A River in the Sky

The veiled woman waited on her mistress and Mansur’s servant on him. The latter avoided looking at Ramses or David, but the woman stole glances at them from time to time. She had big, soft brown eyes outlined with kohl, and the veil was thin enough to outline a neat little nose and rounded chin. Once Ramses caught her eye and smiled. Madame saw the smile. She didn’t miss much. It seemed to amuse her.

The other servants were competent enough, though not so well trained as the personal attendants of their host and hostess. The food was excellent: lamb prepared with spices and vegetables, fresh-baked bread, bowls heaped high with fruit.

“I trust you find yourselves comfortable here?” was Madame’s opening gambit.

“We are hardly in a position to complain,” Ramses said.

“You are our guests. You must tell Mansur if there is anything you require.”

Ramses realized he was no longer hungry. With the exception of Mansur, they had been served wine, a dark red beverage that was a little too sweet to accompany the lamb. He picked up his glass and raised it in an ironic salute. “We require only our freedom, Madame. Since both of us were brought here by force, the word ‘guests’ is hardly accurate.”

The lady acknowledged his salute with an inclination of her head. “I regret the necessity.”

“Then explain the necessity.” Ramses felt his temper giving way. He had been able to control it-barely-when he was the only prisoner, but David’s safety-his very survival, perhaps-was at stake now. He went on with mounting heat. “I’m tired of lies and equivocation. Just tell me what the hell you want from me, and perhaps we can come to a sensible agreement. I’ve become bored with the childish games Mansur has been playing.”

Mansur, who hadn’t spoken a word or looked directly at Ramses, turned toward him with bared teeth and a raised fist-the first crack in that impenetrable facade Ramses had seen. “We want nothing from you. You are not a danger to us, only an inconvenience, and if we decide the inconvenience is too great-”

“Mansur!” Madame’s voice cracked like a whip.

Mansur’s sleeve had fallen back. On the inside of his forearm, just below the elbow, Ramses saw a crimson mark, too regular to be an accidental disfigurement. He was trying to make it out when Mansur lowered his arm and sat back.

“I ask your pardon,” he said.

“Granted,” Ramses said, though he was sure the apology hadn’t been directed at him. “Why don’t you try telling me the truth?” he suggested. “Mansur implied I might sympathize with your aims if they were explained to me. What harm can it do, so long as we are closely guarded…guests? If those aims are, as I suspect, freedom and independence for the Arab people, I’m on your side, so long as your methods aren’t violent.”

She pondered the question, propping her chin on one slim hand. “A reasonable suggestion,” she said after a moment. “But it grows late, and you are no doubt weary. Rest well, and tomorrow we will talk again.”

The waiting servant girl pulled Madame’s chair back as she rose. The men got to their feet. What else would a gentleman do in the presence of a lady? Ramses wondered if she had stood watching while someone cut Macomber’s throat.

THE SUN ROSE BEHIND ME as I climbed the steep slope from Deir el Bahri to the top of the cliff and the path that led to the Valley of the Kings. I knew what I would see when I reached the summit, and my heart beat fast with anticipation. Sure enough, he was there, walking toward me with the long free stride of a man in the prime of life. Abdullah’s beard had been white when he died in my arms after giving his life to save mine. In these dreams beard and hair were black and his handsome, hawklike face was unlined.

I turned so that we stood side by side, in silence, watching the scarlet orb of the sun lift above the eastern cliffs, banishing the darkness with the life-giving rays of Re Harakhte.

“Or perhaps it is Amon Re, or Aton, Akhenaton’s sole god,” I mused aloud.

“The One has many names,” Abdullah replied in sonorous tones. “Do you intend to waste the time we are allotted in meaningless chatter?”

“That sounds more like my old friend,” I said, laughing. “First and most important-I am glad to see you. Why has it been so long?”

“You had no need of me.”

“It was not that I did not think often of you,” I said, answering the implicit reproach. “If I had no other cause, I would remember you whenever I see David or speak with Selim. He has taken on his responsibilities as reis admirably.”

“As he should. He is my son. Now, Sitt, let us speak of other things. Why must you leave your homeland to wander in dangerous and uncivilized places?”

By homeland he meant Egypt. And he was correct; I knew that if I did return after death to a place I loved, it would be this place-looking down on the Valley of the Nile and the scene of my happiest years. This was an old complaint of Abdullah’s; no traveler he, he could never understand why any sane person would want to be anywhere else.