Whispers in the Sand (59 page)

Carstairs shrugged. Standing away from him, he made his way across the roof of the cabin to the bows. There he stood and raised his arms to the sky.

By the time David was allowed into the cabin, it had been tidied, the woman’s basket with the ointments of fenugreek and honey, acacia, birthwort, and tamarisk had been repacked, and Katherine was lying on the divan, propped on pillows, the tiny baby lying between her breasts. He looked at it in alarm.

“It’s all right, David.” Katherine was touching the little head with one finger. “He’s here to keep warm. He’s very small, but Mabrooka says he is all right.” She smiled at the village woman, who bowed. Already she was drawing her veil around her face once again. “You must give her some baksheesh, David,” Katherine went on. Her voice was very weak. “She probably saved my life.”

Louisa crept out on deck, leaving them alone, and took a deep breath of the night air. It must be nearly dawn.

A sound behind her made her swing round. Carstairs was standing there, arms folded. At the sight of him, still dressed in his black robe with its red and gold sash, his head swathed in the elaborate turban, she felt a sudden revulsion run through her. His gaze swept over her in disdainful silence, taking in the blood on her gown, her dishevelled hair, her exhaustion, and she felt her anger flare at once. “Don’t you want to know how they are?”

He shrugged. “No doubt you are about to tell me.”

“They are both safe and well.”

“
Inshallah!
” He inclined his head slightly.

“And now I shall leave.”

“Please do.” He turned away without another word. She made her way towards the stern of the boat, where Mohammed was sitting cross-legged, waiting for her. Beside him the mooring line from the sandal which bobbed behind the
dahabeeyah
was tied to the rail. He rose as she approached and bowed to her. “Sitt Fielding is well?”

“She is well, Mohammed, thanks to you. And the baby boy, too. Will you take me across to the
Ibis
and then come back for Mabrooka, please?” She rubbed her eyes wearily. “It is nearly day, and I am very tired.”

He turned to pull in the dinghy, then suddenly he let out a cry. Coiled on the boards near him was a large snake. As he moved, it hissed. It lifted its head, the hood extended sideways, and swayed its neck from side to side, its eyes on his face.

“No!” Louisa stared at it for a moment, then she turned to Carstairs. “Call it off! Are you so evil you would kill another innocent man?”

He was smiling. “I did not summon it, Mrs. Shelley, I assure you.”

“Your assurances are worth nothing.” She stepped towards the snake, her heart in her mouth. “Mohammed, get in the sandal.”

“No, lady. I cannot leave you.” His face was chalk-white.

“Do it! It will not hurt me.” She stamped her foot and the snake hissed.

Mohammed moved cautiously backwards, a step at a time, as Louisa reached out for Venetia’s discarded parasol, lying near her on a chair. The snake was watching her now. “Call it off, my lord.” She smiled. “Would you have me die, too, so I can join Hassan?”

He shook his head slowly. “I did not call it!”

“Then your powers are growing feeble. And they are more feeble still if you cannot dematerialise the evil concoction of your own brain!” She was aware of Mohammed behind her, slowly climbing up onto the side of the boat and over onto the top step of the little ladder. As he let himself down into the dinghy, he whispered to her. “Please, Sitt Louisa. Please. Now save yourself.”

Louisa gave a small smile. “So, Lord Carstairs. Will you send me into paradise with Hassan?”

Carstairs gave a hiss. As the snake wavered and turned towards him, Louisa ran to the side of the boat and scrambled over onto the steps. Within seconds, she was in the dinghy and Mohammed was paddling frantically for the
Ibis
.

Behind them, they could hear Carstairs’ bitter laughter ringing out in the darkness.

Halfway across the river, Mohammed rested on the oar. “Sitt Louisa. I have something for you.” He fumbled in his robe and drew out something small and white. He passed it over to her. “When I rowed to fetch Lady Forrester I saw it floating in the water. The silk you wrapped it in had caught the air. It never sank.”

Louisa sat looking down at the small, damp package in her hands, then she glanced back at the
Scarab
with a slow bitter smile. So, the snake had been far wiser than any of them had known. The scent bottle had been in Mohammed’s boat. The gods had not taken it after all.

14

The slaughter block is made ready as thou knowest

and thou hast come to decay…deliver thou thy priests from the watchers who bear slaughtering knives

and who have cruel fingers and who slay…

The wise one takes a piece of paper. On it he puts the names of the two priests, Anhotep and Hatsek, and he writes their story. Then he writes a warning for the merchant and for the men of Luxor. This is a tale of two djinn who would slay one another if they could and who would kill anyone who touched their sacred vial. This is an holy ampulla, taken from the sanctuary of the temple. Hands that defile it will turn back to dust; the hands of the priests are stained with blood.

