The Last Camel Died at Noon (29 page)

'I don't believe for a moment that she sang anything of the kind,' I replied. 'Ramses's imagination has run away with him. One could find any tune one wanted in the weird ululations of this music.'

'I assure you, Mama -'

'Oh, I am sure you thought you heard it, Ramses. Hang it all,' I added in mounting irritation - for Emerson's amusement had improved his mood and resulted in certain surreptitious gestures that belied his earlier fears - 'your papa and I have been amazingly tolerant of your outrageous behaviour. Off to bed with you this instant.'

From under the couch came a faint grinding sound. Ramses was trying to grit his teeth - one of the rather touching ways in which he strove to emulate his sire. He made no other objection, however, and his retreat was as silent as his approach had been. Only when the faint rustle of the hangings indicated that he had passed into the next room did Emerson continue with what he had been doing.

Our attendants reappeared the following morning, to Emerson's extreme annoyance. As soon as we had finished breakfast he declared his intention of paying a few social calls, first on Murtek and then, if it was permitted, on the princes.

If he had hoped to elude his attendants, the trick did not work. The gentlemen of the bedchamber were close on his heels. He did not return, so I concluded he had been permitted to leave the building, and I determined to do the same.

When I suggested I might call on the High Priestess, the shocked reactions of my ladies-in-waiting made it clear that I had committed a social error by even suggesting such a thing. The Priestess did not entertain visitors or leave her chambers except to participate in religious ceremonies. I felt very sorry for the poor creature; even Moslem women had greater freedom, for they could walk in their gardens and go out if properly veiled and attended.

'Is it the same for all the noble women?' I asked. 'Are they also prisoners?

They hastened to assure me that, first, the Priestess was not a prisoner and, second, that priestesses were subject to different rules. Other women came and went as they pleased. And where did they go? I asked. Oh - to the temple, to one another's houses, to wait on the queen and the royal children...

That gave me my opening. I announced that I would also attend Her Majesty, to whom they had referred by her ancient title of Candace. 'In my country,' I added, 'all visitors pay their respects [literally, go and bow down] to our Queen. It would be rude [literally, bad conduct] not to do it.'

After some discussion, the ladies agreed I had struck on an excellent idea. It turned out to be a much more complicated procedure than I had anticipated; every step had to be argued and discussed. Should someone be sent ahead to announce our coming? (Yes, she should.) What should I wear? (We were unanimous on that point; I was determined to go armed and accoutred, and the ladies seemed to think Her Majesty would like to see my peculiar clothing.) How should we go? (A compromise was finally reached; the ladies took the litters, I walked.) Should Ramses accompany us?

Ramses was nowhere to be found, which settled that question. The ladies seemed to think it was a game, something like hide and seek, and would have gone on looking for him all day if I had not announced my intention of proceeding without him. I was not concerned about his safety, since he could not get out of the house, and it had already occurred to me that the visit might go more smoothly without him. One never knew what he might say. So finally we set out. The sun was high and the temperature extremely warm, but I did not mind; it was such a pleasure to stride freely, breathing deeply and taking in the sights along the way. I fancy the litter bearers were pleased too, for they were obliged to match my pace, and although that pace was brisk it was a good deal less tiring than their usual trot.

The stone-paved causeway was in excellent condition. A group of the little dark people was engaged in making repairs on one section; they knelt at the sight of the guards, and remained in that position until after we had passed. I caught glimpses of others working in the gardens along the way. Parts of the hillside were beautifully terraced and landscaped, but others had been given up to weeds and brambles, among which fragments of the broken walls stood up like rotting teeth. I wondered whether the ruins were signs of a past civil war or of declining population and resources. Some decline was inevitable; it was a wonder this curious culture had survived as long as it had. The days of its isolation were numbered, I thought with a curious sense of regret. Sooner or later it would be discovered, not by solitary wanderers like ourselves and Willoughby Forth, but by the advancing tide of civilisation armed with weapons against which the spears and bows of the guardsmen could not avail. And then what would be its fate?

