Whispers in the Sand (55 page)

“Andy, I’m so tired. I just want to rest…”

“And so you shall. After the meal. We’re having a late lunch, then we can rest so that after dark we’re restored enough to go to Philae to see the son-et-lumière. Please, Anna. I want us to stay friends.” He paused and grinned enquiringly at Omar, who had stopped beside them.

“Your bag, Andy. You left it on the bus.” Omar slapped him on the back. “Luckily the driver spotted it.” He handed over the bag and moved on, searching for the owner of some other piece of left luggage.

Andy automatically swung the bag onto his shoulder. “Say in half an hour? In the bar?” he said to Anna. “Please.”

She was looking at the bag. As he had lifted it up, the side pocket had gaped open, and she had spotted the flash of scarlet silk. Banging down her lemonade glass on the reception desk counter, she reached out and caught at the broad canvas strap as it hung over his shoulder, pulling the bag towards her.

“Strange, this scarf looks so much like mine.” Before he could move back, she had pulled the small bundle out of the pocket and unrolled it in her hand to reveal the scent bottle. “You had it with you all the time?” She spat the words at him. “You had the bottle on the bus! Don’t you realise what that could have meant? Why did you lie, Andy?” She shook the bottle under his nose. “Why do men always have to lie?”

13

My place of hiding is opened, my place of hiding is revealed.

There is a trade in all things old. People come from far away and buy anything and everything from the days of the tombs. The bottle travels in a box of shards and beads and amulets across the waters of the Nile and is taken to a merchant in Luxor. Coins change hands.

For months, the box lies untouched in a store room; when it is unpacked, the merchant picks out the bottle at once. He had not noticed it before, and now he feels a catch of excitement in his throat. Early New Kingdom glass is rare. He brings it to his work table and picks up his magnifying glass.

The stopper is wedged in tightly and sealed. He finds a knife to uncork it, hesitates, and changes his mind. Instead he sends a message to a friend. His house has grown cold; the air flickers with desert lightning, and an unearthly shimmer runs across the shelves and over the table.

The newcomer, head and shoulders wrapped in a white shawl, touches breast, mouth, and forehead in greeting and comes forward to the table. He is venerable and learned and has studied the magical arts. He stands in silence looking down at the small glass container.

The silence lengthens. Outside, the sun moves across the sky and gains entrance at the latticed windows, throwing fretted shadows on the floor.

The man looks up, his face white.

“There is power in this sacred vial. Power beyond measure. And it is guarded by priests of old who have never left it.” He shakes his head. “Bring me paper and ink that I may write their wishes down. Those who have touched this object with sacrilegious hands have paid the price with their life’s blood.”

Anna was sitting on the bed in her cabin when Serena knocked and pushed open the door. “You OK?”

Anna nodded. The bottle was lying beside her on the covers.

“I’ve spoken to Omar.” Serena sat down, and picking it up, she turned it gently over and over in her hands. “He was a bit taken aback by your outburst just now, and I sort of tried to explain.” She shrugged. “He doesn’t know anything about Toby being arrested. He was astonished when I told him. He spoke to the captain immediately because he had been in charge of the boat while Omar was away, and he said no one had come asking for Toby. And Toby’s passport is still in the safe.”

“What does that mean?”

Serena raised an eyebrow. “It means there’s a strong possibility Andy’s lying, as I suspected.” She held out the bottle. “It’s strange that Louisa kept this after Hassan died. I’d have thought she’d want to get rid of it.”

Anna shook her head. She picked up the bottle and stroked it gently with her little finger. “It’s so small, and it’s brought so much unhappiness. She kept it, I suppose because Hassan gave it to her. I wonder if she saw Carstairs again?”

Serena gestured towards Anna’s bag. “I think I’m as hooked on this story as you are. Haven’t we got time to read a little before our meal?” she asked hopefully. “And it would take your mind off Toby…”

Sir John knocked on Louisa’s cabin door and pushed it open. “How are you feeling, my dear?” She was lying on the divan, wrapped in a silk bed-robe. Her head was aching, and her skin as hot as fire. “Can we not persuade you to eat a little? Mohammed is concocting more and more wonderful titbits for you.” He was looking at the untouched plate beside her.

She turned towards him and forced a tired smile. “I’m sorry. I’m not hungry.”

