Curse of the Kings

VII The Feast of the Nile

Tybalt was getting excited. He was certain now that he was on the right track. Those working inside the old tomb had found indisputable evidence that there was another chamber behind the wall which they were now excavating.

We had now been several months in Egypt and it was time, he said, that we had something to show for our labors. This, he was sure, was what we had come for.

"It will be a bitter disappointment," he said, "if someone has already been there."

"But if it has been hidden behind this other tomb can they have been?"

"Not unless there is another entrance, which may well be the case. There'll be another hold-up, unfortunately, for the Feast of the Nile which must be imminent. The trouble with all these feasts is not only that they exist but that there is no definite date for them. This, of course, will depend on the state of the river."

"Why?"

"Well because it's a sort of placating ceremony. It dates back thousands of years to when the Egyptians worshiped the river. They believed it had to be soothed and pacified so that when the river rose it didn't overflow to such an extent that whole villages were carried away. This has happened frequently and still does. Hence the ceremony."

"Do they really think that if they perform this ceremony the river will stay within its bounds?"

"It's become a custom now, a reason for a holiday. But it was serious enough in the past. There really was a human sacrifice then. Now they throw a doll into the river— often an enormous life-sized beautifully dressed doll. This represents the virgin who used to be thrown into the river in the old days."

"Poor virgins! They did have a bad time. They were always being thrown to dragons or chained to rocks or something. It couldn't have been a lot of fun being a virgin in the old days."

"I've no doubt you'll enjoy the ceremony but it is going to hold up work which is the last thing I want at the moment."

"I can't wait, Tybalt, for you to take your step into that undisturbed tomb. It will be you, won't it? How happy I shall be for you! It'll be as you wanted it. You will see the footsteps in the dust of the last person to leave the tomb before it was sealed! What a thrill for you and you deserve it! Dear Tybalt."

He laughed at me in that tender indulgent way I knew so well.

I desperately wanted him to succeed.

We had a day's warning as to when the Feast of the Nile should take place. The waters were rising fast, which means that the rains in the center of Africa had been heavy that year; and it was possible to calculate the day when they would reach our neighborhood.

From early morning the banks of the river became densely populated. There were arabiyas everywhere; and some people had traveled in on camels, the bells on the necks of which tinkled gaily as had those on the necks of the Pasha's beasts. Disdainfully they walked down to the river as though they knew they were the most useful animals in Egypt. Their padded feet made it possible for them to walk with equal ease over the pavements and the sand; their wool made rugs and the hooded burnoose favored by so many Arabs, leather was made from their skin and the peculiar odor which seemed to permeate the place came from their dung which was used for fuel.

The great excitement on this day was: How would the river behave? If the floods were great the banks would be under water; if the rain had been moderate then there would be just the beautiful sight of the river's rising without the dangerous overflow.

But it was a holiday and they all loved a holiday. In the souks most of the shops were closed but there was the smell of cooking food. There were nutted Turkish Delight for sale, little flat cakes made of fried flour and honey, herish loaves and mutton or beef sizzling in a pan under a fire of camel dung and proffered on sticks so that the customer might dip them in the cauldron of steaming savory sauce. There were the lemonade sellers in their red striped gowns carrying their urn and glasses; there were stalls at which it was possible to buy glasses of mint tea. The beggars had come in from far and wide—blind beggars, legless and armless beggars, the most pitiful sight to take the joy out of a day of gaiety. They often raised their sightless eyes to heaven, their begging bowls before them, calling out for baksheesh and to Allah to bless those who did not pass the beggars by.

It was a colorful, bustling scene. Our party viewed the scene from the highest terrace of the palace; there we could see it without being part of it.

I sat beside Tybalt with Terence Gelding on the other side of him and Tabitha next to him; Evan was on my left with Theodosia.

Tybalt was saying that it looked as though the river was going to behave. It was to be hoped it would. If there was flooding it might mean that some of his workers would be commandeered to deal with disaster areas and that might mean delays.

