She nodded.
"I know, I know," she said excitedly.
After that we often stopped at her shop and now and then we bought something. We learned that her name was Yasmin, that her father and his before him worked in leather. Her two little brothers were learning to work on it too. She had a friend who dug for us. That was why she was so interested.
Whenever I passed the shop I always looked for her slight figure bent over her work or dealing with a customer. For me she was part of the now familiar life of the souk.
Neither of us ever went there alone, however. Although we felt perfectly at ease together, if, as we had done once or twice, we suddenly found ourselves alone, because one of us had paused to look at something or perhaps gone on ahead, an uneasiness would come over us and we would feel suddenly surrounded by an alien people. I knew that Theodosia felt this more intensely than I did. I had seen her when she thought she was lost and there was something near panic in her eyes. But that happened rarely and we usually managed to keep together even though the sights had become familiar to us. I imagined that the people had grown accustomed to seeing us. Although the children would stand and gaze up at us, the adults always passed us, aware of us, we knew, but keeping their eyes averted.
The blind beggars betrayed a certain eagerness as we approached. I couldn't tell why since they were blind. So we never failed to drop a coin into their begging bowls and always would come the grateful murmur: "Allah will reward you!"
Theodosia's attitude even changed and the feeling which the souk could arouse in her became like the delicious terror which children experience. She would cling to my arm, but at the same time she was enjoying the color and bustle of the markets as we passed men with brown faces and high cheekbones and the kind of noble profile which reminded me of the drawings I had seen on the walls of temples. The women were mostly veiled and all that was visible of their faces were the dark eyes made enormous by the khol they used. They were often clad in black from head to foot. When we went into the country we would see the women helping the men in the fields. In the early mornings or late afternoons we would take a trip in one of the boats up the Nile and see the women washing their clothes and chattering together. We often marveled at the way these women could carry a great jar of water on their heads without spilling a drop and walk so gracefully and in such a dignified manner as they did so.
It seemed that in a very short time the scene had become familiar to me. I was frustrated though, to be shut out from the main work.
Tybalt smiled at my continual demands to know if there was not something I could do.
"This is a very different operation from Carter's Meadow, you know, Judith."
"I do know that. But I long to have a part in it, even if it is only a small part."
"Later on," he promised. "In the meantime would you like to write some of my letters and keep some accounts? It will put you in the picture. You have to know so much, as well as working on the site."
I would be pleased to do this, I told him, but I did want to share in the active work as well.
"Dear Judith, you were always too impatient."
So I had to be content with that, but I was determined that it should be only temporarily.
Shem el Nessim was a public holiday and Tybalt was annoyed.
"Just because it's the first day of spring we have to stop work," he grumbled.
"How impatient you are!" I chided.
"My dear Judith, it's maddening. The cost of this is enormous and this is a sheer waste of a day. As my father always said, they never work as well after a holiday. They take a day or so to recover, so it is more than one day lost."
However, he was determined not to lose time and he and the party were at the site as usual. That was why on this Monday, which followed our Easter Sunday, Theodosia and I strolled down to the souk.
The shops were closed and the streets were different without the sounds and smells and activities of the vendors. There was a small mosque in one of the streets; the door was always open and we had glanced in from the corners of our eyes as we passed. It appeared to be a huge room and we had often seen white-robed figures kneeling on then-prayer mats. But we had always averted our eyes because we knew how easy it was to offend people by what would seem prying or irreverence for their religion.
On this day many people were making their way to the mosque. They were dressed differently in their best clothes and although the women kept to their black some of the men wore bright colors.
We paused to watch the snake charmer who squatted on the cobbles, his pipes in his mouth. We never failed to marvel at the sight of the snake rising from the basket as the music drew it out, fascinated it, soothed it, and sent it back into its basket. On this day of Shem el Nessim we noticed the soothsayer for the first time squatting on his mat near the snake charmer.
As we passed he cried: "Allah be with you. Allah is great and Mohammed his prophet."
I said to Theodosia: "He is asking to tell our fortunes."
"I love having my fortune told," said Theodosia.
"Well, then you shall. Come on. Let's see what the future holds for us."
Two mats were set out on either side of the soothsayer. He beckoned first to Theodosia and then to me. Rather selfconsciously we sat down on the mats. I was aware of a pair of piercing hypnotic eyes fixed on my face.
"English ladies," said the soothsayer. "Come from over the sea."
There was nothing very remarkable in his knowing that, I thought, but Theodosia was pink with excitement.
"You come with many people. You come here to stay . . . a week ... a month . . . two months . . ."
I glanced at Theodosia. That was almost certain too.
"You will know, of course," I said, "that we are with the party who are excavating in the valley."
He darted a look at Theodosia and said, "You married lady," he said, "you have fine husband." Then to me: "You . too, you married lady."
"We both have husbands. It is hardly likely that we should be here if we had not."
"From over seas you have come, back over seas you must go." He lowered his eyes. "I see much that is evil. You must go back . . . back across the seas."
