by Belinda Grey
‘If I decide to trust you, how will I find you again?’ she asked.
‘Have no fear. The Hawk swoops when least expected,’ he said.
To fasten its talons upon a small, terrified rabbit, Ellen thought, and wondered uneasily if she were the intended prey.
The two men were bringing a horse and she allowed herself to be lifted to the saddle. One brief, telling glance from those dark eyes in the half-concealed face and she was being led down the steep track again.
They were no more than ten minutes’ ride from the main gates of Silver Moon. Ellen felt as if years had passed since she had run down the drive seeking information.
To her relief both the gates and the main door were still open. She dismounted, lifted her hand to the two robed figures, and hurried up to the lobby. The murmur of voices came from the drawing room and she heard Farida’s tinkling laugh. Evidently she had not even been missed.
In her room she tidied her hair and donned a long stole over her crumpled dress. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes brilliant. Glancing at herself in the long mirror, she thought that she looked exactly like a girl who had just been kissed.
This man who called himself Hawk was a strange blend of courtesy and savagery. He spoke English perfectly, yet dressed like a Berber. He had no scruples about snatching her up and galloping away with a completely strange girl, and yet he spoke of the honour of his family. He had mocked her and then, for a brief moment, had held her as warmly and closely as if she were precious to him.
Against her will she recalled the steel of his grasp, the velvet of his kiss, his dark eyes burning into hers, the long fingers that had caressed the scimitar as if it were a woman. And this enigmatic man expected her to trust him!
She tried to make a wry face, but her lips curved into a smile. He had told her that she was enticing. The word had a deliciously ripe flavour to it. Enticing. She rolled it around her tongue.
‘Ellen! Ellen, dear!’ Her stepmother’s voice floated up the stairs. ‘Are you coming down again?’
‘What? Oh, yes! Yes, I’ll be down at once!’ She raised her own voice cheerfully, took one last look at the flushed face in the glass, and went slowly downstairs to join the rest of the company.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
It had been agreed that, before returning home, Selina and her father would accompany the rest of the household on a picnic.
‘There’s another oasis about ten miles from here,’ Henry Bligh told Ellen. ‘You will enjoy the day.’
Whether Farida would enjoy it was another matter. Hywel Parry’s widow had been reared in a society where respectable women stayed within the confines of their homes, and she seemed completely satisfied with that arrangement. Ellen thought that she had never met anyone so utterly incurious about the world outside or so amiably content to drift along, letting other people make the decisions.
‘She’s like a hothouse flower, isn’t she?’ Selina whispered, as they waited by their horses to set off.
Not being a rider, Farida had elected to travel by litter, and a cumbersome contraption of wood and leather now swayed between two horses. Farida herself, veiled from head to foot, balanced on cushions, holding on the side straps.
Christopher had decided not to go, and there was a decidedly wry gleam in his eyes as they rested on the entourage. Abdul and three of the porters were to accompany them, and large straw panniers filled with provision were loaded on to the ponies. ‘The entry of the Queen of Sheba,’ he murmured.
‘With outriders,’ Ellen said, and giggled.
She was to ride Hecate, who seemed to have accepted her tolerantly, and despite the high-necked blouse, sweeping skirt and veiled hat she felt cool and comfortable. At the last moment she had put the ivory pendant around her neck under the bodice and slipped the card on which the poem was written into the lining of her bag. There was no possibility of Christopher going up to her room to search her belongings, but she felt more at ease with the objects on her person.
The man called Hawk had told her that she was in danger because of the parcel her father had sent to her. It was obvious that he must have found the tomb, and equally obvious that he wanted her to find it without letting his friends or wife know about it. But Hawk had guessed that Hywel Parry had found the tomb and he wanted to know the answer for reasons of his own. It was impossible to know whom to trust.
‘You seem very thoughtful,’ Selina remarked as they set out.
Henry Bligh had urged his mount ahead and the two girls had fallen into walking pace side-by-side behind the litter.
