Whispers in the Sand (30 page)

He was right, of course. If Carstairs returned to Aswan without them, his mission would have failed, and he would be less likely perhaps to talk about it to the Forresters. She turned back to the sketch in front of her, forcing herself to concentrate, aware that her hand was shaking slightly as she lifted the brush once more and began to mix her paints.

Near her, Hassan sat unmoving. He appeared to be asleep, but his eyes were fixed on the archway which was the only way in to the inner temple. It was a long time later that he rose silently to his feet. He watched Louisa for a moment, then, quietly, he headed back the way they had come. She glanced after him, but he gestured at her to stay, and she turned back to the painting. The afternoon had grown hotter. The courtyard was airless, the bright sunlight shimmering off the stones. Even the shaded colonnade where she sat well out of the direct sunlight was without a breath of movement. Hassan had disappeared. She watched the doorway for a while, then she turned back to the painting again. She was feeling sleepy. The heat folded round her like a soft blanket. Her eyes closed. She could feel the weight of the small box in her skirt pocket. It was inert. Unexceptional. Safe.

With a small sigh, she slipped from her canvas stool onto the rug which Hassan had spread for her, and pulling the soft bag which contained her formal, more fashionable dress towards her, she lay down, using it as a cushion for her head. Even the sparrows were silent now. They were sitting amongst the ornate carvings at the top of the columns, their small beaks gaping as they panted in the heat.

When she awoke, Hassan was sitting cross-legged on the rug beside her. He smiled as he saw her eyes open. “You sleep like a child. I hope all your dreams were peaceful dreams.”

She lay still. “The heat is exhausting.”

“Ah.” He shook his head. “You should be here in summer! But then the Europeans flee to the north and are far away.” He chuckled softly.

“Did you see Lord Carstairs?”

“He is gone. I have searched the temple and even the roof. I do not know how, but he is not here. Sleep, Sitt Louisa. I shall watch over you.”

She smiled. “I’m glad.” Already her eyes were closing again. She felt him gently removing her shoes, the touch of his hand on her foot. He did her much honour. It was the only thought that flitted through her head, for already she was plunging in her dreams into a warm, scented silence.

She woke about an hour later. The shadows had moved, and the burning sunlight on her foot was searing her skin. She drew it away sharply and sat up, staring round. The courtyard was as silent as before. There was no other sign of life. Hassan had gone.

Aware that her foot was painfully burnt, she wondered where he was. Scrambling up, she moved further into the shade. “Hassan?”

The silence was so intense she frowned. It was as though she were the only person in the world. “Hassan, where are you?” Her voice grew sharp.

Nothing moved. The sky above was white with heat, and she couldn’t look at it.

Her feet still bare, she made her way down the colonnade towards the entrance, gazing this way and that between the columns. “Hassan!” she called louder now. What if Lord Carstairs had found him and sent him away? What if he had gone without her? She must make for the landing stage, make sure the boat was still there.

At the end of the colonnade, the sand was blinding in the direct sunlight. She realised suddenly that she had left her shoes and hesitated. Then she heard a voice behind her. “Sitt Louisa?”

She spun round. “Hassan! Oh Hassan, thank God!” She flung herself at him. “I thought you had gone without me.”

His arms folded round her. For a moment, he held her, then she felt a featherlight kiss on her hair. “I would not go without you, Sitt Louisa. I would guard you with my life.”

Slowly she raised her face to look at him. “Hassan—” Her reaction had been instinctive; unthinking.

“Hush. Do not be afraid, Sitt Louisa. You are safe with me.” For a moment he said nothing more, gazing at her face, then he smiled. “We have fought this; I thought it forbidden. But now I believe that it is the will of Allah.” He raised a finger and touched her mouth. “But only if you will it.”

She stared at him. She ached to touch him; for a moment she could say nothing, then slowly she raised herself up on her toes, and she kissed his lips. “It is the will of Allah,” she whispered.

For Louisa, time stood still. It was as though all she had ever dreamed, ever imagined in her wildest fantasies, had coalesced into the next moments of ecstasy in his arms. She never wanted the kiss to end. When at last it did, for a moment she stood, dazed. Was it possible to feel so happy? She glanced up at him, and they remained close together, staring deep into each other’s eyes.

It was a long time later that he noticed her bare feet. “You must not go without your shoes, my love. There are scorpions in the sand. Come.” He scooped her up into his arms as though she weighed no more than one of their baskets and carried her back to the rug. Before he allowed her to sit down, he picked it up and shook it. Then he grinned. “Now it is ready for my lady to sit.”

