Curse of the Kings

V The Chephro Palace

The Chephro Palace stood majestic, golden colored, aloof from the village. I was astounded that the great Hakin Pasha should have put so much magnificence at our disposal.

I was, by the time we arrived, completely under the spell of the strange, arid, and exotic land of the Pharaohs. The reality was no less wonderful than the pictures created by my imagination when I had nothing but dreams and a few pictures in the books I had read to guide me.

Several members of the working party had gone on ahead of us. They would be lodged about the site, and they had taken with them a good deal of the equipment which would be needed.

Hadrian, Evan, and Theodosia with Terence Gelding and Tabitha were sailing from Southampton with Tybalt and me, but as Tybalt had some business to settle in Cairo, he and I would spend a few days there before joining the party in the Chephro Palace.

The day before we left I went over to Rainbow Cottage. Dorcas and Alison said goodbye to me as though it was our last farewell. Sabina and Oliver had been invited to supper and I could not help knowing how much they wished that I had married Oliver and settled quietly into the life at the rectory which they had chosen for me.

I was rather glad when the evening was over, and the next day when we joined the S.S. Stalwart at Southampton my great adventure had begun.

It was a fascinating experience to be aboard ship and I couldn't help wishing that Tybalt and I were alone together. Evan and Theodosia, I daresay, felt the same for themselves; that left Hadrian, Terence, and Tabitha. Poor Theodosia was confined to her cabin for the first few days although the sea was not unduly rough considering the time of the year. Conversation was mainly about the expedition and as Theodosia was not present I couldn't help feeling the tyro because it was astonishing how much Tabitha knew.

The Bay, contrary to expectations, was fairly smooth and by the time we reached Gibraltar, Theodosia was ready to emerge. Evan was such a kind and thoughtful husband; he spent a great deal of time with Theodosia and I found myself wondering whether Tybalt would have made me his chief concern if I had suffered from the sea as my half sister did.

We had a pleasant day at the Rock and went for a trip up to the heights in little horse-drawn traps; we laughed at the antics of the apes and admired the magnificent scenery and the day was a happy one. Shortly after we arrived at Naples. As we were there for two days we took a trip as might have been expected to Pompeii. Excavations were still going on and more and more of that buried town was being revealed. As I walked arm in arm with Tybalt over those stones which until seventy-nine years after the birth of Christ had been streets I was caught up in the fascination of it all; and I said to Tybalt: "How lucky you are to have this profession which brings these treasures to the world."

He was delighted that I shared his enthusiasm. He pointed out to me the remains of houses and reconstructed in his mind the manner in which these people had lived under the shadow of Vesuvius before that fatal day when the great mountain had erupted. The town had been buried for centuries and it had only emerged just over a hundred years ago when archaeologists discovered it.

When we were back on the ship the discussion about the discoveries of that tragic city continued far into the night.

At Port Said we left the ship and traveled to Cairo—just the two of us—where Tybalt had business to attend to.

I had read a great deal about Egypt and as I had lain in my bed in Rainbow Cottage and at Keverall Court my imagination had transported me to this mysterious land. I should, therefore, have been prepared, yet none of my fancies could compare with the reality and the impact upon me was exhilarating, exciting beyond my dreams.

It was a golden land, dominated by a sun which could be merciless; one was immediately conscious of thousands of years of antiquity. When I saw a goatherd in his long white robes I could believe I was far back in the days of the Old Testament. The country held me spellbound; I knew that here anything could happen—the most wonderful things, the most fearful. It was both beautiful and ugly; it was stimulating, thrilling, and sinister.

We stayed at a small hotel which looked out onto the Nile. From my window I could see the riverbank and the gold colored Mokattam Hills; how different from the green of Cornwall, the misty dampness, the luxuriant vegetation. Here one was aware of the ever-present sun—relentlessly burning the land. If green was the color of England, yellow was that of Egypt. It was the ambience of antiquity which caught my imagination. The people in their white robes and sandaled feet; the smells of cooking food; the sight of disdainful camels picking their dainty ways. I listened in wonder when I first heard the muezzin from the top of his minaret calling the people to prayer; and I was amazed to see them stop where ever they were and pay homage to Allah. Tybalt took me into the souks which I found fascinating with him beside me but I think I should have felt them a little sinister had I been alone. Dark-eyed people watched us intently without staring, and one was constantly aware of their scrutiny. Through the narrow streets we wandered, and we looked into the darkened cave-like shops where bakers were making bread coated with seeds and where silversmiths worked over their braziers. There the water-seller demanded attention with the clatter of his brass cups and at the back of the dark openings men sat cross-legged weaving and stitching. In the air the heavy scent of perfumed oils mingled with that of the camel dung which was used as fuel.

I shall never forget that day—the jostling crowds of the noisy streets; the smells of mingling dung and perfume; the side glances from veiled dark eyes; the call to prayer and the response of the people.

"Allah is great, and Mohammed his prophet." How often I was to hear those words and they never failed to thrill me.

We paused by one of the shops which were like huts open to the street. At the back a man worked cutting and engraving stones and on a stall inside the hut was an array of rings and brooches.

"You must have a scarab ring," said Tybalt. "It'll bring you luck in Egypt."

There were several of them on a tray and Tybalt selected one.

"This is tourmaline," he said. "Look at the carved beetle. He was sacred to the ancient Egyptians."

The man had risen at the back from his work and came eagerly forward.

He bowed to me and to Tybalt. His eyes shone at the prospect of a sale and I listened to him and Tybalt as they bargained over the price, while several small children came round to watch. They could not take their eyes from Tybalt and me. I suppose we appeared very strange to them.

Tybalt took the ring and showed me the beetle. About it were hieroglyphs very delicately carved. Tybalt translated, "Allah be with you."

"There could not be greater good luck than that," he said.

"It is what every man should give to the one he loves best when she first comes to this land."

I slipped the ring on my finger. There were delighted cries of approval from the children. The ring was paid for and we went on our way with the blessings of the stonecutter ringing in our ears.

"We had to bargain," said Tybalt. "He would have been most disappointed in us if we had not." Then he looked at my ecstatic face and said: "You are happy today, Judith."

"I'm so happy," I said, "that I'm afraid."

He pressed my hand with the ring on it. "If you could have a wish what would it be?" he asked.

"That I could be as happy as this every day of my life."

"That's asking a lot of life."

"Why should it be? We are together, we have this great interest. I see no reason why we should not always be in this state of happiness. Aren't our lives what we make them?"

"There are certain outside factors, I believe."

"They shan't hurt us."

"Dear Judith, I do believe you are capable of arranging even that."