"Which one of us?" I asked.
"You both must go. I see men and women weeping, I see a man lying still. His eyes are closed, there is a shadow over him. I see it is the angel of death."
Theodosia had turned pale. She started to rise.
"Sit," commanded the soothsayer.
I said: "Who is this man you see? Describe him."
"A man . . . perhaps he is a woman. There are men and women. They are underground . . . they feel their way . . . they disturb the earth and the resting places of the dead . . . and over them is the shadow. It shifts, but it never goes, it is always there. It is the angel of death. I see it clearly now. You are there . . . and you, lady. And now it is near you, and now it is over you, and it is waiting, waiting the command to take whomsoever it will be ordained to take."
Theodosia was trembling.
"Now it is clear," went on the soothsayer. "The sun is bright overhead. It is a white light up there but the angel of death is gone. You are on a big ship, you sail away. The angel has gone. He cannot live under the bright sun. There. I have seen two pictures. What may be is both of them. Allah is good. The choice is free."
"Thank you," I said, and I put coins into his bowl.
"Lady, you come again. I tell you more."
"Perhaps," I said. "Come, Theodosia."
He stretched out to take the bowl in which I had dropped the money. As his bare arm emerged from his robes I saw the sign on it. It was the head of a jackal. That was the sign of one of the gods I knew, but I could not remember which.
"The blessing of Allah fall on you," he muttered and sat back on his mat, his eyes closed.
"It would seem," I said to Theodosia, as we strolled back to the palace, "that there are many people who don't approve of our activities."
&
nbsp; "He knew," she said. "He knew who we were."
"Of course he knew. It didn't need superhuman powers to tell that we were English. Nor to guess that we were with the party. We might even have been pointed out to him. Many people in the souk know us."
"But all that talk about the angel of death . . ."
"Fortunetellers' talk," I said, "to be taken with ... no, not a grain of salt but a sip of khosaf."
"It worries me, Judith."
"I should never have allowed you to have your fortune told. You thought you were going to hear gypsy talk about a dark man and a journey across the water, a legacy and three children who will comfort your old age."
"I thought we might hear something interesting as he is an Egyptian. And instead . . ."
"Come in and I'll make some mint tea. Now that's a drink I do appreciate."
The fact was that I was a little uneasy. I didn't like this talk of the angel of death any more than Theodosia did.
As Tybalt was at the site with several of the party in spite of the fact that the workmen were not at their posts, and I did not know at what time he would return, I went to bed early and was asleep almost at once. It must have been an hour or so later when I awoke. I started up in terror because I saw a shadowy shape looming up beside my bed.
"It's all right, Judith."
"Tabitha!"
A candle which she must have brought in with her shone a faint light from the table on which she had laid it.
"Something's wrong," I cried and my thoughts still lost in vague dreams went to the soothsayer in the souk and the angel of death he had conjured up.
"It's Theodosia. She's had some ghastly nightmare. I was going up to my room when I heard her shouting. I wish you'd come in and comfort her. She seems quite distraught."
I leaped out of bed and put on the pair of embossed leather slippers I had bought from Yasmin and wrapped a dressing gown about me.
We went along to the room Theodosia shared with Evan. She was lying on her back staring up at the ceiling.
I went over and sat down beside the bed. Tabitha sat on the other side.
"What on earth happened, Theodosia?"
"I had an awful dream. The soothsayer was there and there was something in black robes like a great bird with a man's face. It was the angel of death and it had come for some of us."
"It was that old fortuneteller," I said to Tabitha. "We shouldn't have listened to him. He was just trying to frighten us."
"What did he say?" asked Tabitha.
"He talked a lot of nonsense about the angel of death hovering over us."
"Hovering over whom?"
"The whole party, I imagine, waiting to pounce on which ever one he fancied. Theodosia took it all too seriously."
"You shouldn't, Theodosia," said Tabitha. "They do it all the time. And I don't mind betting that he said Allah was giving you a choice."
"That's exactly what he did say."
"He's probably envious of someone who is working for us. This often happens. When we were here last there was a man who was uttering evil prophecies all the time. We discovered that his greatest enemy was earning more working on the site than he was himself. It was pure envy."
This seemed to comfort Theodosia. "I shall be glad," she said, "when they've found what they want and we can go home."
"These surroundings grow on you," prophesied Tabitha.
"People often feel like that at first. I mean those who are not actually involved in the work."
She began to talk as she used to when I visited her at Giza House and so interesting was she that Theodosia was considerably calmed. She told us how last time she had been here she had seen the celebration of Maulid-el-Nabi which was the birthday of Mohammed.
"The stalls looked so lovely in the souks," she explained. "Most of them were decorated with dolls made of white sugar and wrapped in paper which looked like dresses. There were processions through the streets and people carried banners on which were inscribed verses from the Koran. The minarets were lit up at night and it was a wonderful sight. They looked like rings of light up in the sky. There were singers in the streets singing praises to Allah and tale tellers who were surrounded by people of all ages to whom they related stories which had been handed down through the ages."