Hadrian joined us. I thought he looked a little strained and wondered if he was finding the heat oppressive. Perhaps, I thought, there is a certain amount of tension. It has been so long and there is nothing decided yet. I knew how restive Tybalt was and that every day when he arose he was telling himself that this could be the day of great discovery, but every evening he came back to the palace disappointed.

The waters of the river looked red as they came swirling by, because they had swallowed some of the rich land as they passed through it. The people shuddered as they pointed out the redness of the water. The blood color! Was the river in a vengeful mood?

From the minaret rang out the voice of the muezzin:

"Allah is great and Mohammed his prophet."

There was an immediate silence as men and women stood where they were, heads bent in prayer.

We were silent on the terrace, and I wondered how many of those people were praying to Allah not to let the waters rise and flood the land. I believed then that although they prayed to Allah and his prophet Mohammed, many of them believed that the wrath of the gods must be placated and that when the symbol of a virgin was thrown into those seething waters the angry god who made the waters rise would be gratified and bid the river be calm and not wreak its vengeance on the poor people of the land.

We watched the procession wend its way to the river's edge. Banners were held aloft; there were inscriptions on them, whether from the Koran I did not know. Perhaps not, I thought, as this was a ceremony which had been handed down from the years before the birth of Mohammed.

In the midst of the procession was a carriage and in this sat the life-size doll which was to represent the virgin. At the river's edge, the doll would be taken from its place and thrown into the river.

I stared at the doll. It was exactly like a young girl—a yasmak hiding the lower part of the face. About the doll's wrists were silver bracelets and she was dressed in a magnificent white robe.

As the procession passed close to us for a few seconds I saw the doll clearly. I could not believe that it was not a real girl; and there was something familiar about her too.

She was lying back in her carriage seat, her eyes closed.

The procession passed on.

"What a life-like doll," said Hadrian.

"Why did they make the doll with eyes shut?" asked Evan.

"I suppose," I put in, "because she knows of her coming ordeal. It's possible that if one was going to be thrown into the river one wouldn't want to see the crowd ... all come to witness the spectacle."

"But it's a doll," protested Hadrian.

"It has to be as realistic as possible, I suppose," I said. "It reminds me of someone. I know. Little Yasmin, the girl who made my slippers."

"Of course," said Theodosia. "That's who I was trying to think of!"

"An acquaintance of yours?" asked Hadrian.

"A girl we buy things from in the souk. She's a sweet creature and speaks a little English."

"Of course," said Hadrian, "lots of people here look alike to us. As we must to them."

"You and Tybalt, for instance, don't look a bit alike and Evan is quite different from either of you and so is Terence and other people too."

"Don't be argumentative at the crucial moment. Look."

We watched. The doll was lifted high and thrown into the seething waters of the Nile.

We watched its being tossed about and finally sinking.

There was a long-drawn-out sigh. The angry god had accepted the virgin. Now we could expect the river to keep within its banks. There would be no flooding of the land. Strangely enough, there was not.

Gifts arrived at the palace—a tribute from the Pasha and an indication of his good will. For me there was an ornament—I supposed it could be made into a brooch. It was in the shape of a lotus flower in pearls and lapis lazuli and very beautiful to look at. Both Theodosia and Tabitha had received similar ornaments but mine was the most elaborate.

Tybalt laughed when he saw them. "You are obviously the favored one," he said. "That's the sacred flower of Egypt and symbolizes the awakening of the soul."

"I must write a fulsome letter of appreciation," I replied.

Theodosia showed me hers, it was feldspar and chalcedony. "I wish he hadn't sent it," she said. "I fancy there is something evil about it."

Poor Theodosia, she was having a miserable time. She felt ill every morning, but it was the ever-growing homesickness that was most alarming. Evan must have been most unhappy. He did tell me that when this expedition was over he thought he would try to remain at home. He thought the quiet university life would suit Theodosia. It seemed that she was indeed getting into a state of melancholy when an unusual gift appeared evil to her.