Back to our hotel and the warm scented night with the smells of Egypt and the great moon which made the night almost as light as day.

These were the happiest days of my life to that time because we were alone together in this exciting land. I wished that we could have stayed there together and not have had to join the others. An absurd wish because it was to join the party that we had come to Egypt.

The next day we went out to the Pyramids—that last remaining wonder of the ancient world; and to find myself face to face with the Sphinx was an experience which enthralled me completely. Mounted somewhat precariously on my camel, I felt exhilarated and I could see how much Tybalt enjoyed my excitement. One hundred thousand men had toiled for twenty years to achieve this wonder, Tybalt had told me; the stone had been quarried from the nearby Mokattam Hills and dragged across the desert. I felt, as everyone else must on witnessing this fantastic sight, speechless with wonder.

When we dismounted, I entered the Pyramid of Cheops and bending double followed Tybalt up the steep passage to the burial chamber where the Pharaoh's red granite sarcophagus was displayed.

Then over the sand perched high on our reluctant beasts of burden. I was in an exalted mood when we returned to our hotel.

We dined at a small table secluded from the rest of the diners by palms. I had piled my dark hair high on my head and wore a green velvet gown which I had had made by Sarah Sloper before I left home. I kept touching the pink tourmaline ring on my finger remembering that Tybalt had said that it was the gift of a lover that good fortune might preserve in a strange land the one he loved best.

Sitting opposite Tybalt I marveled afresh at the wonderful thing that had happened to me; and there flashed into my mind then the thought that even if my fortune had been a deciding factor in Tybalt's wishing to marry me, I didn't care. I would make him love me for myself alone. I remembered it was said of our late Prime Minister, Lord Beacons-field, that he had married his Mary Anne for her money but at the end of their lives he would have married her for love. That was how it should be with us. But I was romantic and foolish enough to hope that it was not for my fortune that Tybalt had married me.

Tybalt leaned forward and took my hand with the scarab ring on it; he studied it intently. "What are you thinking, Judith?" he asked.

"Just of the wonder of everything."

"I can see that the Pyramids impressed you."

"I never thought to see them. So many things are happening that are fresh and exciting. You look suddenly sad, Tybalt. Are you?"

"Only because I was thinking that you won't go on being excited about everything. You'll become blase. I shouldn't like that."

"I don't believe I ever would."

"Familiarity, you know, breeds contempt ... or at least indifference. I feel since we have been together in Cairo that things which I have seen before seem fresh, more interesting, more wonderful. That's because I'm seeing them through your eyes."

It was indeed an enchanted night.

The Kebab served by the silent-footed men in their long white robes tasted delicious. I couldn't believe it was simply lamb on skewers which had been grilled over charcoal. I told Tybalt that the Tahenia sauce into which the meat was dipped and which I discovered later was made of sesame seeds, oil, white sauce, and a hint of garlic, tasted like nectar.

He replied prosaically that it was because I was hungry. "Hunger savors all dishes," he added.

But I thought it was because I was so happy.

Afterwards we ate Esh es Seraya which was a delicious mixture of honey, breadcrumbs, and cream. We drank rose water and grenadine with fruit and nuts in it, called Khosaf.

Yes, that was an evening never to be forgotten. After dinner we sat on the terrace and looked out on the Nile, while we drank Turkish coffee and nibbled Turkish delight.

The stars seemed to hang low in that indigo sky and before us flowed the Nile down which Cleopatra had once sailed in her royal barge. I wished that I could hold those moments and go on living them again and again.

Tybalt said: "You have a great capacity for happiness, Judith."

"Perhaps," I answered. "If so, I am fortunate. It means I can enjoy the happiness that comes my way to the full."

And I wondered then if just as I felt this intensity of pleasure I could feel sorrow with an equal fervor.

Perhaps that was a thought which Tybalt shared with me.

I would not brood on it though—not on this night of nights on the romantic banks of the Nile.

When we arrived at the Chephro Palace the rest of the party had already settled in and Tabitha had slipped into the role of housekeeper.

Hakim Pasha was one of the richest men in Egypt, Tybalt told me, and it was our great good fortune that he felt benign towards our cause.

"He could have hindered us in many ways," he said, "instead of which he has decided to be of immense help to us. Hence this palace which he has put at our disposal for just enough rent to preserve our dignity—a very important facet, I do assure you. You will meet him, I daresay, because when my father was here he was a constant visitor."

I stood in the entrance hall of the palace and gazed with wonder at the beautiful staircase in white marble. The floor was covered in mosaic tiles of the most beautifully blended colors, and the stained glass in the windows depicted the sea journey of the dead through hideous dangers until they came under the protection of the Sun God, Amen Ra.

Tybalt was beside me: "I'll tell you the story later. Look, here's Tabitha to welcome you."

"So you've come!" cried Tabitha. She was looking at Tybalt with shining eyes. "I thought you never would."

"It's a long journey from Cairo," said Tybalt.

"I visualized all sorts of disasters."

"Which is just what she should not do, don't you agree, Judith? But of course you do."

"Well, now you're here. I'll take you to your room. Then you can explore the rest of the palace and, I daresay, Tybalt will want to look at the site."

"You're right," said Tybalt.

"We'll have a meal then. Mustapha and Absalam are working in the kitchens so I am sure they will mingle a little English cooking with the Egyptian which might be more agreeable to our palates. But first to your room."

Tabitha led the way up that grand and imposing staircase and we went along a gallery, the walls of which were decorated with mosaic patterns similar to those in the floor of the hall. These were figures, always in profile, usually of some Pharaohs giving gifts to a god. I had to pause to examine those figures and the beautiful muted colors of the tiles. On the ceiling was engraved the Sun God, Amen Ra; his symbol was the hawk and the ram. I remembered that Tybalt had told me that the gods of Egypt were said not only to possess all the human virtues, but in addition one from an animal. Amen Ra had two, however, the hawk and the ram. Below him was his son Osiris, God of the Underworld, who judged the dead when they had made their journey along the river. Isis was there—the great goddess beloved of Osiris, and their son Horus . . .

"The figures are so beautifully done," I said.

"It would be an insult to the gods if they had not been," added Tybalt.

He slipped his arm through mine and we went into the room which had been prepared for us. I stared at the enormous bed standing on a platform. Mosquito nets festooned over it from the ceiling like flimsy cobwebs.

"This is the bedroom used by the Pasha himself when he is in residence," Tabitha explained.

"Should we use it?" asked Tybalt.

"You must. The palace is in full use and it is only proper that our leader should have the state bedroom. Your father used it, you remember, when he was here."

