The Snake, The Crocodile, And The Dog Part 20

I had hoped to see a garden, with shrubs and trees that could offer concealment. No such amenities appeared, only a bare open s.p.a.ce littered with the usual household discards- sc.r.a.ps of broken pots, rusty bits of metal, rotting melon rinds and orange peel. Of such detritus are formed the kitchen middens dear to the hearts of archaeologists, and they are still in the process of formation in Egypt, for householders commonly dump their trash casually in their yards. This was as nasty a place as any I had seen- clear evidence that the present occupant of the house was a transient, unconcerned about sanitation or appearance. The only unusual feature was the absence of animal life. No chickens scratched in the dirt, no goats or donkeys nibbled at the scanty weeds.

An open shed roofed with bundles of reeds had once served as an animal shelter, to judge by the scattered straw and other evidence. A row of straggling, dusty tamarisk trees half-hid the back of the mansion. There was one other structure visible: a small, windowless building some ten feet square. Unlike the rest of the place, it showed signs of recent repair. There were no gaps in those walls, every c.h.i.n.k had been filled with fresh plaster that showed pale against the older gray-brown surface. The flat roof was solid, not the usual covering of reeds overlaid with mortar.

Something of value must be within, or the owner of the property would not have taken such precautions. Hope renewed weakened my limbs, Abdullah gave a pained grunt as my weight pressed heavily on his hands. I was on the verge of completing the ascent, for exultation had momentarily overcome prudence, when a dampening thought occurred to me. Surely something so valuable would not be left unguarded? I could only see the back and one side of the building. There were no windows, but there must be a door on one of the walls I could not see.

I motioned to Abdullah to lower me. He was glad to do so, I believe. He was perspiring heavily, and not only from my weight, suspense gnawed at his vitals as it did at mine.

Quickly I described what I had seen. "We must a.s.sume there is a guard," I whispered. "Can you move like a shadow, Abdullah?"

The old man's hand went to the breast of his robe. "I will deal with the guard, Sitt."

"No, no! Not unless we must. He may cry out and summon others. We will have to get on the roof. There is an opening of some kind there-"

"I will go first," said Abdullah, his hand still at the breast of his robe.

This time I did not argue.

The evening breeze had arisen, rustling through the cane and stirring the leaves. The small sounds blended with the equally soft noises we could not avoid making, but they were few, for all his size Abdullah glided up the wall and over it like the shadow I had mentioned. He was waiting to lift me down when I reached the top, without pausing we crept toward the building It was low- a kennel for a dog or some other beast. Abdullah lifted me up and followed me onto the roof.

There was a guard Silently though we had moved, something must; have alerted him, I heard a mutter and the rustle of fabric as he rose and then the soft pad of bare feet. We flattened ourselves behind the low parapet and held our breaths. He went round the perimeter of the building, but it was a perfunctory performance and he did not look up, people seldom do when they are searching. Finally he settled down again and lit a cigarette. The smoke rose in a thin gray curl, wavering in the breeze like a writhing serpent. Then and only then did we dare crawl toward the opening. It was closed by a rusted grille whose crossbars were set so close together that a finger could barely be inserted in the gaps.

I have not described my sensations, nor will I attempt to do so. The greatest of literary giants could not begin to capture their intensity. I pressed my face to the rusty metal surface of the grille.

The interior of the place was not entirely dark. There was another opening, a narrow slit over the door on the wall opposite the one we had climbed. Through it enough light entered to enable me to see the interior of the reeking den. The walls were bare and windowless, the floor was of beaten earth. There was no rug or carpet, only a flat square shape that might have been a piece of matting. The furnishings consisted of a table holding a few jars and pots and other objects I could not identify, a single chair- shockingly out of place in that setting, for it was a comfortable armchair of European style, upholstered in red plush- and a low bed. On it lay the motionless form of a man.

Abdullah's face was so close to mine I felt his breath hot against my cheek. Then the sinking sun sent a golden arm through the gap over the door, illumining the interior. I had not needed light to know him. I would have known that outline, that presence, in the darkest night. But if there had been breath in my lungs I would not have been able to restrain a cry when I saw the familiar features- familiar, yet so dreadfully changed.

The beard banished by my decree had returned, blurring the firm lines of jaw and chin, spreading up his cheeks toward his hairline. His closed eyes were sunken and his cheekbones stood out like spars. His shirt had been opened, baring his throat and breast . .

The memory of another time, another place, a.s.saulted me with such force my brain reeled. Was THIS how a mocking Providence had answered my unspoken appeal for a return to those thrilling days of yesteryear, when Emerson and I had been all in all to one another- before Ramses? So had he appeared on that never-to-be-forgotten day when I entered the tomb at Amarna and found him fevered and delirious. I had fought death to save him then, and won. But now . . . he lay so still, his features pinched and immobile as yellowed wax. Only eyes as desperately affectionate as my own could have marked the almost imperceptible rise and fall of his breast. What had they done to reduce a man of his strength to such a state in only a few days?

The dying light, glinting off an object on the table, gave me the answer. It was a hypodermic needle.

Scarce had the horror of that sight penetrated my mind when I saw something else. I had observed that his arms were stretched over his head in a stiff, unnatural position. Now I realized why. From the manacles on his wrists a chain looped over and through the bars of the headboard of the narrow bed.

