don't know quite how she accomplished it,
for she never openly countermanded an order or contradicted me; but she
eventually acquired a wardrobe that was charming and simple and
astonishingly inexpensive. And, in the process, I somehow acquired half
a dozen new frocks of my own, which I had had no intention of buying.
They were not the kind of frocks I would have chosen for myself. One
evening dress, which I certainly did not need, was of the most
astonishing shade of crimson, with a square neckline cut several
inches lower than anything I had ever worn. The skirts were draped back
over a bustle, displaying a sequined underskirt. Evelyn chose the
fabric and bullied the dressmaker quite as effectively, and much more
quietly, than I would have done. I thought the gown quite absurd; it
squeezed my waist down to nothing and made my bosom look even more
ample than it unfortunately is. But when Evelyn said, "Wear it"; I wore
it. She was an amazing girl. She also discovered a weakness, so secret
I was not aware of it myself, for embroidered batiste; the dozens of
fine undergarments and nightgowns I had meant to get for her ended
being made to my measurements.
I was in something of a daze during that week. I felt as if I had
picked up a pathetic, half-drowned kitten from a pond and then had seen
it turn into a full-grown tiger. Enough of my natural instincts
remained, however, to allow me to take certain practical steps.
I am not at all a man-hater, despite the innuendos of a certain person
whose name has not yet entered into this narrative. I had found,
however, that few persons of the male sex were to be trusted, and
Evelyn's story had merely confirmed this theory. It was obvious that
Alberto was an untruthful person. The story he had written to Evelyn
about her grandfather was not to be believed without investigation. I
therefore went to our consul in Rome and made inquiries.
I was disappointed for several reasons to learn that on this account,
if no other, Alberto had spoken the truth. The Earl of Ellesmere was
personally known to our consul; and of course the health of a peer of
such rank was a matter of general concern. The elderly earl was not yet
dead, but word of bis demise was expected at any moment. He had been in
a deep coma for days.
I proceeded to tell the consul about Evelyn. He had heard rumors of
this affair; that was clear, from the way his face changed to its blank
diplomatic mask. He had the temerity to remonstrate with me when I
explained my intentions with regard to the girl. I cut him short,
naturally. I had only two reasons for mentioning Evelyn at all.
Firstly, to ascertain whether or
not any of her kin had made inquiries about her. Secondly, to inform
someone in authority of her future whereabouts in case such inquiries
should be made in the future. The answer to the first question was
negative. The diplomatic mask notwithstanding,
I could see by the
consul's expression that he did not expect any such inquiries; he knew
the old Earl too well. I therefore gave him my address in Cairo and
departed, leaving him shaking his head and mumbling to himself.
On the twenty-eighth of the month we boarded the ship at Brindisi and
set sail for Alexandria.
2
I WILL spare the Gentle Reader descriptions of the journey and of thepicturesque dirt of Alexandria. Every European traveler who can write
his name feels obliged to publish his memoirs; the reader may refer to
"Miss Smith's Egyptian Journals" or "Mr. Jones's Winter in Egypt" if he
feels cheated of local color, for all the descriptions are the same.
The sea voyage was abominable, but I was happy to see that Evelyn was a
good traveler. We made our way to Cairo without incident and settled
down at Shepheard's Hotel.
Everyone stays at Shepheard's. Among the travelers who meet daily in
its magnificent dining room one may eventually, it is said, encounter
all one's acquaintances; and from the terrace before the hotel the
indolent tourist may watch a panorama of eastern life pass before his
eyes as he sips his lemonade. Stiff English travelers ride past, on
donkeys so small that the riders' feet trail in the dust; followed by
Janissaries in their gorgeous gold-embroidered uniforms, armed to the
teeth; by native women swathed to the eyebrows in dusty black, by
stately Arabs in flowing blue-and-white robes, dervishes with matted
hair and fantastic headdresses, sweetmeat vendors with trays of Turkish
delight, water sellers with their goatskin containers bloated with
liquid and looking horridly lifelike.... But I see I am succumbing to
the temptation of the traveler, and will stop; the procession is
unending and fascinating.