She showed us an antechamber in which we could wash and generally make our toilet. There was a sunken marble bath in the center of which was a statue and three marble steps leading down to the bath; on the walls of this chamber were mosaics depicting nude figures. One side of the wall was composed of mirrors, and there was a dressing table behind gold-colored brocade curtains; a many-sided mirror reflected my image, and the frame of the mirror was studded with chalcedony, rose quartz, amethyst, and lapis lazuli. These stones were, I noticed, in the decorations throughout the bed chamber.

I laughed, "It is very grand. We shall feel like royalty."

"The Pasha has given instructions to his servants that any of our complaints will be met with dire punishment. They are trembling in their shoes."

"Is he very autocratic?"

"He is the ruler of his lands and he regards his servants as slaves. He expects absolute obedience from them. We are his guests and if we are not treated with respect, that is tantamount to insulting him. He will not accept insults."

"What happens to offenders?"

"Their bodies are probably found in the Nile. Or they may be deprived of a hand or an ear."

I shivered.

"It's magnificent. It's beautiful," I cried. "But a little frightening. A little sinister."

"That's Egypt," said Tabitha laying her hand on my arm. "Now perform the necessary ablutions and come down to eat. Then I expect you'll want some sort of conference, eh Tybalt?"

"Well," said Tybalt when we were alone, "what do you really think of it?"

"I'm not sure," I replied. "I wish it was not quite so grand and this Pasha does sound rather diabolical."

"He's quite charming. He and my father became good friends. He's a power in these parts. You will meet him soon."

"Where does he live then since he has given us his palace?"

"My dear Judith, this is but one of his palaces. It may well be the most grand, but he would consider it quite ill-mannered not to give it up to us. You have to understand the etiquette. That's very important. Don't look doleful. You will in time. Now let's get cleaned up. I can't wait to hear what's been going on."

It had changed. That other love, his profession, was in the ascendancy.

The dining room with its heavy curtains was lighted by a chandelier containing about a hundred candles. It was dark now, for there was no twilight hour as at home. But there were others to greet us and add normality to this strange palace, for which I was glad. I laughed to myself thinking that the verdict of the servants at Giza House would be that it gave them the "creeps."

We sat at the big table under the chandelier—Hadrian, Evan, Theodosia, Terence Gelding, and others whom I had not previously met but who were all practiced archaeologists deeply interested in the task ahead. Tybalt sat at one end of the table, I at the extreme end; and on my right was Hadrian and Evan was on my left.

"Well, here you are at last, Judith," said Hadrian. "What do you think of this kuftas? Personally I prefer the roast beef of old England but don't let anyone know I said that. Old Osiris might not grant me admittance to heaven when my time comes."

"You are very irreverent, Hadrian; and I advise you to keep such thoughts to yourself. Who knows who might overhear?"

"There speaks our Judith," said Hadrian appealing to Evan. "She has just arrived and immediately is telling us what we should and should not do."

Evan smiled. "On this occasion she's right. You never know what's heard and misunderstood. These servants are no doubt listening and reporting to the Pasha and your jocularity would most definitely be misconstrued as irreverence."

"What have you been doing while you were waiting for Tybalt?" I asked.

"Going over the site, getting the workmen together, arranging for this and that. There's a great deal to do on an occasion like this. You wait until you go down there and see the hive of industry we've created. She'll be surprised, won't she, Evan?"

"It is a little different from Carter's Meadow."

"And we do face difficulties," said Hadrian. "You see, many of the diggers remember Sir Edward's death and believe that he died because he went where the gods did not wish him to."

"There is a certain amount of reluctance?"

"It's there, don't you think, Evan?"

Evan nodded gravely.

I looked along the table where Tybalt was deep in conversation with the men around him. Tabitha was sitting near him. I noticed with a pang of jealousy that occasionally she threw in a remark which was listened to with respect.

I felt I had lost Tybalt already.

After the meal Tybalt went out to look at the site and I was permitted to accompany the party. There was a fair amount of work going on in spite of the hour. The full moon and the clear air made it quite bright; it was easier to work at this hour than under the heat of the blazing sun.

The stark hills rising to the moonlit sky were menacing but rather beautiful. The parallel lines of pegs marking the search area, the little hut which had been set up, the wheelbarrows, the forks of the excavators, and the workmen were far from romantic.

Tybalt left me with Hadrian, who smiled at me cynically.

"Not quite what you expected?" he said.

"Exactly," I said.

"Of course, you're a veteran of Carter's Meadow."

"I suppose it is rather similar, although there they were merely looking for Bronze Age relics; and here it's the tombs of the dead."

"We could be on the verge of one of the really exciting discoveries in archaeology."

"How thrilling that will be when we find it."

"But we haven't done that yet, and you have to learn to be cautious in this game. As a matter of fact there are lots of things you have to learn."

"Such as?"

"Being a good little archaeological wife."

"And what does that mean?"

"Never complaining when your lord and master absents himself for hours at a stretch."

"I intend to share in his work."

Hadrian laughed. "Evan and I are in the profession but I can assure you we're not allowed to share in anything but the more menial tasks. And you think that you will be?"

"I'm Tybalt's wife."

"In our world, my dear Judith, there are archaeologists . . . wives and husbands are just by the way."

"Of course I know I'm nothing but an amateur . . . yet."

"But that is something you won't endure for long, eh? You'll soon be putting us all to shame—even the great Tybalt!"

"I shall certainly learn all I can and I hope I shall be able to take an intelligent interest . . ."

He laughed at me. "You'll do that. But in addition to an intelligent interest take equally intelligent heed. That's my sound advice."

"I don't really need your advice, Hadrian."

"Oh yes you do. Now! You're looking for Tybalt, I can see. He'll be hours yet. He might have waited until morning and devoted the first night in the Chephro Palace to his bride. Now had I been in his place . . ."

"You are not in his place, Hadrian."

"Alas! I was too slow. But mark my words, Tybalt's the man he is and so he'll remain. It's no use your trying to make him any different."

"Who said I wanted to make him any different?"

"You wait. And now let me take you back to the palace. You must be ready to sink into your bath of chalcedony."

"Is that what it is?"

"I expect so. Grand, don't you think? I wonder what Lady Bodrean would have thought of it. She wouldn't have approved of it for ex-companions even though it's turned out that you and she are connected—in a manner of speaking."

"I should love her to see me in my state apartments . . . especially if she had lesser ones."

"That shows a vengeful spirit, Cousin Judith. You are my cousin, you know."

"The thought had struck me. How are your affairs?"

"Affairs? Financial or romantic?"

"Well, both, since you raise the question."

