The Quest of Julian Day (40 page)

‘I'll do my very best,' I said, and although I really am terribly smitten with Oonas, I've no intention of letting her treat me like the proverbial slave. It won't do her any harm to learn that she can't have everything her own way.'

Afterwards I was rather sorry I had made that declaration as Sylvia took me at my word and, in the face of it, I could
hardly make an excuse to get away and pacify Oonas; so I had to continue dancing, on and off, until the band stopped shortly after midnight.

Oonas was in a fine rage when I got upstairs and we had another blood-row on the question of Sylvia. The only way I could think of to quell the trouble this time was by refusing to discuss the situation or say one word until she had remained silent for a full five minutes and when she had come to the end of her abuse I sat there quietly smoking until the five minutes had ticked by. At the end of that time she was automatically reduced to a reasonable calm so I proceeded to give her a short but very forceful dissertation upon the difference between dancing and making love as understood in the Western world, together with an absolute assurance that I was not the least in love with Sylvia.

For the time being she accepted my assurance and became again the warm little cooing dove; but I felt that there was still ‘Something rotten in the State of Denmark' since, after Oonas had left us that evening, the rest of us had agreed that we would eat our Christmas dinner in Luxor, and set out on our hunt for Cambyses' treasure on Boxing Day, which was in four days' time. What Oonas' reaction would be when she heard that I meant to leave her I simply dared not think.

None of O'Kieff's or Zakri's people had shown up in Luxor so I was beginning to think that having failed to secure the lower half of the tablet they had decided to abandon the quest; more particularly, perhaps, because I had succeeded in dealing them some thoroughly nasty knocks, and knowing that I was now in touch with Essex Pasha they feared that there would be further trouble to come if they started anything else against us.

That did not really suit my book as my desire for full vengeance had by no means slackened. I wanted to carry the war into the enemy's camp but, for the time being, I could see no way of doing so. In the first place I had no fresh line to go upon except by making use of the information with which Oonas had supplied me; and that, for her sake, I could not do. Secondly I had involved myself in this treasure-hunt with Sylvia and the Belvilles. Earlier on it had seemed certain that O'Kieff and I would clash over that, which was just what I wanted, but now it appeared less likely I could hardly let the others down; and, I will confess, the whole problem of Cambyses' lost legions intrigued me immensely. By going off into the desert I might lose a few weeks but, as I had a whole life-time in which to track O'Kieff down, the loss seemed worth it.

Up to the moment it certainly looked as if we were to be allowed to get away from Luxor without further interference and I was quite definitely booked for the trip; but it was clear that I could not take Oonas with me, even if she were willing to submit to the hardships of the journey, which she would unquestionably loathe. Apart from the probable refusal of the others to have her along, anyhow, I did not need them to point out to me that in the event of our discovering the treasure we should be completely at her mercy if she chose to blackmail us afterwards by threatening to give away our activities to the
Egyptian Government; and, once her passion for me had died down, that was just the sort of thing she might attempt to do.

Although I knew that I ought to tell Oonas how things stood. I dared not risk an immediate blow-up with her in case she got active at once and threatened to disclose the secret purpose of our expedition right away. I had been dreading that she would make some reference to it but, apparently, she was so absorbed in our love-affair, her jealousy of Sylvia and the antiquities we were visiting that the reason for the Belvilles presence in Luxor had temporarily failed to trouble her mind. As far as I could see there was no alternative but to postpone the evil hour, conceal our preparations for departure from her and only tell her that the time had come to part just before we set off into the desert; meanwhile I endeavoured to shelve my uneasy forebodings as far as possible.

The following day Sylvia took the Belvilles to see the Valley of the Kings so we saw nothing of them; we got up late and spent a lazy day, contenting ourselves with a sail on the river in the afternoon. In the evening Oonas behaved rather well, I thought, because it would have been difficult to avoid the others, unless we had gone straight to bed, and she suggested off her own bat that we should return their gesture of the night before by asking them to join us after dinner.