‘I was thinking about my father,’ Ellen said. ‘It seems so odd that he came out here, married, lived here—and I never knew him. I’ve never even seen a photograph of him.’
‘Farida is superstitious and won’t have a camera near the place,’ Selina told her. ‘As for your father—he looked older than his age. This climate does that sometimes for Europeans. He was dark-haired, like you, but longer in the face. He seemed rather vague and preoccupied, but then I only met him on the occasions when I rode over with my own father.’
‘Were he and Farida happy, I wonder?’
Selina lifted her shoulders. ‘As happy as two people can be when they’ve nothing in common. I suppose, she said in her matter-of-fact way, ‘your father wanted a son, I think, but Farida can’t have babies. Out here a wife can be divorced for that, but I don’t think he even reproached her. So she stayed content at home and he buried himself in his work.’
‘Looking for the tomb of Amentisis.’
‘I always loved her story,’ Selina confided.
‘Her name means “beloved of Isis”, doesn’t it?’ Ellen questioned.
‘Because she was dedicated to her at birth. Priestesses were regarded as daughters of the Great Goddess. She was said to have invented marriage, and to have taught mankind the art of weaving.
‘The cave paintings at the diggings—’ Ellen began.
‘The big one of Isis weaving a pattern of lives? That’s a beautiful one,’ Selina said. ‘We went over with your father about a year ago to look at the paintings. I wish that they’d contrived to break through all that rock at the foot of the staircase, but it would have taken such a lot of money, with no guarantee of anything being found.’
But Hywel Parry had found something. Surely that was what the words of the poem meant. ‘Silent her song beyond the loom of time’ could only mean that the tomb of Amentisis was near the back of the cave past the great painting.
‘Did you know they still have a local festival at Wadi Amarna in honour of Amentisis?’ Selina enquired.
‘No. No, I didn’t. When is it held?’
‘Some time this month, I believe. I’ve never seen it myself, but my father has. He says that nobody seems to be quite certain what the ritual means.’
It would be interesting to see the festival, Ellen thought. No doubt many local people would attend. At the back of her mind was the idea, part frightening and part exhilarating, that the man called Hawk might be there. He had given her no hint of when she might expect to see him again, but she sensed it would be soon and was annoyed with herself for the blush that rose to her cheeks.
They had left the fields behind and were in bleak desert country again, following a well worn track between sand across which stones and boulders were strewn carelessly as if some youthful giant had wearied of playing marbles. Above them the sky was a deep and magnificent blue with only the occasional cloud drifting across.
This was a land of contrasts, the fertile country ending in barren desert, Farida in her swaying litter from which she peeped out at women, veiled like herself, who toiled in the fields with their skirts tucked up to their thighs. A harsh beauty pervaded the landscape and the sun, shimmering on the rocks, hazed sharp edges into a blur.
‘There’s the oasis,’ Selina pointed. The trees circled a deep pool, its banks reed-fringed. The brilliance of the grass and the flowers scattered over the surface of the water made an
enchanted spot. Farida, helped down from the litter, settled herself comfortably on a pile of rugs and lifted her veil revealing her plump face without a trace of perspiration. Ellen wetted her handkerchief and mopped her own hot face.
‘There are some high rocks over there if you ladies wish to make your toilet in private,’ Henry said. He and the doctor had seated themselves and were fanning their faces with the broad brimmed hats they wore. Abdul was directing the porters to unload the baskets and the bottles of wine were being hung below the water level to cool.
‘I think I’ll take advantage of the rocks,’ Ellen said, rising and making her way towards them.
Behind her Selina called, ‘Don’t stray too far. One can easily get lost in these parts.’
The rocks were a couple of hundred yards from the oasis. She stepped cautiously over the tiny stones, holding her skirt clear of a clump of thistle, and went round the high cliff. There were other cliffs behind with narrow gullies between them, and some small animal scuttled away at her approach.
Having performed her toilet she went a little further up one of the gullies, sliding her hand over the reddish rock.