"In dire straits, Judith. The former because that's their natural state and the latter because I didn't know in time that you are an heiress and missed the opportunity of a lifetime."

"Aren't you presuming too much? You don't think I would have allowed myself to be married for my money, do you?"

"Women who are married for their money don't know it at the time. You don't imagine the ambitious suitor comes along and going on his knees begs for the honor of sharing a girl's fortune, do you?"

"Certainly it would have to be done with more subtlety than that."

"Of course."

"Yet you imagine that you only had to beckon my fortune to have it in your pocket?"

"I'm only letting you into the secret now that it's too late. Come on, I'll get you back to the palace."

We did the journey back to the riverbank on mules where a boat was waiting to take us down the river to the short distance when we alighted on the opposite bank, almost at the gates of the palace.

When we arrived at the palace Theodosia came into the hall.

Evan was down at the site, she told us, and Hadrian remarked that he would have to go back. "You can depend upon it, it will be the early hours of the morning before we return. Tybalt's a hard taskmaster; he works like the devil himself and expects the same of his minions."

Hadrian went back and when I was alone with Theodosia she said: "Judith, come to my room with me and talk."

I followed her along the gallery. The room she and Evan shared was less grand than mine and Tybalt's, but it was large and dark, and the floor was covered by a Bokhara carpet. She shut the door and faced me.

"Oh, Judith," she said, "I don't like it here. I hated it from the moment we came. I want to go home."

"Why, what's wrong?" I asked.

"You can feel it. It's eerie. I don't like it. I can't tell Evan. It's his work, isn't it? Perhaps he wouldn't understand. But I feel uneasy . . . You don't of course. I wish they'd go home. Why can't they let the Pharaohs stay in their tombs? They couldn't have thought, could they, when they went to all that trouble to bury them that people were coming along and going where they shouldn't."

"But my dear Theodosia, the purpose of archaeology is to uncover the secrets of the past."

"It's different finding weapons and Roman floors and baths. It's this tampering with the dead that I don't like. I never did like it. I dreamed last night that we found a tomb and there was a sarcophagus just like the one that time in Giza House. And someone rose out of it with bandages unraveling . . ."

"I can't live that down, can I?"

"I cried out in my dream: 'Stop it, Judith.' And then I looked and it wasn't you coming out of the thing."

"Who was it?"

"Myself. I thought it was a sort of warning."

"You're getting fanciful, Theodosia. I was the one who was supposed to be that."

"But anyone could get fancies here. There's a sort of shadow of the past everywhere. This palace is centuries old. All the temples and tombs are hundreds and thousands of years old. Oh, I'm glad you've come, Judith. It'll be better now you're here. These people are so dedicated, aren't they? I suppose you are a bit. But I feel I can talk to you."

I said: "Are you worried about Evan?"

She nodded. "I often think what if what happened to Sir Edward should happen to him."

I had no glib comfort to offer for that. Hadn't I wondered whether it could happen to Tybalt?

I said, "Of course we get anxious. It's because we love our husbands and one gets foolish when one loves. If we could only take a calm rational view . . . look in from outside as it were . . . we should see how foolish all this talk would be."

"Yes, Judith, I suppose so."

"Why don't you go to bed," I said. "You're not going to sit up and wait for Evan, are you?"

"I suppose not. Goodness knows what time they'll come in. Oh, it feels so much better since you arrived, Judith."

"So it should. Don't forget we're sisters—though only half ones."

"I'm glad of that," said Theodosia.

I smiled at her, said good night and left her.

I went along the gallery. How silent it was! The heavy velvet gold-fringed curtains shut me in and my feet sank deep into the thickly piled carpet. I stood still, suddenly tense because I had an instinctive feeling that I was not alone in the gallery. I looked round. There was no one there and yet I was conscious of eyes watching me.

I felt a tingling in my spine. I understood why Theodosia was afraid. She was more timid than I—though perhaps less imaginative.

There was the softest footfall behind me. Someone was undoubtedly there. I turned sharply.

"Absalam!" I cried. "Mustapha!"

They bowed. "My lady," they said simultaneously.

Their dark eyes were fixed on my face and I asked quickly, "Is there anything wrong?"

"Wrong?" They looked at each other. "Yes, my lady. But it is still not too late."

"Too late?" I said falteringly.

"You go home. You ask it. You are new bride. He cannot refuse his beloved."

I shook my head.

"You don't understand. This is Sir Tybalt's work ... his life . . ."

"His life . . ." They looked at each other and shook their heads. "It was Sir Edward's life, and then his death."

"You must not be concerned," I said. "All will be well. When they have found what they seek they will go home."

"Then . . . too late, my lady," said Absalam, or was it Mustapha.

The other looked at me with deeply sorrowing eyes. "Not yet too late," he suggested hopefully.

"Good night," I said. "I shall retire to my room now."

They did not speak but continued to regard me in their mournful way.

I lay awake. The flickering light of candles showed the ceiling on which had been painted pictures in softly muted colors. I could make out the now familiar outline of Amen Ra, the great Sun God, and he was receiving gifts from an elaborately gowned figure, presumably a Pharaoh. There was a border of hieroglyphs—strange signs full of meaning. I wondered whether while I was here I might try and learn something of the language. I had a notion that there would be many nights when I lay alone in this bed, many days when I did not see Tybalt.

I must be prepared for this. It was what I had expected in any case; but I did want Tybalt to understand that my greatest wish was to share his life.

It was two o'clock in the morning when he came in. I cried out in pleasure at the sight of him and sat up in bed.

He came to me and took my hands in his.

"Why, Judith, still awake?"

"Yes, I was too excited to sleep. I was wondering what you were doing out there on the site."

He laughed. "Nothing that would make you wildly excited at the moment. They've just been marking out the proposed areas and making general preparations."

"You are going on where Sir Edward left off?"

"I'll tell you about it sometime. Now you should be asleep." He kissed me lightly and went into our dressing room.

But I was not ready for sleep. Nor was Tybalt. We lay awake talking for an hour.

"Yes," he said during the course of the conversation, "we are exploring the same ground which my father did. You know what happened. He was convinced that there was an undisturbed tomb in the area. You know, of course, that the majority were rifled centuries ago."

"I should have thought they would have tried to keep the burial places secret."

"Up to a point they did, but there were so many workmen involved. Imagine hewing out the rock, making secret underground passages, then the chambers themselves. And think of all the transport that would be needed to bring the treasures into the tombs."

"The secret would leak out," I said, "and then the robbers came. It's odd that they were not deterred by the Curse."