By the time the paper is written, the sun has gone down and darkness has come over the house of the merchant. The wise one bows and leaves. The merchant struggles with what he has been told. In his hand is a valuable relic of an ancient age. Does he give it back to the gods of yesterday, wrapped in honour and respect, or does he take it to the Frangee quarter and sell it for more money than he has ever seen?

He studies the paper, deep in thought. The priests grow impatient. They feed on his life force and that of his sons and of his wives and of his servants, and they grow stronger than they have ever
been since they came forth by day from the tomb of their concealment.

Several boats were waiting at the quayside to take the queues of spectators out to the son-et-lumière at the temple of Philae on its island. The passengers from the
White Egret
took their place in the queues with all the other tourists and climbed into the launches, already staring out in excited anticipation across the dark water with its thousands of reflections.

As Anna and Serena sat down in the stern of the boat, Anna found herself next to Andy. She frowned as he put his arm round her shoulder and said, “No hard feelings, eh, Anna? Have you brought a warm wrap? Apparently the wind off the desert can be very cold after dark while one is watching these things.”

She shifted imperceptibly away from him. “Thank you, Andy. I’m well prepared for the evening.” She glanced at Serena. In Anna’s bag were stowed both the bottle and the diary, in Serena’s, statuette, ankh, incense burner, candles. Neither knew how they would manage to get away from the crowds and into the temple sanctuary in the dark, if indeed it would be possible at all. Anna looked round for Toby and spotted him further up the boat. He was talking to the man at the wheel. They were laughing and gesticulating together as though they had known one another for years, and it dawned on her for the first time that Toby was speaking Arabic. She still wasn’t sure what had happened out there at Abu Simbel, but somehow it didn’t worry her. Toby had a good explanation for his absence, and when the right moment came he would give it to her. That was all that mattered.

“So, am I forgiven?” Andy was speaking in her ear. “I only had your interests at heart, you know.”

She didn’t know whether he was talking about taking the diary and the scent bottle, or whether he was still referring to Toby, and suddenly she didn’t care. She leant forward away from his arm as the boats began to nose away from the landing stages out into the river.

The temple was floodlit, reflecting all its serene beauty into the waters around it. Beside it the Kiosk of Trajan, described so eloquently by Louisa in her diary, stood up to one side of it, the columns delicate, almost ethereal against the midnight blue of the sky, a stunning contrast to the severity of the pylons of the temple itself. Anna caught her breath at the sheer magic of the sight. “Does it matter that it’s not on the actual island of Philae any more? That they have moved it to Aglika?” she whispered to Serena. How could it matter. It looked so perfect. As though it had been there for thousands of years.

Serena shrugged. “It’s Biga Island, which was sacred to Osiris, that was the truly special place. I think that must be over there.” She pointed out into the dark. “I think it will be like Abu Simbel. That still had something of the sacred about it, didn’t it?” She was staring out across the water. “Even if it’s only the fact that we—the tourists—all go there with a sense of awe. That must create an atmosphere again, mustn’t it?”

“I don’t think everyone who goes there these days goes to worship Isis.” Anna shivered, glancing at the bag clutched on Serena’s lap. I’m scared.”

Serena smiled into the darkness. “I think the goddess is still here. She’ll come. There is nothing to be scared of.”

“And she’ll call off her priests?”

Serena slowly shook her head, her eyes on the illuminated stone soaring above the black water. “Who knows what she’ll do.”

As the boats queued to come in turn against the landing stage below the temple, the passengers rose to their feet and made their way forward, climbing across the seats, ducking under the awning, passing the throbbing, noisy engine housing as the two-man crew gently eased the boat closer in. They could smell the oil now, the fumes from the exhaust. The noise set their teeth on edge.

Anna and Serena quietly hung back, watching Andy inching his way up the boat.

“He’ll look for us!” Anna shook her head. Serena looked blank, and she had to repeat the words, shouting in Serena’s ear against the sound of the engine.

Serena nodded. “Where’s Toby?”

Anna gestured towards the crowd of figures ahead of them.

“Perhaps if Andy sees us with Toby, he will back off,” Serena shouted in reply. They were near the front now, and each, in turn, found herself being helped up onto the wooden landing stage.