As we took our walk to the souk she explained to me that Mustapha had been horrified when he saw the ornament.

"Mustapha!" I said. "Oh dear, they are not going to start that 'Go home, lady' talk again I hope."

"He was afraid to touch it. He said it means something about your soul waking up as it can only do when you're dead."

"What nonsense! The fact is that those two want to go back to Giza House. So they're trying to frighten us into persuading Tybalt to go home. Really they must be halfwitted to imagine we can do that."

"Tybalt would rather see us all dead as long as he could go on looking for his tomb."

"That's an unfair, absurd, and ridiculous thing to say."

"Is it? He drives everyone hard. He hates all the festivals and holidays. He just wants to go on and on ... he's like a man who's sold his soul to the devil."

"What nonsense are you talking!"

"Everybody is saying that there is nothing here. It's wasting money to stay. But Tybalt won't accept that. He's got to go on. Sir Edward died, didn't he? And before he died he knew that he had failed to find what he was looking for. Tybalt has failed too. But he won't admit it."

"I don't know where you get your information."

"If you weren't so besotted about him you would see it too."

"Listen! They're following a clue inside the tomb. There's a possibility that they are going to make the greatest discovery of all time."

"Oh, I want to go home." She turned her pale face towards me and so touched with pity for her was I, that I ceased to be angry because of her attack on Tybalt.

"It won't be long now," I said soothingly. "Then you and Evan can go back to the university. You will have a dear little baby and live in peace forever after. Try not to complain too much, Theodosia. It worries Evan. And you know you could go back to Keverall Court. Your mother would be pleased to have you."

She shivered. "It's the last thing I want. Imagine what it would be like! She would order everything. No, I escaped from Mamma when I married. I don't want to go back to that."

"Well, bear up. Stop brooding and seeing evil in everything. Enjoy the strangeness here; you must admit it's very exciting."

"I hated that river ceremony. I couldn't get it out of my mind that it was Yasmin they were throwing into the river."

"How could it have been? It was a doll."

"A life-size doll!"

"Of course. Why not? They wanted it to look as human as possible. We'll go and see her now and you can tell her how the doll reminded you of her."

We had reached the narrow streets, and wended our way through the crowds and there was the shop with the leather goods laid out on show. A man was seated in the chair usually occupied by Yasmin. We paused and he rose from his chair, seeing us as prospective customers.

I guessed that he was Yasmin's father.

"Allah be with you," he said.

"And with you," I replied. "We were looking for Yasmin."

I can only describe the look which passed across his face as terror.

"Please?" he said.

"Yasmin. She is your daughter?"

"No understand."

"We used to talk to her almost every day. We have not seen her lately."

He shook his head. He was trying to look puzzled but I felt sure that he understood every word we said.

"Where is she? Why is she not here any more?"

But he would only shake his head.

I took Theodosia's arm and we walked away. I was unaware of crowds, the chattering voices, the tray of unleavened bread, the sizzling meat, the colorful lemonade seller. I could only think of the doll which had been flung into the seething waters of the Nile and which had reminded us of Yasmin. And she had now disappeared.

When we returned to the palace it was to find that letters had come for us. This was always a great occasion. I took mine to the bedchamber so that I could be quite alone to read them.

First from Dorcas and Alison. How I loved their letters! They usually took weeks to write them and there was a little added each day so that it read like a diary. I could imagine the "letter to Judith" lying on the desk in the sitting room and whenever anything worth recording happened either Dorcas or Alison would take up her pen.

Such weather. There's going to be a good harvest this year. We're all hoping the rain keeps off. Jack Polgrey is hiring men from as far afield as Devon for he anticipates a bumper crop.

The apples are going well and so are the pears. It's to be hoped the wasps don't get at the plums. You know full well what they are!

Sabina looks very well. She's in and out a good deal and Dorcas is helping her make the layette—though it's months off yet. My word, I never saw such a cobble. And her knitting. Dorcas unravels what she does every day and then sets it right and I say why not let Dorcas do the whole thing except that Sabina likes to feel she's preparing for the baby.