"No doubt they were, but the fabulous riches found in the tombs might have seemed a worthwhile reward for damnation after death; and since they had been clever enough to find the hidden treasure no doubt they thought they could be equally shrewd in escaping the ill luck."

"Yet Sir Edward, who was merely working for posterity and to place his finds in some museum, is struck down whereas robbers who seek personal gain escape."

"In the first place my father's death had nothing to do with a curse. It was due to natural causes."

"Which no one seems certain about."

"Oh come, Judith, surely you're not becoming superstitious."

"I don't think I am unduly. But everyone must be a little, I suppose, when their loved ones are in danger."

"Danger. What nonsense is this? It's just a tale."

"Yet ... he died."

He kissed my forehead. "Foolish Judith!" he said. "I'm surprised at you."

"It will teach you not to have too high an opinion of my sagacity where you are concerned. Wise men are fools in love—and you can be sure that applies to women."

We were silent for a while and then I said: "I have seen Mustapha and Absalam. They have said I should persuade you to go back home."

That made him laugh.

"It's such nonsense," he said. "It was a tale put about to frighten off robbers. But it didn't, you see. Almost every tomb that has been discovered has been tampered with. That's why it's the dream of every archaeologist to find a tomb which is just as it was when closed two thousand years ago or thereabouts. I want to be the first one to set foot in such a burial place. Imagine the joy of seeing a footprint in the dust which was made by the last person to leave the tomb, or a flower offering lying there, thrown down by a sorrowing mourner, before the door was closed, the mountainside filled in and the dead person left in peace for the centuries to come. Oh, Judith, you've no idea of the excitement this could give."

"We must try to see that your dream is realized."

"My darling, you speak as though I am a small boy who must have his treat."

"Well, there are many sides to people and even the greatest archaeologist in the world at times seems as a little boy to his doting wife."

"I'm so happy to have you here with me, Judith. You're going to be with me all the way. You're going to be the perfect wife."

"It's strange that you should say that. Did you know that Disraeli dedicated one of his books to Mary Anne, his wife. The dedication said 'To the Perfect Wife.'"

"No," he said, "I'm an ignoramus—apart from one subject."

"You're a specialist," I said, "and knowing so much about one thing you couldn't be expected to know others. He married her for her money but when they were old he would have married her for love."

"Then," said Tybalt lightly, "it must indeed have become a perfect union."

I thought: If that happened to me I should be content.

Then he started to talk, telling me of customs, fascinating me with the exotic pictures he was able to create. He told me of what had been discovered in tombs which had been partially rifled centuries ago; and I asked why the ancient Egyptians had made such a fine art of the burial of the dead.

"It was because they believed that the life of the spirit went on after death. Osiris, the God of the Underworld and Judge of the Dead, was said to be the first ever to be embalmed and this embalming was performed by the God Anubis. Osiris had been murdered by his brother Set, who was the God of Darkness, but he rose from the dead and begot the God Horus. When a man died he became identified with Osiris but to escape destruction he had successfully to traverse the mythical river Tuat which was said to end where the sun rose in the kingdom of the Sun God, Amen Ra. This river was beset by dangers and no man could navigate it without the help of Osiris. The river was supposed to grow darker as the flimsy craft, in which the soul of the deceased traveled, progressed. He soon reached a chamber which was called Amentat, the Place of Twilight, and after he passed through that the horrors of the river increased. Great sea monsters rose to threaten him; the waters boiled and were so turbulent that the boat was in danger of sinking. Only those who had led good lives on earth and were valiant and strong could hope to survive— and only they with the help of Osiris. And if they were lucky enough to survive they at length came to the final chamber where the God Osiris judged them; those whom the god decided were worthy of making a journey to Amen Ra went on; those who were not, even though they had so far survived, were destroyed. For those who lived on, the tomb was their home. Their Ka, which is the spirit which cannot be destroyed, would pass back and forth into the world and back to the mummy lying in the tomb, and that is why it was considered necessary to make these burial chambers worthy of their illustrious inhabitants that they might not miss the jewels and treasures they had enjoyed during their sojourn on earth."

I said: "I can understand why they would not be very pleased with intruders."

"They?" he said. "You mean the long dead members of a past civilization?"

"There must be many people living today who believe in these gods."

"'Allah is great and Mohammed his prophet.' You will hear that often enough."

"But there will be many who identify the old gods with Allah. Allah is all powerful as Horus, Isis, Osiris, and the rest. I think people like Mustapha and Absalam believe that Osiris will rise up and strike anyone who intrudes into his underworld."

"Superstition. My dear Judith, we are employing about a hundred men. Think what that means to these people. Some of them are very poor as you'll see. These excavations are a godsend to them."

"You take a practical view, Tybalt."

"You must too."

"I would of course, if you weren't involved."

I heard him laugh in the darkness. He said a strange thing then. "You love me too much, Judith. It's not wise."

Then I clung to him and we made love.

And at length I slept.

It was the time of Shem el Nessim, which I believe means the Smell of the Breeze and is to celebrate the first day of spring. At home it would be Easter time, I thought, and I pictured Dorcas and Alison with Miss Crewe decorating the church with daffodils and spring flowers—yellow most of them, the color, we used to say, of sunshine.

Sabina would be chattering away of church affairs and Oliver would be smiling tolerantly and my aunts would be thinking how much more satisfactorily things would have worked out if I had been the rector's wife instead of married to a man who had carried me off to share in an expedition in a foreign land.

The days since my arrival had disappointed me a little because I had seen so little of Tybalt. He spent every possible moment at the site. I had longed to accompany him but he explained that, although when there was work which I could do I should be allowed to participate, that time was not yet.

We took our meals in the great banqueting hall of the palace and many of us sat down at the long table. Tybalt was always at the head of it and with him would be the more senior members of the band. Hadrian and Evan were not very experienced, but Terence Gelding, who was several years older than Tybalt, was his right hand. He had been concerned in some of the successful excavations in England and Tybalt once told me that he had become well known in archaeological circles when he had discovered one of the finest Roman pavements in the country, and had also identified the period of some early Stone and Bronze Age relics. Tabitha had taken over the housekeeping with efficiency and it was clear she had been here before. This meant that Theodosia and I were together a good deal and we often took drives in the little horse-drawn traps called arabiyas. It was known that we were the wives of members of the archaeological party and for this reason we could more or less wander about at our will.

Sometimes we were driven away from the town and we saw the fellaheens working in the fields with oxen and buffalo. They looked dignified in spite of their none-too-clean long cotton robes and small skull caps. Often we saw them eating their meal which invariably consisted of unleavened bread and a kind of bean which I discovered was known as Fool.