Sitting down, she drew up her knees and hugged them. The real world was closing in again. “Hassan, I am a widow. I am free. But you. You have a wife in your home village. This is not right.”

He knelt beside her and took her hand. “A Christian may not have more than one wife. It is written in the Koran that a man can love more than one woman. I have not seen my wife, Sitt Louisa, for more than two years. I send her money. She is happy with that.”

“Is she?” Louisa frowned. “I wouldn’t be.”

“No, for you are a passionate woman. You wouldn’t understand one who no longer wishes for the pleasures of the bed. We have two sons, for which Allah be praised. Since the birth of my smallest boy, she has not loved me as a wife should.”

“I could not love you as a wife, Hassan. When summer comes, I have to go home to my own sons.”

He looked away. There was sadness in his face. “Does that mean we should chase away the days of happiness which lie within our grasp?” He took her hands in his. “If heartbreak must come, let it come later. Then there are the days of happiness to remember. Otherwise, there is nothing but regret.”

She smiled. “Perhaps it is fitting that we should declare our love in the temple of Isis. Is she not the goddess of love?” She reached up and kissed him again, but he had suddenly grown tense. He pushed her away.

“Hassan, what is it?” She was hurt.

“
Ma feem tish!
I do not understand. Lord Carstairs. He is there!” He waved towards the distant colonnade.

She caught her breath. “Did he see us?”

“I don’t think so. I searched everywhere. I went to look for his boat, but it had gone. It is a small island. There is nowhere he could have been hiding.” He shook his head in anger. “Wait here, my beautiful Louisa. Do not move.”

In a second he had left her, slipping like a shadow along the colonnade. Louisa held her breath. The silence had returned.

Anna put down the book and rubbed her eyes. So, Louisa had found herself a lover in Egypt. She smiled. It was the last thing she had expected of her great-great-grandmother. She pictured the face in the photograph Phyllis had shown her. Louisa had been in her sixties, at a guess, when the picture was taken. The high-necked blouse, the severe hairstyle with the inevitable bun tightly drawn onto the nape of her neck, the direct, dark eyes, the prim mouth. They had given no clue to this passionate, exotic romance.

She glanced at her watch. It was three o’clock in the morning, and she was exhausted. She shivered. The story had had the desired effect. It had for a while taken her mind off her own fears and the increasing antagonism between Andy and Toby. She stared round the cabin. There was no scent now of resin and myrrh. Nothing but the smell of cooking drifting through the open window from the busy, noisy town which did not appear to sleep and which stretched out along the bank behind them. With a sigh, she stood up. There was something she had to do before she could sleep.

The piece of paper taped into the back of the diary was so flimsy it was hard to read even the clearer Arabic script. She held the book under the lamp and squinted at the flimsy sheet. Yes. There they were. She hadn’t even noticed the small hieroglyphics in the corner. The Ancient Egyptian characters were so minuscule it was almost impossible to make them out at all.

So, now she knew the names of the two phantoms who guarded the tiny scent bottle. Anhotep and Hatsek. Priests of Isis and Sekhmet. Biting her lip, she shook her head.

Shutting the diary, she slipped it into the drawer and pushed it shut. Louisa had survived to become a famous artist and a somewhat prim-looking old lady. Whatever magic those two evil men had brought with them into the modern age, it cannot have been as frightening as all that. After all, she had brought the scent bottle home with her to England.

7

What then didst thou do to the flame of fire

and the tablet of crystal and the water of life

after thou hadst buried them? I uttered words over them.

I extinguished the fire and they say unto me, what is thy name?

Hail…I have not done violence to any man.

Hail…I have not slain any man or woman.

All memory of the entrance to the temple tomb is lost once again; the dunes lie beneath the cliff face in a desolate corner of the land. The spirit may roam by day and come forth by night over the earth, but the bottle is a prisoner, forgotten, wrapped in its own silence and, without it and the secret it contains, what reason is there to come forth?

One of us has gone before the gods…that which came forth from his mouth was declared untrue. He hath sinned and he hath done evil and he hath fled from Ammit the devourer.

When we hide from the gods, all time is the same. When the gods bid us sleep, they do not say for how long. A further two hundred thousand suns roll over the desert, and once more robbers
turn their eyes towards these dunes. The priests stir. Perhaps the time has come.