Dorcas wrote:

It seems so long since we saw you. Do you know this is the first time in our lives that we've been separated like this. We're wondering when you're coming home. We do miss you.

Old Mr. Pegger died last week. A happy release for Mrs. Pegger, I think. He has been a hard husband and father although we mustn't speak ill of the dead. They had a fine funeral and Matthew's the new sexton. He dug his own father's grave and some think that's not right. They should have got someone else to do it.

Oliver is thinking of getting a curate. There's so much work, and of course in Father's day he had Oliver. He never seems to stop and it's a pleasure to see him holding the parish together.

And so on; the harvest had come in and was up to expectation. Jack Polgrey, who was an extravagant man compared with his cheeseparing father, had given a harvest dance afterwards and there had been fiddlers in the big barn. They had made corn dollies to hang in the kitchen and keep till next year to ensure as good a harvest.

The letter brought it all back clearly to me and I felt the desire to be there sweeping over me. After all it was home, and I felt so far away.

There was a letter from Sabina—one of her inconsequential scrawls, mostly about the help the aunts were giving her and how she was looking forward to the baby and wasn't it odd that Theodosia should be in the same condition . . . not odd really but natural and what about me? Surely I wasn't going to be left out. I was to tell her as soon as I was sure because the aunts were very wistful and wished I would come home and be pregnant and give them a chance of having a new baby in the family for although they were angels and treated her as though she was their niece there would never be anyone who could take the place of their Judith.

I was reading this when there was a knock on the door. Tabitha came in. She was holding a letter in her hand.

She looked at me as though she were scarcely aware of me.

"Tybalt . . ." she began.

"He's at the dig, of course."

"I thought perhaps . . ."

"Is anything wrong, Tabitha?"

She did not answer.

I jumped up and went to her. I noticed that her hands were trembling.

"Is it bad news?"

"Bad ... I don't know whether one would call it that. Good perhaps."

"Do you want to talk?"

"I was hoping Tybalt . . ."

"You could go down to the site if it's all that important."

She looked at me. "Judith," she said, "it has happened ... at last."

"What has happened?"

"He's dead."

"Who? . . . Oh, is it your husband? Come and sit down. You've had a shock."

I led her to a chair.

She said: "This is a letter from the home where they kept him. He was very ill before we came here. You remember I went to see him. Now . . . he's dead."

"I suppose," I said, "it's what they call 'a happy release.'"

"He could never have recovered. Oh, Judith, you don't know what this means. At last . . . I'm free."

I said gently: "I can understand it. Let me get you something. Perhaps a little brandy?"

"No, thank you."

"Then I'll send for some mint tea."

She did not answer and I rang the bell.

Mustapha appeared. I asked him to bring the tea, and in a very short time it came. We sat there sipping the refreshing beverage and she told me of the long and weary years when she had been a wife and no wife. "It is more than ten years ago that he had to be put away, Judith," she said. "And now . . ." Her beautiful eyes were luminous. "Now," she added, "I'm free."

She was longing to talk to Tybalt. He was the one whom she wanted to tell. There was no opportunity for that when they came in, for Tybalt and the others had stayed late at the site and dinner was ready when they arrived, and immediately the meal was over Tybalt wanted to go back to the site. I watched Tabitha. She wanted to break the news to him when they were alone.

She was waiting for him when he came home that night.

It was past midnight. I watched him come in but he did not come up to our room at once. I guessed Tabitha had waylaid him.

I waited. An hour passed and still he did not come.

I asked myself why it should take so long for her to tell him what had happened. Insidious little thoughts like niggling worms—and as obnoxious—crept in and out of my mind. I kept thinking of Nanny Tester's ominous words. She had been rambling in her mind but they had come back together on that occasion. I remembered seeing them at the piano. They had looked like lovers then, I had thought. No, that was my imagination. If Tybalt had been in love with Tabitha why had he married me? Because Tabitha was not free?