We would go together in the souk and sometimes buy wares which were displayed there. Our presence always seemed to generate excitement because of a hoped-for sale, I supposed; but no one ever tried to force their wares on us.

There was one shop which interested us particularly because seated there was a young girl, wearing a yasmak, bent over a piece of leather on which she was embossing a design.

We paused and she stopped work to regard us intently out of enormous eyes made to look even larger than they were by the heavy application of khol.

She said in tolerable English: "You ladies like?"

I said that we liked her work very much and she invited us to watch her for a moment or two. I was astonished by the clever way she created a pattern.

"You would like?" she asked indicating a row of slippers, bags, and wallets into which the soft embossed leather had been made.

We tried on the slippers and studied the bags, and the outcome was that I bought a pair of oyster-colored slippers with a blue pattern and Theodosia a kind of dolly bag with a cord by which it was drawn up and shut. Her bag was in the same oyster color with a pale red pattern.

The girl was delighted with her sale, and as the transaction was completed she said: "You with English? They dig in the valley?"

I said yes, our husbands were archaeologists and we had the good fortune to accompany them.

She nodded.

"I know, I know," she said excitedly.

After that we often stopped at her shop and now and then we bought something. We learned that her name was Yasmin, that her father and his before him worked in leather. Her two little brothers were learning to work on it too. She had a friend who dug for us. That was why she was so interested.

Whenever I passed the shop I always looked for her slight figure bent over her work or dealing with a customer. For me she was part of the now familiar life of the souk.

Neither of us ever went there alone, however. Although we felt perfectly at ease together, if, as we had done once or twice, we suddenly found ourselves alone, because one of us had paused to look at something or perhaps gone on ahead, an uneasiness would come over us and we would feel suddenly surrounded by an alien people. I knew that Theodosia felt this more intensely than I did. I had seen her when she thought she was lost and there was something near panic in her eyes. But that happened rarely and we usually managed to keep together even though the sights had become familiar to us. I imagined that the people had grown accustomed to seeing us. Although the children would stand and gaze up at us, the adults always passed us, aware of us, we knew, but keeping their eyes averted.

The blind beggars betrayed a certain eagerness as we approached. I couldn't tell why since they were blind. So we never failed to drop a coin into their begging bowls and always would come the grateful murmur: "Allah will reward you!"

Theodosia's attitude even changed and the feeling which the souk could arouse in her became like the delicious terror which children experience. She would cling to my arm, but at the same time she was enjoying the color and bustle of the markets as we passed men with brown faces and high cheekbones and the kind of noble profile which reminded me of the drawings I had seen on the walls of temples. The women were mostly veiled and all that was visible of their faces were the dark eyes made enormous by the khol they used. They were often clad in black from head to foot. When we went into the country we would see the women helping the men in the fields. In the early mornings or late afternoons we would take a trip in one of the boats up the Nile and see the women washing their clothes and chattering together. We often marveled at the way these women could carry a great jar of water on their heads without spill­ing a drop and walk so gracefully and in such a dignified manner as they did so.

It seemed that in a very short time the scene had become familiar to me. I was frustrated though, to be shut out from the main work.

Tybalt smiled at my continual demands to know if there was not something I could do.

"This is a very different operation from Carter's Meadow, you know, Judith."

"I do know that. But I long to have a part in it, even if it is only a small part."

"Later on," he promised. "In the meantime would you like to write some of my letters and keep some accounts? It will put you in the picture. You have to know so much, as well as working on the site."

I would be pleased to do this, I told him, but I did want to share in the active work as well.

"Dear Judith, you were always too impatient."

So I had to be content with that, but I was determined that it should be only temporarily.

Shem el Nessim was a public holiday and Tybalt was annoyed.

"Just because it's the first day of spring we have to stop work," he grumbled.

"How impatient you are!" I chided.

"My dear Judith, it's maddening. The cost of this is enormous and this is a sheer waste of a day. As my father always said, they never work as well after a holiday. They take a day or so to recover, so it is more than one day lost."

However, he was determined not to lose time and he and the party were at the site as usual. That was why on this Monday, which followed our Easter Sunday, Theodosia and I strolled down to the souk.

The shops were closed and the streets were different without the sounds and smells and activities of the vendors. There was a small mosque in one of the streets; the door was always open and we had glanced in from the corners of our eyes as we passed. It appeared to be a huge room and we had often seen white-robed figures kneeling on then-prayer mats. But we had always averted our eyes because we knew how easy it was to offend people by what would seem prying or irreverence for their religion.

On this day many people were making their way to the mosque. They were dressed differently in their best clothes and although the women kept to their black some of the men wore bright colors.

We paused to watch the snake charmer who squatted on the cobbles, his pipes in his mouth. We never failed to marvel at the sight of the snake rising from the basket as the music drew it out, fascinated it, soothed it, and sent it back into its basket. On this day of Shem el Nessim we noticed the soothsayer for the first time squatting on his mat near the snake charmer.

As we passed he cried: "Allah be with you. Allah is great and Mohammed his prophet."

I said to Theodosia: "He is asking to tell our fortunes."

"I love having my fortune told," said Theodosia.

"Well, then you shall. Come on. Let's see what the future holds for us."

Two mats were set out on either side of the soothsayer. He beckoned first to Theodosia and then to me. Rather selfconsciously we sat down on the mats. I was aware of a pair of piercing hypnotic eyes fixed on my face.

"English ladies," said the soothsayer. "Come from over the sea."

There was nothing very remarkable in his knowing that, I thought, but Theodosia was pink with excitement.

"You come with many people. You come here to stay . . . a week ... a month . . . two months . . ."

I glanced at Theodosia. That was almost certain too.

"You will know, of course," I said, "that we are with the party who are excavating in the valley."

He darted a look at Theodosia and said, "You married lady," he said, "you have fine husband." Then to me: "You . too, you married lady."

"We both have husbands. It is hardly likely that we should be here if we had not."

"From over seas you have come, back over seas you must go." He lowered his eyes. "I see much that is evil. You must go back . . . back across the seas."

"Which one of us?" I asked.

"You both must go. I see men and women weeping, I see a man lying still. His eyes are closed, there is a shadow over him. I see it is the angel of death."

Theodosia had turned pale. She started to rise.

"Sit," commanded the soothsayer.

I said: "Who is this man you see? Describe him."

"A man . . . perhaps he is a woman. There are men and women. They are underground . . . they feel their way . . . they disturb the earth and the resting places of the dead . . . and over them is the shadow. It shifts, but it never goes, it is always there. It is the angel of death. I see it clearly now. You are there . . . and you, lady. And now it is near you, and now it is over you, and it is waiting, waiting the command to take whomsoever it will be ordained to take."