The residence of the Candace adjoined the temple on the western side; it was the impressive building I had noticed the night before and was, in fact, the royal palace. Owing to the uncertainty regarding the succession, Her Majesty was at present the only occupant, except for the usual clutter of concubines, servants, attendants, and hangers-on. I had learned from my ladies that she was the mother of Prince Nastasen, Tarek's mother having died when he was a child.

After the usual tedious ceremonies of welcome, I was escorted through a series of courtyards and entrance halls to a magnificently decorated reception room, where the queen awaited me; and I am sorry to admit that the sight of her - and her ladies-in-waiting - was such a shock that I forgot my manners and stood gaping rudely.

Her Majesty had dressed in her finest to do me honour. On her head was a cunning little cap surmounted by a bejewelled falcon whose wings curved down towards her cheeks. She wore heavy necklaces and gold bracelets; braided tassels adorned her gown, which was of the sheerest linen gauze with wide, pleated sleeves. It showed a great deal of the lady, and there was a great deal to show. She was incredibly obese, almost as wide as she was tall. Rolls of fat circled her body; her round, smiling face appeared to rest directly on her shoulders with no sign of a neck. The face itself was quite pretty, with delicate features strongly resembling those of her son. Though her rounded cheeks dwarfed them, they suited her better than they did Nastasen, and her little dark eyes twinkled with amiable curiosity. Her ladies were also elegantly dressed and several of them were almost as large, though none equalled the imposing dimensions of the queen.

She did not rise to greet me - I imagine it would have taken two or more strong men to hoist her to her feet - but she welcomed me in a high, chirping voice and indicated a nest of cushions that had been placed at her side. Conquering my amazement with my customary savoir faire, I bowed politely and sat down.

Mentarit had not accompanied us, so I had to make do without an interpreter. This proved to be an asset rather than a handicap, for my blunders and peculiar accent delighted the ladies - Her Majesty most of all - and laughter broke the social ice. The laughter was good-natured; the queen chuckled just as merrily at her own attempts at an English greeting. I could not resist asking her age. After considerable discussion and counting on the fingers, of herself and her ladies, she informed me that she was thirty-two. I was incredulous at first, but upon reconsideration I realised she might have become a mother at the tender age of fourteen, as some unfortunate girls do in Egypt and Nubia even today. That would make Nastasen, and Tarek, who had been born in the same year, eighteen years of age - mere youths by English standards, but not by the standards of this society. They had probably 'cut off the sidelock of youth' before they reached their teens.

Her Majesty's innocent curiosity and her excessive hospitality foiled further attempts to question her. Vast amounts of food and drink were pressed upon me. Though I did my best, for fear of seeming discourteous, I could not begin to emulate the consumption of the queen and her ladies, and my lack of appetite distressed Her Majesty. Pinching my arm and shoulder, she shook her head sympathetically. What sort of - was my husband, that he starved me?

I could not think of an answer that would exonerate Emerson without insulting Her Majesty, so I flexed my muscles and smiled to show I enjoyed perfect health and happiness. This provided a useful distraction in turning the queen's attention to my attire. I had to display and explain the use of every object on my belt. The ladies of the court edged closer and all hung breathless on my words. My parasol was a great attraction; they understood its function, for they possessed sunshades of various kinds, but the mechanism fascinated them, and I had to raise and lower it a dozen times before they tired of it.

I considered giving it to the queen, but decided I dared not part with any potential weapon. Instead, when she indicated that the audience was over by presenting me with an elaborate gold bracelet from her own wrist (it slid up clear to my shoulder and was loose even then), I gave her my mending kit. It was no great loss to me, and it proved an enormous success. The slim shining needles, the fine, coloured threads had already been admired, and as I bowed myself out I saw one of the ladies squinting desperately at a needle as she tried to thread it, while the beaming queen forced the silver thimble onto the tip of her little finger.

The walk back relieved some of the distress resulting from my overindulgence in sweetmeats, but the sight of the table spread for the midday meal would not have stirred my appetite even had I not found a more attractive distraction in the presence of my husband. He scolded me for having been gone so long in such a cheerful voice that I realised he must have learned something of interest. He was in no hurry to enlighten me, however. Instead he held a chair for me and inquired how I had spent the morning.