And now she was free.

The letter from the aunts had brought them back vividly to my mind. I seemed to see Alison standing there: "You speak without thinking, Judith. That way a lot of harm can be done. When you're going to burst out with something, it's a good idea to stop and count ten."

I could count ten now but that would not help. I had to watch my tongue. I must not say anything I would regret. I wondered how Tybalt would react to a jealous wife.

Why should he be with her so long? Were they celebrating her freedom?

A wild rage rose within me. He had married me because he had known that I was Sir Ralph's daughter. Had he? How could he have known? He had married me because he knew that I would inherit money. Had he known? He had married me because Tabitha was not free. That he knew.

I had proved nothing, yet why were these thoughts in my mind? Because his proposal had been so sudden? Because I had always known that there was some special relationship between him and Tabitha? Because he was dedicated to his profession and this expedition in particular, and he had needed money to finance it?

I loved Tybalt absolutely. My life had no meaning without him. I was unsure of him; I suspected he loved another woman who until now had been tied by a cruel marriage. And now she was free.

There was a step outside the door. Tybalt was coming in. I closed my eyes because I could not trust myself to speak. I was afraid that I might give voice to all the suspicions which crowded into my mind. I was afraid that if I confronted him with my doubts and fears I might find them confirmed.

I lay still, feigning sleep.

He sat down in a chair and remained deep in thought. I knew he was thinking: Tabitha is free.

It must have been an hour that he sat there. And I still pretended to be asleep.

Why does everything seem different with the rising of the sun? Here it was a white blazing light in the sky which one could not look at. At home it was benign and if it could not be relied on to show itself every day it was all the more appreciated when it did. But it only had to appear, and fears which had seemed overpowering by night began to evaporate.

How foolish I was! Tybalt loved me. He had made that clear. But at the same time it was possible for him to have affection for others and this he undoubtedly had for Tabitha. She had been a member of his household before I had, a friend of the family, so naturally her affairs would be of deep concern to him. Nanny Tester was feebleminded. That was obvious. She had taken an unreasoning dislike to Tabitha, and I had built up these suspicions on that.

I could see it all clearly in daylight.

I laughed at myself. I was as bad as Theodosia.

I began to realize that I had felt uneasy ever since the Feast of the Nile. If I could see Yasmin and talk to her as we used to I would feel differently. I did not like mystery.

Theodosia was not feeling well and Tabitha offered to walk with me into the souk.

Naturally we talked about her news.

"It seems wrong to feel this relief, but I can't help it," she said. "It was no life for him in any case, Judith. He was unaware of who he was for the greater part of the time."

"I don't think you should blame yourself for being relieved," I assured her.

"One does nevertheless. One wonders if there was anything one could have done."

"What could you have done?"

"I don't know. But I was only happy when I could forget his existence, and that seems wrong."

I glanced at her. But she did look different—younger— and there was a shine about her beauty which made it more obvious.

We passed the shop where Yasmin used to sit. The old man was in her place. He looked up and saw me. I knew that he was about to murmur the usual "Allah be with you!" but he changed his mind. He appeared to be intent on his work.

We went on. As we passed the soothsayer he spoke to us.

Tabitha sat down on the mat beside him.

"A great burden has been lifted," he said. "You are happy as not for a long time."

He looked up at me and touched the mat on the other side of him.

"You are loved," he said to Tabitha. "You should go away, far away to the land of the rain. You should go, and live in great joy, for you are loved and the burden has dropped from your shoulders."

Tabitha's color had deepened.

I thought: He means Tybalt. Tybalt loves her and she loves Tybalt and she is free . . . though he is no longer so.

Why didn't they wait a while? He should not have hurried into marriage for the sake of ...

The soothsayer's eyes were on me. "Go back, lady," he said, "the bat hovers over you. He hovers like the great hawk, lady. He is there waiting."

"Thank you," I said. "My future is always the same. One of these days I hope I shall have a batless one."

He did not understand; and we put our money in the bowl and walked away.