‘These rocks stood here before the pyramids were built,’ a voice said.
Without surprise she turned and saw him framed in a cleft of the rock, his eyes dark above the muffling headdress.
‘Did you follow us here?’ she asked.
‘I was here already, but when I saw your party arriving I judged discretion the better part of valour.’ He jumped to the ground as he spoke, barring her way back, and she stepped away nervously. ‘You fear me, don’t you?’ he asked.
‘No, of course I don’t,’ she said sharply.
‘You also tell lies very badly.’ His eyes were laughing at her and, despite herself, her own eyes misted with answering laughter.
‘What are you doing out here?’ she asked. ‘We came for a picnic.’
‘With Farida, I see. Travelling in her litter. She never moves more than a few yards from Silver Moon on her own two feet. I hope you are made of sterner stuff.’
‘I travelled here all the way from Wales,’ she answered challengingly.
‘To visit the land where your father lived and died? To find the tomb?’
‘I never heard of the tomb until I got here. I never heard of Amentisis.’
‘But you received a parcel from your father.’
‘I don’t know how you know that,’ she said, ‘but yes, I did.’
‘And brought it back into Egypt.’
‘I’ve not told anyone about it,’ she said defensively. ‘You tell me there’s danger, and I believe you. I don’t know why, but I do believe you.’
‘Then give the contents of that parcel to me,’ he interrupted, ‘and then you will be much safer.’
‘And you will be able to find the tomb of Amentisis, I suppose.’
‘Then you don’t trust me.’ He spoke sadly, but there was mockery at the back of his eyes.
‘No,’ she said flatly. ‘No, I don’t trust you. You’ve given me no reason to trust you!’
‘But you’re attracted to me. That’s true, isn’t it?’
‘No! No, it isn’t,’ she said.
‘That’s why your eyes are so bright, I suppose,’ he said, ‘and a dimple is showing in your cheek and your mouth is trying not to smile?’
‘I have to go back to the others,’ she said hastily.
‘As you did last night? We seem to be fated to have only brief meetings. You won’t give me what your father sent to you?’
‘No. You have to let me go now,’ she said breathlessly.
For a moment she both feared and hoped that he would prevent her, but he stood aside politely and let her pass him. As she hurried down the gully she glanced back, but his tall, robed figure had already disappeared among the rocks again.
‘Come and eat!’ Farida called. ‘We have been making plans on your behalf, Ellen!’
‘Oh.’ Ellen seated herself on the grass and accepted the cold chicken and bread rolls heaped on a plate.
‘My father and I live only ten miles from here.’ Selina said. ‘It would give us both so much pleasure if you would ride on and stay for a few days with us. One of our own porters would guide you back to Silver Moon.’
‘But I’ve no clothes except the ones I stand up in,’ Ellen regretted.
‘We’re about the same size. I can lend you what you need,’ Selina said.
‘Well, I don’t know.’ Ellen hesitated, glancing from one to the other.
‘We should have thought of it sooner,’ Dr. Ford said, ‘but sometimes an idea arrived at impulsively can have the very best results. Do indulge us in this. Selina is starved of female company.’
‘There is so little social life in these parts that one should take advantage of every invitation,’ Henry said.
‘In that case then I accept.’ Ellen decided.
‘Marvellous! I’ll lend you whatever you require, and you can see our clinic and the work we’re doing there,’ Selina enthused. ‘I’m afraid our house is not as grand as Silver Moon, but we’ll try to make you comfortable.’
‘I grew up in a two-bedroomed cottage, so almost anything seems very grand after that,’ Ellen said.
‘And one of Dr. Ford’s porters will bring you back to us in a couple of days. We really cannot spare our dear Ellen for longer than that,’ Henry said, raising his wine glass towards her.
Ellen, smiling back, wondered if this impulsive invitation had been quite so impulsive as everybody expected her to believe. Or would they take advantage of her absence to search her room in the belief that anything hidden there would not have been removed before she set out on the picnic? Were her guardian and the doctor acting in collusion, and if so, was Farida or Selina a party to it?
