A River in the Sky

The rabbi’s gray beard was in wild disarray, his speech even more disjointed. His hands on my arm held me fast.

“Here now,” said Emerson, pulling me away. “What do you think you are doing? Mrs. Emerson is not to be manhandled by strange men, even if they are rabbis.”

“He only took my arm, Emerson. I don’t believe he understands what you are saying. Curse it, I wish one of us could speak Hebrew.”

One of us could. But he was not here.

“Curse it,” Emerson echoed. “We haven’t time for a chat about religion. Tell him so. Politely.”

Addressing the rabbi, who continued to pluck at my sleeve, I said slowly, shaking my head, “Not now. Good-bye.”

“That was very polite,” Emerson said approvingly. “Good-bye, adieu, auf Wiedersehen, God be with you.”

Continuing to shout words of farewell in various languages, he led me away.

By the time we reached the hotel I had decided how best to deal with the situation. It had changed dramatically, and not for the better.

“Let us all meet in our sitting room in one half hour’s time,” I said. “Nefret, you will want to bathe and change. Daoud, do go and have a little something to eat. Selim, go with him. Emerson, ask at the desk whether there have been any messages for us. Don’t be too long.”

I left at once, without giving anyone a chance to protest. In fact, I did want to change my dusty, crumpled garments; I have found one thinks more clearly when one is clean and tidy. The bath chamber was occupied, so I had to content myself with the jug and basin at the washstand. I was engaged in this process when Emerson came in. His scowl changed to a pleased smile.

“In private, you said?” he inquired, advancing toward me with outstretched arms.

“Emerson, how can you be so frivolous at a time like this?”

I slid out of his grasp and adjusted the shoulder straps of my combinations.

“A time like what? Something is worrying you, I can see that, but I fail to understand why it should-”

“Get out the whiskey, Emerson. And lock the door.”

It was not necessary for me to say more. Brows furrowed, Emerson at once complied. Seating myself on the sofa, I motioned him to take a place at my side.

“We must discuss this before Nefret comes, Emerson. I take it there were no messages from the boys?”

“I would have told you at once,” Emerson said reproachfully. “What have you to say that Nefret must not hear? You haven’t changed your mind about-”

“No, no, it has nothing to do with that. Or at least I hope it has not. It concerns Frau von Eine.”

“She does seem to be a legitimate scholar,” Emerson admitted. “I remember hearing her name. She worked at Boghazkoy with-”

Had it not been for the soothing effect of the genial beverage, I might have shouted at him. Instead I interrupted in almost my normal tone.

“Have you forgot the code message and the one word-phrase, rather-we could not interpret?” Knowing he had, and would start making excuses for having done so, I hurried on. “It was a lower case v, followed by a stop, and a capital I. Or so I thought. It is a number, Emerson, the number one. And the number one in German is ein, or eins. Frau von Eine is a German spy!”

I AM SORRY TO SAY that Emerson’s first thought was of himself.

“But-but that must mean that Morley is in German pay! Hell and damnation! Do you mean to say that the confounded War Office was right, and I was wrong?”

“We were both wrong, Emerson. Apparently.”

My willingness to share the blame failed to console my husband. “What do you mean, apparently? The message can only be interpreted as referring to-”

“What it said was that Morley had been in contact with v.I. That contact may have been for what seemed to him harmless purposes. He may not know that she is in the employ of the German government. In fact,” I went on, seeing Emerson’s face brighten, “we don’t know for certain that she is. The War office is obsessed with espionage. She may be just what she claims to be, an archaeologist visiting Palestinian sites.”

“Do you believe that, Peabody?”

In point of fact, I did not. I preferred not to explain my reasons to Emerson, lest I be accused of “jumping to conclusions, as usual, Peabody.” My instincts, which have seldom been wrong, told me that Frau von Eine was not what she seemed. That steady stare had felt as if it were boring into my brain, trying to read my thoughts.

Other facts might have seemed equally inconclusive to Emerson, but Emerson has absolutely no grasp of the social conventions. It had been out of character for a well-bred lady to propose a definite time for what had been an indefinite invitation. She had followed this by mentioning two specific places, one to the north and one to the west of Jerusalem. A subtle attempt to discover where we meant to go? It would have been natural, had our purpose been innocent, for us to answer yes or no. I wished even more that Nefret had not told her we planned to leave the city.

I was saved from replying by a peremptory knock at the door. The half hour was up.

“Let her in, Emerson,” I said, reaching for my dressing gown.