The Falcon at the Portal: An Amelia Peabody Mystery (40 page)

My deductions were correct as usual. Seeing Katherine, Ramses raised his hand to his head, discovered he was not wearing a hat, and lowered it again.

"David and Lia will be along in a few minutes," he announced. "She couldn't decide which hat to wear. They all looked much the same to me."

"Oh, is that where you were? Did you have tea with them?"

"Yes. Are you ready for your usual, Mother, or will you wait for Father and the others?"

"I will wait, thank you."

"Mrs. Vandergelt?"

"Thank you, Ramses, I will finish my tea."

I watched him walk to the sideboard. Except for his windblown hair he looked quite neat and tidy, in a nice tweed suit and a tie. It was not like him to begin drinking so early, though.

"You had better go up and see Sennia," I said. "Otherwise she will come looking for you."

"Of course." He put his empty glass down and mounted the stairs.

Another outburst from the dog, this one of longer duration, brought Emerson and Cyrus out of the former's study.

"Damned dog," said Emerson. He went out of the house, and I heard him and Narmer barking at one another. The dog appeared to regard Emerson's shouts as an attempt at friendly conversation. The barks faded into frustrated yelps when Emerson issued Lia and David in and closed the door.

Lia was laughing as she brushed at the dusty pawmarks on her frock. "It's good to be home," she declared, and hugged everyone in turn.

I rather expected Emerson would try to carry them off to his study to show them the plans of the site and explain at tedious length what he meant to do; but he seemed not quite himself. He had not gone with me to the hotel that morning, so this would be his first meeting since her precipitate marriage with the girl he loved like a daughter. I wondered if he had been hurt—no, I
knew
he had been hurt by her failure to share her feelings with him. Not that Emerson would ever have said so. I only hoped he would behave himself and not take it out on Geoffrey.

He and Nefret were so close on the heels of Lia and David, I wondered whether they had lingered until after we were all assembled. Both of them had reason to expect remonstrances or expressions of resentment, and there is safety in numbers. Nefret flew into Lia's arms, leaving the rest of us to converge on the unfortunate youth she had espoused. He carried it off quite well, I must say; mine was the first hand he clasped, but it was Emerson he addressed first, with a manful acknowledgment of error.

"I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, sir. I ought to have spoken to you and Mrs. Emerson; I ought to have waited a decent interval. I have no excuse except that I love her so very much."

"Well, hmph," said Emerson.

It was a more gracious response than I had dared expect.

Everyone was trying hard to behave normally. Geoffrey continued to command my regard; his congratulations and best wishes to the other pair of newly married persons were nicely expressed, and his manner toward me was that of an affectionate son. I could have wished he had not been quite so considerate of my advanced age and female frailty, settling me tenderly in a chair and supplying unnecessary footstools and cushions, but it would take a while, I supposed, before he was entirely at ease with me.

We settled down around the fountain and the entire household staff appeared with food and drink. They were all related to David in some degree or other, and they had been waiting eagerly to greet him and his bride. It was amusing to see Geoffrey stare as David took the tray of little sandwiches from Fatima so that she and Lia could hug one another. David went round the whole grinning circle, kissing cousins on both cheeks and shaking hands with more distant kin, and then Fatima bustled them out, with a last fond look at David.

"The fantasia is the day after tomorrow," I said. "I forgot to tell you, Nefret. You—and Geoffrey—will come, of course."

One day, I thought, I might be able to add his name to hers without having to stop and think about it.

"Of course," she said, and smiled at me.

I had never seen her look lovelier. She was wearing a new frock and her cheeks were brilliant.

Ramses had not made an appearance, and I began to wonder whether he was sulking or had climbed out a back window. I ought to have known better. Avoiding awkwardness was not his habit; he had, rather, waited until he was sure of being the focus of all eyes. He was carrying the child when he came slowly down the stairs.

The only word that occurs to me is "bedecked." Her frilliest frock, her largest hair bow, her most lavishly gilded slippers, and several strings of sparkling beads (which I had not purchased) adorned her small person. She looked like a full-blown pink rose.