The food eaten and the wine drunk, they settled down for the early afternoon rest which seemed obligatory in this part of the world. Ellen, lying with her eyes closed, tried to sense if the man Hawk were still in the vicinity, but it was impossible. He came and went like a shadow, leaving behind him nothing but a multitude of unanswered questions.
‘Time we were moving on!’ The doctor’s voice woke her from her half-doze. ‘It will be evening before we get back to Tel-El-Aton.’
‘We’ll see to our toilets then.’ Farida rose, pulling down her veil, and began to walk towards the rocks with an air of great purpose as if she were exerting herself to take a journey of several hundred miles instead of a few yards. Over her shoulder she said, ‘Picnics are so terribly fatiguing!’
The two younger girls, hiding their smiles, followed her.
Their toilets completed, they lingered for a few moments, Farida adjusting her veil. ‘Such a silly custom,’ she complained mildly, ‘not to be able to show one’s face in public.’
‘Then why follow it?” Ellen asked. ‘You are not bound to, are you?’
‘My father was a Christian, but he still held to many Islamic customs,’ Farida said. ‘And it really is much less trouble to keep on doing things in the same way.’
‘One never makes progress in that case,’ Selina pointed out.
‘But progress can be so tiring,’ Farida said. It is much more comfortable to keep things as they are. Everybody wants something. Hywel wanted to be a famous archaeologist, and Henry wants to be the most important estate manager in Egypt, and Dr. Ford wants to discover a cure for blindness ‘
‘I want that too,’ Selina interrupted.
‘There, you see!’ Farida spread her hands. ‘Everybody runs after something and most times they don’t get it anyway. It’s much more sensible to sit still and enjoy what comes to you. What about you, Ellen? What do you want?’
‘Nothing in particular,’ Ellen said, trembling slightly as there jumped into her mind a picture of herself held close in the arms of a tall, lithe figure. The picture was so vivid that for an instant she had the wholly irrational fear that the others could see it too.
‘Ellen will probably marry,’ Fa
rida said. ‘She is a very pretty girl, don’t you think so?’
‘Indeed I do,’ Selina said, with no trace of envy in her voice or serene blue eyes.
‘Don’t you want to be married?’ Farida enquired of her.
‘I’m in no hurry,’ Selina replied.
‘Your father ought to arrange something,’ Farida said. ‘Why, my own father chose me a husband when I was only sixteen, and you are past twenty.’
‘Five years past,’ Selina said, looking faintly amused. ‘That makes me an old maid, I suppose, but I don’t waste any-sleep over the fact.’
‘I cannot understand English women!’ Farida said, half-laughing, half-complaining. ‘Come, we’ll go back to the others now and make our farewells.’
They wound their way in single file along the steep gully and came out into the open land again.
‘Horsemen going south,’ Selina called, pointing. ‘Berbers, I think.’
‘I do hope they don’t plan to swing around and attack us,’ Farida said nervously, lifting her veil to peer after them. ‘I still cannot bear to think of what might have happened when Ellen was on her way here and was fired upon.’
‘They were only trying to scare me away,’ Ellen said incautiously, for her stepmother promptly turned to say, ‘Why, how can you possibly know that?’
‘Many of the tribesmen support the Nationalist Cause,’ Selina said. ‘My father is certain that Arabi Pasha is just waiting to drum up sufficient military backing to start off a full scale revolt.’
‘I never did understand politics.’ Farida’s tone was vague, her eyes still scanning the horizon where a group of mounted figures diminished into the distance. ‘My father never considered it to be a suitable subject for a female and Hywel wasn’t interested. I wonder why they didn’t stop to water their mounts at the oasis.’
‘They probably didn’t want to intrude on our picnic,’ Selina said, ‘or perhaps it was the Hawk and his men.’
‘The Hawk?’ Ellen caught her breath as she repeated the name.