I cannot explain why that detail affected me so powerfully. It was certainly a reasonable precaution, in fact, anyone who wished to keep Emerson in a place where he did not care to remain would have been a fool to neglect such restraints Nevertheless, it did upset me a great deal, and perhaps the intensity of my outrage accounts for what- as I am told- happened next.

I had been vaguely aware of voices at the door The guard had been joined by another man, they were talking loudly and, I suppose, telling improper stories, for there was a good deal of raucous laughter. The sounds faded into a dim insect-buzzing. A black cloud enveloped me, and a roaring fury filled my ears.

I came back to my senses to find Abdullah's alarmed face nose-to-nose with mine. One of his hands was clamped over my mouth. "The guards have gone, to fetch beer, but they will return," he hissed.

"Do you hear me, Sitt? Has the demon departed?"

I could not speak, so I blinked at him. Finger by finger, watching me nervously, he loosened his grip. I became aware of a sharp, shooting pain in my hands. Looking down, I saw that I had seized the heavy grille and lifted it up out of the framework on which it rested My fingers were torn and bleeding.

Abullah was muttering in Arabic-spells and incantations, designed to ward off the powers of evil

"The- er- demon has gone," I whispered "How very curious. This is the second time such a thing has happened, I believe. I laughed at Emerson when he told me of the first occasion. I must tell him, and apologize for doubting him, when he ... when we...

To my consternation, I found I could not control my voice. I lowered my head onto my folded arms

A hand, gentle as a woman's, stroked my hair. "My daughter, do not weep. Dost thou believe I would dare to call myself a man and a friend if I left him to lie there? I have made a plan."

Abdullah had never spoken to me except with formal respect, nor used a term of endearment. I had known the depth of his regard for Emerson, "love" would not be too strong a word, had not that word been corrupted by European romanticism, but I had not been aware that in his own fashion Abdullah loved me too. Infinitely moved, I replied in kind.

"My father, I thank thee and bless thee. But what shall we do? He is drugged or sick, he cannot move.

I had counted on his strength to help us."

"I feared we would find him thus," Abdullah replied. "One does not chain the lion without clipping his claws, or cage the hawk without- "

"Abdullah, I love and honor thee as a father, but if thou dost not get to the point I am going to scream."

The old man's bearded jaws opened in a smile. "The Sitt is herself again We must go quickly, before the guards return. My men wait at the crossroads."

"What men?"

"Daoud and the sons and grandsons of my uncles. They all have many sons," Abdullah added proudly. "The sun is setting, it is a good time to attack, at nightfall."

It did not occur to me for a moment to protest this dangerous and illegal procedure, but when he tugged at my sleeve I resisted. "I cannot leave him, Abdullah. They may carry him away or kill him if they are attacked."

"But, Sitt, Emerson will have my heart to eat if you- "

"So long as he is alive to eat it. Hurry, Abdullah. And- take care, my dear friend."

His hand gripped mine for a moment and then he was gone. I twisted around to watch, and saw him vanish over the wall as silently as he had come.

I had, of course, no intention of remaining on the roof. My normal strength might not have sufficed to lift the grille, fortunately that little matter had been taken care of. One side of the heavy metal square now rested on the lip of the opening, I had only to push it aside. The opening was, I thought, just large enough to admit my body. It would have to, for I meant to get in by one means or another.

Before I could carry out this scheme I heard the men returning. Their voices were more subdued this time, and after a moment another voice broke in. It spoke Arabic, but I knew from the accent and the tone of command that the speaker was not an Arab. Fear- for my husband, not for myself- and fury strengthened every sinew. He was here- the leader, the unknown villain who had perpetrated this foul deed.

The group paused outside the door and I hesitated, hands clenched on the metal, scarcely feeling the pain of my bleeding fingers. I must not act prematurely They had no reason as yet to suspect rescue was imminent.

Then the speaker switched to English "Wait here until I come for you. I want him wide awake and rational when he sees you"

To my astonishment the voice that responded, in the same language, was that of a woman. "I tell you, he is not so easily deceived. He will know I am not-"

"That, my dear, is the point of this exercise- to test the truth of his claim of amnesia In that costume and in the gloom, with a gag hiding the lower part of your face, you look enough like her to deceive an affectionate spouse- for long enough, at least, to win a betraying cry of alarm from him That will tell me what I want to know. And if he believes you are she, I will have at last the means of persuading him to tell me what I want to know."

A wordless murmur from the woman brought a mocking laugh from the leader. "The threat will be enough, I believe. If not- well, my dear, I won't damage you any more than I can help."

Every violent emotion I had repressed during the days of waiting now boiled within me, with raging curiosity added to the mix. I had an inkling of what the villain planned, and I was on fire to see my double. His despicable trick might succeed, if the copy was faithful enough.

The door swung open, admitting a glow of light. It did not come from the sun, which was now below the horizon The man who entered carried a lamp. You may believe, Reader, I studied his face intently. His voice had been familiar, but the features I saw did not match the appearance I expected. They were distorted by shadows, and masked by a heavy black mustache and imperial It might be he, I could not be certain.

Putting the lamp on the table, he bent over Emerson and shook him roughly. There was no response. Straightening, the monster swore under his breath and turned toward the door. "I told you to keep out!"

The woman's voice was almost inaudible "He lies so still."

"The last dose of opium must have been too strong. Never mind, I'll have him awake and cursing in a moment."