There were not many English travelers in Cairo that winter. The
fighting in the Sudan had apparently alarmed them. The mad Mahdi was
still besieging the gallant Gordon at Khartoum. However, Sir Garnet
Wolseley's relief expedition had reached Wadi Haifa, and the gentlemen
we met at Shepheard's reassured us— or rather, reassured Evelyn— when
she expressed doubts as to the wisdom of traveling south. The fighting
was still hundreds of miles below Assuan, and by the time we arrived
there the war would surely be over— the Mahdi taken and his barbaric
army crushed, the gallant Gordon relieved.
I was not so sanguine as the gentlemen. The mad carpenter of the Sudan
had proved himself an extremely potent general, as our losses in that
area proved. However, I said nothing to Evelyn, for I had no intention
of changing my plans to suit the Mahdi or anyone else. I planned to
spend the winter sailing up the Nile, and sail I would.
Travel by water is the only comfortable method of seeing Egypt, and the
narrow length of the country means that all the antiquities are within
easy reach of the river. I had heard of the pleasure of travel by
dahabeeyah, and was anxious to try it. To call these conveyances
houseboats is to give a poor idea of their luxury. They can be fitted
up with any convenience the traveler chooses to supply, and the
services available depend solely on his ability to pay. I intended to
go to Boulaq, where the boats are moored, and decide on one the day
after our arrival. We could then inspect some of the sights of Cairo
and be on our way in a few days.
When I expressed this intention to some of our fellow guests in the
lounge of the hotel after dinner, a burst of hilarity greeted my
remarks. I was informed that my hopes were vain. Choosing a dahabeeyah
was a frustrating, time-consuming process; the native Egyptian was a
lazy fellow who could not be hurried. I had my own opinions on that
score, but I caught Evelyn's eye and remained silent. She was having an
astonishing effect on
me, that girl; I thought that if I continued in her company much
longer,
I might become mellow.
She was looking very pretty that night, in a frock of pale-blue silk,
and she attracted considerable attention. We had agreed that her real
name was not to be mentioned, since it was well known to
many Englishmen; she was therefore introduced as Evelyn Forbes. Tiring,
finally, of the clumsy efforts of some of the ladies in the group to
discover her antecedents, I used fatigue as an excuse for early
retirement.
I awoke early next morning. An ethereal, rose-tinted light filled the
room, and I could see Evelyn kneeling by the window. I thought she was
brooding over past events; there had been moments of depression,
quickly overcome, but not unnoticed by me. I therefore tried to remain
motionless, but an inadvertent rustle of the bedclothes caused her to
turn, and I saw that her face was shining with pleasure.
"Come and look, Amelia. It is so beautiful!"
To obey was not as simple as it sounds. I had first to fight my way
through the muffling folds of fine white mosquito netting that
encircled the bed. When I joined Evelyn, I shared her pleasure. Our
rooms overlooked the garden of the hotel; stately palms, dark
silhouettes in the pale dawn, rose up against a sky filled with
translucent azure and pink streaks. Birds fluttered singing from tree
to tree; the lacy minarets
of mosques shone like mother-of-pearl above
the treetops. The air was cool and exquisitely clear.
It was as well that our day began with such beauty and peace, for the
wharves of Boulaq, where we went after breakfast, were not at all
peaceful. I began to understand what our fellow travelers had warned me
about. There were over a hundred boats at their moorings; the confusion
and noise were indescribable.