She went on to describe these occasions and as she talked I noticed Theodosia's eyelids dropping. Poor Theodosia, she was exhausted by her nightmare I
"She's asleep," I whispered to Tabitha.
"Then let's go," she replied.
Outside the door she paused and looked at me. "Are you sleepy?" she asked.
"No," I told her.
"Come to my room for a chat."
I followed her. Her room was beautiful. There were shutters at the window, and she opened these wider to let in the warm night air. "I look down on a courtyard," she said. "It's quite beautiful. Cacti grow down there and there are bitter apple trees. They are one of the most useful plants in Egypt. The seeds are used to add flavor to all sorts of dishes and if the fruit is boiled the liquid which is produced makes goatskin watertight."
"You are very knowledgeable, Tabitha."
"Don't forget I've been here before, and if you're vitally interested, you do pick up a great deal."
She turned from the window and lighted a few candles.
"They will probably attract insects," she said, "but we need a little light. Now tell me, Judith, does all this come up to expectations?"
"In many ways, yes."
"But not all?"
"Well, I thought I should probably have more work to do ... helping . . ."
"It's a very skilled occupation. At the moment it is mainly workmen who are needed."
"And if they really did find a hitherto undiscovered tomb I suppose I should not be allowed near it."
"It would be such a find. Only the experts would be allowed to touch anything. But Tybalt was telling me how well you look after his papers and that you are a great help in many ways."
I felt suddenly resentful that Tybalt should discuss me with her, and then I was ashamed.
She seemed to sense my feelings for she said quickly: "Tybalt does confide in me now and then. It's because I'm such a friend of the family. You are of the family now and because of this I was saying to Tybalt that you should know the truth."
"The truth!"I cried.
"About me," she said.
"What should I know about you?" I asked.
"What only Tybalt and his father knew in their household. When I came to live with them and took the post of companion to Sir Edward's wife, we thought it best that I should be known as a widow. But that is not the case. I have a husband, Judith."
"But . . . where is he?"
"He is in a mental home."
"Oh ... I see. I'm sorry."
"You will remember that I had a sudden call before we left."
"When you and Tybalt came back together."
"Yes, as I had to come back to London we met there and traveled down to Cornwall together. I had had a call because my husband had taken a sudden turn for the worse."
"He died?" I asked.
A hopeless expression came into her eyes which were large, brooding and very beautiful in the candlelight.
"He recovered," she said.
"It must be a great anxiety for you."
"A perpetual anxiety."
"You do not visit him often?"
"He does not know me. It is futile. It brings no pleasure to him and only great unhappiness to me. He is well cared for, in the best possible hands. It is all I can do."
"I'm sorry," I said.
She brightened. "Well, they say we all have our crosses to bear. Mine has been a heavy one. But there are compensations. Since I came into the Travers household I have been happier than I ever dreamed of being."
"I hope you will continue to be."
She smiled rather sadly. "I thought you ought to know the truth, Judith, now that you are a Travers."
"Thank you for
telling me. Was it always so, from the time you married him? You cannot have been married so many years. You are very young."
"I am thirty," she said. "I was married at eighteen. It was a marriage arranged for me. I was without fortune. My people thought it was a great chance for me because my husband was wealthy compared with my family. Even at the time of our marriage he was a dipsomaniac, incurable they said. It grew steadily worse and when he became violent he was put away. I had met Sir Edward when he lectured on archaeology to amateurs and we became friendly.
Then he offered me this post in his household as companion to his wife. It was a great help to me."
"How very tragic."
Her eyes were fixed on me. "But no life is all tragedy, is it? I've had days of happiness, weeks of it ... ever since. But it is one of life's rules that nothing remains on the same level or at the same depth. Change is inevitable."
"I'm glad you told me."
"And I knew you would be sympathetic."
"You will stay with us?"
"As long as I am allowed to."
"Then that will be as long as you wish."
She came to me then and kissed me on the forehead. I was moved by the gesture; and as I drew away from her I saw the brooch at her throat. It was a scarab in lapis lazuli.
"I see you have a scarab brooch."
"Yes, it's supposed to be a protection against evil spirits. It was given to me by ... a friend . . . when I first came to Egypt"
"Which was the last expedition, wasn't it, the fatal one?"
She nodded.
"It wasn't very lucky on that occasion," I said.
She did not answer but I saw her fingers were trembling as she touched the brooch.
"I suppose I should go to bed now," I said. "I wonder when they will come back from the site?"
"That's something of which you can't be sure. I'm glad I told you. I didn't think it was right that I should deceive you."
I went back to my room. Tybalt was not back.
I could not sleep. I lay in bed thinking of Tabitha. Memories from the past intruded into my mind. I remembered walking over to Giza House when I was a companion to Lady Bodrean and seeing Tabitha and Tybalt at the piano together. I thought of their arriving home together after she had been called away; and echoes from Nanny Tester's revelations kept coming back to me.
Curse of the Kings Page 19