Theodosia was trembling.

"Now it is clear," went on the soothsayer. "The sun is bright overhead. It is a white light up there but the angel of death is gone. You are on a big ship, you sail away. The angel has gone. He cannot live under the bright sun. There. I have seen two pictures. What may be is both of them. Allah is good. The choice is free."

"Thank you," I said, and I put coins into his bowl.

"Lady, you come again. I tell you more."

"Perhaps," I said. "Come, Theodosia."

He stretched out to take the bowl in which I had dropped the money. As his bare arm emerged from his robes I saw the sign on it. It was the head of a jackal. That was the sign of one of the gods I knew, but I could not remember which.

"The blessing of Allah fall on you," he muttered and sat back on his mat, his eyes closed.

"It would seem," I said to Theodosia, as we strolled back to the palace, "that there are many people who don't approve of our activities."

"He knew," she said. "He knew who we were."

"Of course he knew. It didn't need superhuman powers to tell that we were English. Nor to guess that we were with the party. We might even have been pointed out to him. Many people in the souk know us."

"But all that talk about the angel of death . . ."

"Fortunetellers' talk," I said, "to be taken with ... no, not a grain of salt but a sip of khosaf."

"It worries me, Judith."

"I should never have allowed you to have your fortune told. You thought you were going to hear gypsy talk about a dark man and a journey across the water, a legacy and three children who will comfort your old age."

"I thought we might hear something interesting as he is an Egyptian. And instead . . ."

"Come in and I'll make some mint tea. Now that's a drink I do appreciate."

The fact was that I was a little uneasy. I didn't like this talk of the angel of death any more than Theodosia did.

As Tybalt was at the site with several of the party in spite of the fact that the workmen were not at their posts, and I did not know at what time he would return, I went to bed early and was asleep almost at once. It must have been an hour or so later when I awoke. I started up in terror because I saw a shadowy shape looming up beside my bed.

"It's all right, Judith."

"Tabitha!"

A candle which she must have brought in with her shone a faint light from the table on which she had laid it.

"Something's wrong," I cried and my thoughts still lost in vague dreams went to the soothsayer in the souk and the angel of death he had conjured up.

"It's Theodosia. She's had some ghastly nightmare. I was going up to my room when I heard her shouting. I wish you'd come in and comfort her. She seems quite distraught."

I leaped out of bed and put on the pair of embossed leather slippers I had bought from Yasmin and wrapped a dressing gown about me.

We went along to the room Theodosia shared with Evan. She was lying on her back staring up at the ceiling.

I went over and sat down beside the bed. Tabitha sat on the other side.

"What on earth happened, Theodosia?"

"I had an awful dream. The soothsayer was there and there was something in black robes like a great bird with a man's face. It was the angel of death and it had come for some of us."

"It was that old fortuneteller," I said to Tabitha. "We shouldn't have listened to him. He was just trying to frighten us."

"What did he say?" asked Tabitha.

"He talked a lot of nonsense about the angel of death hovering over us."

"Hovering over whom?"

"The whole party, I imagine, waiting to pounce on which ever one he fancied. Theodosia took it all too seriously."

"You shouldn't, Theodosia," said Tabitha. "They do it all the time. And I don't mind betting that he said Allah was giving you a choice."

"That's exactly what he did say."

"He's probably envious of someone who is working for us. This often happens. When we were here last there was a man who was uttering evil prophecies all the time. We discovered that his greatest enemy was earning more working on the site than he was himself. It was pure envy."

This seemed to comfort Theodosia. "I shall be glad," she said, "when they've found what they want and we can go home."

"These surroundings grow on you," prophesied Tabitha.

"People often feel like that at first. I mean those who are not actually involved in the work."

She began to talk as she used to when I visited her at Giza House and so interesting was she that Theodosia was considerably calmed. She told us how last time she had been here she had seen the celebration of Maulid-el-Nabi which was the birthday of Mohammed.

"The stalls looked so lovely in the souks," she explained. "Most of them were decorated with dolls made of white sugar and wrapped in paper which looked like dresses. There were processions through the streets and people carried banners on which were inscribed verses from the Koran. The minarets were lit up at night and it was a wonderful sight. They looked like rings of light up in the sky. There were singers in the streets singing praises to Allah and tale tellers who were surrounded by people of all ages to whom they related stories which had been handed down through the ages."

She went on to describe these occasions and as she talked I noticed Theodosia's eyelids dropping. Poor Theodosia, she was exhausted by her nightmare I

"She's asleep," I whispered to Tabitha.

"Then let's go," she replied.

Outside the door she paused and looked at me. "Are you sleepy?" she asked.

"No," I told her.

"Come to my room for a chat."

I followed her. Her room was beautiful. There were shutters at the window, and she opened these wider to let in the warm night air. "I look down on a courtyard," she said. "It's quite beautiful. Cacti grow down there and there are bitter apple trees. They are one of the most useful plants in Egypt. The seeds are used to add flavor to all sorts of dishes and if the fruit is boiled the liquid which is produced makes goatskin watertight."

"You are very knowledgeable, Tabitha."

"Don't forget I've been here before, and if you're vitally interested, you do pick up a great deal."

She turned from the window and lighted a few candles.

"They will probably attract insects," she said, "but we need a little light. Now tell me, Judith, does all this come up to expectations?"

"In many ways, yes."

"But not all?"

"Well, I thought I should probably have more work to do ... helping . . ."

"It's a very skilled occupation. At the moment it is mainly workmen who are needed."

"And if they really did find a hitherto undiscovered tomb I suppose I should not be allowed near it."

"It would be such a find. Only the experts would be allowed to touch anything. But Tybalt was telling me how well you look after his papers and that you are a great help in many ways."

I felt suddenly resentful that Tybalt should discuss me with her, and then I was ashamed.

She seemed to sense my feelings for she said quickly: "Tybalt does confide in me now and then. It's because I'm such a friend of the family. You are of the family now and because of this I was saying to Tybalt that you should know the truth."

"The truth!"I cried.

"About me," she said.

"What should I know about you?" I asked.

"What only Tybalt and his father knew in their household. When I came to live with them and took the post of companion to Sir Edward's wife, we thought it best that I should be known as a widow. But that is not the case. I have a husband, Judith."

"But . . . where is he?"

"He is in a mental home."

"Oh ... I see. I'm sorry."

"You will remember that I had a sudden call before we left."

"When you and Tybalt came back together."