The boats are much alike, varying only in size. The cabins occupy the
after part of the deck, and their roof forms an upper deck which, when
furnished and canopied, provides a charming open-air drawing room for
the passengers. The crew occupy the lower deck. Here is the kitchen, a
shed containing a
charcoal stove, and a collection of pots and pans. The dahabeeyahs are
shallow, flat-bottomed boats with two masts; and when the huge sails
are spread to catch the brisk northerly breeze, they present a most
attractive picture. Our problem, then, was to decide which boat to
hire. At first even I was bewildered by the variety. It did not take
long, however, to realize that some of the boats were impossible. There
are degrees of uncleanliness; I could tolerate, indeed, I expected, a
state of sanitation inferior to that of England, but...! Unfortunately,
the bigger boats were usually the better kept. I did not mind the
expense, but it seemed a trifle ridiculous for the two of us— and my
maid — to rattle about in a boat that contained ten staterooms and two
saloons.
At Evelyn's insistence we had hired a dragoman that morning at the
hotel. I saw no reason why we should; I had learned some Arabic phrases
during the voyage to Alexandria, and had every confidence in my ability
to deal with an Egyptian boat captain. However, I yielded to Evelyn.
Our dragoman was named Michael Bedawee; he was a Copt, or Egyptian
Christian, a short, plump, coffee-colored man with a fierce black beard
and a white turban— although I must confess that this description would
fit half the male population of Egypt. What distinguished Michael was
the friendliness of his smile and the candor of his soft brown eyes. We
took to him at once, and he seemed to like us.
With Michael's help we selected a boat. The
Philae
was of middle size,
and of unusual tidiness; Evelyn and I both liked the looks of the reis,
or captain. His name was Hassan, and he was an Egyptian of Luxor. I
approved of the firm set of his mouth and the steady gaze of his black
eyes— and the glint of humor in them when I assayed my few words of
Arabic. I suppose my accent was atrocious, but Reis Hassan complimented
me on my knowledge of his language, and the bargain was soon concluded.
With the pride of ownership Evelyn and I explored the quarters that
would be our home for the next four months. The boat had
four cabins, two on either side of a narrow passageway. There was also
a bathroom, with water laid on. At the end of the passage a door opened
into the saloon, which was semicircular, following the shape of the
stern. It was well lighted by eight windows and had a long curved divan
along the wall. Brussels' carpets covered the floor; the paneling was
white with gold trim, giving a light, airy feeling. Window curtains of
scarlet, a handsome dining table, and several mirrors in gold frames
completed the furnishings.
With the ardor of ladies equipping a new house, we discussed what else
we should need. There were cupboards and shelves in plenty, and we had
books to fill the shelves; I had brought a large box of father's books
on Egyptian antiquities, and I hoped to purchase more. But we should
also need a piano. I am totally without musical ability, but I, dearly
love to hear music, and Evelyn played and sang beautifully.
I asked Reis Hassan when he would be ready to depart; and here I
received my first check. The boat had just returned from a trip. The
crew needed time to rest and visit their families; certain mysterious
overhaulings needed to be done on the vessel itself. We finally settled
on a date a week hence, but there was something in Hassan's bland black
eyes that made me wonder....
Nothing went as I had planned it. Finding a suitable piano took an
unreasonable amount of time. I wanted new curtains for the saloon;
their shade clashed horribly with my crimson evening frock. As Evelyn
pointed out, we were in no hurry; yet I had a feeling that she was even
more anxious than I to be on our way. Every evening when we entered the
dining room I felt her shrink. Sooner or later it was more than
probable that she should encounter an acquaintance, and I could
understand why she shrank from that.
Our days were not wasted; there is a great deal to see and do in Cairo.
The bazaars were a source of constant amusement; the procession of
people passing through the narrow passages would have been
entertainment enough, without the fascination
of the wares on display. Each trade occupies a section of
its own:
saddlers, slipper makers, copper and bronze workers, carpet sellers,
and vendors of tobacco and sweetmeats. There are no real shops, only
tiny cupboards, open at the front, with a stone platform or mastaba, on
which the merchants sit cross-legged, awaiting customers. I could not
resist the rugs, and bought several for our drawing room on the
Philae
— soft, glowing beauties
from Persia and Syria. I
tried to buy
some trinkets for Evelyn; she would only accept a pair of little velvet
slippers.