'Eating,' I replied, repressing an unseemly sound of repletion. 'I don't think I can force down another morsel."

'Nor I.' Emerson eyed the bowls of stew and fresh fruit with loathing. 'Murtek was an assiduous host. Was it the High Priestess who entertained you, Peabody?'

I explained. 'Emerson, you should see the queen,' I went on 'except for being prettier, she looks exactly like the Queen of Punt in the reliefs from Hatshepsut's temple! You remember her, a great rotund figure standing next to her tiny donkey?'

'One of the many indications that the ancient Egyptians had a sense of humour,' Emerson agreed with a grin. 'The royal ladies of Meroe were constructed on similar lines. So you don't believe Her Majesty is another Agrippina or Roxelana?'

His reference to the ambitious royal mothers of Rome and Turkey meant nothing to our attendants, but of course I understood what he was driving at. 'No. I managed to get in a few questions about her son and the succession; she replied simply that the god would decide, and I would swear she meant it. You know I am an excellent judge of character - '

'Hmph,' said Emerson.

'Furthermore, her extreme corpulence must make mental as well as physical exertion difficult. I wonder,' I went on, struck by a new idea, 'if that explains the size of the royal ladies of Meroe. Stuffing them like geese would be one way of keeping the women from interfering in affairs of state - and, I must confess, a more humanitarian method than assassination or imprisonment.'

Emerson studied me speculatively. Then he shook his head with a certain air of regret. 'You and I both know obese individuals who are as energetic as anyone. And some of the Meroitic reliefs depict the queens spearing captives with girlish vigour and enthusiasm.'

'True.' I forced myself to take a bite of stew. 'I doubt that adding a stone or two to my weight would change my character.'

'I don't have any doubts on the subject,' Emerson declared. 'And I hope you will not be tempted to try the experiment. Did you learn anything more of interest from the lady?'

'Not really. What about you?'

'I cannot even look at food,' Emerson announced, pushing his chair away from the table. 'If you have finished, Peabody, come walk in the garden with me.'

Thus far we had said nothing that was not already known to our attendants, but I could see he had matters of a private nature to discuss, and I tried to think of a tactful manner of escaping our entourage An invitation to partake of the food which we had scarcely touched distracted the men; when the ladies would have followed us, I sent them to look for Ramses. He had been missing the entire morning, so my maternal concern was not entirely feigned.

'Well?' I demanded, as we strolled by the pool. 'Did you see Tarek?'

'No. I was informed that both princes were busy with affairs of state. However, Murtek received me cordially and kept me the entire morning. I like the old fellow, Peabody; his is the mind of a true scholar. He was the only adult who had the intellectual curiosity to learn English from Forth, and question him about life in the outside world.'

'Murtek's English is not as good as Tarek's.'

'Murtek was handicapped by learning the language late in life. A youthful tongue twists itself around strange sounds more readily. Tarek's intelligence is certainly of a high order; according to Murtek he was Forth's prize pupil, going on with his studies after many of the other young people had lost interest and dropped away. Murtek did the same, and he spoke of Forth with what sounded like genuine affection. He possesses that rare and admirable quality of intellectual curiosity - love of knowledge for its own sake. You should have heard some of the questions he asked me, about our government, our history, even our literature. At one point I actually found myself trying to explain Hamlet's "too solid flesh" soliloquy.'

'Shakespeare?' I cried. 'Emerson! Do you realise what this means? Did Murtek show you the book?'

'No, why should he? He...' Emerson stopped and stared at me. 'Good Gad, Peabody, you must think me a complete idiot. I was so fascinated by encountering a mind of that calibre, the connection never occurred to me. Forth must have had a copy of Shakespeare with him; how else would Murtek know of it?'

'There are other possibilities, I suppose,' I admitted. 'The Bard has been in print, in various editions, for a good many years, and Mr Forth can't be the first outsider to have come here. This may have been a coincidence. Murtek did not actually show you the volume in question, and my nocturnal visitor told me to await a messenger.'