"Yes, as I had to come back to London we met there and traveled down to Cornwall together. I had had a call because my husband had taken a sudden turn for the worse."

"He died?" I asked.

A hopeless expression came into her eyes which were large, brooding and very beautiful in the candlelight.

"He recovered," she said.

"It must be a great anxiety for you."

"A perpetual anxiety."

"You do not visit him often?"

"He does not know me. It is futile. It brings no pleasure to him and only great unhappiness to me. He is well cared for, in the best possible hands. It is all I can do."

"I'm sorry," I said.

She brightened. "Well, they say we all have our crosses to bear. Mine has been a heavy one. But there are compensations. Since I came into the Travers household I have been happier than I ever dreamed of being."

"I hope you will continue to be."

She smiled rather sadly. "I thought you ought to know the truth, Judith, now that you are a Travers."

"Thank you for telling me. Was it always so, from the time you married him? You cannot have been married so many years. You are very young."

"I am thirty," she said. "I was married at eighteen. It was a marriage arranged for me. I was without fortune. My people thought it was a great chance for me because my husband was wealthy compared with my family. Even at the time of our marriage he was a dipsomaniac, incurable they said. It grew steadily worse and when he became violent he was put away. I had met Sir Edward when he lectured on archaeology to amateurs and we became friendly.

Then he offered me this post in his household as companion to his wife. It was a great help to me."

"How very tragic."

Her eyes were fixed on me. "But no life is all tragedy, is it? I've had days of happiness, weeks of it ... ever since. But it is one of life's rules that nothing remains on the same level or at the same depth. Change is inevitable."

"I'm glad you told me."

"And I knew you would be sympathetic."

"You will stay with us?"

"As long as I am allowed to."

"Then that will be as long as you wish."

She came to me then and kissed me on the forehead. I was moved by the gesture; and as I drew away from her I saw the brooch at her throat. It was a scarab in lapis lazuli.

"I see you have a scarab brooch."

"Yes, it's supposed to be a protection against evil spirits. It was given to me by ... a friend . . . when I first came to Egypt"

"Which was the last expedition, wasn't it, the fatal one?"

She nodded.

"It wasn't very lucky on that occasion," I said.

She did not answer but I saw her fingers were trembling as she touched the brooch.

"I suppose I should go to bed now," I said. "I wonder when they will come back from the site?"

"That's something of which you can't be sure. I'm glad I told you. I didn't think it was right that I should deceive you."

I went back to my room. Tybalt was not back.

I could not sleep. I lay in bed thinking of Tabitha. Memories from the past intruded into my mind. I remembered walking over to Giza House when I was a companion to Lady Bodrean and seeing Tabitha and Tybalt at the piano together. I thought of their arriving home together after she had been called away; and echoes from Nanny Tester's revelations kept coming back to me.

I wondered who had given her the scarab brooch. Was it Tybalt?

Then a horrible thought crept into my mind. Suppose Tabitha had been free, would Tybalt have married me?

A few days later Theodosia and I visited the Temple, taking a donkey-drawn carriage and rattling on our way over the sandy soil. Here had been the ancient city of Thebes, the center of a civilization which had crumbled away leaving only the great burial chambers of long dead Pharaohs to give an indication of the splendor of those days.

Although the Temple was open to the sky it was cooler within the shadows of those tall pillars than without. We examined with wonder the lavishly carved pillars each capped with buds and calyxes. It fascinated us both to study the carvings on the pillars and to recognize some of the Pharaohs depicted there with the gods to whom they were making sacrifices.

Wandering among the pillars we came face to face with a man. He was clearly European and I thought he was a tourist who had, like ourselves, come to inspect this renowned Temple.

It was natural on such an occasion that he should speak to us and he said, "Good morning." His eyes were a tawny color like so much of the stone we saw in Egypt and his skin was tanned to a pale brown. He wore a panama hat pulled down over his eyes as a shield against the sun.

We were pleased because he was English.

"What a fascinating spot," he said. "Do you live here?"

"No. We're with a party of archaeologists working on a site in the Valley. Are you visiting?"

"In a way. I'm a merchant and my business brings me here now and then. But I am very interested to hear that you are with the archaeology party."

"My husband is leading the expedition," I said proudly.

"Then you must be Lady Travers."

"I am. Do you know my husband?"

"I've heard of him, of course. He's very well known in his field."

"And you are interested in that field?"

"Very. My business is buying and selling objets d'art. I'm staying at the hotel not far from the Chephro Palace."

"It's comfortable, I hope."

"Very adequate," he replied. He lifted his hat. "We may meet again."

Then he left us and we continued our examination of the pillars.

In due course we returned to our arabiya. As we started away we saw the man who had spoken to us getting into his.

"He seemed very pleasant," said Theodosia.

Next morning Theodosia did not feel well enough to get up; but by midday she was better. We sat on the terrace overlooking the Nile and talked desultorily.

After a while she said to me: "Judith, I think I may be going to have a baby."

I turned to her excitedly. "Why! that's wonderful news."

A frown puckered her brow. "That's what people always say. But they don't have to have the babies, do they?"

"Oh, it's uncomfortable for a while but think of the reward."

"Fancy having a baby . . . here."

"Well, you wouldn't, would you? You'd go home. Besides, if you're not sure, it must be months away."

"Sometimes I feel we shall be here forever."

"Oh, Theodosia, what an ideal It'll be a few months at the most."

"But suppose they don't find this . . . whatever it is they're looking for."

"Well, they'll have to go home. This is a very costly business. I'm sure that if they don't succeed in due course, they'll know they aren't going to and then we shall all leave."

"But suppose . . ."

"What a worrier you are. Of course it'll be all right. And it's wonderful news. You ought to be dancing for joy."

"Oh you're so capable, Judith." She began to laugh. "It's funny really. I'm Mamma's daughter and you know how she manages everyone. You'd think I'd be like her."

"She may manage everyone, but such people don't always know how to manage their own affairs."

"Mamma thought she did. And your mother was Lavinia, who was probably very meek. I ought to have been like you and you like me."

"Well, never mind about that now. You'll be all right."

"I'm frightened, Judith. It's since we've been here. I wish we could go home. I just long to see the rain. There's no green here and I want to be among normal men and women."

I laughed at her. "Yasmin would think the people in the souk were more normal than us, I do assure you. It's a simple matter of geography. You're just a bit homesick, Theodosia."

"How I wish Evan would lecture in the university and not do this sort of thing."

"No doubt he will when this is over. Now, Theodosia, you've got to stop worrying. This is the most marvelous news."

But she did continue to fret; and when it was affirmed that she was indeed pregnant, I could see that this caused her some concern.