The more I pushed Oonas round the dance floor, the more I appreciated the intervening dances which I had with Sylvia and Clarissa. I freely confess that I felt rather a cad about it and I did my level best not to show the way I felt; but it was quite understandable that the sight of Sylvia and myself moving like one to the rhythm of the jazz band must have galled Oonas terribly, after our own awkward attempts together, and to spare her as far as possible I broke the party up early on my own accord.

During the succeeding days I kept the two girls apart as far as possible by arranging expeditions so that they should not encounter each other, but having established the custom of our all spending the evening together it was virtually impossible to break it off without appearing flagrantly rude. Sylvia was unreasonable each time I tried to cut down my dances with her; and Oonas became sullen and openly spiteful on every occasion that I left the table for a few turns round the floor. Harry and
Clarissa did their best to smooth matters over and always by some tactful intervention succeeded in preventing an open and humiliating scene; but we were constantly on the edge of a flare-up. The two girls now did not even take the trouble to conceal their intense dislike for each other and I had more and more difficulty in persuading Oonas that Sylvia was absolutely nothing to me but a friend.

Sylvia and the Belvilles continued their preparations for our departure and although I was of little help to them I was kept informed of all that they were doing. By Christmas Eve everything was in readiness for our expedition down to the last detail but it was at the dance that night that the antagonism between the two girls boiled over. At about eleven-thirty I was pushing Oonas round the floor when she said that she was fed up with dancing and would like to go to bed so, although it was Christmas Eve, I made an excuse to break up the party.

It was then Sylvia who made trouble, I suppose because she was so passionately devoted to dancing and angry at having her evening's fun cut short; but with a lazy smile at me as we said good night, she murmured:

‘Don't you think, Julian, it would be a good idea if you got the professional to give the Princess some dancing-lessons as a Christmas present? I'm sure she'd enjoy her evenings then ever so much more.'

It was a stupid, unkind thing to say and she flushed scarlet the moment she had said it. She apologised to me, too, most handsomely the next day and swore that the second the words were out she could have bitten off her tongue.

‘Really! I don't think the Princess needs dancing-lessons,' I said quickly.

Oonas was almost white with rage but she controlled herself magnificently and had the best of the encounter since she looked Sylvia up and down calmly before she said:

‘In my country women of position consider it beneath them
to dance for the purpose of alluring men. Only courtesans find it necessary to achieve Mademoiselle Shane's perfection in that respect.'

It was a nasty crack but Sylvia had asked for it and my sympathies were all with Oonas as I followed her from the room. True, when it actually came down to brass tacks, it was
she
who had flung herself at my head, but I'd done the running-up knowing perfectly well that she was a thorough bad hat. It takes two to make an
affaire
as well as two to make a quarrel and, having taken her on, she was my young woman as long as it lasted so I wasn't going to allow her to be slighted or made fun of.

Next morning Sylvia did the decent thing by sending her a large box of chocolates as a Christmas present and a note to say that when she had spoken of dancing-lessons she had momentarily forgotten that we were in Egypt. Oonas, not to be outdone, sent her back a diamond bracelet worth about £300, and when I protested that Sylvia would never accept it she showed me a note she was enclosing which read, ‘Since we
are
in Egypt Mademoiselle Shane will, I trust, accept this trifle, as such offerings are not unusual between women in my country even if it is not the custom to make them in her own.' As Oonas was travelling with enough jewels to stock a shop it cost her nothing and gave her the last laugh as well as the satisfaction of remarking to me:

‘Since the poor thing has nothing to wear except that rope of fake pearls, she will be as proud as a peacock of this when she can forget where it came from.'

Rather to my surprise Sylvia did acccept although afterwards I learned that she had put it aside to return later. Christmas Day passed without episode but its gaieties were marred for me by the knowledge that when night came I would have to break the news to Oonas that I was leaving her on the following day.

We had told the Manager of the Winter Palace that we were going up to the Oasis of Kharga, from which we intended to do a fortnight's camping in the desert and, instead of making a morning start, which would entail early rising for our final packing, we had arranged to set off in the late afternoon, covering the first stage of our journey in the cool of the evening.