"Of course," said Tabitha, "he is just the same as the gypsies at home. They give the fortune they think will make the most impression."

"Well, I am no longer impressed by these premonitions of gloom. And they quite upset Theodosia."

"These people have a different outlook from us, you know. They rather like the fatalistic approach. They like to visualize danger which is avoided by wisdom. That is what he is giving you."

"It's most inhospitable. He's always telling me to go home. I do wonder why when I have been quite a good customer. He'd miss that, wouldn't he, if I took this death talk seriously."

"I admit that's a bit odd."

"At least he was right about the burden dropping from your shoulders. I believe that information about us is passed on to him and he uses it in his prognostications."

"That would not surprise me," said Tabitha.

Evan came to me while I was sitting on the terrace late that afternoon. I always enjoyed sitting there and watching the sun set. It fascinated me how it would be there one moment and then gone and the darkness would descend almost immediately. It would make me remember nostalgically the long twilight of home when it grew darker gradually and the evening came almost reluctantly.

Evan said: "I'm glad I found you alone, Judith. I wanted to talk to you about Theodosia."

"How is she today?" I asked.

"She's very depressed."

"Do you think she ought to go home?"

"I'd hate for her to and yet I begin to think it might be for the best."

"She wouldn't want to leave you. Couldn't you go with her?"

"I doubt whether Tybalt would be prepared to release me."

"Oh ... I see."

"I suppose if it were imperative he would but . . . it's hardly that. The climate doesn't agree with Theodosia and now that she is going to have a child . . ."

"I know, but we shall have left here before that happens."

"Undoubtedly, but she doesn't seem to get any better . . . worse in fact. There is something about the place that has a strange effect on her."

"Would she perhaps then go home and wait for you to come back?"

"I don't think she would want to go back to our university quarters. She could go to her mother, but you know how things are there. Lady Bodrean never really approved of our marriage. I think Theodosia wouldn't be very happy at Keverall."

"Perhaps she could go and stay at Rainbow Cottage. The aunts would love to coddle her. Or to Sabina at the rectory."

"That's an idea; but I know she doesn't want to leave me . . . nor do I want her to."

"You could ask her anyway."

"I will," he said, and he seemed a little more cheerful.

The next day I was in the courtyard when a voice whispered: "Lady."

I looked round and at first could see no one and then a figure slowly emerged from a bush in the corner of the courtyard. It was a young Arab whom I could not remember having seen before.

"Lady," he said, "you have magic in jar."

He held out his hand, which was bleeding slightly.

"Why certainly, I'll dress it," I said. "But the first thing is to clean it. Come inside."

I took him into a little room which Tabitha used a good deal and which opened onto the courtyard. Here she arranged flowers when we could get them. She had put a spirit lamp there so that it was possible to boil water. I took some from a jar which was kept on a bench and boiled it in a pan. I told the young man to sit down and went up to my room to get Dorcas's ointment.

He watched me as I bathed the wound, which was very slight; and while I was drying it he whispered: "Lady, I come because I want talk with you."

I looked intently into his bright dark eyes; I could see that he was frightened.

"What do you want to say?"

"I want to speak of Yasmin. You very kind to Yasmin."

"Where is she?"

"She is gone. I pray to Allah to bless her soul."

"You mean she is dead?"

He nodded and a look of infinite sorrow passed over his face.

"How did she die? Why?"

"She was taken away."

"By whom?"

He was struggling to understand me and to convey his meaning. It was difficult for him.

"I loved Yasmin," he said.

"You work on the site?" I said. "You work for Sir Tybalt Travers?"

He nodded.

"Very good master with very good lady. Very secret."

I said: "You can trust me to keep your secret. What is your name."

"Hussein."

"Well, Hussein, tell me what you know of Yasmin's disappearance and you can rely on me to say nothing if it is advisable not to."

"Lady we love. But her father say No. She is for the old man who keeps many goats and sells much leather."

"I see."