Four new faces were too much for even a child of her astonishing self-possession. She buried her face in Ramses's shoulder and clutched him round the neck, but not before the others had seen her features clearly.

"Good Lord!" Geoffrey breathed. He was sitting next to me on the settee; I was the only one who heard him. Ramses emitted noises suggestive of strangulation, which made Sennia giggle and loosen her grip.

"She's a bit shy with strangers," he said easily. "Just ignore her till she gets used to you. Here is the lion, little bird," he went on in Arabic. "He wants to speak to you."

Whereupon Professor Radcliffe Emerson, the Father of Curses, holder of innumerable honorary degrees, scourge of the underworld and the greatest Egyptologist of this or any other age, growled and tickled her on the back of her neck.

It was impossible to ignore
him,
but we did our best. Lia's eyes were bright with tears of emotion. Nefret got slowly to her feet. I will never know what she meant to do, for at that moment, with the awful inevitability of an omen sent by some inimical deity, the massive, brindled form of Horus emerged from behind a potted plant, tail lashing and teeth bared.

We had not seen him for three days. He had disappeared the same morning Nefret left the house, and I would be the first to confess that I had not spent a great many minutes wondering what had happened to him. He was heading purposefully toward Nefret when the child's high-pitched chirps attracted his attention.

Emerson had persuaded her to come to him, and she was investigating his pockets, for it had not taken her long to learn there was usually something in them for her. She and the cat caught sight of one another at the same moment.

If a cat's jaw could drop, Horus's did. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring.

Everyone in the room was familiar with the cat's vile temper, including Geoffrey, who still bore the scars of a recent attempt to make friends with Horus. Several of us moved at once. Ramses jumped up, I reached for a pitcher of water, Emerson wrapped his muscular arms protectively about the child and Nefret lunged for Horus. A scene of utter pandemonium ensued as our frantic efforts to intercept the beast countermanded one another; Horus slipped through Nefret's hands, bit Ramses's thumb, shook the water off his back (most of it had splashed onto the floor) and sat down with a thump at Emerson's feet, still staring. The child compounded the confusion by squirming and demanding to be put down so she could talk to the little lion.

"Be calm," I implored. "Everyone be calm. Don't get him excited. Emerson, hold on to her. Ramses, can you ..."

"I can try," said Ramses. He slipped out of his coat, raised it, and advanced cautiously on the cat.

"He won't hurt her," Nefret said. Still on her knees, she began edging forward, and addressed Horus in a soft cooing voice. "Come to Nefret, bad Horus. Did you miss me? I missed you. Come and say hello. Good boy, Horus ..."

The wretched beast did not even turn his head. I became aware of another sound, loud enough to be heard over Nefret's murmured endearments. It was quite an unpleasant sound, like the rasp of a rusty file, but it was unquestionably Horus's best attempt at a purr.

"Good Gad," I said.

"Good God," Emerson corrected. "Peabody, do you think—"

Horus flopped over onto his back and waved his paws. He looked perfectly ridiculous.

"It's a ruse," Ramses muttered. "A trick, to lower our guard. Nefret, get out of the way."

"No, don't." She pushed his raised coat aside and reached for the cat. Horus remained as unresponsive and as heavy as a rock when she lifted him up, only twisting his head round at an impossible angle so he could continue to stare at Sennia. Nefret sat down next to Emerson, who edged away.

"He won't hurt her, I tell you. He wants to make friends."

"Ha!" said Emerson.

"I've got him," Nefret assured him, taking a firm grip on the cat's front legs. Then—for the first time—she looked directly at the child and smiled. "Hold out your hand, little bird. Pat the lion. Gently, gently."

It was a most touching moment, and would have been even more touching if the child, squeaking with delight, had not grabbed hold of one of Horus's prominent ears and tugged.