By postponing the news of our departure until the following day I might have evaded the scene which I knew I was bound to have with Oonas. At worst I could have left her weeping on the terrace, but I felt that would have been a rotten thing to do and, quite apart from the fact that I had to get my packing done which she was sure to notice, I felt I owed it to her to let her blackguard me as much as she had a mind to in private.

When I broke it to her she at first appeared quite stunned and I had to repeat my words twice before she fully took them in; but once she really understood the situation her rage was unbelievable.

She had known quite well why the Belvilles and I had come to Luxor yet for some reason she had assumed that our preparations for the expedition would take ever so much longer and comforted herself with the thought that she would have ample opportunity to dissuade me from going on it before the time for my departure came. Now that she was faced with it without warning she was positively livid with me for not having told her of my plans earlier.

It was a frightful business trying to persuade her that I was just as distressed at our parting as she was and the greater part of my protestations were perfectly true. During the last ten days she had given me many wonderful moments which I felt I should never forget and I am quite sure that if it had not been for Sylvia's presence the whole of our time together would have been a blissfully happy one. I knew only too well that there were going to be many nights, not only out in the desert but in the months to come, when I should positively ache to feel her in my arms again. I had temporarily forgotten the evil side of her entirely and that only just over a week before she had plotted my murder; I could only feel now that I had treated her abominably and was behaving like the very worst sort of outsider in abandoning her like this.

In time her rage exhausted her and she was just a small weeping bundle in my arms; sobbing as though her heart would break. It was nearly three o'clock in the morning before I could really make her understand that I was absolutely adamant in my determination to leave Luxor with the Belvilles and she began to show some signs of resignation.

We had been to the Valley of the Kings together two days
before but she suddenly reminded me that we had planned a second visit for the coming day and asked me, quite meekly, if I intended to rob her of that too.

Actually I had meant to cancel it, because there were so many odd jobs I had to see to before leaving Luxor; but, as things were, I simply had not the heart to tell her that the trip was off. I resigned myself to the prospect of scrambling through my packing early in the morning and determined to get back from the Valley as soon as I could in the afternoon.

It was a very subdued Oonas who met me in the lounge of the hotel some seven hours later at the time we had fixed for setting off on our expedition. On our previous trips we had never taken a guide because we knew most of the principal places of interest from having both stayed in Luxor, although at different times, during the previous winter. I was a little surprised, therefore, when we went out on to the terrace, to find a strange dragoman bowing before us and to learn that Oonas had engaged him for the trip.

‘This is Sayed,' she said. ‘The hall porter recommended him as I thought that today we might have a look at one or two of the less-well-known tombs which neither of us have seen yet.' I agreed at once and we went down to the launch which took us across the smoothly-flowing river.

We did the few miles across the fertile area in Oonas' car and, leaving Deir el Ba'hari on our left, entered a rift in the hills through which the track winds for a couple of miles to the famous Valley of the Tombs of the Kings. I had been through that barren, sun-scorched ravine quite a number of times before but I found it as overwhelmingly impressive as ever.

The rough road twists between great naked sandstone cliffs with precipitous sides and the innumerable huge boulders with which the bottom of the gully is strewn. It is indeed a Valley of the Dead since no living thing grows there and it is said that even snakes and vultures will not inhabit that wilderness of stone. Outwardly, perhaps, it differs little from many other valleys in the Libyan Hills yet it has an atmosphere all its own. Its utter desolation seems to cry aloud that it is the very end of the world and that beyond the shimmering heat-haze which rises from its rock-strewn vistas can lie only the gates of Hades. The very silence and mystery of the place make it incredibly
awe-inspiring and, once in it, all sense of time is lost. The modern world seems a million miles away and at any moment one expects to come upon one of those great processions of white-robed, shaven-headed priests and brilliantly-clad captains which, long before the days of Rome or Athens or Carthage, passed that way with solemn chanting and regal pageantry to lay the Pharaohs of the Empire in their magnificent resting-places.