The Mummy or Ramses the Damned (32 page)

“You’ll tell me when you want to tell me,” she said. “What I can’t bear is to see you suffering.”

“It’s all as you said,” he murmured. He drank down the tea, a beverage he didn’t much like. It seemed to be half of something. “All gone without a trace. The mausoleum, the library, the lighthouse. All that Alexander built; and Cleopatra built. Tell me, why are the pyramids still standing at Giza? Why is my temple still standing at Luxor?”

“Do you want to see them?” She reached across the little table and took his hand. “Are you ready to leave here now?”

“Yes, it’s time to go on, isn’t it? And then when we’ve seen it all, we can leave this land. You and I.… That is, if you want to remain with me.”

Such lovely brown eyes with their deep fringe of brown lashes; and the pure sweetness of her mouth as she smiled. And wouldn’t you know? The Earl had just come out of the lift, along with his charming nincompoop of a son, and Samir.

“I’ll go with you to the ends of the earth,” she whispered.

He held her gaze for a long moment. Did she know what she was saying? No. The question was, did he know what she was saying? That she loved him, yes. But the other, the other great question had never been asked, had it?

They had been heading up the Nile for the better part of the afternoon, the sun beating down with full force upon the striped awnings of the small, elegant steamer. The combination of Julie’s purse and Elliott’s gift for command had provided them with every luxury. The staterooms of the small boat were as fine as those of the P&O liner which had brought them across the sea. The saloon and dining room were more than comfortable. The cook was a European; the servants, with the exception, of course, of Walter and Rita, were Egyptian.

But the greatest luxury of all was that it was their craft. They
shared it with no one else. And they had become, much to Julie’s surprise, an extremely congenial group of travelers. Now that Henry was gone, that is. And for that she couldn’t have been more grateful.

He’d fled like a coward as soon as they landed in Alexandria. And what a preposterous story, that he would prepare things for them in Cairo. Shepheard’s Hotel would prepare things for them in Cairo. They had cabled before they ever started the journey south towards Abu Simbel. They did not know how long their cruise would be; but Shepheard’s, the old standby of the British abroad, would be waiting.

Opera season was about to begin, they’d been advised. Should the concierge arrange for box seats for all of them? Julie had said yes, though she could not imagine how this trip would end.

She knew only that Ramses was in fine spirits; that he loved being on the Nile. That he had stared for hours from the deck at the palm trees and the golden desert on either side of the broad, gleaming strip of brown water.

No one had to tell Julie that these were the same airy, fanlike palms painted upon the walls of ancient Egyptian tombs. Or that the dark-faced farmers were drawing water from the river by the very same crude means they had used four thousand years ago. No one had to tell her that the many native boats which passed them were little changed since the time of Ramses the Great.

And the wind and the sun changed for no one.

But there was something she had to do, and it could wait no longer. She sat contentedly in the saloon, idly watching Samir and Elliott play chess. And then when Alex rose from his game of solitaire and went out on the deck alone, she followed him.

It was almost evening; the breeze was cool for the first time, and the sky was slowly turning a deep shade of blue which was almost violet.

“You’re a darling,” she said. “And I don’t want to hurt you. But I don’t want to marry you, either.”

“I know,” he said. “I’ve known for a long time. But I’m going to continue to pretend it isn’t so. Just as I’ve always done.”

“Alex, don’t—”

“No, darling, don’t give advice. Let me do things my own way. After all, it’s a woman’s privilege to change her mind, isn’t it? And you may change yours, and when you do, I’ll be waiting. No, don’t say anything more. You’re free. You’ve always been free, really.”

She drew in her breath. A deep pain radiated through her. She felt it in her chest; in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to cry, but this was not the place. She kissed him quickly on the cheek, and then she went down the deck, and into her cabin.

Thank God, Rita wasn’t there. She lay down on the small bed and cried softly in the pillow. And then, exhausted, she drifted into a half sleep, her last thought being, May he never find out that I never loved him. May he always think it was another man, an adversary who swept me off my feet. That he can understand, not the other.

It was dark beyond the windows when she opened her eyes. Rita had lighted a small lamp from the deck. And she realized Ramses was standing in the room, looking down at her.