"Gently," said Nefret, while the rest of us remained petrified in horrified anticipation. She detached the small fingers and put them on the cat's motionless head. "So."

Watching the creature submit meekly to hard pats and prodding fingers, I felt kindly toward him for the first time since I had made his acquaintance. As she attempted to guide the little hands Nefret was explaining to Emerson that Horus was only vicious with adult animals, including (I would have said especially) humans. He had never put a claw or a tooth into one of the kittens, even when they chewed his tail and jumped onto his back.

I turned to Ramses, who stood watching with his usual absence of expression. "You are dripping blood on the carpet," I remarked. "And I suppose you have got it all over your coat."

He had.

Horus had not only broken the ice, he had melted it. His unaccountable behavior formed the primary topic of conversation. Sennia had been with difficulty removed to the nursery, and Horus had been, with even greater difficulty, prevented from following her into the room. We left him lying across the threshold, since he growled and spat even at Nefret when she tried to remove him.

"I will have to acquire another cat, it seems," she remarked. "Horus is lost to me."

"In all honesty I cannot say I regret that," Geoffrey said, laughing. "You know, my darling, I would not deprive you of anything you desired, but I had not looked forward to sharing quarters with Horus. He hates me."

"He hates everyone," said Ramses, shifting his soup spoon to his left hand. Horus had bit his right thumb to the bone; I had had to bandage it so heavily it stuck out at a somewhat awkward angle. I knew Ramses would have the bandage off as soon as he was out of my sight, but at least I had done my duty. "Almost everyone," he went on. "There's no need for you to give him up, Nefret; you and Geoffrey will be living here, won't you?"

"I hadn't thought," she said.

"Well, you had better," Emerson declared. "I need you back on the dig, Nefret. We've found quite a lot of bones for you, and we are days behind with photographing."

"Lia and I will take over the photography," David said. "And we are ready to start as soon as you like. I feel guilty at staying away so long."

"Tomorrow, then," Emerson began.

"Emerson, don't be absurd," I exclaimed. "They just got here. The fantasia is the following evening; Selim and the others have been planning it for weeks."

"I'm looking forward to it," Cyrus declared. "I've attended a few fantasias in Luxor, but this should be a bang-up affair."

"No champagne, Cyrus," I reminded him.

"Well, I know that. But there's nothing to stop us having a few glasses beforehand, is there?" His eyes twinkled.

We parted earlier than Emerson would have liked; he was anxious to show David the photographic studio and would have detained him for hours going over plans of the site, had I not pointed out that it had been a long day for David and Lia. Nefret and Geoffrey left at the same time. We stood in the doorway (with Narmer barking like a maniac) watching them walking arm in arm along the dusty road, Lia with Nefret, the two young men following. It gave me an odd feeling to see someone other than Ramses making part of that group.

He had not gone with us to the door. Emerson shouted at Narmer, who barked joyously back at him, and put his arm round my waist. "It is still early, Peabody. What about a final whiskey and soda?"

"You feel the need of it, do you?"

"Need? Certainly not! Though," Emerson said morosely, as he drew me inside, "it gave me an odd feeling, seeing them go. They are leaving the nest, Peabody. I suppose Ramses will be next. I want to talk to you about him, Peabody. Do you think he— Ah, er, hmph, there you are, my boy. I thought you had retired."

"No, sir. Did you say you wanted to talk to me?"

"Don't stand at attention like some cursed military moron," Emerson said. "Sit down. That is an order," he added irritably.

Ramses smiled and obeyed. He had already removed his coat and tie; Emerson followed suit as he strode toward the sideboard, tossing his nice coat in the general direction of a chair. He missed, of course.

Emerson came back with three whiskeys. "I did want to talk to you," he said. "Have you and Nefret patched it up?"

"Why... yes, sir, certainly. You know that hasty temper of hers. She apologized very nicely."

"Oh? When was that?"

"Just after dinner, when I offered my official congratulations to Geoffrey. I had not had the opportunity of doing so before. She was charming to Sennia, didn't you think?"