"But love is too strong, Lady, and we meet. Oh, this I dare not say. We have offended the Pharaohs."

"Oh come, Hussein, the dead Pharaohs wouldn't be offended by two lovers. I daresay they had a few love affairs in their time."

"Where can we meet? There is no place. But I work. I am trusted workman. I work inside the old tomb. I am one of Sir Travers's best workmen. I knew when there will be workings and when there will not; and when there are not we meet there, in the tomb."

"You are bold, Hussein. Few people would wish to meet in such a place."

"It is the only place and love is strong, Lady. Nowhere else could we be safe and if her father know he would marry her at once to the man of many goats."

"I understand, but where is Yasmin?"

"It is the night the great Pasha comes. We are to meet. Together we go to the tomb. But Sir Travers says to me, 'Hussein, you are to take a message to Ali Moussa.' He is a man who makes tools they use. 'And you are to bring back what I ask. I will give you paper.' So I must obey and then I cannot go to the tomb. Yasmin went alone . . . and it was the night of the Pasha's coming. I never saw her again."

"But you talk of her as though she is dead."

"She is dead. She was thrown into the river on the day of the feast."

I drew a deep breath. "I feared it," I said. "But Hussein . . . why?"

He lifted his eyes to my face. "Please tell me, Lady. You are wise. Why is Yasmin thrown to the crocodiles?"

"Crocodiles!" I cried.

He bowed his head. "Sacred crocodiles. I have seen sacred crocodiles with jewels in their ears and bracelets of precious stones on their paws." He looked over his shoulder as though he feared he would be struck dead.

"Who could have done this?" I cried. "Who could have thrown Yasmin into the river."

"Big men, Lady. Big strong men of power. She has offended in some way. It is because she is in the tomb, the sacred tomb. It is the Curse of the Pharaohs."

"But Hussein, the Pharaohs couldn't have done this. Someone else has done it and there must be a reason."

"I see not Yasmin since the day I am sent to Ali Moussa; but I think she goes to the tomb, alone."

"She is a brave girl."

"For love one is brave, Lady."

"You think she was discovered there by someone?"

"I do not know."

"And when she was thrown into the river she gave no sign of life. She was like a life-size doll."

"Perhaps she is dead already, Lady. Perhaps she is drugged. I do not know. All I know is that she is dead."

"But why do this? If anyone wanted to kill her why go to this elaborate method of disposing of her?"

"Lady, you see pictures on these walls. You have seen the prisoners the Pharaohs bring in from their wars. Have you seen, Lady?"

"I have wondered who the people were. I have seen men tied upside down to the prows of ships on these pictures; and others without a hand or an arm or leg."

"You have seen, Lady, what happen to those who offend the Pharaoh. They are given to the crocodile. Sometimes they take an arm, a leg . . . and the captive lives on. It shows him and others what happens to him who offends. Sometimes they are thrown to crocodiles. You understand?"

"I can't understand how Yasmin could have offended."

"She went into the tomb, the forbidden place, Lady."

"And what about the rest of us?"

He shivered.

"Hussein," I said, "are you sure the figure that was thrown into the river was Yasmin?"

"Does the lover not know his beloved?"

I said: "I knew her but slightly but I thought I recognized her."

"It was Yasmin, Lady. And I was in the tomb, though not on the night she disappeared."

"You are afraid that they will take you, too?"

He nodded.

"I don't think so, Hussein. They would surely have done so by now. I think somebody was there on the night she went there alone and whoever that was killed her. You should say nothing to anyone of your relationship with her."

"No, I do not. It was our secret. It is for this reason we choose such a place for our love."

"You must be clever, Hussein. Do not speak of Yasmin! Do not show your sorrow."

He nodded, his dark eyes on my face. I was touched and a little afraid by the obvious faith he had in me.

"This," he pointed to his hand, "nothing. I come to see wise lady."

I wanted to protest at such a description but I could see that the only way I could comfort him was by allowing him to believe it fitted.

"I am glad you came to me," I said. "Come again if you learn anything."