We visited the bazaars and the mosques and the Citadel; and then
planned excursions somewhat farther afield. Of course I was anxious to
see the remains of the ancient civilization, but I little realized what
was in store for me that day, when we paid our first visit to Gizeh.
Everyone goes to see the pyramids. Since the Nile bridge was built,
they are within an easy hour-and-a-half drive from the hotel. We left
early in the morning so that we should have time to explore fully.
I had seen engravings of the Great Pyramid and read extensively about
it; I thought I was prepared for the sight. But I was not. It was so
much grander than I had imagined! The massive bulk bursts suddenly on
one's sight as one mounts the steep slope leading up to the rocky
platform. It fills the sky. And the color! No black-and-white engraving
can possibly prepare one for the color of Egyptian limestone, mellow
gold in the sunlight against a heavenly-blue vault.
The vast plateau on which the three pyramids stand is honeycombed with
tombs— pits, fallen mounds of masonry, crumbling smaller pyramids. From
the midst of a sandy hollow projects the head of the Sphinx, its body
buried in the ever-encroaching sand, but wearing more majesty on its
imperfect features than any other sculpture made by man.
We made our way to the greatest of the three pyramids, the tomb of
Khufu. It loomed up like a mountain as we approached. The seeming
irregularities of its sides were now seen to be huge blocks, each one
higher than a man's head; and Evelyn
wondered audibly how one was supposed to mount these giant stairs.
"And in long skirts," she mourned.
"Never mind," I said. "We shall manage."
And we did, with the help of six Arabs— three apiece. One on either
side
and one pushing from behind, we were lifted easily from block to block,
and soon stood on the summit. Evelyn was a trifle pale, but I scarcely
heeded her distress or gave her courage its due; I was too absorbed in
the magnificent view. The platform atop the pyramid is about thirty
feet square, with blocks of the stripped-off upper tiers remaining to
make comfortable seats. I seated myself and stared till my eyes
swam— with strain, I thought then; but perhaps there was another reason.
On the east, the undulating yellow Mokattam hills formed a frame for a
picture whose nearer charms included the vivid green strip of
cultivated land next to the river, and, in the distance, shining like
the towers of fairyland, the domes and minarets of Cairo. To the west
and south the desert stretched away
in a haze of gold. Along the
horizon were other man-made shapes— the tiny pyramid points of Abusir
and Sakkarah and Dahshoor.
I gazed till I could gaze no more; and was aroused from a reverie that
had lasted far too long by Evelyn plucking at my sleeve.
"May we not descend?" she begged. "I believe I am getting sunburned."
Her nose was certainly turning pink, despite the protection of her
broad-brimmed hat. Remorsefully I consented, and we were lowered down
by our cheerful guides. Evelyn declined to enter the pyramid with me,
having heard stories of its foul atmosphere. She knew better than to
try to dissuade me. I left her
with some ladies who had also refused
the treat, and, hitching up my skirts, followed the gentlemen of
the
party into the depths.
It was a horrid place— stifling air, debris crunching underfoot, the
dark barely disturbed by the flickering candles held by
our guides. I reveled in every moment of it, from the long traverse of
the passage to the Queen's chamber, which is so low that one must walk
bent over at the waist, to the hazardous ascent of the Grand Gallery,
that magnificent high-ceilinged slope up which one must crawl in
semidark-ness, relying on the sinewy arms of the Egyptians to prevent a
tumble back down the stone-lined slope. There were bats as well. But in
the end I stood in the King's Chamber, lined with somber black basalt,
and containing only the massive black coffin into which Khufu was laid
to rest some four thousand years ago; and with the perspiration rolling
down my frame, and every breath an effort, I felt the most overpowering
sense of satisfaction I had felt since childhood— when William, my
brother, dared me to climb the apple tree in the garden, and I, perched
on the highest bough, watched him tumble out of a lower one. He broke
his arm.
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