She felt no anger, and certainly no fear.

And then suddenly she realized that she was still dreaming. Only now did she fully wake and find the room lighted and empty. Oh, if only he had been there. Her body ached for him. She no longer cared about past or future. She cared only for him, and surely he knew this.

When she came into the dining room, he was in fast conversation with others. The table was littered with exotic dishes.

“Should we have awakened you, my dear, we weren’t sure,” Elliott said, rising at once to help her with her chair.

“Ah, Julie,” Ramses said, “these native dishes are simply delicious.” He was gaily helping himself to shish kebab and grape leaves and spiced dishes for which she didn’t know the names, fingers moving as always with great delicacy and deliberation.

“Wait a minute,” Alex said. “You mean, you’ve never had this food before?”

“Well, no, in that crazy pink hotel we ate meat and potatoes if memory serves me right,” Ramses said. “And this is a very fine dish, this chicken and cinnamon.”

“But wait a minute,” Alex said. “Are you not a native Egyptian?”

“Alex, please, I think Mr. Ramsey likes to be mysterious about his origins,” Julie said.

Ramses laughed. He drank down a tumbler full of wine. “That’s true, I must confess. But if you must know, I am … Egyptian, yes.”

“And where in the world …?”

“Alex, please,” Julie said.

Alex shrugged. “What a puzzle you are, Ramsey!”

“Ah, but I don’t offend you, do I, Alexander?”

“Call me that again and I’ll call you out,” Alex said.

“What does this mean?”

“Nothing,” Elliott said. He patted his son’s hand.

But Alex wasn’t cross. And certainly he wasn’t offended. He gazed at Julie across the table. He gave her a little sad secret smile, for which she knew she would be forever grateful.

It was burning hot at midday in Luxor. They waited until late afternoon before going ashore and taking the long stroll through the immense temple complex. Ramses had no need to be alone, she could see that. He walked among the pillars, now and then looking up, but for the most part deep in his own thoughts.

Elliott had refused to miss this part of the journey, no matter how difficult it was for him. Alex hung back to give his father an arm to lean on. And Samir walked with the Earl as well. They appeared to be in deep discussion.

“The pain’s leaving you, isn’t it?” Julie said.

“When I look at you I don’t feel it at all,” Ramses answered. “Julie is as beautiful in Egypt as she was in London.”

“Were these ruins already when you last saw them?”

“Yes, they were, and covered over with sand so deep that only the very tops of the columns were visible. The avenue of the sphinxes was buried entirely. A thousand years had passed since I walked in this place a mortal man, a fool who thought the kingdom of Egypt was the civilized world and that no truth lay outside its boundaries.” He stopped, turning to her and kissing her quickly on the forehead. Then there was a guilty glance in the direction of the party coming behind him. No, not guilty, only resentful.

She took his hand. They moved on.

“Someday I’m going to tell you all of it,” he said. “I shall tell you so much that you’ll tire of listening. I shall tell you how we dressed and how we spoke to each other; and how we dined and how we danced; and what these temples and palaces were when the paint still gleamed on the walls; and I came forth at dawn and noon and sunset to greet the god and say the prayers the people expected. But come, there’s time for us to cross the river and ride out to the temple of Ramses the Third. I want so much to see it.”

He signaled one of the turbaned Egyptians near at hand. He
wanted a buggy to take them to the landing. She was glad to be free of the others for a little while.

But when they had made the river crossing and reached the immense roofless temple with its court of pillars within, he fell strangely silent. He looked up at the great reliefs of the warrior King in battle.

“This was my first pupil,” he said. “The one to whom I had come after hundreds of years of wandering. I’d come home to Egypt to die, but nothing could kill me. And then I conceived of what I should do. Go to the royal house, become a guardian, a teacher. He believed me, this one, my namesake, my distant child. When I spoke to him of history, of distant lands, he listened.”

“And the elixir, did he want it?” Julie asked.

They stood alone in the ruins of the great hall, entirely surrounded by the carved pillars. The desert wind was cold now. It tore at Julie’s hair. Ramses slipped his arms around her.