“No. Well, I’ll tell him to keep trying.” He nodded. “A party of Nubians came to the boat this morning, Louisa. They brought your paints; the things which were left in the cave.” He looked down at his feet suddenly. They are very honest, these people. I rewarded them well.” He glanced back at her. “I thought you’d want your things.” He went to the door and fumbled outside for a moment, turning back with her woven bag. “Shall I leave it here?” He waited for an indication of what she wanted. When she gave no sign, he shrugged and placed the bag against the wall, under the small table.

Some time later he left, closing the door quietly behind him. When he returned, it was dark. They had moored above the cataract near Philae. Outside the river was bright with moonlight.

“Louisa, Lord Carstairs is in the saloon. I understand he came up to Aswan on the steamer. Are you well enough to receive him?”

She sat up slowly, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “He’s here? On this boat? I thought you had forbidden him to set foot on it!”

Sir John shrugged uncomfortably. “He heard what happened. He wants to see you.”

For a moment she sat still, as if gathering her strength, then she pulled herself to her feet. “I’ll see him in the saloon.”

“Shall I call Treece to help you dress, my dear?”

“No, there’s no need.” She pushed past him. “What I have to say to Roger Carstairs requires no formal dressing.”

He was sitting in the saloon sipping sherbet with Augusta when Louisa burst in. They both turned to face her, and she saw Carstairs’s eyes widen. In her deep-blue robe with her hair wild, her face white and tear-stained, she must have looked strange indeed.

“Please leave us, Augusta!” Her request was so peremptory Augusta rose to her feet without comment and disappeared out on deck. The saloon was silent.

Louisa stood in front of Carstairs, her eyes fixed on his face. “So, my lord, are you content?”

He eyed her coldly. “What happened is unfortunate. You had the means to prevent it.”

“So it was my fault?” Her voice was very quiet.

“Indeed it was.” He folded his arms. “I do not permit people to cross me, madam. And now to prevent further tragedy, I suggest you give me the sacred vial.”

“Never!” Her eyes blazed. “You will never have it. All the gods of Egypt saw what you did, Roger Carstairs, and they revile you for it. The priest who guards that bottle, the priest of Isis despises you!” Her voice had risen at last to a wail.

Carstairs sneered. He had not stepped back an inch. “Isis is no goddess of love. You misjudge her, my dear Louisa. She is goddess of magic, and her servant, my servant, is the cobra.” He smiled. “Where is the bottle?”

“I no longer have it. It is lost in the cave where Hassan died, and there it will stay, buried in the sand and guarded by your snake!” She laughed suddenly, a quiet, bitter sound which gave him pause as nothing she had said before had done. “If you search for it, I hope the snake of Isis kills you with all the certainty of purpose with which it killed Hassan!”

He unfolded his arms and gave a quick bow. “It had not occurred to me that you would leave it at Abu Simbel. I trust for your sake that it is safe!”

He made for the door, but she was standing in his way. “Don’t ever set foot on this boat again. Not ever. The Forresters support me in this; and don’t show your face anywhere decent people go. I shall spread word of your evil. In Luxor. In Cairo. In Alexandria. In Paris. In London. I shall make sure that the name of Carstairs is reviled throughout the world!”

For a moment he frowned, taken aback by the force of her words, then he smiled. “No one will believe you.”

“Oh, they will. I’ll make sure of it.” She turned and moved away from him and stood still, her back to him. For a moment he hesitated, then she heard him leave the saloon, ducking out on deck into the sunshine. In the silence that followed, she heard Augusta’s voice carrying clearly across the deck. She had obviously heard every word Louisa had said. “Please don’t come back, my lord. Louisa is right. You are no longer welcome in decent society!”

He did not reply. She walked to the door of the saloon, and she was in time to see him jumping down into the sandal in which one of his Nubian servants had rowed him to the
Ibis
. His own boat was moored on the far side of the river near the Fieldings’. She gave a wry smile. There was one family who would still make him welcome.

She walked out into the sunshine, aware of the sympathetic glances from the
reis
and the other members of the crew. Augusta was standing looking across the river at the departing back of their visitor. “Loathsome man!” she said.

Louisa nodded. She was grateful to Augusta for understanding; for at last giving her the benefit of the doubt. The story she had told her was, after all, beyond all normal credibility.

“Sir John will support us in forbidding him aboard the boat,” Augusta said softly.

“Thank you.”

Augusta glanced at her. “He has gone across to see David Fielding. I have no doubt he will let our feelings be known.”

“They like him.”

“They like his title, my dear. When they poke the toes of their shoes beneath it and find the loathsome creature who hides there, I feel sure they will agree with us.” She screwed up her eyes against the glare. “Look! He’s changed his mind; he’s going directly to his own boat, and they are already making sail.”