He nodded.

"I knew you wise lady," he said. "You have magic in jar."

I could scarcely wait to see Tybalt alone. I wanted to tell him what the boy had told me and ask what could be done about it.

But how difficult it was to see my husband alone! I chafed against the delay. It was late afternoon when I saw him come into the palace. He looked dejected. He went straight up to our room and I hurried after him. He was sitting in a chair, staring at the tips of his boots.

"Tybalt," I cried. "I have something to tell you."

He looked up rather vaguely as though he scarcely heard what I said.

I burst out: "Yasmin is dead."

"Yasmin?" he repeated.

"Oh, of course, you won't know her. She's a girl who made leather slippers in the souk. She was thrown into the river at the Feast of the Nile."

"Oh?" he said.

"This was murder," I said.

He looked at me in a puzzled way and I realized that he was not giving me his attention.

I cried out angrily: "A girl has died . . . has been killed and you don't seem to care. This Yasmin was in the tomb that night when the Pasha came and . . ."

"What?" he said. I thought in exasperation: One only has to mention the tomb and he is all attention! That she had trespassed there was of more importance to him than that she had met her death.

I said: "One of your workmen has been to see me. He is terrified so please don't be hard on him. They had a meeting place in the tomb and the girl has died."

"A meeting place in the tomb! They wouldn't dare."

"I am sure he was not lying, but the point is the girl is dead. She was thrown into the river on the day of the Feast."

Tybalt said: "They throw a doll into the river nowadays." "This time they threw in Yasmin. I thought I recognized her. So did Theodosia. And now we know. Tybalt, what are you going to do about it?"

"My dear Judith, you are getting excited about something which is no concern of yours."

"You mean to say we look on calmly while someone is murdered!"

"This is just a tale someone has told you. Who was it?" "He was one of the workmen. I don't want you to be hard on him. He has suffered enough. He loved Yasmin and now he has lost her."

"I think you have been the victim of a hoax, Judith. Some of these people love a drama. The storyteller in the souk always tells stories which are supposed to be true of lovers who die for love and they make up the stories themselves." "I'm sure he wasn't making this up. What can we do about it?"

"Precisely nothing . . . even if it's true." "You mean we stand by and countenance murder!" He looked at me warily. "We are not these people's judges. The first thing one has to learn is not to interfere. Some of their customs seem strange to us ... even barbaric . . . but we come here as archaeologists and consider ourselves lucky that we are allowed to do so. One of the cardinal laws is No interference."

"In the ordinary way yes . . . but this . . ." "It sounds absurd to me. Even in the old days when a girl was thrown into the river as part of the ceremony it had to be a virgin. It seems to me that your Yasmin was not likely to be that since she had been meeting her lover in such an extraordinary place."

"It was someone who wanted to get rid of her."

"There are many ways of disposing of bodies other than such an elaborately public one."

"I think it was a warning."

He passed his hand wearily over his forehead.

"Tybalt, I don't think you are really paying attention."

He looked at me steadily and said: "We have completed the excavation on which our hopes rested. And it has led us to a chamber which is a blind alley. It goes no farther. It must have been put there to trick robbers. Well, we have been thoroughly tricked."

"Tybalt!"

"Yes, all our work of the last months has led to this. You may say that our efforts and all the money we have put into this have been wasted."

I wanted to comfort him; I wanted to put my arms about him and rock him as though he were a disappointed child. It was then that I realized that we were not really as close as the passion we shared had led me to believe.

He was aloof; there was nothing I could say which would not seem banal. I realized in that moment that this work was more important to him than anything else on earth.

"So," I said coolly, practically, for my emotions were held completely in check, "this is the end."

"This is the ultimate failure," he said.

To say I was sorry seemed foolish. So I just sat silent.

He shrugged his shoulders and that terrible silence continued.

I knew that he had completely forgotten Yasmin, indeed that he had scarcely given her a thought. I knew that he was scarcely aware of me.

There was nothing in his mind but Failure.