“I never told him I had been a mortal man,” he said. “You see, I never told that to any of them. I knew from the last years of my own mortal life what the secret could do. I had seen it turn my son, Meneptah, into a traitor. Of course he failed in his attempt to imprison me and extract from me the secret. I gave him the kingdom, and left Egypt then for centuries. But I knew what the knowledge could do. It was centuries later that I told Cleopatra.”

He stopped. It was clear that he didn’t want to go on. The pain he’d felt in Alexandria had returned. The light had gone out of his eyes. They walked back to the carriage in silence.

“Julie, let us make this journey fast,” he said. “Tomorrow the Valley of the Kings and then we sail south again.”

They went at dawn, before the full heat of the sun came down on them.

Julie took Elliott’s arm. Ramses was talking again, with spirit, prompted by any question Elliott asked, and they took their time on the path, descending through desecrated tombs, where the tourists were already thick as well as the photographers and the turbaned peddlers in their filthy
gellebiyyas
, selling trinkets and fakes with fantastical claims.

Julie was already suffering from the heat. Her big drowsy straw hat did not help much; she had to stop, take a deep breath. The smell of camel dung and urine almost overcame her.

A peddler brushed against her and she looked down to see a blackened hand outstretched, fingers curling like the legs of a spider.

She screamed before she could stop herself.

“Get away!” Alex said roughly. “These native fellows are intolerable.”

“Mummy’s hand!” cried the peddler. “Mummy’s hand, very ancient!”

“I’m sure,” Elliott laughed. “Probably came from some mummy factory in Cairo.”

But Ramses was staring at the peddler and at the hand, as if transfixed. The peddler suddenly froze; there was a look of terror in his face. Ramses reached out and grabbed the withered hand, and the peddler let it go, stumbling to his knees and then scrambling backwards off the path.

“What in the world?” Alex said. “Surely you don’t want that thing.”

Ramses stared at the hand, at the ragged bits of linen wrapping still clinging to it.

Julie couldn’t tell what was wrong. Was he outraged by the sacrilege? Or did the thing have some other fascination? A memory swept over her; the mummy in the coffin in her father’s library, and this living being whom she loved had been that thing. It seemed a century had passed since then.

Elliott was watching all this with keen concentration.

“What is it, sire?” Samir said under his breath. Did Elliott hear it?

Ramses drew out several coins and threw them in the sand for the peddler. The man gathered them up and then took off at a dead run. Then Ramses took out his handkerchief, neatly covered the hand and slipped it in his pocket.

“And what were you saying?” Elliott said politely, resuming their conversation as if nothing had happened. “I believe you were saying that the dominant theme of our time is change?”

“Yes,” Ramses said with a sigh. He appeared to be seeing the valley in an entirely new perspective. He stared at the gaping doors of the tombs, at the dogs lying there in the morning sun. Elliott went on:

“And the dominant theme of these ancient times was that things would remain the same, always.”

Julie could see the subtle changes in his face, the faint shadow of despair; yet as they moved on, he answered Elliott smoothly.

“Yes, no concept of progress whatsoever. But then the concept of time was not as well developed, either. A new count of years began with each King’s birth. You know that, of course. No one counted time itself in terms of centuries. I’m not sure the simple Egyptian had any sense at all … of centuries.”

Abu Simbel. They had come at last to the greatest of Ramses’ temples. The shore excursion had been brief on account of the heat, but now the night wind blew cold over the desert.

Stealthily Julie and Ramses climbed down the rope ladder into the dinghy. She wrapped her shawl tightly over her shoulders. The moon hung perilously low over the shimmering water.

With the help of a lone native servant, they mounted the camels awaiting them, and rode towards the great temple where stood the largest statues of Ramses the Great in existence.

It was thrilling to ride this mad, terrifying beast. Julie laughed into the wind. She dared not look at the ground moving unevenly beneath her. But she was glad when they came to a halt, and Ramses jumped down and reached up to catch her.

The servant took the beasts away. Alone they stood, she and Ramses, under the star-filled sky, the desert wind faintly howling. Far off she saw the lighted tent of their little camp waiting for them. She saw the lantern shining through the translucent canvas; she saw the tiny campfire dancing in the wind, winking out and then reappearing in a dazzle of yellow brilliance.